Qin Ji came back with two bottles of water and handed one to Tong Xilin.
“It’s a little cold.” He said softly. “Do you need me to swap it for room temperature?”
“It’s fine.” Tong Xilin put down his chopsticks and took the water. “Thanks.”
A table’s width of distance couldn’t block the sound. Kong Ji heard. He asked Tong Xilin again: “With a classmate?”
Tong Xilin gave an “Mm” and blew on his noodles.
“Qin Ji?” Kong Ji asked again.
Tong Xilin answered with another “Mm.”
The call had reached a point where there wasn’t much else to chat about. Kong Ji dropped a “Eat well, then,” and hung up.
It had been a month since school started. Everyone had received calls from home. Relatively speaking, Tong Xilin received the fewest calls. At least, the only one Qin Ji had witnessed was this one.
And this call wasn’t even from a parent—it was from an uncle.
When school started for registration, the person who came to the dorm to see Tong Xilin off was also his uncle.
“You and your uncle are pretty close.” Qin Ji spoke up, seeming casual.
There wasn’t really any other meaning behind his words.
Given Qin Ji’s own family circumstances, he assumed Tong Xilin was like him—divorced parents, or a strained relationship. In any case, there must be a special reason why the child was entrusted to an uncle’s care.
An uncle, no matter how close, was ultimately not immediate family. So it made sense why Tong Xilin always displayed such a detached attitude.
Tong Xilin flicked his eyelids over at him, thinking again of the hand warmers Jiang Lin had delivered that afternoon.
Supposedly, Kong Ji had seen on the phone weather that it was raining over here.
“It’s alright.” He didn’t want to mention too much about Kong Ji. He kept it brief. “It’s all because of my dad.”
“Want some vinegar?” Qin Ji didn’t press further. He pushed the vinegar bottle toward him.
Tong Xilin shook his head and smiled a little. “I like the original broth.”
While they were eating noodles at the noodle shop, the dorm group chat hadn’t stopped buzzing either.
Qi Yuan woke up around dusk and @’d them: Where are you guys? Did you sneak out to have fun while we were sleeping?
Pang Xiaoda had woken up by now too. The two of them went back and forth in the group, discussing how to handle dinner.
Qin Ji picked up his phone to type back: Head to head in the dorm room, and you still have to text chat?
Qi Yuan: Exhausted as hell.
Pang Xiaoda: Even talking is exhausting.
Qi Yuan: Don’t want to move a muscle. Too lazy to open my mouth.
Pang Xiaoda: What’d you two go do?
The two of them were like a comedy duo. Tong Xilin, finding it amusing, also replied: We went out to interview for a part-time job.
Qi Yuan: Impressive.
Qi Yuan: Sleeping on ten-thousand-yuan mattresses and off interviewing for part-time jobs, he says.
Pang Xiaoda: What kind of part-time job? Get it?
They received a response the next day about the tutoring center teaching assistant job. Both Tong Xilin and Qin Ji got it.
The part-time schedule wasn’t packed either: every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening for two hours, plus a full half-day on Sunday—Qin Ji in the morning, Tong Xilin in the afternoon.
The teaching assistant’s pay was calculated per class hour. If you attended every single class without missing a session, it came out to not much money per month—a bit less than what Tong Xilin had earned at the internet cafe over the summer.
But the schedule was flexible, and it was in an area he excelled at academically. Tong Xilin was quite satisfied.
Wanting to earn money, however, meant some things inevitably had to be sacrificed.
During the National Day holiday, the tutoring center had arranged a full set of intensive training classes. These seven days were packed extremely tightly, with classes almost every day.
Zhou Qi had originally planned to come hang out again. He’d been plotting a trip to Beijing to look around. When he heard Tong Xilin had gotten himself a part-time job, he immediately wilted.
“What’s the point of me going then?” He sent a voice call over. “Can’t even free up a single day?”
“Really no time.” Tong Xilin talked to him on the phone, feeling quite bad about it. “How about you still come here to sleep? Classes are only a few hours each day. After class, I’ll take you around to have fun in Tianjin.”
“Forget it.” Having just escaped the bitter sea of high school, Zhou Qi got a headache just hearing the word “class.” “I’d rather sleep at home than come sleep at your place.”
Qi Yuan and Pang Xiaoda were also heading home for National Day. The dorm suddenly emptied out, leaving only Tong Xilin and Qin Ji.
Their interactions were very simple. Neither was the talkative type. Every day they went to the tutoring center together, each teaching their own classes. At mealtimes, they’d just grab something cheap at roadside stalls. After class, they’d head back together.
The two were very attuned. Neither brought up any other food or entertainment that required spending money. They commuted by subway, moving between the dorm and the tutoring center in a straight line.
It almost transcended a classmate relationship, prematurely turning into something like coworkers.
When the first month’s wages came in—with the National Day intensive training overtime pay factored in—it was a full 2,200 yuan.
Tong Xilin didn’t keep a single mao of it. He transferred it all to Kong Ji.
The money was sent at 8 p.m. Kong Ji didn’t see it right away. He was at a business KTV at the time.
He’d spent the entire National Day holiday in Shanghai. Knowing that when Tong Xilin said he wasn’t coming home, he meant it—he was dead set on not coming back—Kong Ji hadn’t rushed back either. There were too many chaotic things going on; he was flying everywhere. When he finally got back to the North, Jiang Lin dragged him out for a welcome-back dinner.
“Little Fan was asking about you too.” Jiang Lin said. “Want me to have him come over?”
“No need.” Kong Ji wasn’t in the mood. “Too noisy.”
The business KTV was a haze of smoke and noise. It wasn’t just familiar friends. There were also businessmen intentionally trying to get in good, hoping to put a face to the name, drawn by Kong Ji’s reputation in the industry. Jiang Lin had gathered them all for drinks. All sorts of people. As the drinking progressed, it began to feel less like a proper gathering.
A pretty young man with a nice figure squeezed closer under the dim lighting, raising his glass and calling out “Ge.”
Kong Ji was just about to light a cigarette. The young man, very perceptive, took the lighter, flicking it with a “click.”
The flame leaped, reflecting in the corners of his eyes. The young man was still very young, early twenties. Alcohol flushed the rims of his eyes red.
Kong Ji’s gaze swept over his eyes and suddenly recalled the day Tong Xilin had finished the gaokao—lying on his lap, eyes rimmed red.
Tong Xilin’s features were understated. With no expression, he looked very delicate. But when he was stubborn, the impression was exceptionally deep—as if carrying a quiet, subtle ferocity.
He rubbed the base of his index finger. He didn’t lean into the young man’s lighter, nor did he take the drink. He got up and walked outside.
The business KTV was too noisy. Kong Ji went straight downstairs and sat down at a quiet coffee table in the lobby, wanting to call Tong Xilin.
Opening WeChat and seeing an unread message from Tong Xilin, he was actually quite surprised. Seeing it was a money transfer, he bit down on his cigarette. The look in Tong Xilin’s eyes and his expression every time he said he wanted to repay money surfaced even more vividly in his mind.
Tong Xilin didn’t pick up this call. He was on the subway, returning from teaching at the tutoring center and accompanying Qin Ji to interview for another part-time job.
A part-time job at a coffee shop—they were hiring servers and baristas.
Qin Ji knowing how to brew coffee was something that surprised Tong Xilin. He watched Qin Ji’s practiced latte art—not a drop more, not a drop less—steadily pushing the cup forward for display. He couldn’t imagine just how many jobs Qin Ji had worked.
“Okay, knowing the simple stuff is good enough.” The Shop Manager was a young person, very easygoing. Nodding approvingly, “Our shop still does a lot of delivery orders normally. As long as you can memorize the ingredient lists, you’ll pick it up fast.”
This was basically a sign of being hired.
Qin Ji showed a grateful but composed smile and thanked the Shop Manager.
“And you?” The Shop Manager turned to look at Tong Xilin. “You here for a part-time job too?”
“He’s…” Qin Ji wanted to explain that he was his classmate, just accompanying him to the interview today.
But the words had barely started before Tong Xilin interrupted.
“I don’t know how to make coffee.” Tong Xilin pointed toward the hiring flyer posted outside the door, his tone polite. “But I saw your shop is also hiring servers.”
“Want to give it a try?” The Shop Manager asked.
“I’m still a student, so I can only do part-time.” Tong Xilin laid out what time he could squeeze out. “If that works for you.”
Having jointly secured a second part-time job, the moment they stepped out of the coffee shop, Qin Ji laughed quietly.
“What is it?” Tong Xilin asked him.
“Really didn’t expect this.” Qin Ji’s gaze at Tong Xilin grew warmer, his words more candid. “I do it because I need the money. What’s your reason?”
What reason, indeed.
Qin Ji could grow more and more open in their interactions, making his difficult family finances plain. Tong Xilin couldn’t do the same.
Those complex feelings entangled between Kong Ji and Tong Yuzhi—he couldn’t say them to Zhou Qi before, and he equally couldn’t say them to Qin Ji now.
Couldn’t say them to anyone. Destined to be buried, alone and forever, deep in the bottom of his heart.
“Experiencing life.” He could only give Qin Ji this answer.
Qin Ji held a smile as he looked at him, for a long while. He didn’t ask further.
On the walk back from the subway, the signal improved. Kong Ji’s missed call appeared on the screen.
Tong Xilin didn’t call back. He typed and asked Kong Ji: Is something up, Uncle?
Kong Ji replied very quickly this time, as if he’d been clutching his phone waiting for him. He asked Tong Xilin: Even phone calls don’t get answered now?
Tong Xilin didn’t explain that he’d been on the subway earlier. He kept typing: Did you accept the transfer?
Kong Ji: Where’d the money come from?
Tong Xilin: The first semester’s not too intense. Found a part-time job.
Kong Ji didn’t say anything else. He accepted Tong Xilin’s transfer of 2,200 yuan.
Time measured in semesters sounds very long. Measured by seasons, it’s just four rotations.
The city of Tianjin seemed to have no autumn. October was still an Indian summer. In November, a single night of rain—Tong Xilin woke amid leg pain, knowing the weather was about to turn cold.
He got his third part-time job on the day of Winter’s Beginning: a private tutoring gig.
The girl from the tutoring center who had previously asked his age had recommended his WeChat to her mother. The mother made a special phone call to Tong Xilin, asking him many detailed questions—from his gaokao score to his current major. After careful consideration, she asked Tong Xilin to come to their home for a trial lesson.
Tong Xilin was a bit hesitant.
On one hand, he felt tutoring a girl could be inconvenient. On the other, his first two part-time jobs had been found through Qin Ji’s guidance. Now, bypassing Qin Ji to privately tutor a student from the tutoring center felt like poaching someone else’s opportunity.
“What nonsense are you worrying about?” Qin Ji laughed when he heard him out. “The student chose you. If you don’t go, it’s not going to me.”
“What about you?” Tong Xilin asked.
“You’re too kind, Tong Xilin.” Qin Ji looked at him with curved eyes. “If I told you right now that I’m also staying at the coffee shop to work over winter break, would that make me seem very selfish?”
“You’re not going home for the New Year?” Tong Xilin immediately asked.
“Yeah.” Qin Ji nodded. “But the dorms will close. To stay, you have to submit paperwork and move dorms. Centralized management is kind of a hassle.”
Tong Xilin almost didn’t even have to think. He opened his mouth and said: “I’ll stay with you.”
“What?” Qin Ji raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not going back either.” This was a decision Tong Xilin had made the moment he arrived to register. “We can find a cheap place. Split the rent fifty-fifty.”
Qin Ji didn’t refuse outright. He thought for a long while, then asked Tong Xilin: “Would your uncle agree?”
“It’s none of his concern.” Tong Xilin lowered his head and crushed a charred yellow leaf underfoot. “It’s my own decision.”
