Tong Xilin didn’t believe it.
Whether he believed it or not, he didn’t press further. Kong Ji had only said not to hang up, not that they had to talk. So he connected his earphones, stuck one in his ear, and continued eating his dumplings.
“The flavor’s a bit bland.” Qin Ji returned with the vinegar dip and arranged the plates on the table. “Dip them in this.”
“Not bland.” From kneading the dough to mixing the filling, Tong Xilin hadn’t lifted a finger. Someone who didn’t do the work had no right to criticize the cook. Not only did he not criticize, he had to praise. “Really good. I like light flavors.”
“Is Tong Yuzhi a relative of yours?” Qin Ji suddenly asked.
He’d heard Tong Xilin talking just now in the kitchen. After Tong Xilin said “Tong Yuzhi” or something, he’d stopped making any sound. Qin Ji had assumed the call was already over and casually picked a topic.
The table was that narrow. Qin Ji sat across from him and spoke. Naturally, the voice traveled through the earphone to Kong Ji’s side.
Tong Xilin ate another dumpling, lowering his eyelids: “My dad.”
Qin Ji made an “Ah” sound, surprised he’d called him by his full name.
In the earphone, a soft “click”—Kong Ji lit another cigarette.
“There was a time before when I thought our personalities were pretty similar.” Qin Ji said. “Later I realized it’s not the same thing.”
A day like Spring Festival made people want to talk. Maybe it also had to do with that afternoon call from his mother. Normally, Qin Ji wouldn’t ask about Tong Xilin’s personal matters. Now he brought it up on his own.
“I thought I was good at holding things in—not liking to bring up family stuff.” He smiled at Tong Xilin. “Turns out you’re even better at holding it in than me. I’ve never heard you bring it up.”
Tong Xilin really didn’t know what to say.
If he were like Zhou Qi—parents not around, even getting a beating when he went home—as frustrating as that sounded, it was still familial concern.
Even like Qin Ji: divorced parents, financial struggles. Once you became real close friends, there was nothing too hard to say.
“I’m not intentionally holding it in.” Tong Xilin deliberated a moment. Since Qin Ji had already put it like that, he explained: “Both my parents are gone. I live with my uncle. So normally I don’t like to bring it up.”
Qin Ji made another “Ah” sound. He looked at him for a moment and pushed the vinegar dip a little closer to him.
The topic ended there. It wasn’t a happy subject, and on New Year’s Eve, hearing it just made people uncomfortable.
Tong Xilin had been thinking earlier about the call being connected through his earphone with Kong Ji. After finishing his plate of dumplings, he’d completely forgotten about it. He cleared the table and went to wash the dishes.
Kong Ji suddenly said “Use hot water” through the earphone, and he jumped.
“Haven’t gone upstairs yet, Uncle?” He pressed the earpiece with the back of his hand and asked Kong Ji.
“Who?” Qin Ji next to him was also startled.
“My uncle.” Tong Xilin was tickled by his reaction, pointing at his earphone.
“Going back now.” Kong Ji said. “Just wanted to hear you talk a bit more. Soak up some of your cheerful energy.”
That specifically emphasized “cheerful” was pointed. Tong Xilin thought of the caption he’d put on that earlier Moments post. His brows twitched.
“Did you eat dumplings?” He asked Kong Ji.
“Yeah.” Kong Ji had gotten out of the car. His voice sounded mostly sober now. “Don’t stay up too late. Don’t wander around. Get some rest early.”
Tong Xilin didn’t wander anywhere, nor could he.
The coffee shop resumed business on the second day of the lunar new year. The tutoring center and Zhao Linlin’s private tutoring sessions also gradually resumed their schedules after the holiday.
Seeing Zhao Linlin again after the Spring Festival gap, the little girl had gotten a tiny bit chubbier. Her complexion was fair and rosy with a festive glow. She was currently handing out gifts to the familiar teachers and classmates at the tutoring center.
“Little Teacher Tong!” Seeing Tong Xilin, she bounced over vivaciously and handed him a small box. “New Year’s gift. This one’s yours.”
“What is it?” Tong Xilin took it and weighed it in his hand. If it was too expensive, he couldn’t accept it.
“Just a keychain.” Zhao Linlin waved dismissively. “We’re not allowed to give gifts here—I know the rules.”
A souvenir keychain from her travels, decorated with a simple little stone figure ornament. One for each person in the small group class.
Tong Xilin accepted it. He rapped the table to remind them to focus and start the lesson.
Back at the old building that night, he took a photo of the keychain and posted another Moment.
When editing the caption, he thought for a long time. Finally, he typed out a line: A gift from a student.
This Moment looked a little silly. The first to like it were Zhao Linlin and her mother. Right after came Zhou Qi’s merciless mockery.
Zhou Qi: What are you, a high school head teacher now.
Zhou Qi: Posting dumplings during New Year’s, now showing off students. All you post is old-fart stuff.
Zhou Qi: Known you for years, and the total number of your Moments doesn’t match how many you’ve posted in this last half-month.
He sent one after another. Before Tong Xilin could reply, he sent another: Where’d that painting of yours go?
Tong Xilin: Deleted ages ago.
Zhou Qi had said on Spring Festival that he’d come find him, and he really did come.
Nankai started in late February. Zhou Qi’s school started a bit later than theirs. He left home early, and without even going back to his own school first, took his luggage straight to Tianjin.
Tong Xilin and Qin Ji were just moving out of the rental and back to the school that day. They’d brought little when they came, but after two months of living there, they’d accumulated quite a few odds and ends. Hauling everything back to school would take two or three trips.
Zhou Qi came and inspected the old building. He had no ears for Qin Ji’s suggestion of walking the luggage back. On his phone, he called a Lalamove for them.
“You’re hauling your luggage to my dorm too?” Tong Xilin looked at his suitcase.
“Yeah, you gonna push it for me then?” Zhou Qi had gotten a new perm. In the freezing cold, he wore only a thin padded jacket. Both hands were shoved in his pockets as he posed, trying to look cool.
“Let me get you a coat.” Qin Ji felt cold just looking at him.
“No need.” Zhou Qi needed no one to play host. He went and pulled out one of Tong Xilin’s down jackets. “I’ll just wear his.”
Amongst the pile of clothes, he unearthed the scarf Kong Ji had left behind. He held it up, looked it over, and wrapped it around his own neck.
“Nice scarf you’ve got.” Zhou Qi preened in the mirror. “I’m wearing it, okay?”
Tong Xilin watched him from behind. His gaze traveled over that scarf back and forth several times. His mouth opened, but he didn’t refuse.
“Wear it.” He said.
Regarding Zhou Qi’s arrival, aside from Tong Xilin, the happiest person was Qi Yuan.
Those two had way too much in common. The moment they met, they started gaming. They dragged Pang Xiaoda along, not even unpacking, playing until the sky darkened. The three of them clutched their necks, yelling that they were starving.
“What should we eat tonight?” Qi Yuan asked. “Someone decide.”
“Anything’s fine.” Zhou Qi was genuinely hungry. “Let’s just find a place. I’m craving spicy.”
“Sichuan, then.” Pang Xiaoda proposed. “Or Hunan?”
Everyone chattered at once. Qi Yuan eventually made the executive call and reserved a Sichuan restaurant off-campus.
“Is Brother Ji coming?” After booking on his phone, he called out to Qin Ji.
Given Qin Ji’s personality and habits, if they asked him right now, he’d definitely say no.
“Come on.” Tong Xilin intercepted before he could speak, turning to persuade Qin Ji. “It’s Lantern Festival. Let’s have some tangyuan together.”
Qin Ji understood Tong Xilin’s goodwill. Always refusing group activities—being isolated was only a matter of time. Besides, when Zhou Qi came last time, he’d already refused once. Today, Zhou Qi had even helped them call a Lalamove. Refusing again would seem too deliberate.
“Alright.” He pushed up his glasses. “I am kind of hungry anyway.”
On the way to the Sichuan restaurant, Zhou Qi deliberately lagged behind the main group, walking shoulder to shoulder with Tong Xilin at the very back.
“He’s alright today. Not as annoying.” He whispered into Tong Xilin’s ear. “Or did you two earn a ton from that winter break part-time work?”
“He’s always been pretty good.” Tong Xilin kept his voice low, his gaze falling on the scarf Zhou Qi was wearing.
“Actually, you’ve changed a lot too.” Zhou Qi remarked with a sigh.
“Hm?” Tong Xilin looked toward his face.
Zhou Qi mentioned Lantern Festival, and recalled how, exactly one year ago today, he’d helped Tong Xilin fight, been taken to the hospital by Tong Xilin’s uncle, then taken out for a meal.
He still remembered that foul-mouthed Wu Zihao. Remembered how Tong Xilin in high school kept zero contact with anyone. Remembered that post-gaokao graduation party, and the way Tong Xilin sat alone in the corner, drinking beer.
“Before, I used to think, with your personality, you’d probably never make any friends in this lifetime. Forget high school or college. Even later on, I’d still have to look out for you.”
Zhou Qi, in a rare moment of sentimentality, almost moved himself.
“Now you’ve learned to make friends. You’re even willing to post on Moments. Not like before—always so dead and lifeless.”
If you truly want to completely separate yourself from Tong Yuzhi, then don’t let yourself live the way he did.
Kong Ji’s words surfaced again from Tong Xilin’s mind, following Zhou Qi’s “dead and lifeless.”
That word described Tong Yuzhi far too perfectly.
“Was I very dead and lifeless before?” He asked Zhou Qi.
“You think?” Zhou Qi laughed hearing this. “Like everyone owed you two hundred bucks all day. A melancholy prince, straight up.”
That last part was purely teasing meant to gross him out.
Tong Xilin laughed, poking Zhou Qi with his elbow sideways. Zhou Qi poked him back. The two scuffled childishly.
Going out for group dinners after the start of the semester was common, and with it being Lantern Festival on top of that, the main hall of the Sichuan restaurant was packed full.
Qi Yuan had booked a private room. The five big guys sat down, shedding coats, shifting chairs. Even the large round table felt a bit cramped.
The menu circulated once through everyone. No one brought up eating tangyuan. They all found it too heavy.
“Let’s take a group photo?” Qi Yuan suddenly proposed. “Last time Brother Ji wasn’t there. Today, say what you will, it’s a holiday. Everyone’s here. Wanna take one?”
“Let’s do it.” Zhou Qi sat next to Tong Xilin, draping an arm over the back of his chair. “Offering up my own handsome face for your Moments posts.”
This was way too ridiculous. Qi Yuan and Pang Xiaoda immediately started waving their hands, saying forget it, forget it, no picture.
“You sick or something?” Zhou Qi glared. “Don’t know what’s good for you. Tong Xilin, hold up your phone.”
Tong Xilin and Qin Ji had been stifling laughter for a while. They cooperated and raised the phone, arm stretched straight. The five of them—some leaning on each other, some with arms slung around each other—snapped a close-packed group photo.
Boys took photos casually. One “click” and it was done. At the very age that photographed best, full of youthful spirit, all with chins slightly lifted and smiling. Impossible to take a bad photo.
Tong Xilin looked at his own curved eyes and smiling lips in the photo. He opened Moments and typed a caption: Lantern Festival.
After posting, he put the phone down and didn’t look at it again. Half an hour later, a call came through on the screen. It was a delivery driver, asking which private room he was in.
Tong Xilin didn’t even have time to feel surprised. He answered the phone and walked outside. At the entrance of the Sichuan restaurant, he matched phone numbers with the driver and carried a bag of Starbucks back in.
“There are drinks already, and you still went and bought more?” Pang Xiaoda sat by the door and took the paper bag from Tong Xilin’s hands.
“Pass them around.” Tong Xilin didn’t explain.
He returned to his chair. Just as he opened his phone, Pang Xiaoda called out: “This one’s yours.”
Tong Xilin accepted it. A warm paper cup. The flavor label on it read: sugar-free.
Below that, there was another line: This cup, please give to Tong Xilin.
