Chapter 38: TanHe Part 3

The boy playing the piano tugged a faint arc at his lips and smiled at him as if nothing was wrong.

He Siheng was slightly taken aback.

He knew that smile all too well.

When they were kids, he’d asked Tan Jing if shots hurt, if being sick was tough. Tan Jing had smiled just like that and said it was fine.

But he had clearly been so weak his face was pale, his eyes red from discomfort.

He Siheng had grown used to Tan Jing shamelessly playing pitiful and whining to him lately. After so many years, seeing Tan Jing force a smile again felt like an invisible hand squeezing his heart, an indescribable ache.

He Siheng looked away, gathered his thoughts, and joined the ensemble on cue.

The literary gala ended at ten o’clock at night. The sky was pitch black, with a thin crescent moon hanging on the horizon, emitting faint light.

He Siheng booked several cars and invited the whole class to karaoke. In addition to the Class 1 students, there was also an extra: Wang Yizhou.

The birthday boy generously footing the bill naturally basked in a stream of flattery on the way, though the birthday boy himself was somewhat distracted.

He Siheng and Tan Jing didn’t ride together. He Siheng shared a car with Zhou Yu, which arrived first. They went to the lobby, confirmed with the staff, and were shown to the private room.

Zhou Yu, the mic hog, couldn’t wait to pick songs and belt them out. After howling through two, the other classmates started arriving one after another.

But He Siheng still hadn’t seen Tan Jing.

He’d booked two deluxe rooms and figured Tan Jing was in the other one. He got up, checked the neighboring room, but still no Tan Jing. Instead, he spotted another mic hog, Wang Yizhou, belting out “Die For Love” at the top of his lungs, with Song Lin sitting beside him, looking like he was about to be killed by the noise.

He Siheng covered his ears as he walked over and asked, “Where’s Tan Jing?”

“What?!” Song Lin yelled back, hands over his ears.

He Siheng yanked one hand away and shouted right into his ear, “I asked where Tan Jing went—”

“He probably went to the stairwell!” Song Lin mimed smoking.

He Siheng frowned, grabbed two cans of beer, and left that “die for love” room. He pushed open the safety exit door and sure enough, found the person he was looking for.

The boy sat alone in the stairwell, puffing away on a cigarette. The dim light blurred his slender back, but the glowing red tip between his fingers stood out sharply.

He Siheng coughed deliberately, but the other didn’t turn around. The hand holding the cigarette paused midway to his lips, then stubbed it out on the floor instead.

A faint minty scent lingered in the air. He Siheng walked over and sat beside him. “Weren’t you supposed to celebrate my birthday? Why’d you run off alone to play the melancholic youth staring at the ceiling at a 45-degree angle?”

Tan Jing turned his head to look at him. “Did the melancholic youth captivate you?”

“…”

He Siheng was done. He’d thought the guy was really down, but he still had the energy for flirty banter?

He Siheng handed over a can of beer, popped his own open, took a sip, and cut straight to it. “Are you upset because I didn’t guess that riddle of yours?”

“I’m annoyed at myself for losing my courage again.”

Tan Jing held the beer can in one hand. His distinct knuckles hooked the tab with his index finger, popping it open with a snap. He murmured lowly, “I’m afraid that if I say it, you won’t be happy.”

“Afraid I won’t be happy?” He Siheng was baffled, unable to follow the logic, and instinctively went on guard. “What, did you pull some shady trick on me behind my back?”

Tan Jing let out a huff of laughter, half like a sigh, half rueful. “My image in your mind really is as terrible as expected.”

He Siheng said matter-of-factly, “Isn’t that all your own doing?”

Tan Jing smiled without denying or defending, just tilted his head back and chugged from the can.

He Siheng pulled his gaze from the bobbing of Tan Jing’s throat and took a swig himself.

The atmosphere suddenly fell silent. They both just drank, no words exchanged.

Tan Jing spoke up abruptly. “Do you remember the day we first talked?”

He Siheng paused mid-sip. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Back then, their bedrooms were still on the second floor. That day, He Siheng had been playing with friends in front of the house. Glancing up casually, he’d spotted a boy about his age leaning out the second-floor window of the house across the street.

The boy was skinny and small, good-looking with delicate, refined features like a doll, but his face was sickly pale as paper, his brows carrying a frail air, like he’d topple in a breeze.

Even before that day, He Siheng had heard Shu Qiu mention that the little son next door was in poor health, shuttling between home and hospital since birth. He Yunlang had also warned him that the Tan Family across the way were business rivals, bad people—don’t associate with them.

But He Siheng wasn’t one to obey. Spoiled and willful, he let Boss He’s words go in one ear and out the other.

That day wasn’t the first time He’d seen Tan Jing—in fact, he’d been secretly watching him for a while.

He noticed Tan Jing never went out to play. Most times, he just leaned at the bedroom window watching outside—sometimes the sky, sometimes the yard below.

No matter what he watched, his face showed no expression, like he neither cried nor laughed.

That day, looking up, He Siheng saw Tan Jing watching him.

On a whim, He Siheng waved. “Hey, wanna come down and play?”

The boy at the window blinked slowly, as if in disbelief.

Then, the boy smiled at him.

In the quiet stairwell, Tan Jing faintly heard muffled singing from the KTV rooms. His heart pounded nervously in his chest, his breaths uneven, alcohol fueling a sour courage.

“Before that day, it had been raining in Qinan City for a long, long time.”

Tan Jing lowered his head and set the half-empty can aside. “But that day, it suddenly cleared up. Clouds parted, fog lifted, skies blue as far as the eye could see.”

He Siheng had no real memory of it and was surprised. “You remember it that clearly?”

“Because that was how I felt when I first saw you.”

Tan Jing turned to look at him.

Sunlit or in dim rooms, those amber eyes always shone clear and bright.

Just like that day years ago, when the boy he’d secretly watched and envied for so long stood downstairs, head tilted up, waving at him.

Tan Jing smiled at him.

“My sun had come out.”