“That’s the second time you’ve said that.” Qin Ji said. “That it’s none of his concern.”
Tong Xilin’s footsteps stuttered for an instant, then quickly adjusted, continuing forward.
“It really doesn’t have much to do with him.” He smiled. “He has his life. I have mine.”
Qin Ji was a smart person. Seeing this was clearly a topic Tong Xilin didn’t want to discuss, he changed the subject.
The interview for the tutoring gig went smoothly. The girl was called Zhao Linlin. She’d been taking Tong Xilin’s small-group class for this whole period and wasn’t unfamiliar with him—they were even, arguably, well-acquainted.
“Little Teacher Tong is great.” Zhao Linlin enthusiastically introduced him to her mother. “Lately, whenever I have questions I can’t solve, I ask him. Not just for one subject.”
“Let’s listen to one session and see.” Zhao Linlin’s Mother said.
After two months interacting at the tutoring center, Tong Xilin knew Zhao Linlin’s academic situation very well. There was no pressure teaching a student he was familiar with. They kept their habitual rhythm.
During the hour-and-a-half tutoring session, Zhao Linlin’s mother sat in on the room for an hour, then went out, washed some fruit, and brought it in.
“Thank you, Auntie.” Tong Xilin looked up and thanked her.
“It’s going well. Continue your class.” Zhao Linlin’s mother brushed Zhao Linlin’s hair and turned to leave.
Habitually, she reached to close her daughter’s door. Halfway through, she paused.
“You can leave the door open, Auntie,” Tong Xilin spoke up in time. “The heating’s strong, it’s not cold.”
Zhao Linlin’s mother turned back and looked at him again. A satisfied expression appeared in her eyes.
The duration of a private tutoring session was shorter than a class at the tutoring center, but the pay was half again higher. The time was scheduled for Saturday mornings, counting as two class hours.
Tutoring center, coffee shop, plus private tutoring. Tong Xilin’s free time was completely filled.
“Those two, day after day,” Qi Yuan watched him and Qin Ji rushing in and out, feeling tired just on their behalf, “How much is enough for you to earn?”
“Two wolves of Balitai.” Pang Xiaoda said.
Qi Yuan burst out with a “Holy shit” at this, leaning on the table and laughing.
Tong Xilin laughed too, though his smile lacked energy. He was sitting in his chair soaking his feet, flipping through the book on the desk while soaking, preparing for the upcoming exam week.
“I was thinking, when Christmas or New Year’s comes, we could all go skiing together, spend a day,” Qi Yuan said, “But looking at you two’s state, seems like you can’t get away.”
“It’s December already?” Pang Xiaoda asked.
“November.” Qi Yuan said. “19th, or is it the 20th? Rounding up, it’s basically December.”
Tong Xilin was poked by the numbers in his mouth. He grabbed his phone to check the date: November 19th. Kong Ji’s birthday.
Right there on his desk was the computer Kong Ji had given him—his nineteenth birthday present.
Tong Xilin hesitated a moment. It was already nearly 11 p.m. He opened Kong Ji’s WeChat and sent: Happy birthday, Uncle.
After sending, he went to dump the foot-soaking water. When he came back from tidying up, he saw Kong Ji had replied: Coming back for New Year’s?
Tong Xilin: Not going back.
At the end of December, Tong Xilin received wages from his three part-time jobs. It had doubled from last month—over four thousand yuan. He transferred it to Kong Ji again.
Kong Ji didn’t ask anything this time. He just accepted the money.
The school’s exam week started in mid-January and continued off-and-on until the end of the month.
First semester freshman year still had no specialized dental courses—mostly general education and basic medical sciences. But for Tong Xilin, this still required a lot of preparation.
With no classes before exams, aside from his part-time work, he spent all his remaining time soaking in the library reviewing. Several times, he was so exhausted he’d unconsciously start nodding off, quickly pinching the back of his neck to jolt himself awake.
The very first thing after finals ended, Tong Xilin and Qin Ji went looking for a rental place.
Rental housing around the school district was as plentiful as restaurants. Conditions ranged from good to bad. The target demographic was students, so rents were generally reasonable. Short-term rentals like theirs—only two months for the break—weren’t uncommon either.
They scouted around all day. Finally, they settled on a two-story shared rental building.
An old building. The stairs creaked when stepped on. Rooms both upstairs and down. The ground floor had better conditions but was already rented by a couple.
The second floor supposedly had two rooms, but in reality, only one could count as a bedroom. The other bed was directly placed in the living room adjacent to the balcony. That barely counted as being able to house two people. The rent was correspondingly cheaper.
The kitchen and bathroom were both downstairs, shared by all four tenants.
“You sleep in the inner bed.” Qin Ji yielded the bedroom to Tong Xilin.
“It’s all the same to me.” The place was found by Qin Ji. Tong Xilin didn’t want to take advantage.
“Your leg aches easily.” Qin Ji pointed to the balcony, no longer listening to his protests.
“Alright then.” Tong Xilin nodded, not declining further. “I’ll pay a hundred more toward the rent.”
Even as thrifty as Qin Ji usually was, hearing such a statement, moved as he felt, he was also unwilling to accept.
“Then you take the bedroom.” Tong Xilin laughed. “Pick one. You choose.”
In the end, the bedroom was still given to Tong Xilin to live in.
As other classmates headed home one after another for winter break, the two of them, like a pair of brothers in misfortune gone to the city for work, moved from the school to the old rental building.
Neither packed much stuff—each hugged a comforter and grabbed a few changes of clothes. They’d move back once the semester started. Bringing too much was both troublesome and unnecessary.
The very afternoon they moved into the building, they also had to go teach at the tutoring center. These high schoolers were about to have their final exams. The center had arranged pre-exam all-subject Q&A and advancement sessions.
“What do you want to eat tonight?” On the subway to the tutoring center, Qin Ji asked Tong Xilin.
“You can cook?” Tong Xilin caught the implication in his words.
“Home cooking.” Qin Ji nodded. “Now that there’s a kitchen, we can whip up simple things. More convenient.”
Tong Xilin couldn’t compare to him in this regard. Even during those two years living alone, he’d never learned to cook. He was too young. Buying vegetables at the market always got him ripped off. Ten-plus classes a day left him no energy to detour home and cook for himself.
The most he could do was boil instant noodles, add an egg. Convenient and cheap.
“Can you make dumplings?” He suddenly thought of this question.
“Craving dumplings?” Qin Ji’s brow twitched.
Tong Xilin watched the angle of his raised brow, then shook his head: “Not craving them today. But gotta have some for Spring Festival.”
“For New Year’s, gotta eat them.” Qin Ji smiled. “We’ll make them together when the time comes.”
A week after moving into the building, classes at the tutoring center paused. The tutoring for Zhao Linlin was also suspended until after the New Year. She messaged Tong Xilin saying her family was taking her traveling.
Studying could pause. The coffee shop business couldn’t. It was even busier than before the break.
Both extended and adjusted their part-time hours. Qin Ji seemed impervious to fatigue. Tong Xilin discovered he was using this gap to look for yet another part-time job.
Kong Ji’s call came while Tong Xilin and Qin Ji were discussing whether to work night shifts at a 24-hour convenience store, or maybe run some late-night deliveries.
“On break now, right?” Kong Ji asked.
“Yes.” Tong Xilin took his phone upstairs, answering as he walked.
“When are you coming back.”
“Not going back.”
There was a very clear two-second silence on Kong Ji’s end. Then, in a low voice, he replied: “Don’t be difficult.”
His tone held a bit of helplessness and a very faint laugh—like a parent who usually spoiled their child too much, at a loss in the face of the kid’s stubbornness.
“Usually, if you don’t want to come back during regular breaks, fine. I won’t force you.” He lit a cigarette on the other end of the phone, coaxing, cajoling. “It’s almost New Year’s. If you don’t come home, where do you think you’ll go?”
“I have a part-time job for winter break.” Tong Xilin explained very seriously. “I really am not going back.”
Zhou Qi had called to ask the same question that afternoon.
Zhou Qi’s school let out early. Tong Xilin was still in exam week when Zhou Qi had already gone back. He’d returned from a trip somewhere and asked Tong Xilin when he was coming home. Said he’d brought him a gift.
When he heard Zhou Qi say the word “home,” Tong Xilin actually felt a moment of disorientation.
At the start of September, taking his luggage to the airport, Zhou Qi had sent him a voice message, making plans to hang out when they were both back for break.
At the time, Tong Xilin looked at the planes on the tarmac and silently thought: won’t be able to hang out.
He’d already made up his mind then not to go back home.
“Home” was supposed to be something tangible. Public service ads, textbooks, all the romantic cultural propaganda he’d absorbed growing up—they all proclaimed that the meaning of home was parents, was partners, was children and love.
The old Tong Xilin had always wanted a home, wanted love.
But over this half-year at university, he discovered the concept of “home” was actually very ethereal.
He thought of Kong Ji’s home, then thought of Tong Yuzhi’s home. Both places, in his heart now, didn’t seem like a real home.
There had never been a home that truly belonged to him.
“Not going back.” That afternoon, he’d answered Zhou Qi the same way. “I can’t stop my part-time jobs. I don’t want to go back.”
“Tong Xilin,” Zhou Qi, for once exercising his brain a rare bit, sensed something off and asked him, “You’re not still holding a grudge against your uncle, staying away out of spite, are you?”
Tong Xilin wasn’t holding a grudge. Nor throwing a tantrum.
He had no way to explain to Zhou Qi. And no need to explain to Kong Ji.
Facing Kong Ji through the phone, he repeated what he’d told Zhou Qi that afternoon: “I’m not being difficult. I really just don’t want to go back.”
“Listen.” Kong Ji walked a few steps. The sound of keyboard clicking came through. “I’ve booked you a flight for next week. I’ll pick you up when you land.”
After the call ended, Kong Ji sent the flight information to Tong Xilin’s phone.
Truthfully, there was still a lot to do at the studio before year’s end. He told Jiang Lin to adjust things—clear the time from next week until Spring Festival.
“The kid comes back and you’re playing dad again.” Jiang Lin held a large tea mug, drinking noisily.
Kong Ji didn’t respond. He watched the WeChat box that Tong Xilin still hadn’t replied to, and flicked ash off his cigarette.
The flight he’d booked for Tong Xilin was on February 10th, landing at 3 p.m.
Normally, a cleaning service came regularly to do housekeeping. On the 9th, Kong Ji had her come early to clean the house. But he didn’t let her enter Tong Xilin’s bedroom.
He personally aired out Tong Xilin’s comforter, changed the bedding to new sets. He bought him new clothes and a new tablet, plus a lot of fruit and snacks, putting them into the fridge.
There were still Lindt truffles left in the fridge. He picked them up, checked the date, and threw them in the trash.
At 2 p.m. on the 10th, Kong Ji drove to the airport. Halfway there, snow began to fall. He skillfully switched apps, checking the weather forecast for the Tianjin area.
This snow fell for a long time. From 2 p.m. all the way to 5 p.m.
Kong Ji waited at the airport until 5. Wave after wave of travelers came through the terminal. No Tong Xilin.
