Striving to shake off Tong Yuzhi’s shadow, only to unknowingly live like Tong Yuzhi.
This was something Tong Xilin had never once considered.
The impact of Kong Ji’s bystander perspective hit Tong Xilin with such force that he barely registered the follow-up conversation about the plane ticket. He sat there frowning to himself, lost in thought.
He instinctively wanted to refute something. But as he carefully recalled these past six months of life, and compared them with his memories of Tong Yuzhi, he couldn’t utter a single word.
It felt like a complex, obscure problem. He’d been solving it his own way, head down, stumbling along, arriving at an answer.
Then a bystander saw it, and with just one glance, pointed out that the answer still had a fundamental flaw.
This feeling was terrible. Bizarre, even, carrying a tinge of disorientation and frustration.
He wanted to explain his reasoning, prove he was right. But he was speechless.
Because after being awakened to it, he himself couldn’t accept this answer. Couldn’t accept that he was still trapped, circling inside Tong Yuzhi’s orbit.
Conflicting thoughts collided and spun in his mind. Setting this point aside for a moment, tonight Kong Ji had said a lot more.
He’d wanted to talk with Tong Xilin, and he’d truly laid things out openly. From reminiscing about Tong Yuzhi, to reminding him not to neglect his own life just for the sake of repaying money. Every section had a clear theme, carrying a gentle but firm guidance and counsel.
Tong Xilin wasn’t an unfeeling fool. He couldn’t fail to hear the goodwill in Kong Ji’s words.
When Kong Ji pointed out he shouldn’t pay for Tong Yuzhi’s mistakes, Tong Xilin’s hurt and sense of being touched were real. But so was his confusion.
Why this change in attitude?
If he’d been guided like this when Kong Ji first brought him back—like a true uncle figure—Tong Xilin didn’t know how grateful he would have been.
But back then, it wasn’t like this.
Back then, all of Kong Ji’s signals had been too ambiguous. He’d been utterly unable to resist them, drowning in them.
So why the change now?
Tong Xilin couldn’t figure it out. No one had ever taught him how to handle these complex, uncertain feelings. He couldn’t distinguish those nuanced emotional shifts.
His only survival rule was to grasp whatever he could. Things like studying and part-time work—they’d yield returns as long as he put in the effort.
As for the things that weren’t clear, that didn’t belong to him—whether it was fatherly love or something else—the things he’d tried to hold onto but ended up flat on his face for: if he couldn’t grasp them, he simply no longer wanted any of them.
Even if they were offered to him again, he wouldn’t dare take them.
Kong Ji still wore the bracelet Tong Xilin had given him on his wrist. Tong Xilin stared at it, spacing out.
After a moment of organizing his thoughts, he steadied his emotions and reached out, touching it.
Kong Ji flipped his wrist over, allowing him unobstructed contact with the leather and its ornament.
“I understand what you mean, Uncle.”
Tong Xilin only touched it once before pulling his hand back.
“Tong Yuzhi really didn’t have any plot for you. He didn’t contact you even at the end. But I actually did have one.”
“At that time, with the car accident, I had no way out. I needed someone to take care of me, cover my expenses.”
Kong Ji watched him talk. He didn’t interrupt. He showed no displeasure at all.
This was the way a smart person should act.
“At the very beginning, I did treat you with the mindset of an inheritance.”
Tong Xilin spoke slowly.
“You also said just now: at the very start, you were indeed looking for Tong Yuzhi’s shadow in me. Treating me as his replacement.”
The scarf that covered half the face, the painting left in the studio for so long, the Lindt chocolates in the fridge, the white clothes, and last year’s New Year’s Eve, when a drunk Kong Ji had embraced him and called him “Tong Yuzhi”—they flashed through his mind one by one.
Like a silent film in slow motion.
“I honestly can’t figure you two out.”
Tong Xilin looked toward him, his expression peaceful.
“Maybe now, you really don’t have feelings for him anymore. So you could go all those years without contacting him.”
“But somewhere deep in your heart, there must still be a place of remembrance. You’re still holding onto the good things between you two. Those memories were triggered when you saw this face. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have needed to find a projection in me.”
“I can’t accept that.”
No matter the reason—whether Kong Ji saw him as pitiful, or truly felt for him, or was purely acting from the perspective and mindset of an adult allowing Tong Xilin to treat him as an inheritance—Tong Xilin couldn’t do it.
Naive as it might be, foolish as it might be, whenever he thought of Tong Yuzhi, Tong Xilin’s heart couldn’t get past it.
“I understand your good intentions. But I’m past the stage of having no way out.”
He continued.
“Thank you for taking care of me, spending money on me, giving me a place to live and food to eat.”
“And thank you for telling me all this today.”
“Since you don’t lack money, I’ll repay you slowly, on the condition of not affecting my studies. It might take many years. I hope you won’t be impatient.”
The old building had poor soundproofing. The sound of footsteps ascending the stairs came from outside—probably Qin Ji returning from his shower. Soon, they retreated back down again.
“I won’t let myself become a second Tong Yuzhi.” Tong Xilin smiled faintly, his eyes curving slightly. “Don’t worry.”
Emotions never extend along a single line. Tong Xilin was moved by Kong Ji’s words, baffled by Kong Ji’s change, and grateful for Kong Ji’s attitude. These three points didn’t conflict.
The way he smiled just now was very beautiful. Gone was the confrontation and guardedness of the past half-year. Still calm, his attitude and resolve still firm, but more composed.
Kong Ji looked at him for a very, very long time. Finally, he lowered his eyes and smiled too.
“So stubborn, Tong Xilin.”
He said this same sentence again. Last time was on the phone, when Tong Xilin, in his senior year, had moved to the school dorm and refused to go home.
The same six words, spoken nearly a year apart. Kong Ji’s tone and expression now carried something different.
Tong Xilin couldn’t analyze these changes, nor did he have the mental energy to. He checked the time on his phone; his thoughts were elsewhere.
This meeting and conversation tonight had been completely outside Tong Xilin’s expectations. He didn’t know how Kong Ji had arranged things. The only certainty was that this bedroom couldn’t sleep two people.
Before he could ask, Kong Ji had already stood up.
“Make your decisions at your own pace.” He told Tong Xilin. “Manage your time well. Don’t overwork yourself.”
“Are you leaving, Uncle?” Tong Xilin rose as well.
“Yeah.” Kong Ji answered.
He’d bought a last-minute ticket to come here. His return flight was in the middle of the night. Time to head to the airport now.
He tapped on his phone for a moment, then transferred Tong Xilin a sum of money.
“New Year’s money.” Kong Ji said. “Even if you’re not going home for the New Year, you should still get what you’re supposed to get. This doesn’t need to be repaid.”
The amount this year was ten thousand more than last year. Tong Xilin didn’t refuse. He tapped to accept and continued thanking him, saying: “Thank you, Uncle.”
The reserved car came quickly. Tong Xilin saw Kong Ji out of the compound, keeping a one-meter distance. Both hands in his pockets, he stood on the curb.
The streetlight cast its projection through the bare-branched parasol trees. Just as Kong Ji was about to get in the car, he turned back and looked at him once more.
“Happy New Year.” He patted Tong Xilin’s head.
Tong Xilin’s shoulders hunched from the pat. By the time he lifted his head again, the car door had closed, driving off into the dark night.
The road in front of the compound’s gate was a wide thoroughfare. He stood there on the curb for a long while, just standing there spacing out, until Kong Ji’s car disappeared from view and his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He took it out to look. A message from Kong Ji.
Kong Ji: Why are you just standing there like an idiot.
Kong Ji: Go back.
Tong Xilin typed and deleted, deleted and typed on the keyboard. He replied with a single word: Okay.
After a few steps into the compound, he stopped again. He turned and headed toward the convenience store across from the compound, buying a bottle of hot milk tea.
The milk tea was scalding. He carried it with the hand that didn’t have chilblains. When he got back down to the unit’s entrance, an electric scooter honked behind him. A delivery driver.
Tong Xilin stepped aside to let him pass. The delivery driver, carrying a paper bag, rushed past him, two steps at a time, stopping in front of his unit number. He checked the information on his phone.
“1103?” Tong Xilin came up behind him and asked.
“Ah, yeah.” The delivery driver immediately turned around and rattled off a string of phone numbers. “Are you Tong Xilin?”
“Give it to me.” Tong Xilin accepted it.
It was a paper bag from a pharmacy. The person who placed the order was Kong Ji.
Tong Xilin opened it and saw the chilblain ointment and hand warmers inside. He squeezed them. He wasn’t the least bit surprised.
Qin Ji was downstairs in the bathroom washing clothes. Hearing the door open, he poked his head out to greet him: “Your uncle got a hotel?”
“Went back.” Tong Xilin handed over the milk tea he’d just bought.
“What’s this for.” Qin Ji wiped his wet hands and smiled, taking it.
Tong Xilin didn’t explain.
With someone like Qin Ji, not everything needed to be said aloud. When Kong Ji visited earlier, Qin Ji said he’d go downstairs to shower. Truthfully, he knew the building had poor soundproofing and was actively providing them a quiet, private space.
They each understood in their hearts. A special, explicit thank-you would just feel distant.
He went to the kitchen next door and washed his hands. He didn’t go upstairs, instead sitting down on the sofa. He opened the chilblain ointment and carefully applied it.
“I thought you’d go back with your uncle.” Qin Ji returned to the bathroom to continue his laundry. His voice was accompanied by the sound of water. “He probably came to pick you up, right?”
“We’d already agreed I wouldn’t go back.” Tong Xilin looked at his hand. The ointment felt cold on the burning chilblain.
“Going back would’ve been fine.” Qin Ji came out and sat down beside him, looking at his hand together with Tong Xilin. “There’s no need for you to stay here and suffer.”
If this was considered suffering, then that previous life of his had been truly unlivable.
Tong Xilin thought for a while. Suddenly, he very much wanted to talk about something with someone.
About Kong Ji. About Tong Yuzhi. About what to do if you develop feelings for someone you shouldn’t have feelings for.
He called Qin Ji’s name. His mouth opened and closed, unsure how to begin.
How to even talk about it?
His own heart was a tangled mess. He couldn’t sort it out himself.
“What is it? You’re hemming and hawing.” Qin Ji unscrewed the milk tea and took a sip. He observed while probing. “Is your family worried and not letting you continue the part-time work?”
“No.” Tong Xilin shook his head. “But after school starts, I’m planning to quit the coffee shop.”
“What about the tutoring center and the private tutoring?” Qin Ji asked.
“I’ll keep those two.” Tong Xilin rubbed the base of his finger to soothe the hot itch of the chilblain. “I quite like those two part-time jobs.”
Qin Ji expressed understanding. Right now, freshman year coursework wasn’t heavy. Once specialized courses kicked in later, he wouldn’t be able to pour all his energy into working either.
He asked Tong Xilin again: “What were you going to say just now?”
Tong Xilin was quiet for a moment, recalling everything Kong Ji had said to him tonight. In the end, he just pursed his lips and smiled: “Nothing.”
