Chapter 38
Song Shuci fiddled with his laptop in the bedroom for a while, unable to connect to the meeting, perhaps due to a poor internet connection. As he was working on it, a voice suddenly came from behind.
Jian Wu stood at his bedroom door and said: “Go to the living room, the router is there.”
Song Shuci was a little surprised: “Why are you up?”
Jian Wu, draped in a blanket, yawned and walked towards the living room: “Not sleepy anymore.”
Song Shuci followed him out with his laptop and saw Jian Wu standing by the coffee table, holding a lollipop, his face full of surprise. Seeing him approach, Jian Wu pointed at the jigsaw puzzle and said: “You actually didn’t touch my puzzle!”
This wasn’t Jian Wu’s fault for having a stereotypical impression of Song Shuci. Every time he dozed off, even for a little while, Song Shuci would finish his puzzle. He knew he was impatient and didn’t bother arguing with him.
Song Shuci looked at him and asked: “You don’t like me finishing your puzzles?”
Saying he didn’t like it seemed petty, but saying he liked it was clearly a lie. Jian Wu considered his words, then, choosing “or” between “yes or no,” imitated Song Shuci’s rhetorical question tactic: “What do you think?”
Song Shuci sat on the sofa with his laptop, adjusted the earphone in his left ear, and, hearing him imitate his rhetorical question, chuckled before saying seriously: “You always fall asleep after working on it for a while, so I thought you were impatient and didn’t like it. But you kept buying them for a while, so I thought you must like the finished product but not the process… that’s why I finished them for you.”
He paused and said the words Jian Wu was too embarrassed to say: “So you were unhappy this whole time.”
Jian Wu, hearing Song Shuci’s low tone, thought he was feeling aggrieved, and subconsciously said: “I wasn’t unhappy…” But perhaps because it wasn’t entirely true, his voice trailed off, the forced tone evident.
“Jian Wu,” Song Shuci looked at him, “If there’s anything you don’t like in the future, you can just tell me directly.”
“But you won’t change even if I tell you,” Jian Wu muttered, “I told you before I don’t like using the instruction manual, but you insisted it was the most efficient way. And I also told you not to cook so blandly, to add a little more salt, but you said takeout is already very salty, so we should eat less salt at home to avoid high blood pressure.”
Song Shuci always ignored his needs, thinking he was doing it for his own good.
Jian Wu hadn’t expected his words to have any effect, but unexpectedly, Song Shuci stared at his laptop screen in silence for a while, then said: “I was wrong before, I’ll listen in the future.”
“Song Shuci…” Jian Wu looked at the foreign old man on his laptop screen, then at him, “Did someone implant a chip in your brain while you were abroad? Why can you suddenly understand human language?”
“…” Song Shuci, who had expected at least a word of praise, turned his head away, stuffed the lollipop back into Jian Wu’s mouth, and said, “Watch less sci-fi movies.”
Jian Wu curled his lip and turned back to his puzzle.
“My earphones seem to be broken.” After fiddling with them for a while, Song Shuci took off his earphones, frowned at them, and tossed them aside.
“Do you mind if I use the speakers?” he asked Jian Wu.
Jian Wu, hearing the occasional sound from Song Shuci’s laptop, pursed his lips and said: “Whatever.”
“Okay,” Song Shuci turned up the volume slightly, “Then I’ll use the speakers.”
He seemed to be the main speaker in this meeting. After exchanging greetings, he started his presentation.
The classical music in the living room had been turned off when Jian Wu fell asleep. Now, only Song Shuci’s voice filled the room.
He was presenting in English. English, as long as it wasn’t part of a listening comprehension test, was quite suitable as background noise. It wasn’t as tempting to sing along to as songs, making you forget what you were doing, nor was it as sleep-inducing as white noise due to its lack of content.
Besides, Song Shuci’s English was always pleasant to listen to. When he was at A Medical University, he was also required to present in English at group meetings. If he happened to be having an online meeting at home, Jian Wu would bring his book and sit beside him, listening.
After years of practice abroad, his English was even better now.
Fluent and smooth, pleasant to the ear.
Judging from the accents, most of the people in Song Shuci’s research group in America seemed to be Chinese. From their conversation, the foreign old man wasn’t Song Shuci’s direct supervisor. Song Shuci’s actual supervisor’s voice sounded much younger. Perhaps out of concern for Song Shuci, he even teased him about his current situation.
Perhaps because there were foreigners in the group, they were also speaking English. The pace was too fast, and Jian Wu couldn’t hear clearly, only catching the name “Wu Zhang,” as if he had said something, and Song Shuci’s supervisor wanted to confirm it with him.
Song Shuci said “mm,” and a burst of laughter erupted from the meeting.
Jian Wu subconsciously glanced back at Song Shuci, who happened to be looking at him as well. He quickly looked away, pretending nothing had happened.
Song Shuci’s meeting lasted a long time. By the time it ended, it was almost midnight, and Jian Wu’s puzzle was starting to take shape, more than half completed.
Song Shuci closed his laptop, stretched his arms and legs, leaned back on the sofa, and rested his forearm over his eyes, closing them.
Jian Wu put down the puzzle and also leaned back.
He was sitting on the floor, Song Shuci on the sofa. Looking at him from this angle, he had to slightly tilt his head up.
“Is your supervisor Chinese?” he asked, “That ‘Wu Zhang’ sounded quite standard.”
“Yes,” Song Shuci said, “He’s very capable. He stayed after going abroad for his PhD, and he’s still there now.”
Jian Wu asked again: “What about ‘Wu Zhang’?”
“He’s also Chinese,” Song Shuci said, “He and I joined as postdocs at the same time. He also graduated from A Medical University. Later, I found out we were on the same floor during our PhDs, but we didn’t know each other well back then, we only became close later.”
“He… didn’t come back?”
“No, his most important paper hasn’t been published yet, it’s expected to be published by the end of this year. But I’m not sure if he wants to stay in America or come back.”
Hearing this “not sure,” Jian Wu’s grip on the puzzle piece loosened, his slightly pale fingertips regaining blood flow and turning deep red.
He rubbed his fingertips. Song Shuci suddenly lowered his arm, leaned forward, closer to him, and said casually: “Hey, let me tell you something funny, about my supervisor.”
Many people who knew Song Shuci thought he was quiet. Jian Wu thought this was definitely the biggest misunderstanding. Song Shuci actually loved to talk, so much so that even though Jian Wu was a year younger, he still knew all the interesting teachers and juicy gossip from Song Shuci’s year.
Hearing Song Shuci’s words, he instinctively asked curiously: “What is it?”
Song Shuci rested his chin on his hand. Having just finished his presentation, he looked very relaxed.
“My supervisor’s parents are in business, and they’re a little superstitious. Every time our research group is about to submit a paper, he prays at home.”
“No wonder you’re also so superstitious,” Jian Wu said.
“I’m nothing compared to him,” Song Shuci gestured as he spoke, “You haven’t seen his shrine, a statue of Guan Yu with a Bible underneath, a cross and a string of cinnabar beads around his neck.”
Jian Wu was amused: “A blend of East and West, so what does he actually believe in?”
“His family believes in Guan Yu, but he says he’ll believe in whoever can help him publish in a top journal.” Song Shuci showed him a photo of his supervisor’s shrine.
Jian Wu zoomed in on the photo with two fingers. It was exactly as Song Shuci described.
“He even told me this is the best combination for publishing papers, which he discovered after years of testing, and told me to take a photo and set up one at home.”
Jian Wu warned him: “Don’t you dare set up something like that in my house. Religious beliefs aside, it’s dangerous to keep candles burning. If we’re both not home and it burns down the house, we’re screwed.”
“What are you thinking,” Song Shuci put away his phone, “I can publish in high-impact journals without those things.”
“…” Compared to the arrogant Song Shuci, his supervisor was much more endearing.
Jian Wu thought seriously.
After the joke, Song Shuci became serious again: “But my supervisor is indeed very capable. He’s very competent, and his guidance is always on point.”
Song Shuci was always arrogant about his own talent. Jian Wu rarely heard him praise anyone, and he complained about his PhD advisor more than he praised him.
Jian Wu paused and said: “Oh, that’s good.” His tone was light, betraying no emotion.
Song Shuci smiled at him and suddenly suggested: “Come with me to buy a car this weekend.”
“Why should I go with you to buy a car?” Jian Wu emphasized the “you.”
“You’ve been back for over half a year,” Song Shuci said, “I’m not familiar with this place, I’m afraid of being scammed.”
“Cheng Xian knows a lot about cars,” Jian Wu said.
Song Shuci thought about Cheng Xian, who was inexplicably terrified of him, and said: “Do you think he would be willing to go with me if I asked him?”
“So you’re asking me because he doesn’t want to go with you?” Jian Wu deliberately misinterpreted his meaning.
Song Shuci was amused. He hugged a pillow on the sofa and chuckled for a while before saying: “Jian Xiaowu, just tell me, are you going or not?”
“No,” Jian Wu refused, “I’m busy, no time.”
“Busy with what?” Song Shuci asked.
Jian Wu said: “I have a fishing date.”
Song Shuci’s laughter suddenly stopped.
“With whom?” he asked coldly.
“Are you the Pacific Ocean police?” Jian Wu said.
Song Shuci said without missing a beat: “I’m your ex-boyfriend.”
“…” Jian Wu wasn’t sure if he could convince the stubborn old man from the anatomy department and didn’t want to mention it yet, so he said evasively: “You don’t know him.”
“Oh,” Song Shuci stood up with his laptop, his face expressionless, “Then I’m going to bed.” Before leaving, he glanced at Jian Wu and said indifferently, “Have fun.”
Jian Wu was used to his reaction and didn’t take it to heart.
He started preparing his bait after work on Friday, constantly running back and forth to let his parrot and tortoise smell it. After successfully tempting them, he was satisfied and packed up, ignoring the bird’s string of curses.
Seeing him about to leave with all his equipment, Song Shuci, who had been working on his laptop beside him since he started preparing the bait, finally stopped typing, looked at the clock pointing to 8, and asked: “You’re going at this hour?”
Jian Wu forced a smile and said with a deadpan expression: “Mm.”
The night was quiet, the light dimmer, and the fish were usually more active, so the catch would be better.
Old Hu from the anatomy department was a passionate night fishing enthusiast, mainly because his primary goal was the quantity, variety, and size of the fish.
But Jian Wu was a very casual fisherman. Most of the time, he just wanted to find a quiet place to listen to music and zone out. He didn’t really care about how many fish he caught, so he never liked night fishing. This was why he had always refused Old Hu’s invitations.
Seeing Song Shuci, who was oblivious to all this, frown again, Jian Wu quickly closed the door before he could speak.
Although going night fishing with someone did sound a bit ambiguous, he really didn’t want to hear Song Shuci get jealous or suspect him of going out to look for a hookup.
But as soon as he closed the door, Song Shuci opened it again.
Jian Wu was about to cover his ears when Song Shuci suddenly stuffed a handful of apple-flavored hard candies into his pocket. After that, he closed the door without saying a word.
Jian Wu stood there in confusion for a while before putting his hand in his pocket.
The hallway was quiet. The candy wrappers rustled against his palm. Jian Wu paused, then suddenly chuckled.
