We Can’t Go Back 68

Chapter 68

Song Shuci’s bold declaration of “seven days” ultimately didn’t come to pass.

The day after the nightmare, Song Shuci, holding his phone, told Jian Wu with a slight headache that he had to go out to meet someone.

Jian Wu looked up from his embrace, sleepily asking who it was, then, seeing his face clearly, couldn’t help but chuckle: “Song Shuci, this is the first time I’ve seen your eyes so swollen.”

Song Shuci turned away, refusing to communicate. Jian Wu leaned on his shoulder and looked at his phone over his head.

“A classmate of mine, I don’t know if you remember him.”

As Song Shuci spoke, Jian Wu saw the contact name on his screen — Wu Zhang.

Jian Wu lay back down: “Isn’t he abroad?”

“He’s back, said he wants to join me,” Song Shuci turned to face him, massaging his eyelids and explaining, “Last time I was in City A, I talked to Senior Jiang. He said he has a research result that could be commercialized and asked if I was interested in starting a company and collaborating with him. City B has favorable policies for businesses, and the school also encourages teachers to start businesses, so I mentioned it to Wu Zhang, and he was quite interested.”

Jian Wu also started massaging his temples: “You want to collaborate with Senior Jiang?”

“It’s not certain yet,” Song Shuci said, “His patent is very valuable, several companies in City A contacted him wanting to buy it outright, but he wants profit sharing. After all, funding is becoming increasingly difficult to apply for, and he also wants a stable source of funding for his lab if this works out, so he’s still negotiating with those companies. He probably wasn’t having a good time negotiating with them, and since we talked about City B’s favorable policies that day, he mentioned it.”

“Even with profit sharing, you can’t afford his patent fee, can you?” Jian Wu said.

“Yes, that’s why I asked Wu Zhang,” Song Shuci chuckled, “He’s a rich second-generation kid who aspires to be a self-made millionaire.”

He explained: “We also had some research results with commercialization potential when we were in America, and we made plans for it, but foreign patents are too complicated, it’s difficult to bring them back. I thought he would want to stay there and try it, I didn’t expect him to be so willing to come find me.”

Jian Wu pursed his lips: “You’re quite charming, then.”

Song Shuci kissed the tip of his nose: “Want to come with me?”

“Didn’t you tell me not to get out of bed?” Jian Wu retorted.

Song Shuci glanced pointedly at the paperclip and the unlocked chain on his desk: “Can I really stop you?”

“Depends on my mood.”

“No need to check,” Song Shuci looked at him with a smile, “You already said you love me.”

Jian Wu’s ears turned red from his smile, and he glared at him: “Someone was crying in my arms yesterday, and now he’s alive and kicking again?”

“Mm,” Song Shuci said shamelessly, nodding, “Teacher Jian brought me back to life.”

Jian Wu’s face was now also flushed. He quickly sat up and went to his bedroom to get dressed.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Wu Zhang was already there, dressed casually, drinking coffee.

Seeing two people, Wu Zhang was taken aback, then stood up and shook Jian Wu’s hand enthusiastically, turning to ask Song Shuci: “This is?”

Jian Wu originally intended to introduce himself, but he suddenly became curious about how Song Shuci would introduce him, so he didn’t speak immediately. Soon, he heard Song Shuci introduce him: “Jian Wu.”

Just a name, without any prefix indicating their relationship.

A subtle emotion flickered in Jian Wu’s heart. He thought that after last night, they were back together. Song Shuci wasn’t someone who would hide his sexual orientation. When they were together, he always introduced him as “My boyfriend, Jian Wu” when meeting acquaintances.

But before this emotion could fully develop, Wu Zhang blurted out a curse.

“You’re Jian Wu?” His tone was full of shock, his grip on Jian Wu’s hand tightening, “It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

“Am I some kind of celebrity?”

Jian Wu looked at Song Shuci, puzzled. Only he could answer this question, but Song Shuci just smiled faintly, seemingly not intending to explain.

But someone couldn’t hold back.

“You’re very famous in our research group now,” Wu Zhang said, “Practically a household name.”

Jian Wu: “…”

“Why?” He instinctively felt Song Shuci must have said something.

Wu Zhang looked at Song Shuci and, pointing at Jian Wu, asked: “He doesn’t know yet?”

“He doesn’t,” Song Shuci handed the menu to Jian Wu.

“Just order anything for me,” Jian Wu was busy absorbing the gossip, he didn’t have time to look at the menu, and asked Wu Zhang, “What don’t I know?”

Wu Zhang said, exasperated: “Song Shuci, you’re hopeless, you’ve been back in City B for so long, and you haven’t proposed yet?”

Jian Wu was stunned: “Proposed?”

Song Shuci couldn’t help but click his tongue, “Wu Zhang, can you be a little less hasty?”

“That’s because you’re too slow,” Wu Zhang said bluntly, then turned to Jian Wu with a smile, “It’s okay, I’ll tell Xiao Jian.”

“Hey—” Song Shuci tried to stop him, and Jian Wu and Wu Zhang both looked at him instantly.

“…” Receiving Jian Wu’s curious and complex gaze, Song Shuci smiled helplessly and said to Wu Zhang, “Fine, go ahead.”

“Xiao Jian,” Wu Zhang became excited, pointing at Song Shuci, “You know, this guy, suddenly told us a while ago that he was staying in City B, we were all shocked. Then I told our supervisor, and he didn’t seem surprised at all, even told me to look at Song Shuci’s publications. I thought he was implying I had neither career nor love.”

“I told him I had read all of Song Shuci’s publications these past few years, and he told me to look at the acknowledgments. Honestly, I had never really paid attention to the acknowledgments before, but guess what? After all these years, I never realized, this guy wrote a marriage proposal to you in the acknowledgments of every paper he was the first author of.”

“Marriage proposal…?” Jian Wu was stunned.

Almost every paper had an acknowledgment section, used to thank the departments, institutions, foundations, groups, and individuals who contributed to the research. However, for various reasons, especially considering the impact on their academic image, most authors only included the first few items and didn’t write personal acknowledgments.

“Song Shuci, I’m really curious, how did you convince our supervisor to let you add that line in the acknowledgments?” Wu Zhang exclaimed, “He’s so good at keeping secrets, not even telling us about this. I thought you would get married as soon as you came back… Hey, why aren’t you two saying anything?”

He looked at the two, the atmosphere suddenly becoming subtle, a question mark appearing above his head.

He didn’t know the complexities between them. Just looking at the sentence in the acknowledgments, he thought Jian Wu was Song Shuci’s long-distance partner, so after Song Shuci came back, he assumed they had already moved on to the next stage, but it seemed things weren’t as he thought.

Jian Wu looked at Song Shuci, and Song Shuci looked out the window.

After a while, Jian Wu took out his phone and started searching for Song Shuci’s publications.

Soon, amidst the dense English text, he saw the sentence: “In addition, Song Shuci wants to thank his muse, Jian Wu. Will you marry me?”

Wu Zhang was right. Every paper Song Shuci was the first author of since going abroad, including the one in Cell, had this sentence in the acknowledgments.

He suddenly remembered that on the night they met again, in the hotel, Song Shuci seemed to have said to him, “You definitely haven’t read my publications.”

He had wondered why Song Shuci was so certain, he thought Song Shuci was mocking him for being heartless, but he hadn’t expected it to be this.

He held his phone and couldn’t help but ask Song Shuci: “What are you thanking me for?”

Others might thank their partners for their company and support, but during the years Song Shuci was abroad, he hadn’t given him any… If anything, it was probably anger and resentment.

Song Shuci looked at him, a hint of a smile on his face: “Thanking you for existing in this world.”

Jian Wu’s heart skipped a beat, like the jarring note he had mischievously played amidst the harmonious piano melody Song Shuci was playing when they were young.

People were taught to prioritize reason from birth.

From obediently sitting in the classroom listening to the first lesson, to learning various logic and moral principles. There were templates for how to do things, how to be a person. Every decision or judgment required a reason.

Only love defied reason.

How could a broken mirror not have cracks?

But some people insisted on trying, wanting to glue it back together despite the cracks.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime derailment from a life of following rules, the absolute romance of emotions triumphing over reason.

Jian Wu knew that neither he nor Song Shuci was perfect, and the love they gave each other wasn’t perfect either.

The most popular psychology books about love often focused on the subjective perspectives of “how to love yourself” and “how to receive love from others.” In contrast, the topic of “how to love someone” often became a cheesy pick-up guide, or simply had few readers. Countless books on how to love yourself, but few taught people how to love others.

So he and Song Shuci weren’t good at it either.

They met too early, fell in love too early, hadn’t even figured out their own lives, and could only rely on instinct and years of ingrained habits to interact with each other.

Until the mirror shattered.

But everyone had flaws and scars, no one was a perfect mirror. If you were broken, you could try to glue yourself back together. If your relationship was broken, could you, like accepting your own imperfections, accept the imperfections of another person?

Song Shuci had given him his answer.

Despite resenting his deception, being angry at his sudden departure, and feeling aggrieved by his poor communication, Song Shuci still chose to accept everything he gave him, the good and the bad.

Then what was his answer?

Jian Wu looked at the rings Song Shuci placed before him.

The red velvet boxes were neatly arranged, open, each pair of rings a design they had liked when they looked at wedding rings after Song Shuci’s proposal.

They couldn’t afford them back then, so they planned to choose their favorite and buy it after he worked for a few years and Song Shuci graduated with his PhD.

But perhaps because seeing the same rings on their fingers looked good no matter what, they couldn’t choose, liking several pairs, so they just took photos of each one, planning to decide later.

And now, Song Shuci, after seeing Wu Zhang off, had brought them all home and placed them before him.

“I was actually planning to find a better time for this,” Song Shuci seemed slightly annoyed, “It’s all because that guy was too hasty.”

Jian Wu’s eyelashes trembled, and he softly asked: “When did you buy them?”

Song Shuci confessed: “I bought them whenever I had money, until I went to America, when I bought the last pair… but I couldn’t find some of them, so I just found similar ones.”

The rings on the table were like lines of a poem.

Some were simple and elegant, some intricately patterned, some reserved and subtle, some passionate and flamboyant.

They lay there quietly, waiting for the poem to be set to music, to be given life and meaning.

“But we… we’re not even dating.”

Jian Wu didn’t know what kind of expression to make. His gaze was complex, yet he couldn’t help but smile.

Song Shuci smiled along with him, “I originally planned to wait until you agreed to be with me, but I couldn’t wait any longer. We’ve already been together for seven years… I don’t want to date you anymore.”

Song Shuci looked at him, his tender gaze deep, his eyes reflecting only him.

“I want to marry you.”