Chapter 4

Chapter 4

After that scene at dinner, everyone understood.

In Sang Ge’s eyes, I had been blacklisted. People in the entertainment industry knew which way the wind blew, and I was soon isolated. Miaomiao had kindly reached out to me, only to be placed in an awkward position herself. I could not bear to drag her down, so I deliberately kept my distance.

That night, after my shower, I took off my wig. A fine blue-black fuzz had begun growing across my scalp like new grass. In a few more months, perhaps I would no longer need a wig.

Marks from examinations dotted my collarbone, and a surgical scar ran across my abdomen.

The woman in the mirror was gaunt, but her eyes were bright.

I tugged at my cheeks until I smiled. “Hey, Ding Guchun.”

“Leave the world a little more of yourself.”

I took my medicine, but sleep would not come. Eventually, I pulled on a jacket and went to the balcony at the end of the corridor. Moonlight glittered across the distant sea, and the wind carried the scent of salt water.

My taut nerves finally loosened. I was about to return to my room when voices sounded behind me.

“Sang Ge, after all these years, why can’t you let it go? What am I still doing wrong?”

Jiang Siyu was crying.

My grip tightened on the railing. I knew at once who she was pleading with so humbly. Eavesdropping was wrong, but I had arrived first. They had failed to notice me only because I stood in a hidden corner behind a white curtain.

If I left now, I would walk straight into them and make matters even harder to explain.

The person opposite her remained silent for a long time before answering with two words.

“I’m sorry.”

I did not know what Jiang Siyu had done to create such a tangle of love and hate, but it no longer concerned me.

Footsteps receded. I waited until everything was quiet again, then crept out—only to turn and meet Sang Ge’s eyes.

He leaned against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers, its tip a tiny spark as he watched me.

He had known I was there all along.

Yet the first thing out of my mouth was, “You smoke now?”

He used to hate smokers and drinkers more than anything.

“People change.” His mouth twisted, though I could not tell whom he was mocking.

People changed.

But from the first moment I met Sang Ge, I believed he would always remain clean and pure.

It was an ache and an instinct I could never put into words.

Sang Ge transferred to our school in the second year of high school. The moment he arrived, news swept through the whole grade that an unbelievably handsome boy had joined us. Back then I laughed easily, knew everyone, and skipped through life untouched by misfortune. The teacher pointed at random and placed the new student in my care.

“Ding Guchun.”

I looked up into the new boy’s dark eyes. He had single-lidded eyes and a lazy way of looking at people.

“This is your new deskmate. Take good care of him.”

I sprang to my feet in excitement.

The teacher said Sang Ge was a little withdrawn.

Later, I decided that was an extremely diplomatic description.

He was slim, pale, and beautiful. I assumed that with a face like his, no one could possibly leave him alone. Surely his life would be crowded, colorful, and full of laughter.

I was wrong.

It was not that everyone excluded him. Sang Ge excluded the entire world.

Yet the world always contained someone who blossomed at the slightest warmth.

Someone like me.

Sang Ge was all thorns then. Anyone who came close bled. Fortunately, I had thick skin.

He gave me the cold shoulder for a year and still failed to drive me away. Perhaps he had never expected Ding Guchun to be completely incapable of reading the room.

I did not want anything from him. I merely wanted him to be a little happier.

I was like that with everyone around me. I wanted them all to be happy every day.

But Sang Ge was a little different.

I was too young to understand where that difference came from.

Then one day, people made a bet over how many eyelashes he had. While Sang Ge napped, I leaned closer and tried to count them. They were long and thick above the clean line of his nose.

One, two, three.

Four, five, six.

I kept losing count and starting over. Sang Ge suddenly raised a hand and covered my eyes.

“Stop counting. Go to sleep.”

The boy’s voice was husky with sleep. His palm was hot.

One, two, three.

Four, five, six.

Only then did I realize I was counting the violent beats of my own heart.

After that, there was no turning back.