Chapter 30: A Heart of Stone

Chapter 30: A Heart of Stone

The next day, Tang Yu had barely reached school when a text message came in. "Did you sleep well last night? Was the hot chocolate to your taste?"

He didn't need to guess who it was. Out of politeness, Tang Yu sent a brief reply. The other party opened no new topic, and the conversation ended there.

The phone that had been smashed beyond repair—because Tang Yifeng had given it to him, Tang Yu couldn't bear to have it taken apart, much less thrown away.

He carried it in his schoolbag every day, enshrining a piece of wreckage like a treasure.

If anyone ever found out, they'd probably call him insane.

So Tang Yu kept it to himself, telling no one.

To everyone else, the phone was simply "smashed to pieces."

When Ji Xuecha learned the old phone was beyond saving, her face clouded with sorrow—such a loss! After all, it had held her one-of-a-kind Xuecha-brand photographs: precious candid shots of the two of them together.

That image from outside the rehearsal room—the one where Tang Yu had burst out and flung his arms around Ji Qian'ang—gone, just like that.

The new phone had a new SIM card—no contacts, naturally. Tang Yu wasn't in any hurry, adding people back one by one.

When he came to Ji Qian'ang's number, Tang Yu paused to think. He'd saved it before as "Deadpan."

But now he suddenly wanted to change it. To what, he decided to mull over a little longer—so in his contact list, everyone had a name attached, and one string of digits stood alone, unnamed.

Ji Qian'ang's right hand had taken more damage than it looked. A later hospital examination showed the stitches themselves were fine, but the tissue damage underneath was worse than the surface suggested.

The periosteum tear wasn't severe, but the recovery would be long—about a month. Neglect it, and his grip strength would suffer afterward.

Tang Yu's chest tightened as he listened. The wound existed because the man had saved him. For the next month, nearly everything Ji Qian'ang did would be limited—and no doubt he would need Tang Yu's help.

Even if Ji Qian'ang never asked, Tang Yu refused to stand by like a man with a heart of stone.

Like now: Ji Qian'ang's shoelace had come undone in front of him. Tang Yu steered him to the side of the corridor, hesitated a moment, then crouched down and quickly tied it for him.

Feng Jian happened to be passing and caught the whole scene. Arms crossed over his chest, a sly grin creeping onto his face, he sidled up. "Well, well. Tang Shao."

"Since when do you tie your companion's shoelaces yourself? Did the servants run out at your place, or what?"

Tang Yu shot back, expressionless. "His hand's injured. Are you blind?"

Feng Jian blinked. Tang Yu was always so high above everyone—he'd expected him to flush and stammer that it wasn't what it looked like. Instead he laughed awkwardly. "Injured, huh. With your status, Tang Shao, couldn't you have someone else tie it?"

"Call whom?" Tang Yu scoffed. "You?"

"Feng Jian, have you been too free lately? That incident at swim class—when you kicked me into the pool—our homeroom teacher still doesn't know about it, does he?"

Feng Jian's face tightened instantly, eyes darting away.

Last time, Luo Yueze had hauled him off to the office over it; he'd begged the swim teacher not to report it, and when the teacher asked Tang Yu's opinion, Tang Yu had let it go—that was the only reason he had escaped.

If the homeroom teacher found out, it would surely reach his parents in no time. The consequences didn't bear thinking about.

Feng Jian clapped his hands, feigning ease, slinging an arm over the shoulder of the classmate beside him with a breezy laugh. "Just joking! No need to be so serious."

"Hey, Xiao Zhou—did we forget to return the equipment?"

"Let's go." Feng Jian hauled Cai Zhou off in instant retreat, in no mood to court more trouble.

Once they were gone down the corridor, Tang Yu set his hands on his hips and exhaled. "From now on, wear shoes without laces."

Ji Qian'ang only looked quietly at Tang Yu and gave no reply.

Lately, messages from He Zhuokun had been arriving often—chat about daily life, about art, and even a standing invitation: "The painting is already hung. Come by my study to see it when you have the chance."

Between schoolwork and his interpreting commitments—and Ji Qian'ang's injury, which inevitably called on his care—Tang Yu truly had no free moment to spare.

He glanced at it, then flipped the phone face-down. Neither refusing nor agreeing.

At the dinner table, Lin Juefei sat across from him and noticed.

Lin Juefei had noticed Tang Yu checking his phone constantly lately, picking it up for a glance every little while.

But Tang Yu had never been like this before. An uneasiness nagged at him.

He knew Tang Yu never set a passcode on his phone. So while Tang Yu went to the bathroom, he casually picked it up and took a look.

He didn't even have to search. The screen lit up straight onto a message thread, and at the top of it sat that string of digits—a number Lin Juefei would recognize if it were burned to ash.

He Zhuokun had become this proactive? Toward a boy he'd known less than a few months?

He had even invited Tang Yu to his study. Lin Juefei's heart felt as if it had been gouged by something sharp, again and again; his blood roared in his ears.

In four years, He Zhuokun had never once let him into that study. And now, just to look at a painting, Tang Yu could set foot inside?

Mr. He—do you know?

Do you know that it was I—A-Fei—who knew you first...?

Only when the screen dimmed itself did Lin Juefei, hands shaking, set the phone back in its place, and take one long breath.

In late October, South Island Secondary School published the list for the autumn field-study program.

One name was drawn from each class. Tang Yu was the one drawn.

Using it as his pretext, Tang Yu politely declined He Zhuokun's invitation.

He Zhuokun didn't press—only told him to travel safely, and said there would be plenty of chances to see exhibitions together in the future.

The program was in Sai Kung—three days and two nights at a holiday camp.

Daytime was devoted to a coastal ecology survey; evenings were free.

Ji Xuecha's name was on the roster too. Tian Qianxing and Luo Yueze were sorely disappointed.

The day before departure, Ji Qian'ang learned he had a slot too—added afterward.

Lin Shanbai had personally delivered a letter of recommendation to the school: Ji Qian'ang's situation was special. Grandmother had instructed that wherever Tang Yu went, Ji Qian'ang was to follow—and she hoped the field study would grant him a place as well.

The camp they'd chosen sat where mountain met sea—mountain at its back, the open sea before it.

The late-October sea wind already carried a sliver of chill against their faces; the flags above the camp fluttered and whined.

The survey was done in groups. Tang Yu and Ji Xuecha were assigned together; Ji Qian'ang was in the group next to theirs, close enough that they could see each other's backs.

The afternoon activity was rocky-shore observation. Tang Yu's group was assigned a reef flat laid bare by the receding tide.

The rocks were thick with barnacles and algae; one careless step and you'd slip straight down. The leading teacher kept calling warnings from the front: watch your footing.

Tang Yu walked in front with a long probe pole; Ji Xuecha followed with the clipboard.

Ji Qian'ang was on another stretch of reef about twenty meters away.

He crouched on a rock, ostensibly scanning the clusters of brown algae below his knees—yet his peripheral vision never once left Tang Yu.

Tang Yu was probing his way forward with the pole, about to step onto the next rock, when the phone in his pocket rang out abruptly. His heart clenched—and his foot slipped onto a stone slick with wet algae.

His foot shot out; his whole body pitched forward. He jammed the pole into a crevice between the rocks and caught his balance.

Seeing him steady himself, Ji Qian'ang swiftly pulled his gaze back.

The next second, a sound came from close by.

Tang Yu had slid into the narrow gap between two rocks, his left leg wedged against the stone wall at an ugly angle.

The phone in his pocket kept ringing, but Tang Yu had no attention to spare. His face was bloodless; he bit down hard on his lower lip and made not a single sound.

Ji Xuecha couldn't help crying out: "Tang Yu!"

Ji Qian'ang was up in an instant, soles skidding over the wet rocks, spanning several in a few strides before crouching in front of Tang Yu.

His right hand reached out to steady him by habit—and he forgot the arm had taken fifteen stitches only days ago. It went numb and jerked.

He clenched his teeth and shifted, bracing Tang Yu's back with his right arm instead. Ji Xuecha dropped her clipboard and crouched to grip his knee.

Between the two of them, they worked him free of the rocks.

Tang Yu was drenched in sweat. His left ankle had swollen a full circle around; the uniform pant leg had been torn open on the rocks, blood seeping steadily from the ragged edge.

Taking in the sight, Ji Qian'ang swept his gaze around—the cliff wall above the reef flat had a jutting rock ledge.

It didn't look entirely stable, but it could bear a person's weight, barely.

Ji Qian'ang bent down, one arm under Tang Yu's knees, one at his back, and moved to lift him.

Tang Yu resisted, twisting toward Ji Xuecha. "Your right hand—I can manage myself."

Ji Qian'ang ignored his resistance and carried him to the ledge regardless.

Ms. Yu, the leading teacher, turned at once and came over to check on them.

Tang Yu's phone kept ringing in his pocket. Ji Qian'ang, silent, pulled open the pocket's zipper: the screen showed a string of unknown numbers.

Since changing phones, Tang Yu had changed SIM cards too. Apart from family and close friends, he had given his new number to no one.

No calls on any other day—and yet today, out on the rocky shore, unknown numbers kept calling in. Several in a row.

On this kind of rock route, a fall anywhere could end in disaster. Being wedged between the rocks might almost be called lucky.

If he hadn't been caught, his whole body would have tumbled straight down the rock face to the shore, rolling over sharp, wet stone the entire way, with nothing to grab hold of.

"Do you know them?" Cold sweat broke out over Ji Qian'ang at the thought.

Tang Yu, drenched in cold sweat, shook his head. After a rough treatment of the sprain on the ledge, they made their way back together to the camp's infirmary.

The camp medic dressed the abrasions on Tang Yu's ankle. The bone was fine, but a ligament had been wrenched—badly swollen. It needed ice and rest.

Tang Yu leaned against the infirmary cot, an ice pack over the mottled bruising on his leg. Ji Qian'ang stood by the window, right hand hanging at his side—a dark red streak already spreading through the gauze.

"Your hand."

Ji Qian'ang tucked the hand behind his back. "It's nothing. Worry about your leg first."