Yu Weishi was furious, blaming him, “Have you ever thought about your father? He has no other sons. Seeing you like this, what hope do I have?”
Zong Chi dismissed it, explaining that Old Zong had spoiled Yu Weishi half her life, and even if she never succeeded, he’d spoil her the rest of her life.
After the match, Yu Weishi wanted him to take her to meet Second Aunt’s family.
Zong Chi took her and left early.
When she asked where he was going, he said back to China.
Since he was eighteen, except for the year he was forced back and strictly monitored by Zong Jingzhou, he had traveled mostly between several countries and China.
Yu Weishi was exasperated, “Xiao Chi, how long are you going to be crazy? Look at what you’ve become.”
Zong Chi, faintly smelling of alcohol, spoke boldly, “People change. Those people who looked down on you back then—you forgot…”
He was pushed by Yu Weishi before finishing.
Coming out of the backyard, he passed a blooming purple rose and thought about the time difference.
Checking his watch, it had only been two hours since the match.
The day had been so long that Zong Chi found himself thinking in the red-eye flight’s high altitude that someone must have been very disappointed at that moment.
When the women in the compartment talked about what they did to relieve stress, He Dongli paused.
Feng Qianxu smiled teasingly, “He Doctor, obviously not something very healthy, right?”
He Dongli admitted, “Exactly. Healthy things don’t relieve stress at all.”
While Feng Qianxu’s assistant was getting a signed photo from He Doctor, she also helped her boss exchange WeChat contacts with He Doctor.
The assistant noticed He Doctor’s avatar was a cute little girl with stickers on her face.
She joked to He Doctor, “You’d never guess it, but you’re so adorably cute.”
He Dongli accepted the teasing happily, saying she did too many rational things at work, so after hours, she just wanted to do something that didn’t require thinking.
She talked for a long time but only moved her chopsticks a few times.
By the time the menu reached hand-rolled sushi—five pieces per serving, including a piece of fatty tuna—
He Dongli looked up to speak and then down at her plate, noticing an extra piece.
She tilted her head toward Zong Chi and heard him say, “Healthy things don’t relieve stress, but they can replenish nutrition.”
While Feng Qianxu and Zou Yan chatted privately, Zong Chi asked He Dongli, “What exactly is your unhealthy way to relieve stress? Watching AB0 videos?”
He Dongli angrily smeared a dab of wasabi on his uneaten botan shrimp, neither admitting nor denying, “So what if I watch! You guys watch, why can’t I?”
Zong Chi laughed openly, saying this was ancient history—like eight hundred years ago.
Once, at their suburban Bieshu, when Zong Chi had already dropped out and one-on-one classes were boring, he invited some members of the swim team, both boys and girls, including Lin Jiaoyu and others, for a gathering.
Among them was his private tutor, He Dongli.
In the home theater, they flipped through DVDs, one of which was forbidden and passed around by the boys, who laughed loudly.
The disc eventually ended up in He Dongli’s hands.
Just by looking at the title, she seemed to understand something.
She quietly set it down.
Soon after, with most of the food eaten, she indicated she wanted to leave.
Zong Chi stopped her, and they ended up having a nonsensical conversation.
He claimed it wasn’t his; Lin Jiaoyu had watched it and left it with him.
He Dongli said “Oh,” still wanting to leave since the buses were infrequent there.
Zong Chi asked what “oh” meant.
He Dongli replied, “It means I understand roughly but don’t want to comment.”
Zong Chi’s face darkened immediately.
He Dongli looked puzzled at him for blocking her path, then finally retorted, “I’m already being polite with ‘oh.’ Do you want me to praise you too?”
Zong Chi teased, “I don’t believe you’ve never watched.”
He Dongli honestly confessed, “I really haven’t. But don’t panic just because the truth’s out.”
Zong Chi declared he wasn’t panicking at all.
He Dongli asked him to listen to her explanation: she thought teenage curiosity was normal.
Though she hadn’t watched “that kind,” she…
Zong Chi immediately caught her out: “Then why say you didn’t! He Dongli, even a good student like you admits sometimes.”
She hummed in agreement.
“As you wish, Zong Chi. You just want me to be as wild as you, so you can escape punishment by saying everyone’s doing it, right?”
She was mocking him, but Zong Chi’s mind went to absurd places.
Absurd her.
He was like this at eighteen and still the same at thirty.
Yes, she was right—he wanted her to be wild with him.
Zong Chi never figured out her stress relief methods, but he was sure it wasn’t those junk things.
Even in school, she never vented with images like that.
She was an auditory person; even her release came through her spirit.
At Sakuradao Villa, their last time together, He Dongli had a slight fever.
Zong Chi tried to turn her to face him.
She was too uncomfortable to resist anymore, but he thought she was like before.
Zong Chi gently held her back, from shoulder blades to waist, kissing her little by little.
Holding her close, he carefully adjusted her face and whispered as they entwined their necks that he always remembered the phrase “ear to ear,” which she had taught him came from Red Mansion Dream.
At that moment, they truly had ear-to-ear intimacy.
Tears fell from He Dongli’s eyes as she moved, the tears bouncing off.
That time, Zong Chi could feel she hadn’t released through her spirit.
Instead, she said, “Zong Chi, if sex really solved our problems, with your energy, maybe we could grow old together.”
See?
That’s He Dongli—calm and ruthless when she scolds him, something he remembered for five years.
These years, Zong Chi’s unhealthy way of relieving stress had always been her.
But such release was exhausting, like severe withdrawal, dark and hopeless.
Only with her vividly by his side did Zong Chi realize he hadn’t come to reconcile.
He came looking for a cure—the antidote to fight fatigue.
Zong Chi ate the shrimp on his plate with that bit of wasabi, then suddenly said, “How about going downstairs for a bit later?”
He Dongli looked at him suspiciously.
Standing close, she smelled the sweet blueberry drink on his breath.
A strand of hair stuck to her face, and he quickly reached out to brush it away.
The movement was so fast that He Dongli didn’t react in time, and her face suddenly flushed.
Her heat spread to Zong Chi’s hand, burning hot, the warmth flowing through his fingers.
Zong Chi took another sip of sake.
“Lin Jiaoyu is hosting nearby and knows I’m with you. He wants to come by to see you.”
“You should delete his WeChat. He said he’d wait until you’ve said a hundred things to him before he talks to you.”
He Dongli stared at him thoughtfully.
In the past, Zong Chi arranged gatherings often, sometimes showing up at school unannounced to pick her up, or casually dropping an address to signal his return and wait for her.
To others, waiting is a polite gesture, but for Zong Chi, waiting meant you must come.
After a long moment of contemplation, Zong Chi teased her—not giving in—because at most he foolishly wished she wouldn’t be so exhausted.
“I could support you for life, but I never wanted you to live in darkness belonging only to me.”
“Forget it. It’s best not to see that chatterbox. If he wants you to say a hundred things first, he’d owe you ten thousand in return. Right?”
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