Chapter 24#
Zhao Rong’s tone was actually very gentle.
He was only in his twenties, but no matter what he said, his tone always felt as if it had been washed in the long river of time—unhurried, naturally carrying a hint of tenderness in every word.
This tenderness was consistent with his overall aura; he could get along with anyone and withstand any kind of temper. Although he appeared cheerful, he didn’t have the slightest bit of the recklessness typical of young masters raised in luxury. There was a contradiction in him: a calmness like a distant, long river, despite having his edges smoothed by life.
When Xia Yuantu first met Zhao Rong, after hearing him speak, he whispered to Qiao Nanqi that this third child of the Chen family, who had been living adrift, must be a pushover.
Qiao Nanqi deeply agreed.
And in the time that followed, Zhao Rong continuously validated Xia Yuantu’s assessment.
But now, he felt those gentle words were somewhat sharp.
That wasn’t what he intended.
He had simply discovered a love he hadn’t recognized before and wanted to take Zhao Rong home, so that as before, he could see that obedient figure by the bed late at night.
“Zhao Rong.”
Qiao Nanqi called Zhao Rong’s name. Before speaking, he deliberately adjusted his emotions, stripping away any condescension, contempt, or casualness. For him, this was already one of the few concessions in his life; he wasn’t even skilled at coaxing people.
“Come back with me. Whatever you want, I’ll listen to you slowly.”
Zhao Rong blinked slowly.
His smile, devoid of any real mirth, finally faded a bit, and his eyes showed some confusion. But that confusion didn’t linger; it was quickly replaced by nothing but helplessness.
Qiao Nanqi was very familiar with this kind of emotion.
He possessed too many things. Most of the time, regarding things he didn’t care about, even if he couldn’t understand them, he wouldn’t delve deeper because they weren’t important.
So his confusion on such matters would only flash by.
Just like Zhao Rong’s now.
Qiao Nanqi felt a surge of irritability rising in that instant.
But he knew what he was doing and didn’t let the emotion vent out. He still held Zhao Rong’s arm, looking at him and listening to him.
“I thought it was something about the marriage agreement, but it turns out… you want me to go back. Although it’s quite a surprise, but…”
“You say you’ll listen to me…?” Zhao Rong’s voice gradually lowered, like a fallen leaf cutting through the long sky on this late autumn night, dropping down with raindrops.
“But you’ve never really listened to me speak,” he said, as if telling someone else’s story—lonely, yet not touching. “I always wanted to chat with you, but you always felt I couldn’t say anything interesting and lacked the patience to let me finish. And I don’t want anything. I didn’t really think of myself as one of those lovers where money and goods are settled. I don’t need any breakup gifts.”
Zhao Rong didn’t shake off Qiao Nanqi’s hand.
On the contrary, he looked at Qiao Nanqi and, following Qiao Nanqi’s lead, took a step forward to stand with him under the fine, continuous rain.
Water droplets already clung to the tips of Qiao Nanqi’s hair, and droplets from his forehead slowly slid down his long, elegant profile.
He didn’t give that droplet any attention; he just looked down at Zhao Rong, looking at him seriously. He was so indifferent to so many things that his eyes were rarely focused, and they too easily contained everything.
Such a gaze was foreign to Zhao Rong.
Yet being looked at this way, he didn’t have much of a reaction.
All around was the pitter-patter of rain and the whistling of the cold wind. From outside the villa area came the faint sound of a car engine; it certainly wasn’t quiet.
Yet it was silent between them.
Before Zhao Rong spoke, Qiao Nanqi already had a premonition.
—Zhao Rong didn’t want to go home with him.
Qiao Nanqi watched Zhao Rong look up slightly and kiss his cheek, right where that water droplet was. The moisture spread across Zhao Rong’s lips and Qiao Nanqi’s cheek. Zhao Rong gave a light kiss. Qiao Nanqi’s breath hitched, and he raised his hand, wanting to pull him into his arms and do the things they used to do.
But Zhao Rong took a step back at that moment.
He glanced at Qiao Nanqi’s instinctive, half-completed gesture and lightly wiped the remaining moisture from his lower lip with his fingertip. “Or perhaps you want me to go home because you’ve grown accustomed to me in this regard—just like now.”
Zhao Rong was a person who cherished the past; he knew very well how habits can make a person feel.
And this kind of physiological habit would be forgotten after a while.
In fact, it wouldn’t even take a while. Even if Lu Xingping, the “white moonlight,” loved no one, the old Qiao Nanqi never lacked for people flocking to him. For the current Qiao Nanqi, finding a pleasing companion to keep by his side was even easier. Not like him, an illegitimate playboy.
Qiao Nanqi couldn’t possibly like him.
Even if there were an impossible and fantastical chance that he did, Zhao Rong couldn’t turn back. Eleven or twelve years of being lashed was enough for a person to learn never to make the same mistake again.
Breaking a habit is a very difficult thing.
It took Zhao Rong more than a year to break a ten-year habit.
He believed someone like Qiao Nanqi would definitely need much less time than him.
He said no more, turned, and went home.
This time, Qiao Nanqi didn’t know what he was thinking; he didn’t come forward to stop him, nor did he say anything else.
After Zhao Rong returned to his bedroom, he took a shower and promptly forgot about the matter with Qiao Nanqi—after all, it was meaningless.
He hummed a song while tidying up his various belongings for a while, making the house that had been vacant for over a year look more and more full. Then, just like every quiet night these past few days, he didn’t need to wait for anyone and went to bed early.
On the other side.
Lu Xiaoyue, wearing pajamas, followed the sound of the violin.
She saw Lu Xingping in the music room.
The melodious tune was like a sonata in this autumn rain, pouring out with the sound of the rain, refreshing the heart.
When the piece ended, she said, “Brother, didn’t you say you’d be back very late tonight?”
Lu Xingping unhurriedly put down the violin. “There was an accident. Nanqi wasn’t there, so we didn’t hang out for long.”
“Oh.”
Lu Xingping smiled helplessly: “Say whatever you want to say, don’t hesitate.”
Lu Xiaoyue’s eyes darted around, and she asked directly: “Zhao Rong drove me home today. My friend told me that Zhao Rong’s family has gone bankrupt, and the main people have been taken away for investigation? I just remembered… you two seemed to have an engagement before. Since he drove me home, could he be looking for your help? I wanted to ask what you two talked about…”
Although she grew up under Lu Xingping’s protection, she was only an adopted child and never dealt with those things. But growing up in such an environment, no one is truly naive.
Everything in this world, once a connection is made, cannot escape the concept of “having an agenda.”
Lu Xiaoyue understood, and Lu Xingping naturally knew it all along. He had always known that Zhao Rong must have a purpose. Both he and Zhao Rong were very aware of this; they just didn’t point it out to each other.
His smile didn’t fade, and his expression didn’t change. He just said calmly, “You mean the matter with Chen Ze and the others? Yeah, I thought so too…”
But Zhao Rong hadn’t mentioned it even once.
Even Qiao Nanqi—Zhao Rong hadn’t proactively mentioned him a single time. It was always Lu Xingping who brought him up, and the answer was always a clean break.
Lu Xingping hadn’t paid much attention to Zhao Rong before.
Even though they had attended classes in the same university, even though Zhao Rong had sought him out before asking him to take him along to hang out with Qiao Nanqi’s group, and even though they once had an engagement. Their lives brushed past each other at countless points, but Lu Xingping had never thought they would intersect.
He was closer to Qiao Nanqi and Xia Yuantu; most of what he heard about Zhao Rong came from them.
In summary, it was just “fair without, foul within.” Qiao Nanqi didn’t talk about him; Xia Yuantu felt Zhao Rong had some small cleverness but was incredibly stubborn. When friends around them talked about Zhao Rong, it was “the exceptionally good-looking third child of the Chen family.” Chen Ze and those people didn’t even acknowledge Zhao Rong, calling him “bastard” or “waste” at every turn.
But after a few brief interactions recently, Lu Xingping’s view had completely changed. The Zhao Rong before him was entirely different from his past impression and the one others spoke of.
The current Zhao Rong had a reserved brilliance, a steady composure, like a sword ready to be drawn, its sharp edge concealed.
This feeling made Lu Xingping think of Qiao Nanqi in his youth—the Qiao Nanqi before the Qiao family fell into trouble.
Sometimes when they talked about what books they had read or mentioned certain views, Lu Xingping could feel some familiarity, because Qiao Nanqi sometimes spoke that way too.
“Brother? What are you thinking about?”
Lu Xingping came back to his senses and said in a low voice: “Thinking about a very wonderful thing. Two people I originally thought were worlds apart actually turn out differently when you look deeper.”
“What do you mean?”
“Go up and sleep; it’s about time.”
“Oh.”
The night was deep.
The rain stopped at some point, and the dark clouds slowly dispersed.
The Milky Way rose, and the bright moon chased the water.
Qiao Nanqi was still at Zhao Rong’s doorstep.
A faint night light shone through Zhao Rong’s window—calm and soft, the polar opposite of Qiao Nanqi’s current mood. After the person inside entered, they never came out again, nor did they even draw the curtains to look outside—exactly the same as when Zhao Rong moved out of his house: clean and decisive.
Qiao Nanqi didn’t move for a while because he thought of some things.
He thought of how every time he was at social engagements, in the company, or various glitzy places and encountered random people wanting to follow him, he would always immediately think of Zhao Rong.
He also remembered the time more than a year ago when Zhao Rong complained about him not making their relationship public to others.
At that time, his confrontation with He Nan was at its most intense, and his days were packed with affairs. He didn’t even listen to any of Zhao Rong’s requests and turned to enter his room. The result of the matter was naturally a breakfast from a softened Zhao Rong. Qiao Nanqi didn’t spend any effort on this matter, and Zhao Rong never made any requests of him again after that time.
Because he didn’t want to listen, Zhao Rong stopped saying more.
He was used to Zhao Rong and had never seriously listened to him—perhaps Zhao Rong was right.
The rain in the late night grew lighter until it completely dispersed. The starry sky arrived quietly, and the air was filled with dampness and gloom.
A stray cat that had been hiding from the rain in the grass slowly crawled out and walked silently to Qiao Nanqi’s feet, cautiously circling his ankles once. Qiao Nanqi looked down, and in the dim night and hazy streetlights, he could vaguely see the cat’s fur was grey yet pure, its eyes round, and its face had no stray markings, but it was very thin, as if abandoned by someone.
Qiao Anqing had kept an orange cat and a Persian cat during her lifetime. Perhaps because Qiao Anqing’s personality was too gentle, the cats she raised were also exceptionally well-behaved, especially that Persian cat, which never moved when held in someone’s arms. When Qiao Nanqi was young, he always liked to hold it. He thought that cat would obediently follow Qiao Anqing until it passed away peacefully—it was indeed always very good, even when it was held by Qiao Anqing as she jumped off the building. The remaining orange cat also left not long after Qiao Anqing passed away.
Qiao Nanqi was dazed for a moment. Looking at the stray cat’s fur, which was clearly muddied and dusty, he hesitated for a moment but still bent down and stroked the cat’s head.
He let go of all his current irritability, and his movements were very light.
Yet the stray cat was still startled and suddenly bolted into the grass of varying heights.
It never looked back.
Just like Zhao Rong.
The emotions that had just calmed down a bit fell again like a chaotic storm.
In Qiao Nanqi’s twenty-eight years of life, he had almost never learned to lower his head and try to win something back time and time again.
When he was seventeen, watching Qiao Anqing, who was about to abandon him and leave alone into the unknown, he had such a thought. That time, he always thought that if he pleaded more, he could shake the other’s resolve, but Qiao Anqing, who had once said she would always be by his side, still left.
Since then, he hadn’t even had the thought.
Years later today, in a small way, Zhao Rong had once again quietly triggered this thought.
But for Qiao Nanqi, giving Zhao Rong what he wanted and waiting for him a whole night in such a rainy night was already the greatest, wordless concession he had ever made.
—Let him go then.
The person who liked him for all those years back then was Zhao Rong.
The one who couldn’t live without the other wasn’t him.
The one whose heart held only one person wasn’t him either.
Habits need to be eradicated, and they aren’t hard to eradicate. It just takes a period of time that is but a flash in a long life.
There’s nothing “forever” in this world; companionship is like this, and so is love. It’s not like he can’t live without Zhao Rong.
He can break this habit.
Qiao Nanqi watched the light inside the house go dark, and he could no longer hear any movement.
His eyes were deep, and in his features, which the night could not clearly reflect, hung a faint, flickering gloom.
After a long while, he turned and walked into the night.