The Scorching Sun - 63
The electric fan at Ye Yuncheng's place was surprisingly powerful, and now that they had Wi-Fi, Fang Zhuo decided to stay until evening, before heading back when the weather cooled down.
As it happened, Ye Yuncheng wanted her to put on her "young person's" hat and help him figure out what direction his short-form videos should take.
Fang Zhuo knew herself well enough.
She could offer advice. Whether her perspective actually qualified as young was another matter.
She perched on a little stool in the living room, slowly scrolling through the videos already posted to the account over their painfully slow mobile internet.
Ye Yuncheng's videos fell into two categories. The most frequently updated ones documented him washing and preparing ingredients. All he had to do was speed up the footage after filming, and it was ready to post. There was hardly any editing involved.
The others had been put together with Liu Qiaohong's help, documenting Ye Yuncheng's everyday life at the stall. There were videos of Xiao Mu making rice balls, him somehow getting stumped by the simplest of math problems, and strangers kindly stepping in to help them.
Ye Yuncheng had added voiceovers to a few of the videos, those tended to get a little more attention. Viewers also commented that his voice was very gentle.
The trouble was, he never knew what to say. He'd manage only a few scattered sentences, then fall silent as soon as he'd answered whatever questions were necessary.
Out of everything he'd posted, one particular short video had taken off far more than the rest. It had more than three thousand likes, probably thanks to some mysterious algorithm deciding to recommend it.
Fang Zhuo tapped it open. A pair of long, slender hands with prominent knuckles appeared on screen, chopping vegetables while a low, unhurried voice drifted through the background.
"When I was little, I was curious about all sorts of things. But back then, I didn't have many opportunities to learn beyond what was in front of me. My parents usually couldn't be bothered with my strange questions either. They'd just brush me off and tell me those things were useless. Once, I overheard some boys in my class talking about Dragon Ball and Saiyans. I had no idea what they were talking about, so I went home and asked my older sister where Planet Vegeta was. That night, she casually pointed somewhere in the sky and told me, 'That's Planet Vegeta.'"
Fang Zhuo hadn't understood a single one of the terms. She pulled out her own phone and searched them, discovering that they were from a Japanese anime.
"I had no idea, either. There were so many stars in the sky, I couldn't even remember which one she'd pointed at. But I was incredibly proud of myself. The next day, I went to class and bragged to my classmates, telling them Planet Vegeta was in that direction. Naturally, they laughed at me mercilessly."
Ye Yuncheng's voice was calm and unhurried, carrying the leisurely cadence of someone who knew how to tell a story and let it unfold.
"I went home furious and demanded to know why my sister had lied to me. She had all kinds of twisted logic, and she immediately asked me, completely unapologetically, 'Our parents gave you your name when you were born. But who gave the stars in the sky their names? The people who created them? Obviously not. They're all things you can't touch and that don't belong to anyone, why can't you give one of them a name you like?'"
"I was stunned. For a long time, I couldn't think of anything to say back."
Fang Zhuo found herself getting tangled up in the same logic.
"But children think in much simpler terms. I told her, 'Even so, you shouldn't have fooled me. I was really upset about it today.' She said, 'You're not upset because you couldn't find a star called Planet Vegeta. You're upset because you haven't made any friends. But why do you want to be friends with people who would laugh at you? If some girl told me today that she knew there was a star on the horizon called Sailor Moon, I'd think she was adorable. Because I'd know she was just trying to make friends with me.'"
"Looking back, I think she was actually a very romantic person. Not romantic in the conventional sense. Hers was the kind of romance that came barreling straight at you without looking where it was going." Ye Yuncheng's voice remained gentle. "So, you can't make everyone like you or agree with you. But you can find people who appreciate you."
Fang Zhuo opened the comments and skimmed through them, only then realizing that Ye Yuncheng had been answering a viewer's question about relationships between men and women.
A young woman had a boyfriend who worked in engineering. On holidays, he always gave her thoughtful but decidedly unrefined handmade gifts, and she found them incredibly touching. Her roommate, however, thought her boyfriend was stingy and self-centered, and didn't genuinely care about her. She didn't know what to think.
After carefully reading the young woman's description, Fang Zhuo immediately found herself siding with the engineering boyfriend. Borrowing Ye Yuncheng's elegant phrasing, they weren't self-centered, and they didn't have bad taste. Their idea of romance was simply the sort that came charging in without looking where it was going. Just as she'd never disliked Yan Lie for being childish or willful.
Curious, Fang Zhuo carried her phone over to Ye Yuncheng. "Did Mom really say all of that?"
"She did," Ye Yuncheng said. "You inherited even your personality from your mother."
Fang Zhuo took that as a compliment and nodded in wholehearted agreement.
"I think you're really good at telling stories." Fang Zhuo offered him some advice. "You've read so many books, haven't you? Why don't you just talk about them casually, or give your thoughts on them? They could work as background audio."
The two of them were still discussing whether the idea was workable when Fang Zhuo's phone vibrated. A new text message had come in.
The number wasn't saved, and she didn't recognize it at first. But when she scrolled through the conversation history, she realized the sender was Yan Chengli.
Yan Chengli had stumbled across Yan Lie's Moments post and spent the entire day in a daze.
His son told him absolutely nothing. The last time he'd contacted him, it had been because he was worried about a potted succulent. Even on his birthday, Yan Lie had responded to his wishes with nothing more than an ordinary "Thank you," as distant as a stranger.
Even with business partners, Yan Chengli would at least address them as "President So-and-so."
Trying to make his concern seem casual, Yan Chengli commented beneath the post: Who sent you this cake? It looks delicious.
Yan Lie ignored him the entire afternoon.
After much hesitation, Yan Chengli sent Fang Zhuo another message.
Yan Chengli: Hi, classmate. Is Yan Lie dating someone?
Fang Zhuo replied almost instantly.
Fang Zhuo: Probably.
Yan Chengli was left speechless. He stared at those three characters and puzzled over them for a long time. It wasn't until just before bed that he sent another message.
Yan Chengli: You know her?
This time, Fang Zhuo disappeared too.
He stayed awake until the next morning, repeatedly checking the messages on his phone, wondering whether he should add an explanation that he meant no harm.
Around six, he finally dozed off, waking with a start a short while later. He reached for the phone beside his pillow and found Fang Zhuo's reply waiting there.
Fang Zhuo: Not well.
Every word Yan Chengli had been preparing to say was neatly shut down by those two words.
It was obviously a lie, but he couldn't call her out on it.
But why? He hadn't even shown any attitude toward her yet.
Two days later, Yan Lie returned from C City.
Hearing the front door open from a distance, Yan Chengli hurried out of the study with his coffee cup in hand, completely losing his composure as he watched his son come through the door with a suitcase. He simply stood there, watching.
Yan Lie took out the gifts he'd bought and placed them on the table, then gently pushed his father aside so he wouldn't get in the way while he unpacked.
Yan Chengli asked awkwardly, "Did you have fun on your birthday?"
Yan Lie crouched on the floor without looking up. "Yeah."
Yan Chengli gave a short, dry laugh. "And you happened to fall in love while you were there?"
The moment the words left his mouth, even he felt how pointed they'd sounded. He quickly pulled the corners of his mouth down, hiding the sinister little smile threatening to emerge.
Yan Lie seemed not to notice. Instead, he answered a completely different question. "I made an arrangement with my cousin. I'm going to be his full-time tutor for a month and come back at the end of August."
If he'd looked up at that moment, he would've seen the sudden twitch in Yan Chengli's face and the way his pupils trembled with alarm. But Yan Lie finished sorting through his luggage, walked past him without so much as a sideways glance, and dragged the now-empty suitcase back into his room.
Yan Chengli sat down on the sofa with a grave expression and set his cup aside. By the time Yan Lie came out of the bedroom after finishing his unpacking, Yan Chengli looked deeply unsettled.
The air-conditioning suddenly kicked into a stronger gust, even the faint mechanical sound made Yan Chengli jolt. He stood up and gruffly demanded, "Do you not want to stay in this house for even one day?"
Yan Lie was just about to take the seafood into the kitchen. He looked over, puzzled. "I'm going to work and make money."
Yan Chengli turned to face him, his expression solemn. "So you're not planning to use my money anymore?"
"I'm dating someone," Yan Lie said. "I can't exactly use your money to support my girlfriend."
"Of course you can." Yan Chengli couldn't understand it at all. "Why can't you? The money I'll have in the future is going to be yours anyway."
He made an earnest, heartfelt gesture and asked anxiously, "What are you trying to do? Secretly become financially independent and then leave this family? You could at least ask me whether I agree first. If we can't reach an understanding, we can talk it out slowly. Of course, I'd prefer you to find a girl from a family on the same level as ours, but you don't have to threaten me with this before you've even said anything, do you?"
Yan Lie stuffed everything into the freezer, then went to the kitchen and washed his hands. He took a cup from the shelf beside him and skillfully made a glass of honey water before carrying it back to the living room.
"Dad."
Yan Chengli waited for him to continue.
Yan Lie said calmly, "Drink less."
Yan Chengli snapped, "I haven't been drinking!"
In the days leading up to the start of university, Fang Zhuo stopped working at the tutoring center and spent her time searching online for all the things she needed to prepare, while Yan Lie kept sending her shopping links.
They Call Me Lie: [Picture] Do you like this shirt?
Little Sun: It's alright.
They Call Me Lie: Then I'll send it to you.
Little Sun: ? Why are you suddenly buying me clothes?
They Call Me Lie: Mine looks like this. [Picture]
Both shirts were white short-sleeved T-shirts. One had a sunflower printed on it, while the other had a little sun. Their designs were nearly identical.
They Call Me Lie: Most matching couple outfits aren't very nice, so I specifically hunted these down. What do you think? Do they match?
Fang Zhuo found that rather difficult to answer, and Yan Lie kept pressing her.
They Call Me Lie: Do they match?
Little Sun: They match perfectly!
They Call Me Lie: [Super Happy]
They Call Me Lie: I also bought two customized hats. [Picture]
The black-and-white hats had two embroidered arrows, one pointing left and the other pointing right. The tails of the arrows were shaped like the peaks and dips of an ECG, with the words "Boyfriend" and "Girlfriend" embroidered above them respectively.
Fang Zhuo suddenly remembered the young woman's comment beneath Ye Yuncheng's video. She wasn't particularly fond of this hat.
It wouldn't be useful in winter. But who wanted to wear a hat in summer?
They Call Me Lie: You know there are a lot of single people at university. [Furious]
They Call Me Lie: You're mine.
Fang Zhuo: "..."
Little Sun: [Oh]
---
Comments
Post a Comment