Chapter 231: IF Route 3 (Extra 5)
For the remaining half day, Wu Heng wandered around in a daze following Xie Chongyi. Since Xie Chongyi had grown up in the capital, he knew the area like the back of his hand and took him all over the place. That evening, Xie Chongyi treated him to the most delicious donuts he had ever eaten.
Carrying big bags filled with food and drinks, Xie Chongyi spent their final bit of time taking him into a subtly extravagant hair salon with an absurdly high minimum charge.
“I don’t need a haircut,” Wu Heng said. He could accept spending five hundred yuan on a good meal, but he absolutely couldn’t accept spending five hundred just to cut his hair.
Xie Chongyi reached out and brushed aside the loose strands over his forehead. Because of the sudden closeness, Wu Heng instinctively closed his eyes for a moment.
When he opened them again, Xie Chongyi had already withdrawn his hand.
“No haircut. I’m just treating you to a hair wash.”
That sounded even more ridiculous. He could wash his hair at the hotel.
Still, since he didn’t have to pay for it himself, Wu Heng made a token protest before following Xie Chongyi inside.
The overly spacious and brightly lit public area made Wu Heng feel slightly uncomfortable, but the feeling didn’t last long. After confirming that the customer was an old VIP member, the staff led them into the shampoo room.
As they walked, Xie Chongyi undid the top button of his collar. Turning back to locate Wu Heng, he saw him already lying down on the bed beside his own and said nothing.
Instead, it was the hairstylist preparing the washing tools beside him who spoke first.
“You and Xie Chongyi must be pretty close, huh?”
Wu Heng looked up at the ring of light above him and answered in an even tone, “Classmates.”
A rather teasing “Tch” sounded from behind him. The hairstylist turned on the showerhead, testing the water temperature as he bent down and said, “He used to only book private rooms when he came here.”
“He came alone,” Wu Heng replied without surprise.
“Oh no, he also came with ‘classmates,’” the hairstylist said, deliberately emphasizing the word “classmates.”
Wu Heng wasn’t dense. His fingertips scratched awkwardly at his forearm, his skin itching endlessly as though brushed over and over by waves of wheat stalks.
The boy tried to figure out what was different between himself and the people Xie Chongyi had dated before, only to realize he had no frame of reference for comparison. He had never had friends growing up. He disliked dealing with people—relationships inevitably required opening up one’s heart, but his heart felt empty. There was nothing valuable inside to offer, and he had no desire to repeatedly explain where the scars on his skin came from. People might cry for him, but perhaps he didn’t need those tears, nor would they move him because of them. He didn’t understand emotions; he had no way of being friends with others.
After adjusting the water to the right temperature, the hairstylist let the warm stream flow gently through his hair. Apparently expensive places really did have their reasons for charging so much—the stylist’s technique made Wu Heng feel as if his entire scalp had bloomed open, even making his face grow warm and soft.
He had assumed Xie Chongyi would talk to him. After all, washing hair wasn’t exactly short, but it wasn’t that long either.
Unfortunately, things didn’t go as he expected. He glanced over at him several times, only to find the other person with his eyes closed the whole time, as though asleep.
So Wu Heng slept too.
There was no doubt that Xie Chongyi paid more attention to his appearance. His regularly maintained hair didn’t require much trimming. Wu Heng, on the other hand, was completely different. Since he rarely bothered taking care of it, the hairstylist spent quite a while just deciding what kind of hairstyle would suit him.
Having already finished, Xie Chongyi walked over and bent down behind Wu Heng, his chin nearly resting on Wu Heng’s shoulder. When he spoke, warm breath brushed against him.
“No matter what, show your eyes.”
Wu Heng lifted his eyelids slightly but said nothing.
The hairstylist hooked up a strand of hair hanging over the boy’s forehead with his scissors. “Like this?”
It was practically cut to the roots.
Xie Chongyi shook his head. “A tough-guy look? I don’t like it.”
“I’m not cutting it for you. What if he likes it?” The hairstylist looked at Wu Heng through the mirror. “This length—okay?”
Wu Heng answered honestly, “Too short.”
If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then Wu Heng did not want them fully opened.
After carefully considering it, the hairstylist nodded. “Actually, longer hair suits you better, because you’re really quite… beautiful. Would it offend you if I described you that way?”
Wu Heng shook his head. He himself had no idea how a word like that could possibly be associated with him.
The hairstylist found it surprising too. When the boy had first followed behind Xie Chongyi into the salon, he had been utterly unremarkable. How should he put it? There was a sort of decayed, worn-down feeling about him, so the stylist hadn’t paid much attention at first. But once the shampoo assistant handed him over, before his hair had even fully dried, the moment he looked at him, it felt as though his eyes had been lit up involuntarily.
Once the hairstylist began working, Xie Chongyi moved off to a nearby seat.
Just as the stylist had said earlier, he believed the customer suited longer hair, so every snip of the scissors was extremely restrained. He mostly trimmed only the ends, and for some sections, he could barely bring himself to cut even the tips.
Without blinking, Wu Heng watched the stylist’s movements. Had he actually cut any hair at all?
Click.
The sound of a camera shutter came from nearby.
Wu Heng and the hairstylist both turned their heads at the same time.
—Xie Chongyi was holding up his phone.
Completely composed, the boy said to the two of them, “Just recording life. Didn’t take a picture of you.”
The hairstylist rolled his eyes and continued working. “He took a picture of you. Go check later how it turned out. If it’s ugly, make him delete it.”
“He said he didn’t take one.”
“What he said was that he didn’t take me, because he doesn’t photograph ugly things.”
Wu Heng couldn’t help tugging slightly at the corner of his mouth. He could understand the class monitor’s strange sense of humor.
An hour and a half later, the customer’s hair length seemed almost unchanged, yet the hairstyle itself had transformed dramatically, and with it, his entire aura.
Most noticeably, the gloominess around him had turned into quiet stillness—so long as you didn’t look too carefully into his eyes.
Wu Heng himself, however, felt that his hair had become much shorter. Even the world in front of him seemed noticeably brighter.
“Thanks,” he said to the hairstylist before turning to Xie Chongyi to ask for the photo.
“You care about whether you look good or bad?” Xie Chongyi had assumed Wu Heng didn’t care. Ever since he’d known him, the guy had always worn that homeless-looking hairstyle.
Wu Heng replied, “I’ve never been ugly.” Just ordinary.
Xie Chongyi sent him the photo and accidentally sent the receipt along with it.
“In that case, treat me to a meal tomorrow.”
Wu Heng shot him a suspicious glance, suspecting he had done it on purpose because he wanted to keep hanging out with him.
—
When they returned to the hotel, they were greeted by the fury of the supervising teacher. It was the first time Wu Heng had ever been scolded by a teacher. His mind drifted elsewhere entirely, until the word “self-criticism” came out of the teacher’s mouth, at which point he realized things were bad.
The hotel room already had a desk, though it was small. Sitting side by side felt cramped, so the two sat facing each other instead.
Wu Heng opened his phone, randomly found a self-criticism essay online, and copied from it.
Xie Chongyi reminded him not to end up writing the same thing as him.
“…”
“You’ve never written one before,” Xie Chongyi declared decisively after scribbling out a paragraph at high speed.
Wu Heng didn’t look up at the person across from him, but every strand of his hair seemed to radiate disbelief. Xie Chongyi ranked near the top of the grade and was considered a model student by both teachers and parents. The chances of him having written a self-criticism before were obviously even lower than Wu Heng’s.
Xie Chongyi lay down on the desk, his chin resting on his arm. Under the light, his dark pupils reflected warm glimmers like black obsidian as he looked up directly at Wu Heng.
“You don’t believe me?”
When Wu Heng gave no response, he lazily propped up his cheek again and said, “Writing self-criticisms is probably what geniuses and idiots are best at.”
Only then did Wu Heng’s pen pause slightly.
“What about you, class monitor?” he asked. “Which one are you?”
Before Wu Heng could even react, the hand reaching over from across the table pinched his left cheek between its fingers. Afraid it would hurt if twisted, he was forced to lean forward with it. It felt as though his life had been taken into someone else’s hands. He wasn’t used to this kind of intimacy with people; his whole body had already gone stiff.
Xie Chongyi pinched him for a while. His fingertips were just about to slide toward Wu Heng’s ear—he used to stroke his snake like this at home—when rapid knocking suddenly exploded against the door.
The door opened, and a head popped in at lightning speed. After glancing around the room, Lin Mengzhi completely forgot why he had come and blurted out in amazement, “Damn, why is your room so huge?!”
The person behind him shoved him farther inside before entering as well. “Old Xie paid extra to upgrade it himself.”
Lin Mengzhi asked Xue Shen why he hadn’t upgraded too.
Xue Shen replied, “Unless you split the cost with me.”
“Tch.” Completely at home already, Lin Mengzhi walked over and sat beside Wu Heng. “What’re you writing? A self-criticism? ‘Dear Teacher Li, I deeply regret my mistake this time. I should not have secretly gone out to have fun…’ What the hell is this? Fake as hell. Here, let me write it for you. I guarantee your teacher will start reflecting on whether they’re just way too uptight!”
Writing self-criticisms was probably the thing Lin Mengzhi excelled at most. Ever since he learned pinyin, he’d known how to write them. He snatched the pen straight out of Wu Heng’s hand and began writing with unstoppable inspiration.
Wu Heng watched him quietly for a long while before suddenly asking, “Between geniuses and idiots, which one are you?”
Lin Mengzhi proudly raised his hand. “Obviously I’m a genius!”
Xie Chongyi, who had been feeling irritated because Wu Heng seemed overly close with someone else, inexplicably felt soothed at the sight of this. Their gazes met briefly in midair.
That question had originally been asked by Xie Chongyi. It wasn’t exactly a secret—but because only the two of them had been there at the time, it had somehow become one.
And Wu Heng, realizing that he already shared a secret with a newly made friend on the very first day, couldn’t stop himself from smiling.
Very soon, Wu Heng recalled that “version of himself” that had appeared some time ago—together with another Xie Chongyi, looking like they shared a rather close relationship. A strange feeling filled the boy’s entire body. He guessed that they might have come from the future.
—
Some time later, they returned to Hanzhou. The weather had also begun to warm, carrying a faint, lingering heat.
The injury on Wu Shiming’s hand had not yet healed, so he could only vent his aggression toward Wu Heng with his eyes. His gaze was colder than before, and among his biting, sarcastic remarks, the word “monster” appeared more frequently.
Zeng Like occasionally comforted Wu Heng. “Don’t take it to heart. Your father’s emotions have been all over the place since his injury. It’s understandable that he’s frustrated.”
Wu Zhi hugged her doll and leaned against Wu Shiming. “Dad, if you’re angry, just take it out on me.”
Wu Shiming patted her head, while Zeng Like looked at her with affectionate eyes. Wu Heng quietly left the “family of three,” went into his room, and chose a more casual-looking school bag from the two he owned, taking it with him.
“Mom, I’m going out today,” Wu Heng said as he stepped out of the room.
Zeng Like didn’t really care where he was going and instinctively nodded. But right after doing so, she felt something odd. “You’ve been going out a lot on weekends recently. Sometimes you even come home later after school. Did something happen?”
“No,” Wu Heng said.
He had just made some new friends. It was currently the honeymoon phase.
Zeng Like studied his expression with a meaningful look. “It’s good to go out more. Don’t stay cooped up at home all the time. But don’t forget your studies either—exams are coming up soon.” She seemed to be talking to herself more than to him, suddenly smiling as her tone shifted from concern to tension to relief, as if she were the one about to take the college entrance exam.
“Still, it’s fine. With your grades, getting into any local university shouldn’t be a problem.”
Wu Heng nodded in agreement.
“If you’re going out, take Xiao Zhi along too. She hasn’t been out to play in a while either,” Zeng Like suggested.
Only then did a more genuine expression appear on Wu Heng’s face. “It’s not safe for her to go out.”
“Isn’t Xiao Zhi your sister?” Zeng Like said as she grabbed Wu Zhi and dragged her up, pushing her toward the room. “Go on, go on—go change into something nice. Your brother’s taking you out to have fun.”
Wu Zhi resisted as hard as she could, clearly hitting the brakes, because she could tell her brother didn’t want this. “I’d rather not go. I’m scared. There are bad people outside.”
“Fine.” Wu Zhi’s refusal was clearly effective on Zeng Like. She didn’t insist further, nor did she continue speaking to Wu Heng.
However, as soon as he went downstairs, Wu Heng ran into Lin Mengzhi, who was sunbathing in the courtyard.
For once, Wu Heng felt a bit guilty—and Lin Mengzhi immediately noticed it.
“What are you sneaking around for? Come eat lunch at my place later. My grandma’s about to show off her blind man’s cooking skills again.”
Wu Heng very much wanted to agree, but he already had plans. His hesitation was completely obvious to Lin Mengzhi, though Lin Mengzhi didn’t imagine for a second that his childhood friend had “someone else outside.” Instead, he assumed Wu Heng had been b*llied by someone who specifically called him out on a Sunday to beat him up.
But that didn’t seem right either. Lin Mengzhi slowly sat up from his recliner, squinting under the blazing sun. Who would dress themselves up nicely just to go get beaten up?
“You’re going out to play?” Lin Mengzhi suddenly realized. He hopped over to the fence with a few quick steps, looking pleasantly surprised. “You made a friend?”
Wu Heng nodded. “One.”
“One is already progress,” Lin Mengzhi said. “Are you eating out? If not, I’ll save you a portion. Otherwise those two upstairs definitely won’t leave anything for you.”
“I’ll eat outside,” Wu Heng said.
“Got money?”
“Yes.”
Lin Mengzhi watched him leave with a kind of “my child has finally grown up” satisfaction.
But when he turned around, he saw Wu Zhi on the second-floor balcony, wearing a sour, displeased expression.
“What is it?”
“Brother doesn’t love me anymore.”
“When did he ever love you?”
After making Wu Zhi cry, Lin Mengzhi hummed a tune and returned to his recliner, completely satisfied.
—
Wu Heng transferred twice before finally reaching the place he had agreed on with Xie Chongyi. He was far less familiar with this city than Xie Chongyi was, even though Xie Chongyi had only lived there for less than three years.
It was inside a church. Wu Heng stood outside the stained-glass windows and peered in carefully. In the last row of pews, the familiar boy sat with his head lowered, eyes closed, lips moving silently in prayer.
The boy curled his lips slightly. He didn’t believe in this—God wasn’t just blind, he was also deaf.
But Xie Chongyi probably should believe. People with good fortune needed belief; otherwise they had to balance out their flawless lives with large amounts of time and money devoted to their own foolishness.
Wu Heng sat under the grape trellis outside and waited until the prayer ended. When he finally saw Xie Chongyi, he approached from behind—but the other boy seemed to have eyes in the back of his head and turned around before he could even speak.
Startled, Wu Heng leaned back slightly, but quickly steadied himself.
“You’re here. Why didn’t you message me?” Xie Chongyi raised a brow.
“Is it okay to leave halfway through that?”
Xie Chongyi shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t believe in it anyway.”
Wu Heng frowned in confusion.
“I was just bored,” Xie Chongyi added lightly. “So I briefly tried what it feels like to be a believer.”
A faint, almost imperceptible anger rose in Wu Heng—along with something even more hidden, something like envy. But all of it dissolved the moment Xie Chongyi said he would take him to eat something.
Over the past few “dates,” the thing Xie Chongyi most often took Wu Heng to do was eat.
From upscale restaurants inside shopping malls, to private kitchens hidden deep in villa districts, from heritage eateries with both reputation and craftsmanship, to street stalls with long queues—Wu Heng gradually realized there was a fundamental difference between food and “delicious food.”
He had come to like the feeling of eating something truly tasty. It didn’t just bring him moments of happiness; it also gave him a deep sense of safety.
Perhaps this was an instinct of humans as animals: hunger leads to death, and death leads to fear. When he was younger and didn’t understand things, he was often punished by being denied meals.
“What are we eating today?” Wu Heng asked curiously.
“Nothing special. We’re having seafood.” Xie Chongyi pulled a piece of chocolate from his pocket, unwrapped it, and broke it in half, handing one piece to Wu Heng.
“…Only one piece?” Wu Heng said.
“You’re disgusted with me?” Xie Chongyi was suspicious as always.
And he was right. Wu Heng shook his head. “No.” He took the chocolate and ate it. Bitter and sweet at the same time.
They arrived at a modest-looking restaurant. The entire first floor was lined with glass tanks filled with seafood. Dining took place on the second floor—elegant and refined, almost as if they had stepped into a French noble’s castle. After checking their reservation, the waiter led them to a window seat. Outside was a garden filled with brightly colored poppies.
Wu Heng fiddled with the knife, fork, and chopsticks in front of him. “This looks expensive. Should we split it?”
“No need,” Xie Chongyi said. “You don’t have money.”
“…”
Wu Heng gave a dry “oh.” He really had nothing to say to his class monitor.
Forget it. Just eat.
The first dish served was a sashimi platter—spot prawns and salmon arranged in a circle around a lobster.
“You should be able to eat salmon. You liked it last week when we had that omakase barbecue.”
“That was barbecue.”
“Some of it was only lightly seared.”
“…Then I guess it should be fine.”
Xie Chongyi wiped his hands and peeled a mantis shrimp for Wu Heng.
Wu Heng had no psychological resistance like he did with raw fish. He simply pinched the shrimp’s head and brought the flesh straight into his mouth. It was ice-cold—once bitten into, the meat was sweet.
His eyes visibly lit up.
Noticing this, Xie Chongyi peeled two more for him.
The snake Xie Chongyi had kept before only stayed with him for two years before leaving. The doctor diagnosed it as depression. He didn’t think this was transference.
He was simply a little lonely. He always wanted to raise something.
In the end, he discovered that no matter what he raised, nothing felt as reassuring or long-lasting as raising a same-age high school boy who could eat and drink.
