This afternoon around two-something, Nan Zhi went home, wanted to complain to Song Qing—in fact it was just buying a bottle of Wuliangye, couldn’t understand why not just directly tell her the brand, she and the other girl could’ve just gone, why must they bring along Fang Guanqi.
That young master couldn’t help at all, the whole journey only used his mouth and not his hands, watching her alone carry the box of liquor and gift boxes back and forth, at most helping her hold one or two boxes with an elegant flair, and if the early market was too dirty, he simply stood aside, letting her alone step on thick snow to buy chicken, buy duck, buy fish, then tired half to death bringing them back.
It was the same when she helped him buy gift boxes and liquor before, such a big box, all filled with liquor, super heavy, and made her carry it all alone.
She was like a maid next to a young master, having to do everything.
Not to mention being no help, he even made things more troublesome. Every time they went out he was all about appearances, cared about this, cared about that, had to eat at high-end restaurants—if one meal at a place wasn’t satisfactory, they changed to the next, then changed again.
Already super exhausted, Nan Zhi only wanted to go home and sleep, didn’t want to run around dragging him here and there anymore, every time felt like she was on the verge of breakdown.
Especially seeing him waste food, taking one bite then tossing it.
Can’t even say anything about it, held it in until it hurt inside. She sighed lightly, thinking this kind of person really isn’t on the same path as her.
She and Song Qing were the ones on the same path. If it was Song Qing brought along, then that big box of liquor could be placed directly on his lap, the chicken, duck, and fish could hang from the handle on the back of the wheelchair. She could even stand on the wheelchair and call Song Qing to push her around.
Eating would be even simpler—just randomly find a place to sit down and eat something, the two of them would both eat happily.
Living together long enough, the two of them grew increasingly similar in taste—already reached a point of compatibility.
What she liked, Song Qing also liked; what Song Qing liked, she now also liked.
Never wasted anything—when with Song Qing, every time the plates were cleared.
Nan Zhi stood at the bedroom doorway, tossed about by the past few days’ experiences, unable to calm down even now. Opening the door was another blow.
Song Qing wasn’t there, and when she called him, he didn’t pick up.
Though that was kind of a regular thing—his phone was like decoration, often couldn’t get through.
Because the two of them were basically always together, very rarely needed to use the phone to communicate. Most of the time, when she was in the bedroom and didn’t feel like going out, she’d just call to ask if food was ready.
Actually, just shouting once and he could hear her. If the call didn’t connect, she shouted instead. Never had a problem communicating, so she hadn’t thought much of it. Only today did she realize it was a big problem—she called seven or eight times, and none got picked up.
In her heart she felt he couldn’t have gone far. Nan Zhi had been busy since early morning till now, both sleepy and tired, only wanted to sleep. But unwilling to give up, she called twice more in the end—still not answered—so she simply put the phone down, lay down to sleep.
Just got under the covers when she couldn’t resist sitting up again, continued calling Song Qing.
She couldn’t forget last time, when she was also exhausted and sleepy and lay down to rest—hearing some strange sound from grandma’s room but didn’t go check, and the consequence of that.
She had to see Song Qing’s figure before she could rest in peace.
Phone still wouldn’t connect. Nan Zhi took a deep breath, got out of bed, put on a coat and went out. In the sunroom, she ran into Fang Guanqi coming over from the other side, saying he forgot to buy a pen and wanted her help to go buy one.
Nan Zhi didn’t agree, she had no time to tangle with him. She pointed toward the supermarket and told him, “It’s over there, same supermarket as last time, you go yourself, can’t find it just ask someone nearby.”
After speaking, her attention went back to her phone.
Ten or so calls, not a single one answered.
Nan Zhi could no longer care about anything else, went out the door and asked the grandma and grandpa who were regularly stationed at the street corner if they’d seen Song Qing.
Every time before going out, basically every household and every person would inevitably get asked by those elderly folks stationed at the street corner, “Where are you going?”
Song Qing had been living here for a while, counted as familiar already—so he couldn’t escape either. He was an honest kid, always gave honest answers every time, never missed once.
The old grandpas and grandmas told her.
Said he went to the bookstore to read books.
Then seven or eight out of ten, he really went to the bookstore.
The books he read were all related to computers. The nearby stores didn’t have many books, and after being here for almost half a month, they were pretty much all read by him. Later on, they could only take him to the city to find the ones he needed.
It was estimated he went to the city.
It’s so cold, and the road is far, going to the city alone…
Nan Zhi almost immediately turned around, drove the small car out, didn’t even close the gate, and headed toward the city.
—
The new countryside houses were built uniformly, the fields were distributed uniformly. On both sides of Shiyou Road, there were large stretches of wheat fields. At the junction of the wheat fields and Shiyou Road, there was a water ditch.
Not deep, about half a meter, used for drainage and for laying pipes to water the fields. For an average person, even a child of three or five years old could easily climb out, but for Song Qing it was difficult, especially because he had to lift the heavy wheelchair up to the top.
Wearing thick clothes in winter, plus the cold, made movements slow. His skin also seemed to become more fragile—he just moved a little, and already felt dampness between his fingers. Looking closer, he realized it was blood.
Didn’t know what he bumped into, or what scratched him.
He knelt and lay at the bottom of the ditch, took all the things in his arms out and placed them temporarily to the side. Took off his outer coat too before finally managing to push the wheelchair up.
It was tilted up and dumped onto the edge. After he put his clothes back on, he took down the lamp from the wheelchair handle, checked the injury on his hand. The lamp was very bright—not only illuminated his hand clearly, but also lit up a string of items on the wheelchair that looked like decorations.
Said to “look like,” it really was just “look like,” because it actually wasn’t.
Song Qing freed one hand, gathered that string of things into his palm, carefully examined them.
It had already been a long time. He didn’t know why, but he could still clearly remember—when they were hung, why, what reason, what order.
The first one looked like a cute keychain, but in fact it could quietly call the police. With one press, it could send a message simultaneously to the police, to her, and to her family, saying he was in danger and where to come save him.
It had a timed location address inside.
The person who bought it said, there had been some “flying car gangs” nearby, snatching purses, earrings, necklaces—directly yanking them off necks and ears, injuring a lot of people.
Someone refused to give up and chased them, got stabbed twice.
That person wasn’t at ease with him, nagged every day, told him that if he ran into robbery or hooligans or gangsters, whatever they wanted he should just give it, be obedient, don’t resist. But also, don’t completely surrender and let them do whatever.
Could do some things in secret.
For example, press that alarm keychain and call the police quietly.
The second one was something that looked like a pen, but when pulled open, was actually a small knife—white, very delicate. Most people really wouldn’t have guessed it was a weapon.
And the third one was an electric pig-shocker.
The fourth was pepper spray. Anyway, whatever self-defense items she usually kept prepared, he had a set too.
All strung together in a bunch, full and heavy. So many things, wires and cords tangled together—if danger really came, whether it could even be untied in time was a problem.
Besides, he was a male, and looked quite poor, didn’t wear any jewelry or valuable items.
Nan Zhi also didn’t wear, would buy him innerwear worth over a thousand, but wouldn’t buy too good of outerwear, precisely afraid of encountering danger.
So under normal circumstances, nothing would happen. Nan Zhi was probably just worrying too much.
Song Qing touched that string of items, his expression unknowingly softened, looked at the phone he had placed on the snow.
It had been warming for quite a while, didn’t know if the battery had recovered.
Song Qing pressed the power button, waited a while—sure enough, it turned on, showing two bars of battery—not much, but enough to make a call.
Song Qing held the phone, waited for the number to be recognized. As soon as the signal from China Mobile popped up at the top, seventeen missed calls appeared.
Call label—Nan Zhi.
Nan Zhi had called him seventeen times.
Song Qing breathed a puff of hot air, his finger had just moved, when another call came through. His thumb moved over, but before he could slide to answer, the screen already showed—the call had been hung up.
Song Qing pressed his lips together, and before the feeling of disappointment could fully rise in his heart, it was scattered by a honk, followed by the whole area being lit up by headlights.
He squinted slightly, and after a moment adapting to the intense light, someone had already gotten out of the car, running toward him, the sound of crunching snow getting louder and closer. Not long after, a person stood in front of him, frowning and asked: “How did you end up like this?”
Who else could it be if not Nan Zhi?
He was just like a child who’d been bullied outside and saw their family—grievance surged in an instant. “Fell into a ditch.”
Paused, then while stating the facts, didn’t forget to complain: “There was a rotten driver who kept honking. I tried to avoid and fell because of that.”
“Mm.” Nan Zhi responded while reaching her hand out to him.
When Song Qing was about to grab it, he realized his own hand was extremely dirty. He was just about to pull it back and climb up himself, but Nan Zhi moved forward quickly and grabbed hold in one go.
She just clutched it that tightly—gripping that hand, propped up his entire arm, then bent down, not caring at all about whether his body was dirty, or whether she herself was wearing a white down jacket. She just focused on holding him—and sure enough, managed to pull him up.
In the process, her clothes were inevitably dirtied.
But she didn’t care, just like regaining something lost, hugging him tightly, “You scared me to death. Why didn’t you wait for me to finish work and take you there? Why did you have to go alone? What if you got lost?”
Song Qing paused slightly.
He thought of Fang Guanqi, and the things they talked about when they came here, and also thought of that whole string of self-defense items and the reflective strips all over the wheelchair.
There was also an independent, rechargeable, power-storing color light.
“Nan Zhi.”
“Mm?” Nan Zhi used her foot to hook the wheelchair, placed him onto it, and still didn’t forget to answer him.
“Don’t be with Fang Guanqi, okay?”
When Song Qing spoke, he thought Nan Zhi would push the wheelchair and take him back to the car. But she didn’t—she bent down, turned her back to him, and hooked her hand backward.
Song Qing thought for a moment, stretched out both arms and hugged her. Just as he hugged tight, she hoisted him up, lifted him a bit higher, and then, like taking a casual stroll, walked through the snowy scene.
In her unceasing lifting movements, Song Qing’s confidence unknowingly grew a bit stronger, “Be with me, okay? I’ll work hard to earn money. What I had before, what I have now—it’s all already given to you. What I’ll have in the future will also be yours. I’ll listen to whatever you say.”
Nan Zhi’s footsteps halted. She turned her head with a strange look at him: “Aren’t we already together?”
“Ah?” Song Qing was surprised. “We’re already together?”
“Yeah.” Nan Zhi answered as a matter of course, “Otherwise, what did you think?”
“Aren’t we a relationship that can’t be seen in the light?”
“Why are we a relationship that can’t be seen in the light?” Nan Zhi was shocked.
“Am I not the little lover you kept for fun before your marriage?”
“Why would you be the little lover I kept before marriage?” Nan Zhi showed she couldn’t understand.
“Then am I the little fourth?”
Nan Zhi: “……”
She almost couldn’t catch her breath in one go: “You’re my only partner, how could you be a mistress or a little fourth.”
She spoke with serious tone, “You’re my proper, official boyfriend.”
“I…”
Song Qing was shocked. “I’m your boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” Nan Zhi, not losing patience: “In the future we’ll get married, then drive a camper van everywhere to see if there’s anywhere that needs us. If there is, we’ll stop. You go teach in rural schools, I’ll do charity work, and we’ll support each other till old age.”
Song Qing fell silent.
So he had already been Nan Zhi’s boyfriend all along.
They would get married in the future. It was him. Not Fang Guanqi.