Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 55: Secret Box

“I live just by the North Fourth Ring Road. If I had known we were this close, I would have contacted you earlier,” Qian Ai said while sipping the tea made by Kuang Jinxin and surveying Xu Wang’s living room. He and Wu Sheng were discussing the topic of “old classmates should have reunited earlier”, expressing his sentiments and busily enjoying the conversation.

Wu Sheng wasn’t as leisurely-minded.

From buying a plane ticket first thing to returning to Beijing in the afternoon, and then Xu Wang locking himself in the bedroom as soon as he got home, Wu Sheng’s mind had never been at peace. His head was exploding with information, with endless assumptions swirling around: infinite loops, memory erasure, higher-dimensional spaces, parallel universes, alien wormholes, time leaps, consciousness drift, rebirth illusions… It was enough to write a book called “A Thousand Possibilities of Xu Wang Exploring the “Owl’”.

Seeing Wu Sheng staring at the closed bedroom door with no interest in chatting, Qian Ai reluctantly stopped talking and calmly sipped his tea.

He wasn’t really that carefree. The fact that Xu Wang had once entered the “Owl” was so bizarre and potentially tied to their future fates that he was also anxious and eager to know the truth.

But since Xu Wang had locked himself in the bedroom since returning, no matter how urgent they were, they could only wait.

Waiting was the ultimate test of patience. Without speaking to distract themselves, it would feel like an eternity.

“I used to intern at a tea house nearby.” Seeing as no one paid attention to Qian Ai and his pitiful appearance, Kuang Jinxin took on the task of “chatting with him”. “But the dormitory is closer to Sheng Ge’s company. The two buildings are just back-to-back. So as soon as we entered the ‘Owl,’ we ran into each other.”

Finally having someone to talk to, Qian Ai immediately put down his teacup. “Meeting is useless,” he said with experience. “The first day is all about being confused.”

“No.” Kuang Jinxin decisively shook his head. “Sheng Ge was incredibly calm. He told me not to panic and said it might be a dream, or maybe a mysterious magnetic field was interfering with our brains, taking our consciousness to a new space. Anyway, we needed to gather information first.”

Qian Ai swallowed hard, glanced at the back of his own advisor, then looked back at Kuang Jinxin. “And then what?”

“Then we began to study the owl pattern,” Kuang Jinxin said. “We opened the roster and found two more teammates. Sheng Ge was instantly happy.”

“…You should have run away immediately at that time!” Qian Ai couldn’t listen anymore, almost wanting to tie a warning bell on Kuang Jinxin. “What normal person gets involved, and their first reaction is to discuss dreams and consciousness?!”

“Sheng Ge said panicking wouldn’t solve the problem.” Kuang Jinxin still remembers that when Wu Sheng said this, the calm and rational light in his eyes made all the magical and bizarre things turn to dust.

Qian Ai: “……”

Sighing weakly, he straightened Kuang Jinxin’s shoulders, nose to nose, eye to eye, and earnestly advised, “Fear is a human instinct. If someone is always highly calm, it might be due to a shining rationality, or it could be a sign of an antisocial personality. So, for safety’s sake, next time you encounter such a situation, first run, maintain a safe distance, then observe, understand?”

Kuang Jinxin frowned in thought, struggling to absorb and understand.

Seeing this, Qian Ai decisively brought up a typical example for targeted explanation. “Chi Yingxue.”

“Huh?” Kuang Jinxin was startled, not expecting Qian Ai to mention this person.

Qian Ai continued, “We’ve encountered him twice. Once, when his boat capsized and he fell into the sea, and another time, when he fell from the Ferris wheel. Both times were close to death. Have you ever seen him scared?”

Kuang Jinxin slowly shook his head.

On the Endless Sea, when Chi Yingxue fell from the mast, he even waved to the spyglass. This time on the Ferris wheel, he also told his teammates that Chi Yingxue was very calm. It was more like suicide than sending him home.

“So, people who don’t know fear are the scariest.” Qian Ai didn’t know where his insistence came from, but he felt compelled to educate Kuang Jinxin about safety. It had to be thorough and impactful. “Next time you meet someone like that, unless they’re like Wu Sheng, radiating a light of wisdom, the kind you can tell is brilliant at a glance; otherwise, always maintain a safe distance, got it?”

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

Qian Ai: “Any questions?”

Kuang Jinxin: “Why did he want to commit suicide?”

Qian Ai: “The example was to make the lesson more impactful, not to ignite your curiosity…”

Kuang Jinxin: “But I am really curious!”

Qian Ai: “Curiosity is the devil.”

Kuang Jinxin: “Isn’t it ‘impulse is the devil’…?”

Qian Ai: “It’s a double devil’s knock*.”

*This term derives from Chinese chess, where two pawns/rooks restrict the opponent’s movement. The joke here is that what Qian Ai says isn’t a common saying—rather, it’s “impulse is the devil” rather than curiosity. So when he’s corrected by Kuang Jinxin, he’s replying, “Actually, they’re both the devil,” referring to both curiosity and impulse (metaphorically represented by the two pawns/rook in this term).

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

……

Fifteen minutes earlier, in the bedroom.

As soon as Xu Wang entered, he firmly closed the door. Evidence was certainly to be shared with teammates, but the place where the evidence was hidden was too sensitive and information-rich to be made public.

Only after ensuring the bedroom door was locked did he open the wardrobe, reaching deep inside to feel around for a while, finally pulling out a box.

It was a rectangular biscuit tin, about the size of A4 paper and about three inches thick. The colorfully decorated lid was covered in a long string of cursive English letters, resembling leaping musical notes.

Xu Wang opened the box cautiously, as if it contained the most precious treasure.

Of course, there were no treasures inside.

Nor were there any biscuits; based on the code on the box, they would have expired a decade ago.

The box contained a book, several letters, and a keychain.

The book was an English version of “Walden” by Henry David Thoreau. It was a graduation gift from Wu Sheng—the only thing he had ever given Xu Wang in their three years together.

Flipping open the title page, one could see the class monitor’s message—I hope you can finish this book.

That was the only line of Chinese in the entire book, and every time Xu Wang opened it in the dead of night, he wanted to pick out those characters, one by one, go back in a time machine to the day they parted, and throw them in Wu Sheng’s face.

Unfortunately, there was no time machine.

And even if there were, he wouldn’t have the heart to do it.

There were five letters in total, all from when Wu Sheng first went abroad, correspondence between them. Despite it being the age of technology where a message could instantly bridge half the globe, Wu Sheng bizarrely insisted on asking for his address online only to send letters via international express.

Okay, he did feel a bit… um, somewhat… cough, excited enough to bounce around his dormitory, nearly scaring his university roommates.

But Wu Sheng’s letters were just friendly inquiries about his well-being, leaving no space for imagination. He had no choice but to respond in kind with a “friend’s reply”.

After five lukewarm exchanges, just as he was getting used to his “white moonlight” turning into a “pen pal”, Wu Sheng stopped replying.

At first, Xu Wang thought the express mail was lost and even prodded Wu Sheng online but got no response. As time passed, this excuse no longer held water. Whether Wu Sheng’s letters were lost or his own replies, if Wu Sheng was expecting a response, he should have inquired about the lack of one.

So, there was only one conclusion: Wu Sheng didn’t want to contact him anymore.

Stirring someone’s thoughts and then cutting off contact was harder to accept than never getting in touch after graduation.

The slight warmth at the bottom of his eyes startled Xu Wang, bringing him back to reality.

Now, he could smile faintly even after a kiss, absolutely in control, having progressed from bronze to king. What the hell was he doing reminiscing about his youth!

Squeezing his face hard, Xu Wang sternly lectured himself. “You’re twenty-nine, not nineteen. Your season of flowers and rain is long over. Can you be a bit more aware?”

After this heart-to-heart with himself, Captain Xu’s mood improved. Then he looked down and saw the keychain in the crevice.

The keychain was a calico cat with a clean, milky face and black and orange bangs. It was curled up in a sweet, donut-shaped bundle.

For years, he had thought this keychain belonged to Wu Sheng. Back then, not yet graduated, he didn’t know that in the near future, he would receive that infuriating English book, exchange a few greeting letters in college, and so, out of a secret wish, he kept it.

Pining for someone for three years, he didn’t want it to be like a breeze over water, leaving no trace once the ripples faded.

Now, the “ripple” he had preserved for ten years turned out not to be a gust from Wu Sheng’s peach blossoms but from another bizarre wind.

The kitten on the keychain remained asleep, but if it opened its eyes, Xu Wang believed they would be a pair of blue-green heterochromia—blue like the sky, like the ocean, green like jade, like the forest…

……

Ten years ago.

The morning sunlight streamed through the window, brightening the corridor of a high school’s senior class and illuminating the portraits of scientists on the walls, as well as the youthful faces in the classroom.

Class 7 of Grade 12 was a science class known for its lively atmosphere and solid academic performance. Most of the time, they were a relief for the teachers.

At this moment, the scene was one of thriving morning self-study.

Some were solving problems, others were memorizing words, and some were discussing problem-solving approaches with their deskmates. Of course, there were also those taking advantage of the teacher’s absence to relax for a moment and spread the latest gossip.

“Is Xu Wang coming back to class today?”

“I heard it with my own ears. I was delivering homework to the office just now, and Lao Zhang was on the phone with his dad.”

“Lao Zhang is too much!”

“Haa, the college entrance exam rate is everything.”

“His mom just passed away. Who would still have the heart to focus on exams?”

“No, I heard Lao Zhang on the phone saying that it seemed like Xu Wang’s dad wanted him back in class. Lao Zhang was actually advising against it, saying the child is burdened and it’d be better to rest at home for a few more days…”

“Shh, shh—”

“Huh?”

“What’s up?”

“What’s happening?”

“Let me tell you something, but keep it a secret.”

“Go on, tell us.”

“Xu Wang’s parents are divorced.”

“Really?”

“I was in the same class as him in junior high. Everyone knew. His dad left him and his mom for another woman… Huh? What the hell?”

The boy who spilled the beans covered the back of his head and turned around sharply, meeting the class monitor’s gaze.

“Help me pick up my eraser.” Class Monitor Wu looked at him innocently.

The gossiping boy was confused. “How hard did you throw that eraser to make it fly?”

“It wasn’t thrown by accident.” Class Monitor Wu admitted honestly. “I aimed and threw it.”

The boy forgot to be angry, asking dumbly, “Why did you throw it at me?”

Class Monitor Wu didn’t reply. He just glanced at the surveillance camera above.

Every classroom had such a camera to monitor, no, supervise the students’ study environment.

And now, during early self-study, the camera was already lit up with a red dot, clicking into action much earlier than usual, probably in celebration of this momentous day—50 days countdown to the college entrance exam.

The gossip boy gave the class monitor a grateful look, picked up the eraser from the dusty floor, and returned it to the model student.

The classroom returned to silence.

Wu Sheng continued solving problems, but as soon as he wrote a bit, his mechanical pencil lead broke.

He advanced a new piece of lead and continued, but it broke again before he finished a formula.

The mechanical pencil seemed to be protesting its user’s distracted state.

Wu Sheng thought he wouldn’t see Xu Wang until at least tomorrow.

However, in the first class of the afternoon, just as the bell rang and the teacher entered from the front door, Xu Wang entered from the back.

The teacher turned a blind eye, and the students glanced sideways, but Xu Wang casually took his seat.

Both sat in the last row, separated only by an aisle. Wu Sheng stared at him intently, unclear what expression he hoped to see on Xu Wang’s face.

But Xu Wang, having settled in his seat, turned his head, carelessly smiling as usual, nonchalant.

“Miss me?” he asked, his eyes full of hopeful stars.

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