Chapter 26

(If you haven’t read the previous chapter, I recommend you do so to get the full experience.)

At that moment, Fang Juexia seemed to be glowing all over.

Pei Tingsong couldn’t describe that feeling. They were both pursuing their dreams, but the ways and paths they chose seemed completely different.

He was charging headlong through a cage, bleeding and bruised, desperate to see a more free world.

Fang Juexia was patiently feeling her way in the darkness, searching for the button that would trigger the light.

Pei Tingsong couldn’t help but laugh. “This world truly has many solutions.”

Fang Juexia didn’t understand what he meant. But he realized he had said too much.

Just a few weeks ago, this person had been his sworn enemy, yet now, he could share his innermost thoughts with him—thoughts he had never shared with anyone else.

This wasn’t like him at all; he wasn’t the type to open up to others so easily.

“Actually, I didn’t expect you to answer my question,” ” Pei Tingsong said.

Fang Juexia was surprised by this tacit understanding, but his expression remained calm. “I didn’t expect you to watch that movie either.”

“You said it moved you.” Pei Tingsong smiled. “I’m curious, what kind of thing can move you?”

It’s not that easy to shake an iceberg.

“You’re too curious,” Fang Juexia began to clear the table, taking all the plates and preparing to leave.

“Since you say so,” Pei Tingsong said, “I have one more question.”

Fang Juexia placed the plates in the sink and quickly washed them.

“What exactly happened to you in Astar?”

Fang Juexia took out the plate, turned off the faucet, dried her hands, and then looked up at Pei Tingsong. “I may not be able to answer that question truthfully.”

Seeing Pei Tingsong’s puzzled expression, she added, “Actually, if you asked me directly whether I had really broken the rules, I could answer you.”

He looked straight into Pei Tingsong’s eyes, “No.”

Pei Tingsong blurted out instinctively, “I know.” He realized his reaction was too quick, so he paused again, “What I mean is, I believe you.”

His tone was so firm it almost made Fang Juexia waver.

“You weren’t like this before,” Fang Juexia said with a smile, putting the plate back in the cabinet.

Pei Tingsong immediately said, “People’s understanding of things is a spiral process.”

Fang Juexia paused in her movement and turned to look at him, “Things?”

Pei Tingsong thought of all the metaphors he had used before—ice cubes, wooden blocks, goose eggs, and so on—and felt a little guilty, “…and humans.”

Fang Juexia closed the cabinet door, “So now you can be so sure that I’m not lying to you?”

“Then you’re too cunning.” Pei Tingsong’s tone carried a hint of resentment.

Fang Juexia rarely laughed out loud, “Same here.” But he quickly suppressed his smile, “I’m not lying to you. However, I can’t tell you what happened back then. The only thing I can say is that I haven’t done anything dishonest. I left As because I didn’t want to change myself.”

Pei Tingsong believed this statement because it was completely in line with Fang Juexia’s philosophy on life.

He knew that their relationship wasn’t close enough for them to speak freely, so he didn’t press the issue.

Fang Juexia’s honesty at that moment was already a surprise to him.

The dark night outside the window gradually began to give way to the blue light of dawn. Neither of them had expected to spend so much time with the other, living in peace.

“Go back to sleep. It’s almost dawn.” After saying this, Fang Juexia prepared to leave, but Pei Tingsong grabbed his wrist again. This time, however, he could clearly feel that he wasn’t using much force.

Just a gentle grip.

“I didn’t listen to the song you wrote.”

Pei Tingsong explained for himself, “I was just trying to tease you back then. I was going to give it back to you anyway. I didn’t expect you to just throw it at me and say those harsh words.”

Right. Fang Juexia thought to himself, he hadn’t expected him to get angry either.

“It’s okay, if you don’t want to listen…”

“I actually want to listen,” Pei Tingsong interrupted him, “but I want to ask your permission first, not out of spite, but because I genuinely want to listen.”

Fang Juexia suddenly froze.

“Are you willing?”

Insomnia, hurriedly satisfying hunger, and working for over ten hours straight. These factors could all lead to a foggy mind.

Fang Juexia wasn’t very clear-headed right now.

He nodded, but he didn’t know why.

This piece of music had never been played for anyone else besides himself since it was created. When he first wrote it, he never imagined that the first person to hear it would be Pei Tingsong, who was at odds with him.

“Then I’ll listen carefully.” Pei Tingsong let go of his hand. “I’m done.” He stepped aside to let Fang Juexia pass. “You can go rest now.”

With the lingering warmth on his wrist, Fang Juexia walked toward the room. They walked one after the other, and just as they were about to reach the door, Fang Juexia suddenly turned around. He hadn’t expected Pei Tingsong to be so close to him and nearly collided with him.

Pei Tingsong was clearly startled as well. He instinctively grabbed Fang Juexia’s elbow and whispered, “What’s wrong?” He thought Fang Juexia had left something outside.

In the darkness, Fang Juexia’s eyes shone brightly. “I want to read that book.”

A book? Pei Tingsong was puzzled, but he saw Fang Juexia nod, his voice very soft.

“The Roots of Romanticism.”

Pei Tingsong let go of his hand.

He realized for the first time that the title of this book could sound so beautiful when spoken.

The busy schedule made it hard to keep track of the days. In the blink of an eye, a week had passed, and the late-night chat from that sleepless night felt like it had just happened.

Following the materials provided by the magazine, Fang Juexia completed the dry recording and then handed it over entirely to Cheng Qiang, never to inquire about it again.

Kaleido’s popularity grew day by day. Under the efforts of their agent Cheng Qiang, the entire group secured a highly popular food endorsement. The previous endorser was a well-known singer familiar to everyone. Coincidentally, on the day they were filming the commercial, the magazine released the promotional video and behind-the-scenes footage. Pei Tingsong’s clothing size was incorrect and needed to be changed, while the others were getting their makeup done. Ling Yi suddenly shouted, “Wow, Juexia and Pei, the magazine you shot last time released the footage! That’s amazing!”

Lu Yuan was playing a game and lost his grip on the controller because of the commotion. “Ah, Ling Yi, don’t make that pig-like noise! I was about to carry this round!”

“You’re the one making pig-like noises! If you have the guts, turn on your mic and I’ll scream until your teammates shoot you!”

Almost at the same time, Fang Juexia received a message from Cheng Qiang, asking him to repost the magazine’s promotional Weibo post.

He Ziyan was quick to respond, “Really, it’s a video.”

“So fast?” Jiang Miao said, “I’ll go give it a like first.”

Fang Juexia clicked on the Weibo link they had posted in the group chat and opened the behind-the-scenes video. After a couple of seconds, horizontal slits began to appear in the center of the screen, revealing a white expanse beyond. He faintly heard a voice repeating “winter” over and over, the sound soft and deep, almost allowing him to imagine the tip of the tongue flicking against the back of the teeth.

Gradually, the view within the slits expanded, revealing him sitting on the snow with a silly smile.

It was a photo taken by Pei Tingsong.

In the center of the screen, a red handwritten English word appeared—Imprisoning.

Imprisonment.

Suddenly, the sound of the wind ceased. The screen went completely dark once more. He heard the familiar deep voice, and this time he was certain who it was.

“Beg me.”

Music began to play, and each frame of the image flickered repeatedly to the rhythm of a deep drumbeat—his back gradually disappearing into the dense, cold snow-covered forest; a pair of slender hands parting the flowers to find the trembling anemone; the moment he turned his head in the cold mist; the flower branch spinning in his hand amidst the spring scenery; him lying in the snow, his eyelashes trembling as he closed his eyes; a close-up of his lips biting into the snow-white, plump flower.

Fang Juexia, sensitive to music, quickly recognized the faint sounds of broken glass and chains dragging on the ground in the background.

The torn white petals zoomed in continuously in the close-up, eventually turning into a patch of daylight. The music also changed, becoming a romantic and gentle guitar melody.

Fang Juexia’s own voice appeared in the headphones.

“Spring…”

The voice was processed with an old-fashioned sound effect, soft and slowly repeating, like a whisper, more like a cry for help. In the swaying sunlight, the scene shifts downward, transitioning to a sunlit glass greenhouse. Pei Tingsong sits inside, looking up at the camera. In a double exposure, behind him, faintly visible in the flowers, is a cold, snowy forest, and Fang Juexia lying in the snowy forest.

The voiceover appears again, this time in Spanish, not Chinese or his usual American English. Subtitles appear at the bottom of the video.

“You surpass the cute little white flower in my palm

I must hold a bouquet of flowers in my hands every day.”

In the scene, he cruelly tears off the snow-white petals. The next moment, a close-up of Fang Juexia’s face appears. His eyelashes, covered in snow, tremble slightly, his gaze straight, fragile yet resilient, a contradictory mix.

“You are here. You did not flee.

You must answer me until the final cry.

Cling to me as if you were truly afraid.”

The torn petals fall gracefully in slow motion. The piano’s sound is like cold droplets falling after ice melts, growing faster and faster.

The scene cuts back and forth with the sound, showing Fang Juxia struggling to breathe in the snow, her mouth open, exhaling white mist; Pei Tingsong’s close-up fingers delving into a piece of agate-red; melting ice cubes on soft lips; a body bound by vines; countless beautiful flowers whose names cannot be named.

“From the mountains, I will bring you a bouquet of happiness, windbell flowers,

black hazelnut fruits, and baskets of kisses.”

The music abruptly stops. The background sound becomes rapid breathing. In the close-up, Fang Juexia’s tongue pushes out the ice cube that has turned his lips red. The camera slowly pans up to the red birthmark at the corner of his moist eye, where a drop of blood falls. The scene transitions to a cherry resting in the palm of his hand.

Pei Tingsong picks it up, his sharp teeth piercing the thin skin, sinking into the flesh, and the bright red juice flows down.

“I want to do to you

what spring does to the cherry tree.”

The screen fades to black one last time, the background music fades away, and the howling wind and snow from the opening scene return. The scene gradually emerges, showing a pair of legs walking through the snow.

Fang Juexia’s unique, cool voice appears, delivering the final narration.

“I am the last stranger on your path.”

One step, then another. The trampled snow emits a creaking cry for help.

“The last spring.”

The footsteps stop, and he bends down to pick something up from the snow.

“The last snowfall.”

The camera pans upward. A click.

“The final battle for survival.”

He breaks a dry branch from the snow.

The author has something to say: The two poems are:

Pablo Neruda’s “You Play with the Light of the Universe Every Day” and Paul Éluard’s “The Phoenix.”