It wasn’t too late, but since Lu Pingzhang wasn’t interested in the project, leaving early wouldn’t hurt.
Lu Pingzhang held Qiao Jin’s hand tightly the whole way, and Qiao Jin tried to pull away a few times but failed, so he gave up.
When they arrived at the hotel entrance, the two got out of the car, and Qiao Jin’s hand was finally freed.
Lu Pingzhang stood there waiting for him. The hotel’s blue and yellow striped lights cast an ethereal glow on his profile, but the gaze following Qiao Jin was so earnest.
Qiao Jin walked around and stood beside him.
He had spent two days thinking about how to broach the subject with him, but now, seeing his slightly tipsy and relaxed demeanor, he hesitated: “Are you drunk?”
Lu Pingzhang stared at him, sensing his hesitation: “No.”
“Hmm.”
Lu Pingzhang furrowed his brows and couldn’t help asking, “Do you have something to tell me?”
Qiao Jin hummed again and glanced at the tree-lined path to the right: “Let’s go for a walk over there.”
The trees along both sides of the highway were bare, and the dim yellow light from the streetlamps cast a gloomy glow on them, failing to alleviate the sense of desolation and bleakness, only making it feel even more desolate.
Lu Pingzhang stood under the trees, his tall figure casting a shadow as dark as the tree shadows. He wore a wool coat, but it did not soften his appearance. The shadow obscured half of his face.
“I can’t accept it,” he said, standing opposite Qiao Jin and abruptly bringing up the topic. “If you want to tell me we’re breaking up, I can’t accept that.”
Qiao Jin looked up at him, his eyes brightly illuminated by the streetlight.
“It’s not that,” Qiao Jin said. “It’s something else.”
Lu Pingzhang sighed in relief, reached out to pull him aside, and said, “You can talk about anything else.”
The two walked along the deserted path. After a period of silence, Qiao Jin stopped: “Let’s stay here for a while. It’s a bit cold.”
Lu Pingzhang took off his coat and draped it over his shoulders. Qiao Jin tried to push it away, but he wrapped it around him forcefully: “I’m not cold. I’m sweating.”
Qiao Jin didn’t argue with him. Even with two coats on, he didn’t look bulky; instead, it made his layers look more distinct.
Qiao Jin looked at him for a moment, then suddenly smiled silently.
“I’m laughing at you,” Qiao Jin said. “You’re really drunk. Mr. Lu is usually so aloof and cold-hearted, he wouldn’t act like this…”
Lu Pingzhang felt wronged.
He took his hand and pressed it tightly against his chest.
The heartbeat beneath his hand was strong and rhythmic. Qiao Jin tried to pull his hand away, but Lu Pingzhang held it in place: “Am I drunk?”
Occasionally, a speeding car would pass by on the wide road, bringing a cool breeze, but Qiao Jin didn’t care.
He felt safe under the shade of the trees.
After a long time, he finally agreed with Lu Pingzhang: “No.”
Lu Pingzhang finally let go of him with satisfaction.
Qiao Jin took a tissue from his pocket to wipe the street bench, then sat down first after cleaning it.
Lu Pingzhang wanted to say no, but the atmosphere was good at that moment, so he reluctantly agreed to Qiao Jin’s rare request.
Qiao Jin lit his cigarette first, then leaned in to light his own using the glowing tip of Lu Pingzhang’s cigarette.
Lu Pingzhang realized that he didn’t know him well enough, and perhaps he had been a little too strict with him.
Qiao Jin leaned back in his chair and exhaled a puff of smoke into the night sky.
At that moment, his sense of freedom and spontaneity reached its peak, a stark contrast to the Qiao Zong who sat at his desk in the office building in the city center, bathed in bright sunlight.
Lu Pingzhang watched this scene and wanted to pull him close and hold him tightly.
Lu Pingzhang knew he had met with the psychologist again, but he hadn’t expected him to actually ask him that question.
Qiao Jin exhaled white smoke, which lingered around his eyebrows, giving him a sorrowful appearance.
“I couldn’t do it,” he said. “That was my mother.”
Lu Pingzhang tilted his head to look at him, wanting to smooth out the lines between his eyebrows: “The reason you can’t do it is because your mother can’t speak. If she could speak like Lu Boyang, you would know all her pain.”
“Did you feel pain at the time?” Qiao Jin asked.
“Pain.” Lu Pingzhang looked at his confused and sad eyes and felt the pain himself at that moment.
He held a cigarette between his fingers, not bringing it to his mouth, letting it burn in the night breeze: “I often think now, if I had been ruthless enough not to go to the hospital to see him, not to hear his cries for help, not to see his heart-wrenching pain, would he have been able to hold on?”
“Do you regret it?”
Lu Pingzhang wanted to tell him he didn’t regret it, but he couldn’t deceive him.
Because Lu Pingzhang could not regret it, but someone as tender-hearted as Qiao Jin would certainly regret it.
Lu Pingzhang told him, “I regret it.”
Qiao Jin stopped smoking, letting the cigarette butt emit a wisp of white smoke that rose continuously, like a wandering ghost.
Lu Pingzhang hugged his shoulders tightly: “The doctor told me that whether I went to see him or not, that pain was real. We can’t pretend it doesn’t exist just because we avoid it.”
Qiao Jin leaned against his shoulder and closed his eyes.
“The last time she spoke to me was at night.” His voice was hoarse, exposing his heart in the cold night, “Around midnight, I received her call and thought it was a wrong number. I couldn’t recognize her voice.”
Qiao Jin paused before continuing, “It wasn’t until she called me ‘Xiao Jin’ that I realized it was her. She must have been in so much pain; she kept sighing and crying. In less than two minutes, she hung up the phone.”
His tone grew urgent, and Lu Pingzhang gently patted his back.
“I immediately called the nurse, but she didn’t answer. So I ran to the hospital to ask, but it was past visiting hours for the intensive care unit, so I had to wait.”
Lu Pingzhang asked softly, “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Is that okay?” Qiao Jin’s tone was a bit confused, then he said, “I don’t know. You’re busy, and it might bother you.”
“I’ll be busy, but it won’t bother me,” Lu Pingzhang said. “Next time something like this happens that you can’t handle, call me first.”
After giving his instructions, he confirmed, “Did you understand?”
Qiao Jin remained silent for a few seconds before asking, “Any time is okay?”
“Yes,” Lu Pingzhang replied.
Thanks to this brief exchange, Qiao Jin’s emotions stabilized somewhat.
He stared blankly for a moment, then said softly, “I called the nurse again. She answered, but she didn’t hear any noise in the ward. My mother had already fallen asleep. The next day, we checked the surveillance footage together. It showed that my mother had indeed called me. After hanging up, she pulled out her own oxygen tube.”
Qiao Jin closed his eyes and brought the last puff of smoke to his lips.
Lu Pingzhang took the cigarette butt from his hand, crushed the ember on the ground, and flicked it into the empty trash can beside the chair.
Qiao Jin stared blankly at the white smoke dissipating before him, as if he could smell the disinfectant in the pale hospital: “I watched her pull out the oxygen tube in the surveillance footage, then put it back on herself. She pulled it out again, put it back on, back and forth, three times.”
Lu Pingzhang’s wrist was damp, and Qiao Jin’s tears fell, cutting through the cold air and the fading scent of smoke, landing heavily on it.
“I want to be with her,” Qiao Jin said hoarsely, pressing tightly against Lu Pingzhang’s shoulder, “but the doctor said frequent visits could lead to infection.”
Under the deserted street and the quiet streetlight, he let himself go.
As the doctor had said, someone as mature as Qiao Jin didn’t need a psychologist.
He just needed time or someone to talk to.
The mottled, dark shadows of the trees fell on him, forming a stark contrast with the warm, yellow glow of the nearby road. Leaning against Lu Pingzhang in the darkness, his shoulders occasionally rose and fell, revealing a clear sob: “I don’t want to be alone.”
“You won’t be alone,” Lu Pingzhang held him tightly, pressing his cheek against the top of his head, his heart aching more than his hands, “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid, I’ll always be with you.”
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