Arriving at Viễn Hàn's house, I changed my shoes and sat down at the study desk opposite him. The yellow light in the room wasn't too bright, just enough to see the person opposite me clearly. I laid out my books and notebooks, opened the page I needed to explain, and began speaking slowly.
I didn't rush the parts Viễn Hàn didn't understand. I explained each step again, changing the solution until he nodded, truly understanding.
Unlike his usual cheerful demeanor, Viễn Hàn was unusually quiet during class. His back was straight, his hands neatly placed on the desk, his eyes always following my pen strokes. Occasionally, he would subtly furrow his brow, then relax it when he understood the problem.
I realized… he learned very quickly.
It's just that normally no one would patiently sit with him like that.
We studied until almost six o'clock in the evening.
I put away my books, took out a piece of paper I had prepared beforehand, and placed it in front of Viễn Hàn.
"A small test. Try it. Show it to me tomorrow."
I paused for a moment, then added,
"Leave the questions blank if you can't answer them; no need to guess. I'll explain them again tomorrow."
Viễn Hàn looked at the paper for a while, then took it, his voice deeper than usual:
"Okay. I'll do it."
I nodded, stood up, and prepared to leave.
But as I turned around, I felt a gentle tug on my coat.
Not strong, just a very slight pull.
I stopped, turned around:
"Is there anything else?"
Viễn Hàn hesitated slightly. He withdrew his hand, as if he had just done something unfamiliar. After a few seconds of silence, he slowly reached into his jacket pocket and took out several small, carefully wrapped candies.
He held them out, his eyes averting:
"I… I don't know what you like. I only have these."
I was stunned for a moment.
Not because of the candy.
But because of the way he offered them, so slowly, so cautiously, as if afraid I would refuse.
I took them, and softly said,
"Thank you." Without saying anything more, I turned and left.
I knew that if we stayed any longer, it would only make things awkward for both of us.
A cold night wind blew along the road home. I pulled up my collar, the image of Yuan Han bowing his head to look at the test paper still lingering in my mind.
Upon arriving home, I put down my bag and immediately took out my phone to check.
A message from Xie Junxing appeared.
"Are your injuries very serious?"
Just a short sentence, but my heart fluttered.
The fatigue of the day suddenly eased.
I quickly replied:
"It's not serious, just a few scratches."
Less than a minute later, the screen lit up again.
"You have so many scratches on your body, and you're okay?"
I froze.
A thought flashed through my mind…: "
How does he know so much?"
But I forced myself to stay calm. Maybe it was just a guess.
I typed back, trying to keep my tone normal:
It's really okay. Just a small scratch.
A moment later:
"Really?"
I replied quickly:
"Really. I'm not lying to you."
After sending it, I realized my lips had curved into a smile.
"Ah, Xie Junxing... he's worried about me."
We exchanged a few more messages. I proactively ended the conversation, not wanting him to stay up late because of me.
After eating and showering, I studied for a while longer before going to bed.
Lying in the darkness, I recalled every moment of the day... Xie Junxing's messages, his caring words that softened my heart.
Today…
Xie Junxing cared about me more than before.
It was still that familiar warmth.
Only I didn't know it…
Elsewhere, Xie Junxing had long since put down his phone, but his eyes remained fixed on the dark screen.
He let out a soft sigh, his voice so low only he could hear it:
"Liar…"
Because at that moment, he had seen it.
Viễn Hàn knelt on one knee before me, his hand resting on my knee…where it was carefully bandaged.
And I was stunned, unable to move away.
The scene wasn't overly intimate…
but it was enough to make one feel uneasy.
Tạ Quân Hành closed his eyes, one hand on his forehead.
A feeling both familiar and strange welled up in his chest…
a desire to protect, to hold on, mixed with an unnamed irritation.
In his mind, only one question repeated itself:
"Ultimately… what am I worried about?"