bookmarkrole Chapter 26 Old Friends
Chapter 26 Old Friends
On New Year's Eve, seven people were crammed into the main room of Zuo Cheng's house.
My little niece, Miaomiao, clung to Zuo Cheng's neck as soon as she entered the door, refusing to get down and demanding that her uncle tell her a story. My mother and sister were busy in the kitchen, their feet barely touching the ground, the cutting board piled high with freshly made dumplings and fried meatballs. My father sat in the main room watching the Spring Festival Gala, wearing the down jacket Zuo Cheng had bought him—he complained that the color was too bright, but he hadn't taken it off since the 29th of the lunar year.
The New Year's Eve dinner table was laden with food. There was braised pork, steamed fish, stewed ribs, cold dishes, and a pot of old hen soup that his mother had simmered for three hours. When Zuo Cheng put food in his father's bowl, he deliberately avoided the high-oil and high-fat dishes—he didn't put any braised pork in his father's bowl, and he only picked out the lean ribs.
His father glanced at him, said nothing, and silently ate the lean pork ribs in his bowl.
After dinner, while watching the Spring Festival Gala, Miaomiao fell asleep in Zuo Cheng's arms, her little head resting on his shoulder, her drool wetting a small patch of his new sweater. Her older sister came over to take the child away, but Zuo Cheng waved her off, letting her continue sleeping.
As midnight approached, firecrackers went off everywhere outside. Zuo Cheng stood in the courtyard, holding Miao Miao, watching fireworks explode across the night sky. Red, gold, purple—one after another, it was as if someone had spilled a paint box in the heavens.
In the last few years of his previous life, he had to carefully budget even for the fare to go home for the Lunar New Year. For two years, he didn't come back at all, spending his time alone in his rented room eating instant noodles, looking at his phone, listening to the firecrackers going off in other people's homes outside the window, feeling that all the world's festivities had nothing to do with him.
He was standing in his own yard, holding his niece in his arms, with the lights on in the main room behind him, and the laughter of his parents and sister leaking out from under the door.
This is enough.
It's more valuable than any integral or blade.
On the first and second days of the Lunar New Year, people visit relatives; the third day is Zuo Cheng's last full day at home.
Then my mother brought it up.
"Cheng'er, do you remember your Aunt Li? The one who lives at the east end—her niece graduated this year and works at a trading company in the city; she's quite pretty. Your Aunt Li came to visit a couple of days ago and said she'd like you two to meet."
Zuo Cheng was packing his suitcase when he paused for a moment.
"Mom, I told you this isn't urgent—"
"What's not urgent?" Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, her tone becoming serious. "You're twenty-two this year. Around here, it's common to get married at twenty-two or twenty-three. Your sister got married at twenty-three, and look at her now, her child is already in elementary school."
"My situation is different from my sister's."
"What's the difference? Boys should settle down even earlier, otherwise all the good girls will be taken. I've met your Aunt Li's niece; she's pretty and has a good personality, more than a match for you."
Zuo Cheng glanced at his mother, knowing that this matter wouldn't be resolved without a resolution today. He wasn't exactly opposed to it—his mother had worried her whole life, so it was good to put her mind at ease.
"Okay, let's meet. When?"
"This afternoon!" His mother's quick reaction made Zuo Cheng suspect she had arranged it beforehand. "Your Aunt Li said it's at three o'clock at that newly opened coffee shop in the county town. I'll send you the address."
Zuo Cheng smiled helplessly.
At 2:50 PM, in a poorly decorated coffee shop on the main street of the county town, when Zuo Cheng arrived, Aunt Li was already sitting inside, next to a young woman in a beige coat, looking down at her phone.
Zuo Cheng walked over, and Aunt Li was overly enthusiastic, grabbing his hand and showering him with compliments like "college student," "promising," and "handsome." Zuo Cheng smiled and responded with a few words, his gaze falling on the girl next to Aunt Li.
She looked up.
Zuo Cheng's steps came to a halt.
He recognized that face.
It's not a memory from this life, it's from the previous life.
Yang Wei.
His wife in his previous life.
To be precise—his ex-wife in his previous life.
They married at twenty-five and divorced at thirty. The first two years of their marriage were relatively smooth, but later Zuo Cheng's career declined steadily, his income decreased, his temper worsened, and their arguments became increasingly frequent. In the end, Yang Wei filed for divorce, and he signed the papers.
The night she left, Zuo Cheng sat alone in the empty rented room, facing the wall all night.
He still remembers that feeling—not hatred, but a sense of powerlessness that seeped into his very bones. He knew Yang Wei hadn't done anything wrong; it was his own inadequacy that prevented him from giving her the life she wanted. It's only natural for a woman not to want to live with a man she sees no hope for.
And now, this face appeared before him.
Yang Wei, who looks ten years younger, appears to be around twenty-two or twenty-three years old. She has fair skin, and while her features aren't stunning, they are pleasing to the eye. She also has two shallow dimples when she smiles.
"Hello, my name is Yang Wei." She extended her hand proactively, with a generous and appropriate manner.
"Zuocheng." He shook her hand; his palm was dry and warm, just like in his memory.
Aunt Li wisely made an excuse and slipped away, leaving the two young people alone.
Yang Wei wasn't the type to be coy; after a few pleasantries, they naturally started chatting. She worked as a foreign trade merchandiser in the city, earning a modest but stable income. She enjoyed reading and running in her spare time, and indeed had a straightforward and easygoing personality.
As Zuo Cheng listened to her speak, a strange feeling welled up inside him.
The girl in front of me is the same woman who signed the divorce papers in my previous life, but not entirely. She hasn't experienced what followed—the wear and tear of daily life, the despair of a husband who has accomplished nothing, or those nights when the arguments escalated.
She is still okay.
It was the person who first made his heart flutter.
But Zuo Cheng knew perfectly well that he would never be with Yang Wei again in this life.
It wasn't because he hated her. Quite the opposite, he didn't hate her; he even understood her. The root of his broken marriage in his previous life lay with him. A man who couldn't even bear his own burdens had no right to demand that others stand by him.
But understanding doesn't mean starting over.
Some things are simply missed forever. The rift between the two didn't begin on the day of their divorce, but long, long before, at the crossroads where their expectations for life began to diverge.
Even if he is reborn, even if his conditions are better now, this fundamental divergence still exists.
Yang Wei desires a stable life and a peaceful existence. But the path Zuo Cheng is destined to walk in this life is destined to be anything but stable.
He has a technology tree to light up, a sky to reach, and a sea of stars to explore.
The people who accompany him on this path must be those who are truly willing to stand on the same track as him.
An image involuntarily surfaced in Zuo Cheng's mind—a window seat in the library, a ponytail, a white hoodie, a highlighter pen tracing across a paper, and bright eyes when she looked up at him.
Yu Ying.
He paused for a moment, then smiled inwardly.
It turned out to be the case.
Unbeknownst to me, that image had already settled in my heart.
"Zuo Cheng?" Yang Wei called out to him, "You're daydreaming."
"Sorry, I was thinking about something work." He snapped out of his reverie and smiled.
The two chatted for another half hour, the atmosphere neither warm nor cold. Zuo Cheng behaved politely and appropriately, but didn't send any ambiguous signals. Yang Wei was a smart girl, and probably sensed something as well. When she left, she was still smiling, but the smile was a little weaker than when they first met.
"We had a very pleasant chat today," she said, standing up and offering a polite remark.
"Me too." Zuo Cheng nodded.
I saw her out of the coffee shop, and we went our separate ways.
When I got home that evening, my mother couldn't wait to ask me anything.
"How was it? Was that girl nice?"
"He's a really good person." Zuo Cheng was telling the truth.
"and you--"
"But it's not quite right."
The mother's expression clearly showed disappointment, but she didn't press for the reason. She simply sighed, "Your child, your standards are too high."
Zuo Cheng didn't explain. There were some things he couldn't tell his mother—he couldn't say, "This girl was my wife in my past life, but we got divorced," nor could he say, "I have someone else in my heart."
He simply made a decision in his heart.
After my winter internship ends and I return to school, there are some things I should talk to Yu Ying about.
Not now, but not too far off.
Early on the fourth day of the Lunar New Year, Zuo Cheng dragged his suitcase out of his house.
The mother chased after him to the gate of the courtyard and stuffed a bag of fried meatballs and braised beef into his hands. The father stood under the eaves and said, "Be careful."
Zuo Chengchong and the others waved and turned to walk into the cold morning wind.
My home is behind me.
Ahead lies the sky.