The Byoukidere Is Her Sweetie

Chapter 93: 093: Nostalgia Kill – About First Love
 

The silence was pervasive, only the wind could be heard.

Suddenly, a phone rang; it was Old Lady Jiang calling.

“Bingxue.”

“Speak, Auntie.” He walked to the side to answer the call.

Fang Lixiang stood there stunned for a moment, then took out his phone, found the boss’s number, and dialed.

Knock, knock, knock.

Jiang Wei’er opened the door; the server was standing at the doorstep, handing over a medical kit, “Here’s the spare medicine you asked for.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jiang Wei’er closed the door and carried the medical kit to the bedside, “Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

Since entering the room, there had been no explanation, only silence.

“Linsu—”

He looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot.

The medical kit in her hand fell to the floor, and she suddenly panicked, “What’s wrong with you?”

Jiang Wei’er had only seen Xiao Linsu cry on TV before; this was the first time she had seen his eyes redden in front of her.

She couldn’t bear seeing him like this, and her eyes reddened too, “Don’t cry, I won’t ask anymore, I won’t ask.”

“Wei’er.”

“Hmm?”

He reached out his hand, wanting to touch her face, but his hands were bloody and dirty, so he bowed his head and kissed her eyes instead, “Don’t you like wearing white dresses?”

As he bowed his head, his tears fell onto her face.

“If you like it, then I like it.” She grabbed his hand, pressing it against her face, not minding the dirt or the semi-dry bloodstains that smeared her face, “Before we were together, I watched many of your interviews. You said you liked girls who wear white dresses, ones who smile tenderly.”

Back then, before they were together, she had tried every which way to become everything he liked—she started growing her hair long, wearing dresses, and sitting and walking properly.

“Do you know why?”

She shook her head.

His voice choked and hoarse, “Because of you.”

There was no such thing as an ideal type; it had always been her.

“Xue Bingxue said you never used to wear dresses, but that’s not true; you did.”

He didn’t know she disliked dresses, but the first time he saw her, she was wearing a white dress. After that, the woman in his dreams, all his preferences, it was all her.

Back then, he was just eighteen, and in his most disheveled state when he met her.

“Sorry, did you fall anywhere?”

It was he who had stumbled and bumped into her.

He didn’t stand steady and fell to the ground. She went over to help him, but he shouted at her, “Don’t touch me!”

Back then, Jiang Wei’er was also only eighteen and was frightened by the guarded look in his eyes. He got up on his own and stumbled out.

That place was the entrance of a hotel; that day was Jiang Wei’er’s coming of age celebration. Even the hotel lobby had exaggeratedly hoisted a banner wishing her a happy birthday.

The banner was made by Xue Baoyi, who always tended to overdo things—only fifteen but with a wildly non-mainstream hairstyle, acting as if he owned the world.

“What kind of insolent kid is this, treating our cousin like that?” Xue Baoyi, still a young boy, had the look of a little ruffian, and gestured with his chin toward Jiang Wei’er, “Look, your dress is dirty now.”

She touched the stained spot.

“It’s blood.”

The one who spoke was a young boy next to Xue Baoyi, still looking very youthful yet undeniably handsome, but his frail body looked sickly and exceedingly thin.

That was the fourteen-year-old Jiang Zhi.

“When will my uncle get here, Wei’er has finally gambled and worn a dress for once. We have to let him see how awkwardly she walks in it.”

“Get lost.”

Xue Baoyi snorted. He was still apprehensive around Jiang Wei’er; she had always been keen on kicking people since they were kids.

“You guys go ahead and wait for me inside,” the birthday boy suddenly changed direction, heading out.

“Where are you going?”

She waved her hand behind her and ran across the street.

Across the street, there was a park, turn left from the park for five hundred meters, and there was a pharmacy. She ran there, and ran back, panting and sweating profusely.

“Hey!” She called out.

The boy sitting by the fountain looked up, always wearing a mask, only his beautiful eyes visible, indeed the person who had bumped into her in the hotel.

It was the eighteen-year-old Xiao Linsu.

In the middle of summer, he was dressed in long clothes, his exposed skin was minimal, but even that tiny bit was covered in injuries—cuts and burns, most had scabbed over, only his left wrist was still bleeding.

His eyes were very red, he had been crying.

“Why are you crying?”

He remained silent.

She shook the bag of medicine in front of him, “Here, for you.”

But he didn’t take it, turned his back, and ignored her.

The eighteen-year-old girl was at an age marked by sharpness, born lucky, and had yet to encounter anyone who gave her such attitude, she laughed, “You dirtied my dress, and still have such a temper?”

Still silent.

After a long time, he turned back to look at her dress, its white hem stained with blood from when he had bumped into her.

The wound on his wrist, as if inflicted by a sharp knife, continued to bleed profusely.

It looked terribly painful; she sighed, took out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide from her bag, and was about to disinfect his wound by pulling his hand toward her when he reacted strongly and jerked away, retreating backwards.

“I am very dirty.”

His voice still carried the clarity of youth, but it was as if his throat was torn, both dry and hoarse.

His shoulders shook as he mutely repeated, “I am very dirty.”

“I’ll wash it off, and then you won’t be dirty anymore,” she said, grabbing his hand and pouring the diluted hydrogen peroxide on it.

He flinched.

“Does it hurt?”

He avoided her probing gaze and remained silent.

Dipping some ointment, she applied it to his wound, and then awkwardly wrapped it with a bandage. “If it hurts, you can cry.”

She saw the sadness and despair in his eyes.

Perhaps it was the gentleness in the girl’s voice that quietly breached his defenses; he bowed his head, and tears hit the ground before he hugged his knees and sobbed loudly…

The sun was bright, a slight breeze in the air, and through his tear-blurred vision, all he could see was the swaying of the girl’s dress.

She placed her baseball cap on his head, pressing it down until it almost covered half of his face.

“Now, no one can see you.”

He cried for a long time, eventually quieting down, while she remained sitting silently beside him on a stone, waiting until he stopped crying and looked up before she stood, her face now sunburned. Though tears blurred his vision, he still saw her clearly—short hair to her ears, delicate and beautiful.

She said, “Then I’m leaving.”

“Wei’er! Jiang Wei’er!”

In the distance, the boys called for her.

She turned and replied, “Don’t rush, I’m coming.” Then she threw the medicine to him, “Apply this one three times a day, and this one, once a day.”

“Wei’er!”

“Coming, coming.”

She ran into the crowd, her white dress fluttering long in his vision.

Jiang Wei’er.

Her name was Jiang Wei’er.

That day was Jiang Wei’er’s eighteenth birthday. She lost a bet and wore a white dress she would never normally wear. Xue Bingxue missed her coming of age ceremony and didn’t see the awkward way she walked in the dress.

That day, Xiao Linsu was first selling himself for a hundred thousand yuan at Jin Song’s, pitifully tarnished, when she appeared.

Their next meeting was six years later. He was an actor, she a Taekwondo Hall coach, his martial arts instructor. She didn’t recognize him, she didn’t even remember a boy who had wept in front of her six years ago.

“Did you recognize me back at the Taekwondo Hall?”

Xiao Linsu nodded.

How could he not recognize her? He knew her at first glance, then… step by step, it all went wrong.

He placed the USB drive he had held for a long time into her hand.

“What is this?”

“It’s evidence.”

It was the evidence of his insatiable mistakes.

He didn’t know how long he had held the metal USB drive; it was warm and covered in sweat. Jiang Wei’er’s heart raced, panic stricken: “Did Xue Bingxue get violent with you because of this too?”

He said yes, “Xue Bingxue did nothing wrong, it was my fault.”

“You—”

Suddenly, an alarm sounded.

Soon after, Jiang Wei’er’s phone rang too.

She swallowed her words and answered the call first.

It was Xue Baoyi: “Wei’er, Jiang Zhi is in trouble.”

Time rewound fifteen minutes.

The wedding march had just begun, and Xue Baoyi received a call from an unknown number.

The caller’s voice trembled: “Boss.”

Xue Baoyi did not recognize the timid voice at first: “Who is this?”

The timid one said: “Boss, it’s me.”

Damn it, Xue Baoyi was out of patience: “Who are you?”

The dry voice on the other end of the phone said: “I’m the new Weaver, Fang Lixiang. Don’t you remember me, boss?”

Xue Baoyi put down her drink and laughed: “I remember, vividly.” The guy who loved cursing in games.

Right now, the guy who loved to curse in games was very respectful on the phone: “Boss, your uncle got into a fight. Oh, don’t worry, it was just your uncle beating up someone else. Then he injured his own hand. Are you free to come over and pick up the patient? He seems very unstable, and we’re at the stern. He might do something foolish…” She paused. “Boss, are you listening?”

Xue Baoyi tapped on the table: “Listening.”

Fang Lixiang then asked, “So, will you come over?”

Emperor Xue: “Hmm.”

Fang the Palace Maid: “Then I will wait respectfully over here.”

Drama queen!