The Detective of Noble Boys' Academy — 20

20

'It's not what you think.'

Ji Yue had a pair of eyes that were born without warmth. In his daily life he regarded everyone with cool indifference, keeping a measured distance from all. It was precisely because of this that the words, coming from him, carried a strange persuasiveness. He looked not the least bit flustered or guilty.

The last light of the setting sun spilled into the car and fell across his face, tinting the air inside with a warm amber glow.

Yan Min seemed to soften a little.

Ji Yue really wasn't that kind of person.

On his side of things, Ji Yue turned the whole of his time with Yan Min over in his mind, chewing on it carefully.

The problem seemed to lie in this: before Ji Yue had stumbled into the Greenhouse estate, Yan Min had apparently already known him — one-sidedly.

Why had Yan Min, back then, gone out of his way to pay attention to a transfer student?

[Based on new program calculations, and drawing on Freudian psychoanalytic theory, there is a 99% probability that it is because he wants to...]

'Stop.'

The System cackled: [Actually, when you two met at the Greenhouse, you hadn't even been at the boys' school very long! This scheming little fox — he probably started studying you the very day you transferred in!]

'Are you curious about my relationship with them?'

Yan Min asked again.

'Yes.'

Soft, unhurried music drifted through the car — a melody so gentle it clashed entirely with the Conan-esque interrogation unfolding inside.

Ji Yue waited a full minute.

No further questions came. No [Warning! Warning!] alert from the System either.

Ji Yue pushed open the car door and stepped out.

Yan Min called after him.

'Do you still have feelings for me?'

A hand settled on Ji Yue's shoulder, turning him around. The cold metal of a watch grazed his arm, and in an instant Ji Yue was back in that night — on the hood of the car, another man's hand, another wristwatch.

[What Yan Min really wanted to ask all along — isn't it this! He suspects you've already transferred your affections elsewhere. He's probably been drafting a death list for romantic rivals since last night!]

[And yet you're only here to investigate the truth. It has nothing to do with anything else. Let the misunderstanding run its course!]

Because of all this, every question Yan Min asked was one Ji Yue could not — and did not wish to — answer.

Ji Yue thought: one troublesome member of the F4 was already more than enough.

He told Yan Min: 'I don't know.'

Yan Min thought to himself that Ji Yue was always like this — hovering somewhere between near and far.

Why?

Perhaps it was simply who he was.

'Goodbye.'

Ji Yue took his leave.

Yan Min loosened his grip, and Ji Yue turned and walked away without a backward glance — the way a stray cat parts from a stranger on the street, without the slightest attachment.

[That kind of ambiguity isn't bad at all! All we really need to do is keep from blowing our cover,] the System told him. [As for whatever the F4 have decided you are, or how they interpret your behavior — it doesn't matter. Let them guess.]

It doesn't matter.

Ji Yue repeated the phrase to himself.

As a detective, his outward identity — as far as the F4 were concerned — was that of their terrifying love interest.

The more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed. He had no idea how things would develop from here.

By the time Ji Yue returned to the villa, night had fallen. He hugged his backpack and sank into the sofa, staring up at the ceiling for a while, mind adrift.

He sorted through the day's events one by one.

The lounge: Li Xihe bringing him a sandwich, asking whether Ji Yue had lost interest in him.

Yan Min turning up out of nowhere — deeply suspicious.

And finally, Ji Yue himself saying: I don't know.

These scattered images played through his mind, and even strung together they remained somewhat tangled.

He had never been good at matters of the heart.

Human love was genuinely complicated.

For the umpteenth time, Ji Yue found himself entertaining thoughts along the lines of 'just kill them all' — though this world had no such death mechanic, so it remained a passing fancy.

With that, he sent Li Xihe a message canceling dinner. They wouldn't be eating together tonight.

The next second, Li Xihe's call came through.

'Why won't my little sister have dinner with me? Are you angry? I'm sorry, I...'

'I'm tired today.'

Ji Yue cut him off.

'Really? Is it because my relentless pursuit has worn you out, or did today's tutoring get on your nerves?' Li Xihe said with a laugh.

'Think whatever you like.'

'I'm only joking. Get some rest early, little sister — tomorrow's a holiday. Go out and clear your head.' Li Xihe's voice gentled. 'I'm planning to go have some fun myself.'

Ji Yue glanced at the calendar. Tomorrow was the start of the short holiday break.

By that evening, the school was nearly half-empty. Private planes swept through the sky in a steady stream; all manner of luxury vessels lay moored in the island's harbor; impeccably dressed butlers arrived at the gates and waited at the airfield, ready at any moment to escort their young masters home.

Ji Yue shouldered his bag and headed out. The sky was almost dark.

'Would you like to take my plane back?'

He Yuanxi was in the lounge leafing through a newspaper, and called out to him without looking up.

'No.'

'Why not?'

Because I can't be bothered with you.

Ji Yue kept that to himself. At the intersection, through the car window, he spotted Yan Min standing outside a bookshop.

He looked as though he had just bought a few books — a cloth bag dangling from one hand. He always had that air about him, like a scholar, and he brought the same dogged, tunnel-vision quality to his feelings that he brought to everything else.

What a headache.

[F1 definitely thinks you're a headache too.]

The first destination of the short holiday was Yan City. Ji Yue did not travel back with Si Jing, because he intended to make a trip home first.

Once he landed in the capital, a string of messages arrived the moment he stepped off the plane.

sj: [So happy you're coming.] sj: [(joy)(crying)(joy)(crying)(losing my mind)] sj: [You're not going to ditch me halfway and say you can't make it, are you? (crying)] sj: [I'm already here. [photo] At the beach. I've got your fishing gear ready. Love from the shore. (love you)]

[What on earth — even the top scholar has been struck by Cupid's arrow?] The System was outraged, and began its commentary: [Not a shred of that cool aloofness left. He looks like he's ready to grind a millstone for you at any moment!]

People who like me — please be fewer.

Ji Yue prayed this with a blank face.

'Young master, while you were away, many people came looking for you, including...' The butler fell into step behind him, and — predictably — caught the look Ji Yue threw over his shoulder: a silent, flat stop.

The butler smiled knowingly and did not continue down the list, but did mention one other thing: 'Mr. Yan and Mr. Li have both sent gifts to the house, addressed specifically to the young master.'

'They found my home address that quickly?'

Ji Yue shrugged off his Black Coat and handed it over, then settled onto the sofa.

'They... have little difficulty finding anyone they wish to find.'

Ji Yue had moved out to live alone before the transfer; he had several properties in his name, yet those two had known with pinpoint accuracy which one he would return to.

The butler's veiled remark was a reminder: once outside the school environment, the F4 posed a greater danger to him.

The journey from the capital to the Lower City took just over an hour. The private plane touched down, and the Helipad was nearly deserted. The Lower City was almost an abandoned place.

The moment he stepped off the plane, a wall of heat hit him head-on.

Yan City was sweltering.

Most of the people who lived in this little seaside town made their living from the sea — either heading out before dawn to fish, coming back sun-darkened and weathered, or working in tourism, teaching the wealthy visitors from the Upper City to surf and cast nets.

Si Jing had hauled in a bucket of fish. At his front door, the fish were still thrashing inside the bucket; the droplets they splashed onto the sandy ground out front evaporated almost before they landed.

He lived right by the sea, close enough that in past typhoon seasons the water had surged straight into the courtyard, battering the house year after year until it was worn and battered.

Si Jing swept his damp silver fringe out of his eyes, set the bucket by the door, and tilted his head back to look at his own house.

A flicker of regret.

If he'd known Ji Yue would actually grace him with a visit... he should have renovated beforehand. At the very least, he should have replaced this wretched wooden door with something new.

'A-Jing, you're not going surfing today?'

A neighbor came out to dry some tofu in the sun and asked offhandedly. He remembered that in past holidays, Si Jing wouldn't come back from the water until evening.

'Got a guest coming these next couple of days.'

Si Jing hauled out a bucket of paint, intending to give the wooden door a fresh coat.

'Oh, a classmate?'

Yes.

A rather... distinguished guest.

The thought of it sent a ripple of happiness through him — a lightness that lifted him even without the sea beneath his feet, lending an inexplicable energy even to the most tedious chores.

Si Jing cleaned a fish and tucked it into the freezer, then surveyed the kitchen: only a basket of fresh shrimp and crab.

Ji Yue was coming as a guest — he ought to buy something more. Besides seafood, there wasn't much in the way of local specialties here. Nothing really worth presenting.

On his way back from the market, Si Jing passed the beach again. A few sun-darkened children were shrieking and tearing across the sand like a pack of unevolved primates. At this hour there were hardly any wealthy surfers left on the water, the fishing boats had all unloaded their catch, and even the children were quieter than they'd been in the morning.

Si Jing crouched down and picked up a few shells and spiral snails from the sand. A rich kid like Ji Yue, who'd never seen the countryside, had surely never laid eyes on the Lower City's rough-and-tumble charms.

He was sorting through the shells when someone drew steadily closer.

A pair of feet dusted with sand stopped in front of him.

Beach sandals. Slender ankles. Skin so pale it was nearly overexposed — clearly not a local.

Si Jing assumed it was some girl down from the Upper City and went on carefully picking through the shells.

A few seconds passed before it dawned on him — these feet looked oddly familiar.

He snapped his head up.

'You...'

It was Ji Yue, descended from the heavens like an angel.

The cold-faced angel was wearing an oversized white T-shirt with two lopsided printed palm trees on the chest — the kind of thing you'd pick up at a local street stall — and a pair of beach shorts so wide and baggy they looked almost like a casual skirt.

He had on a large straw hat, and his long dark hair floated around him like seaweed in the breeze. Beneath the brim, his small face glowed with a luminous, almost translucent whiteness.

This particular angel wore a cold expression, and the combination of his blank face and the way he gazed down from above conjured the very specific fantasy of a wife coming downstairs to inspect a slacking husband.

'Your place is very far. I looked for a long time.'

Ji Yue said, coolly aggrieved.

'You came alone? No servants?' Si Jing blinked, then immediately got to his feet, tossed the shells aside, and wiped his hands. 'Why didn't you tell me you'd arrived? I would have come to get you. It's a long way from the airport.'

'Because there's no signal here. My communicator turned into a useless brick.'

'Your Upper City System is too advanced — the signal towers probably don't reach this far out here. Not surprising.'

'...'

'Let's head home. Give me your luggage — what did you bring, clothes? It's almost dinnertime. Have you eaten?'

Si Jing fired off question after question, then asked how long Ji Yue had been searching, how he'd gotten here, whether he'd taken a taxi — as though Ji Yue might vanish in the next breath and everything had to be said quickly.

He took the suitcase and led Ji Yue forward.

Ji Yue watched him from behind. The guy was tall, solid from training, tanned even darker than before, his silver hair cropped short and sticking up like a hedgehog's spines. When he smiled, a flash of white teeth showed — every bit the product of a seaside upbringing. It was already quite different from how the original novel had described him.

[Look at him — his arms are thicker than your thighs! Give it a few more years and he'll be a full-on seaside strongman. This is nothing like the shou in the original story!] the System wailed.

The two of them walked home together, running into quite a few people along the way — a few neighbors out playing cards who greeted Si Jing, barefoot children running past shouting 'gege' at the top of their lungs. Si Jing stopped each time to respond, and introduced Ji Yue to them all, saying he was a classmate from the Upper City.

Ji Yue said nothing. When the neighborhood aunties and grandmothers looked his way, the large straw hat on his head dipped slightly up and down — a nod, by way of greeting.

On the way home they stopped at the market.

Ji Yue drifted alongside the stalls like a ghost, entirely out of place.

'Do you eat tofu?'

'Whatever.'

'What about this?'

'Up to you.'

'I'll just grab whatever, then.'

Si Jing glanced back at Ji Yue every now and then. There was no displeasure or distaste on his face — only the occasional flicker of attention toward a stall before he moved on.

That eased something in Si Jing's chest.

'I was really worried you wouldn't like it here.'

He carried the groceries with one hand and draped the other over Ji Yue's shoulder, falling into an easy, unhurried conversation. They passed two children playing chess in the sand; Si Jing was in good spirits and took a moment to tease one of them about how many games he'd won that day.

Ji Yue watched the scene and thought back to the first time he'd seen Si Jing at Noble Boys' Academy — silent, coiled tight, bristling all over, squaring off against the F4 at every turn.

Si Jing's happiness here in the Lower City was too vivid to ignore, utterly unlike his life at the boys' school. Here he was in his element, completely at ease. In the kitchen he cooked, and a sizzling burst of sound announced the crab hitting the wok.

Si Jing tossed the pan and called out to Ji Yue to watch television in the other room: 'Don't wander off — there are no street signs here and you don't know the roads.' Then: 'Have you ever watched Lower City television? Been to a cinema down here?'

'Don't treat me like an idiot.'

Ji Yue sat on the sofa hugging a cushion. In front of him stood an old television set, the picture slightly fuzzy, broadcasting a variety show.

'There aren't really any tourist attractions in the Lower City. If Yan City gives you a sense of novelty or nostalgia... then I suppose the trip has served its purpose. There isn't much to do here, after all.'

Si Jing called from the kitchen.

Coming here wasn't really tourism, Ji Yue thought. The detective simply wanted to keep mapping the gap between the original novel and reality.

The two of them sat across from each other for dinner, no one else around — it seemed like the first time.

After dinner, Si Jing washed the dishes and wiped down the table while Ji Yue crouched by the doorway, feeding live shrimp to a passing cat.

A little while later, Si Jing went on tidying the house while Ji Yue played with a dog by the roadside.

It was already night. Si Jing asked suddenly: 'Are you staying over tonight?'

'Mm.'

'Then I'll take the sofa.'

Ji Yue walked into the bedroom without a word.

The bedroom was small but neatly kept. On the desk sat a photo frame — a graduation photo. The Si Jing in the picture still had the same disheveled silver hair he wore now; he had just taken first place in the Lower City's unified examinations, and the photo was taken at the school gate.

Ji Yue opened the drawers and the cabinet doors. Old books of every genre. The wardrobe held nothing but ordinary clothes.

A perfectly ordinary boy's bedroom. Nothing remarkable, and nothing connected to the F4.

Si Jing watched him rummage through everything and couldn't help saying: 'I'm very tidy... please don't do that.'

'Oh.'

'You really are...' Si Jing rubbed his nose, thinking: this person isn't going to inspect the clothes too, is he? The wardrobe is full of old things — underwear and all sorts.

Ji Yue picked up the photo frame again, turned it over to look at the back, and set it down.

There wasn't much nightlife on the Yan City shore — step outside and there was only the tide and the moonlight. Ji Yue and Si Jing both stayed in, each on their own sofa. Ji Yue lay back and flipped through a Jin Yong novel; Si Jing's annotations were scattered through the margins, noting that the male lead was too fickle, too indecisive, and had broken a girl's heart.

The television murmured love songs in the background. Ji Yue had showered and was lying on his stomach on the sofa, legs crossed in the air, reading — wearing Si Jing's old T-shirt, his long hair slipping off one shoulder and draping over the sofa's edge, catching the light with a silken sheen. Outside the window: moonlight, and the sound of wind.

Si Jing watched him — watched him, and the mood of the evening, and everything — and felt a sudden, specific happiness settle over him, the kind he had never felt before.

...If only it could go on like this.

'Do you like living by the sea?'

Si Jing asked.

Ji Yue had just reached the scene where Zhao Min crashes the wedding. He glanced up, and found that at some point Si Jing had come to sit beside him.

'It's all right.'

'Where do you usually travel?'

The distance between them had grown a little close.

Ji Yue felt a certain atmosphere taking shape between their gazes — something similar to what had happened with the F4 before. He quietly raised the book, shielding his face, and went back to reading about the wedding crash.

A scraping sound broke the quiet — a chair being dragged back.

Si Jing returned to his original spot, as if nothing had happened.

[Oh ho ho, so many pink bubbles between you and the top scholar tonight, hm? I think it's healthier to keep some distance during adolescence — unless...]

Ji Yue couldn't be bothered with the System. He fished a notebook from his pocket and scrawled a few symbols inside.

It was about time to start gathering information.

He asked Si Jing: 'Continuing the sociology survey from last time — why did you choose to live at the boys' school?'

'You still haven't finished that assignment?... The educational resources there are better than here.'

Si Jing answered a beat too slowly.

A safe, unremarkable answer. Ji Yue didn't believe it.

The Si Jing of the novel was a cool-headed, stubborn young man — and clearly, the real one had a more complicated side. Neither the novel nor reality had ever explained why the top scholar had enrolled, and there was evidently something left unsaid.

'Is that all? Tell me the truth.'

'You really want to know?'

'Just say it.'

Si Jing lowered his eyes and fiddled with the remote control; the channels on the screen flickered wildly, like a madman flipping through them.

This time Ji Yue didn't press him. He peered over the top of his book and fixed his gaze on Si Jing.

After a long silence, Si Jing finally gave his answer.

'...Because there's someone I like who lives in the Upper City.'

He had someone he liked before?

Ji Yue strained to recall the plot.

Was it someone from the F4? Or someone at Noble Boys' Academy?

On his end, Si Jing had already turned to look at him, something subtle shifting in his eyes: 'He wasn't at Noble Boys' Academy at first — he was at a different school, one that didn't have a special admissions track, so I couldn't get in.'

'...'

'I never expected him to transfer over.' He said. 'I was genuinely happy, even though I don't know why he came. Maybe it was fate.'

[It's really you, isn't it???] The System had been holding this in all day. [I knew it! This kid has actually fallen for you? I could spit blood — why didn't he say so sooner!]

When did we ever meet?

Ji Yue could not recall a single thing connecting him to Si Jing. They had only met after the transfer.

'It was a long time ago. You came to the Lower City once — your school had a sketching trip, drawing abandoned buildings in the Lower City. A whole group of students came...' Si Jing said, then lowered his head, dropping his voice. 'You didn't notice me then. But I remembered you.'

Si Jing sank into the memory.

It had been roughly a year ago. A group of students from an Upper City elite school had come to City C in the Lower City for a sketching visit — the sort of thing that happened occasionally in some of the Lower City's larger cities, when artists, archaeologists, and social workers from the Upper City descended on City C and stood out like sore thumbs.

Si Jing had been on holiday, working a part-time shift at a convenience store in the neighboring City C. He watched the students climb out of a procession of luxury cars one by one — well-dressed, laden with art supplies, exclaiming cheerfully about how run-down the Lower City was.

...Rich people were such a nuisance.

He frowned slightly.

As luck would have it, a few of the wealthy children chose this very convenience store, and walked in announcing they wanted to buy souvenirs.

Si Jing raised an eyebrow and said: 'Mate, we don't sell what you're looking for. Look up and read the sign.'

The group left, disappointed — all except one: a girl with long straight black hair and a brightly colored, ripped outfit, still standing inside, head tilted up, looking at something on the shelves.

For some reason, that particular silhouette looked strangely quiet.

Si Jing walked over: 'Little miss, can I help you with something?'

The person turned around abruptly — at such close range they were nearly nose to nose. Si Jing took in the features all at once: the brows, the face, the blank expression, the curve of the lashes, even the faint flush on the cheeks and the cherry-red of the lips, all of it perfectly clear.

...Boy, or girl?

Si Jing felt an inexplicable irritation, thinking: is that lip shape what they call a Cupid's bow? That kind of face attracts people too — the kind that attracts men.

Just then, someone outside called a name — Ji Yue.

...

[So that's how it is — no wonder!] The System shook its head with a peculiar lilt to its voice. [No wonder the original novel never touched on the male lead's inner journey. He came to Imperial Boys' School because he fell for a long-haired, fair-skinned, wealthy beauty! Even across the gulf of class, he decided to fight for it!]

'I don't know what to say.'

[At this point, just keep watching The Heavenly Sword and Dragon Saber!]

'...'

Meanwhile, Si Jing's gaze drifted toward Ji Yue — barely perceptible — but Ji Yue was absorbed in his novel.

Not surprising. Ji Yue was just that kind of person: in private, apparently an ardent, obsessive pursuer... but once you were actually with him, it was like meeting a completely different person — cold-faced, sour-faced, liable to snap at any moment.

Obsession was one thing; real life was another.

Did Ji Yue prefer to keep one hand on the ambiguity and one on the thrill?

...They could go back to flirting once they returned to school.

Deep in the night, Ji Yue went into the bedroom to sleep.

Si Jing finished tidying the living room and was about to go wash Ji Yue's laundry.

A knock came at the front door. He opened it — no one there.

Only a parcel sitting on the ground.

A delivery?

No — deliveries in the village were never brought to the door. They were always left at the collection point.

The wrapping bore only Si Jing's name. No sender, no address.

Si Jing pressed it — paper inside, by the feel of it.

He opened the parcel.

...What met his eyes was a collection of email correspondence, documents, and photographs.

Someone was anonymously telling Si Jing that the person inside the house was a detective.

All those moments of drawing near — the heartbeats that had quickened — were nothing but a detective's little game.