By the time I checked my watch, it was already ten o'clock. Fortunately, bars stay open late, so rushing there now wouldn't exactly count as standing him up. I scrambled from the subway station back to the bar, but Ling Xiao was nowhere to be found. It wasn't just me missing him; he really wasn't there. It was glaringly obvious because the foot traffic tonight was significantly lower than the last time I’d visited. I asked the guy at the bar, who told me Ling Xiao had stepped out to take a call, and upon returning, said he had something to attend to, requested leave, and found someone to cover his shift.
After leaving the bar, I tried calling him, but the line was cut the moment it connected.
What was going on?
I walked back to the base, my mind a fog of confusion. The cold wind made me sneeze repeatedly. As I hugged my bare arms, it suddenly hit me—my shirt! I’d left it hanging on that roadside railing! Dammit, that thing cost a few hundred bucks. My wardrobe was nothing but T-shirts; that was the only "nice" shirt I owned, my go-to for any important occasion. It was probably too late to go back for it now. Sigh. I guess I’d used up all my luck flirting with Ling Xiao earlier today.
As I neared the dormitory building, I caught sight of two figures sitting on a bench under a tree. One of them held a cigarette, its cherry-red tip glowing faintly in the dark. They seemed to be talking. A secret midnight rendezvous in the pitch black? The atmosphere felt a bit... ambiguous. The national team was a literal sausage fest; could there be another "deep closet" case besides me? I was debating whether to satisfy my lonely gay curiosity or just scurry away and not disturb them when I heard a familiar voice.
"Just think about it. It’s good for you, and it’s good for the whole team. But if you’re really unwilling, I won’t force you. Worst case, I’ll just go to Qiao Mai. That kid would definitely be more than happy to do it..."
Wasn't that Old Hu? Which meant the other person...
"I'm really not interested." The low, resonant voice cut Old Hu off mid-sentence. Ling Xiao stood up. "I'm heading up now."
Old Hu clearly hadn't expected Ling Xiao to be so blunt. The red glow of his cigarette didn't move for a long time; he must have nearly dropped it in shock.
Ling Xiao emerged from under the tree, pushing aside a few overeager branches. He looked up and saw me, freezing for a moment.
I should have looked away, but the moment he stepped into the light, I realized he was carrying something in his hand—my precious, one-and-only "nice" shirt!
"What are you doing here?" The team heartthrob frowned.
Since he had the shirt, he must have seen me with Yi Taitai. It made sense; the two bars weren't that far apart. If he’d stepped out to toss some trash, take a call, or just get some fresh air, there was a good chance he’d run into us.
I hurried to explain. "I just got back from the bar. The bartender said you took off. I tried calling you, but you didn't pick up... Look, something came up today. A friend of mine went through a breakup, and I was worried he’d do something reckless, so I stayed to talk him through it. I lost track of time. I'm really sorry." I made sure to emphasize the word "breakup," terrified he might misunderstand. Though, really, what was there to misunderstand?
Ling Xiao’s brow relaxed slightly. He dropped a curt "It’s fine" and turned toward the dorm.
I followed behind him. I couldn't see his face, so I had no idea if it was actually "fine." I wasn't even sure if his gloom was because of whatever Old Hu wanted or because I’d stood him up for Yi Taitai. Gloomy was one thing, but I was afraid he was actually angry. The problem with an iceberg is that even when he isn't mad, he looks like he's brooding. How was someone as dense as me supposed to tell the difference?
"Um, thanks for bringing my clothes back." When in doubt, gratitude is never the wrong move.
"You're welcome."
I waited for him to hand it over, but he’d already put five meters of distance between us.
I had to clear my throat. "Ling Xiao, that shirt is probably still damp. I'll carry it..."
Only then did he stop and turn around. I gestured to his hand. He looked down at the shirt, frowned slightly, and handed it to me. "Your shirt."
I took it, only to realize it was bone dry. "Oh, it's dry?"
"I hung it under the hand dryer." With that, he turned and continued on his way.
How thoughtful! I quickly threw on my recovered treasure and hurried to catch up. "Thanks! I only have this one shirt. I was just thinking I’d never see it again. I didn't expect you to bring it back. Captain, you're so domestic!"
"What else was I supposed to do? Leave it hanging there?" Ling Xiao replied, his tone quite cold.
However, if he were *truly* being cold, he wouldn't have responded at all. This guy was a total "fake" iceberg. I said, "You could have just called out to me."
Ling Xiao was silent for a long time before saying, "It wasn't convenient."
True. He probably saw Yi Taitai crying his eyes out and, not knowing the situation, didn't want to intrude. He must have stood there for a while, struggling with whether or not to grab my laundry off the fence. I grinned. "That just proves how domestic you are."
"The word 'domestic' isn't used to describe men."
"It's an era of gender equality! We don't care about that anymore!"
Ling Xiao seemingly realized he couldn't win the argument and stopped responding altogether.
I tried to speed up to walk side-by-side with him so I could read his expression, but whether it was my imagination or not, no matter how fast I went, I couldn't reach his side. Every time I took a faster step, he took two, as if he were determined to keep me behind him.
Fine, fine. If we can't walk side-by-side, we can't walk side-by-side. But we still had to talk. Otherwise, walking down this dark, narrow path in total silence would be too depressing. Even the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl would break up after a walk like this!
"What did Old Hu want just now?" In the end, I had to be the one to initiate. "I think I heard him mention me. Did you take the night off because of him?"
"He'll tell you himself. I don't need to relay it. I took leave for other reasons, not because of that."
"It wasn't... because I stood you up, was it?"
Ling Xiao fell into a miraculous two-second silence. "...Do I look like the type of person who skips work out of spite just because someone flaked on me?"
"I don't know. Putting myself in your shoes, if someone made plans with me and then stood me up, I’d definitely be too annoyed to work properly."
"If you can only manage to 'not work properly' instead of 'not working at all,' why would I skip work over this?"
Hey, now... what do you mean *I* can only manage?! That’s blatant discrimination!
I stared at his back, feeling a surge of annoyance. Ling Xiao turned his head slightly, and with one sentence, he extinguished my irritation completely:
"You're overthinking it. You aren't that important."
I was stunned. The little fire of my anger felt like it had been hit with a blast of dry ice—*shhh*—frozen solid. Honestly, the first half of that sentence would have been enough. Why did he have to add the second half? I’d been trying so hard for so long, hoping to gain at least a fraction of "importance." It didn't have to be enough for him to treat me specially, but at least enough that he wouldn't say something like that so easily...
Yi Taitai had said it wasn't the senior's fault, but his own. In truth, it wasn't Ling Xiao's fault either. He was just telling the truth. It’s just that the truth sounds particularly harsh to someone who actually cares.
"...That's good then," I said. "I only asked because you looked like you were in a bad mood. No other reason."
Ling Xiao let out a heavy breath and stopped. "Do I look like I'm in a bad mood?" He turned toward the dormitory entrance, his clouded face reflected in the glass doors. "...Fine. Maybe I do look a bit off. But even if I am in a bad mood, it could be for any number of reasons. It isn't necessarily because of you."
As he finished and walked away, I found the courage to shout at his back, "Then why *are* you in a bad mood?"
"Because I already told you it has nothing to do with you, yet you insist on making me admit it does."
The heavy glass door swung shut behind him.
Well. That was a textbook example of an iceberg losing its temper. I carefully reviewed my words and actions. Aside from that "putting myself in your shoes" comment, I didn't think I’d pushed that hard for him to admit it was about me. Damn, are icebergs always this unreasonable? Just because you're a brooding type doesn't mean you're always right!
***
