“For example, when your father scolds you, you are clearly heartbroken, yet you insist on saving face by saying you wish you had nothing to do with him.”
Jiang Tong knew instantly that he had misspoken. Xiao Fengtai looked at him as if he had been slapped in the face.
“You know nothing about me and you are judging me based on stupid stereotypes that are totally untrue.”
“Is this your way of respecting others?”
He spoke incredibly fast, yet his voice was very low, as if he were pushed to the absolute limit of his rage—the ominous calm before a summer torrential rain.
“It was my fault, I—”
“The class is over.” Xiao Fengtai looked down at the time on his phone, his beautiful features as cold as frost.
“I’m fed up with your cliché.”
*I have no obligation to continue enduring your clichés.*
“During my second year of high school, my father passed away,” Jiang Tong said softly.
“He was working on an engineering project in Africa when he was hit by a stray bullet from a local militia. Neither my mother nor I got to see him one last time.”
In their several encounters, Jiang Tong had always held the upper hand, acting with gentleness and poise, maintaining a cordial yet distant contractual relationship with Xiao Fengtai.
This sudden confession was therefore entirely unexpected. Xiao Fengtai stared at him in shock, his cold expression softening slightly as he hesitated to speak.
“I am very sorry for intruding on your privacy,” Jiang Tong managed a strained smile. “I just... I couldn't help myself.”
He stood up to pack his books. “It’s about time. I lack experience and was only following my own preferences in wanting you to understand more about Chinese culture; I truly didn't consider things thoroughly enough.”
“I’ll talk to Lu She again to determine your teaching pace. I know you don't like me, but... even if it's just to repay me for helping you out of that situation before, please bear with me for a few more lessons.”
“I really, really need this part-time pay.”
Jiang Tong zipped up his backpack and turned to walk straight out the door. Xiao Fengtai's gaze felt like needles against his back, but he didn't dare look back. He feared mockery, and he feared sympathy even more.
He practically fled from the Xiao residence in a panic.
The delay caused Jiang Tong to hit the peak of the city’s evening rush hour. The moment he stepped off the bus, he bolted, yet he was still late, leaving his lab partner waiting in vain for half an hour.
This was a graduate-level course. Jiang Tong had practically begged the professor to allow him to register, making him the youngest face in the classroom. The student he was paired with was a first-year PhD candidate who had looked at him with blatant skepticism when the groups were first assigned, clearly believing Jiang Tong was overreaching and would inevitably drag him down.
Ambition is not measured by age. Jiang Tong had poured the most effort into this specific course, fueled by a quiet determination to shatter the PhD student’s prejudices. However, the moment he pushed the door open, panting for breath, and saw the cold, impatient glint in the man’s narrow, iron-gray eyes, Jiang Tong knew his efforts had been in vain.
The PhD student was of mixed Sino-European heritage, his build taller and broader than the average Asian man. His sharp features were pulled tight under the harsh, sterile glare of the laboratory lights, exuding a rigorous and oppressive kind of handsomeness.
“I’m sorry, Pei-ge,” Jiang Tong said, hurriedly donning his white lab coat. “I was delayed by some personal matters.”
“Don’t talk,” Pei Jing snapped impatiently. He was fully concentrated on operating the micropipette to transfer DNA samples; a single lapse in focus would render all previous work useless. Jiang Tong didn't dare disturb him further. He paced in place for a moment before turning to check the settings on the PCR machine, preparing it for the heating cycle.
According to their prior division of labor, Jiang Tong was supposed to prepare the DNA samples and reagents, while Pei Jing was responsible for loading the samples. Because of Jiang Tong’s unexcused absence, Pei Jing had taken on both roles alone, yet his progress hadn't lagged in the slightest.
Pei Jing also took the lead on the PCR operation and sample analysis, with Jiang Tong acting as his assistant. Every one of Pei Jing’s movements was like a textbook demonstration—efficient and precise, like a robot. Aside from necessary communication, Pei Jing remained silent throughout the entire process, radiating a heavy aura of suppressed irritation. He might as well have had the words "I am not happy" etched onto his forehead.
By the time the two finished the experiment in total silence, it was already late into the night. Thank goodness the data quality wasn't bad; the heart that had been hanging in Jiang Tong’s throat finally began to settle.
He took a quiet breath, intending to apologize to Pei Jing once more, but the man simply grabbed his overcoat and strode out the door. It seemed as though even sharing the same room with Jiang Tong was a trial for him.
“Pei-ge!” Jiang Tong called out, rushing after him. “Pei-ge, I’m truly sorry about today. I can guarantee that nothing like this will happen again.”
Pei Jing stopped in his tracks. “Jiang Tong, just how much do you love money?”
Jiang Tong froze. “What?”
Pei Jing let out a cold sneer. “Ghostwriting papers, working in restaurant kitchens, private tutoring… just how many part-time jobs have you taken on?”
“You’re here on a government-sponsored scholarship. Is the stipend not enough to live on? If I remember correctly, it’s a significant amount of money.”
Jiang Tong’s throat tightened. “Pei Jing, you should have evidence before you speak.”
Pei Jing’s expression remained icy. “If your heart is set on making money, then don’t do research. Please leave the resources for those who actually have ideals.”
“When Professor Gu accepted you, I cast a dissenting vote. If you continue to act in the lab like you did today, I will find every way possible to kick you out.”
Pei Jing’s tone was flat, but to Jiang Tong’s ears, it sounded like a thunderclap. Shame and guilt compounded, turning him crimson from his neck up. He wanted to argue, but Pei Jing was already past listening. Just then, the elevator opened with a chime. He stepped inside and pressed the close button right in Jiang Tong’s face.
Troubles always seemed to fall like dominoes—one after another, leaving one exhausted from the constant struggle. When Jiang Tong finally returned home, he collapsed onto his bed, wishing he could simply sleep and never wake up.
But there were always some small mercies. He swiped his phone open to check his bank balance; the payment for the ghostwritten midterm paper had arrived. It was exactly the price of one box of Lenalidomide.
A WeChat notification slid across the top of the screen. A late-night message was rarely a good omen. Feeling a bit tense, he swiped it open. To his surprise, it was a friend request.
The mysterious user, named "ftx," had no profile picture, no posts in their Moments, and no status update. Jiang Tong ran through his mental list of acquaintances and felt the idea was absurd—how could Xiao Fengtai have possibly gotten his WeChat?
As if possessed, he accepted the request from "ftx."
"Hi," he typed rapidly. "May I ask who this is?"
The mysterious friend said nothing. Just as Jiang Tong was about to give up and delete him, two speech bubbles popped up from the bottom of the screen.
"I don’t dislike the poem."
"I don’t dislike you."
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Worlds Apart | Chapter 6 | I Don't Dislike You | Novela.app | Novela.app
