Xiao Fengtai had used the excuse of wanting to learn Chinese to get Jiang Tong’s WeChat, but he never actually messaged him. Jiang Tong, however, thinking that a struggling student might occasionally browse his Moments, proactively shared several short videos related to Chinese language learning.
He had no idea if Xiao Fengtai ever watched them. During their in-person lessons, Xiao Fengtai never brought up their strange late-night exchange or the "like-and-unlike" blunder on WeChat. Jiang Tong suspected the boy was simply embarrassed; he laughed inwardly but kept a straight face, playing along with the charade.
After a brief period of adjustment, Jiang Tong had essentially figured out the secret to maintaining a peaceful coexistence with Xiao Fengtai. Consequently, his part-time tutoring sessions felt increasingly relaxed—they had even become a pleasant diversion in the midst of his hectic life.
Having been raised with an elite Western education, Xiao Fengtai possessed an incredible capacity for comprehension and a sharp, expansive mind. When he critiqued Tang poetry from an outsider’s perspective, his comments often provided Jiang Tong with a refreshing take on the material.
"I don't like this person," Xiao Fengtai remarked as they studied *Listening to the Zither*. "He’s too narcissistic."
"Why is that?" Jiang Tong asked, curious.
He had put quite a bit of effort into explaining the story of Zhou Lang and the plucked strings to Xiao Fengtai. His intention was to illustrate how the poet, Li Duan, was adept at using classical allusions and how the poem was exquisitely structured—using a delicate touch to achieve a powerful effect. He hadn't expected Xiao Fengtai to bypass the literary merit of the poem entirely to focus solely on the author's character.
"The performer made a mistake; she must have been incredibly embarrassed. Yet the author specifically wrote a poem claiming this lady had a crush on him," Xiao Fengtai said, his face full of disapproval. "And now, over a thousand years later, everyone still remembers that a beautiful girl was so captivated by him while playing the zither that she kept messing up."
"‘Zhou Lang’ could also refer to a companion at the banquet," Jiang Tong attempted to argue on behalf of the talented Li Duan.
"That’s even weirder." Xiao Fengtai shot him a look. "Was he jealous of his own friend? Was he unhappy seeing the zither player and his friend hitting it off?"
His gaze was candid and clear. Jiang Tong pressed a hand to his forehead. "What you’re saying... makes sense. It’s certainly a fresh way to interpret it."
Fortunately, the course was nearing its end. Otherwise, if he let Xiao Fengtai’s imagination run wild, there was no telling where they would end up.
As he packed his pens and papers, Jiang Tong felt a pang of reluctance to leave.
"I’ll cover four more sessions, and then Lu She will be back," he said with a smile. "Thank goodness, you finally won't have to put up with me anymore."
Xiao Fengtai’s body stiffened.
Jiang Tong continued his earnest advice. "You have a strong grasp of the material and you’re good at drawing inferences. You just didn't put in much effort before, so your foundation in reading and writing isn't very solid."
"Study hard. When you go to China in the future, I’ll take you around," he said, blinking playfully. "My hometown is as picturesque as a painting, with beautiful mountains and clear waters—and plenty of pretty girls, too."
"The food in China is delicious and cheap. A bowl of small wontons at a breakfast stall is only seven yuan—just a fraction of the price in Singapore. They make the chicken broth fresh every morning and prepare the filling on the spot. The broth is so savory you’d practically swallow your own tongue."
Xiao Fengtai let out a soft laugh, but it reminded Jiang Tong of how he had acted when they first met. He was beautiful, yes, but it was a beauty marred by arrogance and harshness—like a bright, thin blade, its silver light dazzling and painful to the eye.
"I wouldn't dare eat food that costs less than a dollar," Xiao Fengtai said maliciously. "And I have absolutely no interest in a poor person’s way of traveling."
A youth of sixteen or seventeen has not yet learned how to use a fake smile to mask his displeasure. He stared at Jiang Tong defiantly, unaware of the resentment and anxiety flickering in the depths of his eyes.
Caught off guard by the sharp retort, Jiang Tong’s expression soured slightly. However, years of playing the peacemaker and cleaning up his friends' messes had trained him to be magnanimous. He simply offered a small smile and took his leave composedly.
Xiao Fengtai sat by the window, motionless, watching Jiang Tong’s figure grow smaller and blurrier until it was finally obscured by the buildings.
He dialed Lu She’s number.
"Hi, Kenneth," Lu She said, his tone so fawning it was almost affected. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Don't come back anymore," Xiao Fengtai said flatly. "I will still transfer the fee of 5,000 SGD per session to your card on time."
"In exchange, I want you to find a way to make Jiang Tong stay."
