ATLAS TRANSLATES

Tao Zhi never cried.

She felt her tear ducts had been active enough lately, like a faucet turned on – she would cry in front of Tao Xiu Ping, cry when seeing Ji Jin, but the one time she saw Jiang Qi Huai, she didn’t feel like crying.

She was certain, absolutely certain, that she understood the meaning of his words.

As she listened to what he said, feeling his breath and warmth, the scent around her nose, the lingering sensation on her lips, the sound echoing in her eardrums was like a symphony conductor, setting the final movement of their relationship.

Tao Zhi had always thought the control in their relationship was in her hands, but it wasn’t.

He watched her careful approach, her calculated probing, her reckless charging forward, then chose to calmly and silently distance himself.

The person in control had always been him.

Tao Zhi suddenly felt like she had been a joke these past few months.

She had never doubted whether Jiang Qi Huai had liked her or not. She knew clearly that he did like her – he wasn’t the type to compromise himself. If he truly didn’t like her, he wouldn’t have given her any chance.

It’s just that his feelings for her and hers for him were probably never on the same level.

She actually had many things she hadn’t said yet – wanted to ask him why, wanted to refuse, wanted to argue, wanted to act spoiled like every time before and happily watch his helpless expression.

She wanted to tell him, I can persist, so can’t you also not compromise?

Standing at the cliff’s edge holding her shattered pride, she tried hard to suppress so, so many thoughts and anger, finally piecing them together and stuffing them all back inside.

She was a proud princess.

A princess should arrive dramatically and leave decisively.

Desperate clinging had never been her style.

I don’t want it anymore.

This feeling of liking, and you whom I like, I don’t want any of it anymore.

She lowered her head and forced a smile: “Alright then.”

The moment the words fell, before Jiang Qi Huai could react, she suddenly raised her arms and hooked them around his neck.

The distance that had been created was closed again as Tao Zhi lifted her head and bit down hard on his lips.

Their lips pressed together, teeth grinding until the metallic taste of blood spread in her mouth. Only then did she gently let go.

The young man’s lips were stained crimson red, adding a touch of bewitching beauty. He looked down at her.

Tao Zhi licked the remnants of his blood on her lips, her upturned black eyes as clear and bright as when they first met: “My father says that when adults face things they temporarily can’t solve, they always choose to compromise,” she said softly, “Congratulations, you’ve grown up early.”

Tao Zhi lowered her hands, jumped off the bed, then walked to the door without looking back.

As she pulled the door handle, she paused: “I wish you a smooth road ahead.”

The hospital room door closed with a soft “click,” and the room fell back into silence.

Muffled sounds from outside filtered through the tightly closed doors and windows. The steam in the kettle had dissipated, its scalding temperature gradually cooling down.

Jiang Qi Huai stood by the bed, looking at the small depression in the white sheets where someone had sat just a minute ago, still holding her lingering warmth and presence.

He raised his hand, fingers gently touching the wrinkles in the sheet, reluctant to smooth them out.

When Tao Zhi was unconscious in the hospital, Tao Xiu Ping had come to talk to him about many things.

He told him about her childhood, her first words, her first day of school, her first perfect score, her first crush.

Ji Fan was right – she was the family’s precious treasure, growing up carefree, so why should she suffer any grievances here with him?

Tao Zhi knew everything.

His selfish desires, his ugliness, all those dark messes he didn’t want anyone to see – she had known it all along. What he concealed, what he avoided, she had accepted completely.

He actually wasn’t worthy of her.

But during those days when she smiled at him, even the weather seemed to shine brighter.

He had always been a selfish person, unable to give up that bone-deep greed. He didn’t want to let go, and absolutely wouldn’t let go.

Jiang Qi Huai wasn’t afraid of darkness. He had been experiencing darkness, understanding darkness, and breaking free from darkness since birth. He could endure hardship, could struggle desperately, could fall into endless ruin.

But his rose couldn’t. She was meant to be protected by sturdy glass, blooming in a greenhouse.

He could wait. He had plenty of patience and time to spend. No matter how long it would take to escape all this, no matter what price he had to pay.

No matter which path you choose, I will follow you, I will find you.

So don’t come anymore.

I will level mountains and lonely peaks, wade through rolling ice rivers.

I will become bright enough until one day I can touch the light.

And you just need to forge ahead and bloom freely.

Tao Zhi never went to Room 603 again, nor to that small alley on the busy street.

Apart from visiting Ji Jin at the hospital every weekend, her life hadn’t changed otherwise.

She still woke up half an hour earlier than before to listen to English, then woke up Ji Fan with the beautiful yet noisy female voice, and they went to school together.

Song Jiang would occasionally come to Class 1 to find her. After half a semester of harassment, Song Jiang had become familiar with Li Shuang Jiang and the others. The boys were naturally outgoing, and later often went to play basketball or games together.

Wang Zhe Zi still liked to tell cold jokes with a serious face, Wang Er would occasionally clutch his chest saying he’d get a heart attack from being annoyed by Zhao Ming Qi, and Fu Xi Ling had grown bolder, angrily patting Ji Fan’s head when he tried to steal her pen.

The little girl’s strength was small, her soft hand feeling like a massage when it hit him, and Ji Fan didn’t mind, smiling and apologizing before returning her pen.

Only Jiang Qi Huai’s seat remained empty, he never came back.

His desk was cleaned spotlessly, as if the seat had been that way for the past half year.

Li Shuang Jiang had wanted to ask about it a few times at first but was stopped by Fu Xi Ling’s look, and never mentioned it again.

No one was at a loss over a classmate’s sudden disappearance. The Earth kept turning, life went on.

Only occasionally, when Li Shuang Jiang hadn’t finished his homework in the early morning and habitually turned his head to call out “Brother Huai, let me copy your physics homework,” his gaze falling on the empty seat, he would pause for a moment, then mutter “my brain” while turning back, carefully glancing at her.

Tao Zhi would keep her head down working on test papers, showing no reaction as if she hadn’t heard.

Everyone knew something must have happened between them, but no one asked what exactly had happened.

Tao Zhi acted normal every day, but very occasionally, while eating or curled up on the sofa reading, she would space out for a very long time.

She never asked Tao Xiu Ping how Jiang Qi Huai was doing, if he had transferred schools, where he had transferred to, and Tao Xiu Ping never brought it up either.

Only once during dinner did he ask Tao Zhi if she wanted to transfer schools.

Tao Zhi poked at her rice and lifted her head vacantly to ask: “Why?”

Tao Xiu Ping looked at her with heartache but didn’t speak.

She actually knew why.

The teaching building of First Experimental High School, the cafeteria, the water room, the classrooms, the sports field.

The glass counter at the school store, the honor wall in the first-floor hall, the infirmary smelling of disinfectant, secretly holding hands under the desk away from prying eyes.

His shadow was everywhere.

After a long silence, Tao Zhi slowly asked: “Where to?”

Seeing her agree, Tao Xiu Ping also breathed a sigh of relief: “How about Third High? After this final exam, transfer there next semester. I asked around, their teaching resources are slightly better than Experimental. It’s also not far from home, on the same route as Experimental, so you can still go to school with Little Fan every morning.”

Hearing this, Ji Fan looked up: “I’m not going?”

“You just stay put at Experimental,” Tao Xiu Ping raised his hand to knock his head, “Third High looks at grades for transfers too. Look at your scores – I’m not asking you to get too high, but when can you even get 500, I’ll get you in there.”

Ji Fan pouted: “Then I’ll just stay at Experimental, at least I have more friends there and it’s more fun.”

The transfer seemed settled just like that. Tao Xiu Ping took time to help her contact people and prepare various procedures, throughout which Tao Zhi remained very cooperative.

Near the end of January, after final exams, came the long northern winter break.

Tao Zhi’s final exam scores had dropped nearly a hundred points compared to the previous monthly exam. Even her originally outstanding English was terrible this time. After the parent-teacher meeting, when Tao Xiu Ping returned, he didn’t say anything.

Tao Zhi sat on the sofa, being pulled by Ji Fan to play mobile games, watching Tao Xiu Ping make a cup of tea and place it on the coffee table, then sit down opposite them with his laptop. She carefully asked: “How was the parent-teacher meeting?”

“Hmm?” Tao Xiu Ping looked up, “It was good. Your Teacher Wang specifically talked to me privately, saying he’s really going to miss you when you transfer next semester.”

Tao Zhi pressed her lips together and said quietly: “My total score dropped almost a hundred points from last time.”

Tao Xiu Ping laughed, suddenly putting on a serious face: “Dad was quite shocked when he saw it.”

Tao Zhi fell silent.

Tao Xiu Ping continued: “How did my daughter secretly become so good at studying that she can score over 400 points now?”

Ji Fan rolled his eyes and said quietly: “Don’t worry, even if you get constipated one day and clog the toilet, Old Tao will say—” he paused, imitating Tao Xiu Ping’s tone vividly: “My daughter can even clog the toilet now? That’s so amazing!”

Tao Zhi slapped his head, and Ji Fan dramatically cried out: “Old Tao! Your daughter hits me every day! Does she have violent tendencies?”

Tao Xiu Ping: “Don’t use dirty words.”

Ji Fan put down his phone and sighed bitterly: “I see clearly now, I have no status in this family.”

Tao Zhi couldn’t help pressing her lips together, raising her hand to ruffle his hair, and Tao Xiu Ping laughed along.

Looking at the two children making a ruckus on the sofa opposite him, he suddenly softened his voice and said: “Little Fan, Dad is really happy that you could come back.”

Ji Fan’s hand was still in Tao Zhi’s ticklish spot. Hearing this, he paused, looking away uncomfortably: “Why are you suddenly getting all emotional…”

“I was probably too afraid of being poor before, feeling that economic conditions were more important than anything else. I had a family, a wife and children, I needed to make money to give you the best life, and I could do it,” Tao Xiu Ping sighed, “But now, maybe because I’m getting old, people’s thoughts change when they get old. However much money you make is never too much, as long as it’s enough to spend. Now, Dad just wants to watch you grow up happily.”

Ji Fan looked at him puzzled: “Old Tao, are you really going bankrupt and giving us advance warning? Then I’ll need money, I just bought some limited edition sneakers from overseas.”

Tao Xiu Ping: “…”

While in school, days seemed to pass too slowly, but during winter break, time always went by quickly.

All of Tao Zhi’s student records and various procedures were gradually completed. Next semester, she would start a new life in a new environment.

The night before school started, she was in her room slowly sorting through all the study materials, test papers and notes she had used over the past half year.

Her test papers used to be blank, she hardly wrote on any of them, and what she did write was mostly copied. Now, almost every sheet was filled with writing.

Answers written in two colors of pen – the black ones flowing and graceful, the red ones bold and concise.

She stared at the red handwriting for a while. This was the first time in months she had seen his tangible traces.

They say handwriting reveals character.

Tao Zhi had always felt Jiang Qi Huai’s writing had a contradictory restraint and wildness.

So she never thought he was the type to submit to fate. The only reason for compromise was probably because he didn’t like her enough.

She lowered her eyes, stacking the test papers one by one, straightening them into a thick pile and pushing them to the corner of the desk, then went to organize the resource books.

The full resource books were stacked one by one. When she opened the last math lecture notes, it revealed the English essay collection underneath.

Tao Zhi’s fingers paused.

She had planned to give it to him that day, but then it got hidden here and there like she was stealing something, and they both forgot about this book.

Once forgotten, it was never remembered.

Tao Zhi pulled the book in front of her, remembering the night the young man had given her the book.

The bedroom was small and tidy, the desk lamp bright, large strawberries arranged on a plate, photos on the wall telling untold secrets one by one.

That room which had hidden and revealed so many adolescent secrets was no longer a domain she had the right to enter.

Tao Zhi sniffled her sour nose, slowly opened the worn book cover, revealing the title page inside.

There were four characters there.

Once, she had carefully and contentedly, satisfactorily and reverently written her feelings there.

She had passionately laid bare all her overflowing affection before him, but now looking back, every character seemed pale and absurd.

Tao Zhi gripped the edge of the book tightly, lowering her head, eyes wide open staring at the words that seemed written just yesterday. The tears she had held back for months finally became completely uncontrollable, falling in large drops.

Tears fell on the thin paper. She took out a pen, wanting to cross out her presumption, but the pen tip hung over the paper, unable to fall for a long time.

She raised her hand to wipe her eyes, and slowly wrote a few more characters in front of those four characters, stroke by stroke.

The writing fell on the tear-stained paper, difficult to write. She went over and over it, tracing the previous strokes again and again, as if forcing herself to face some reality.

By the last time, the page was already too fragile to bear more. The sharp pen tip had pierced through the paper, making dull scratches on her heart one by one.

She only added three characters in front:

—Not belonging to, Zhi Zhi’s, Jiang