Chapter 022 (2/2)

Su Yuyang radiated a languid air, and in contrast, his attentive expression was striking. The distinct feelings intermingled with each other, and Ling Miao could feel his heart sinking into a mire.

Second after second trickled by. Su Yuyang finished reading the five chapters preceding the one Ling Miao had been working on, and thought very hard before asking: “What are you planning to write next?”

Ling Miao didn’t say anything. Worried, Su Yuyang turned his head, only to find Ling Miao staring at him in a daze. Su Yuyang waved his hand in front of Ling Miao’s eyes. Ling Miao seemed to be in a trance, completely unaffected by the world around him.

“Ling Miao?” Su Yuyang frantically called Ling Miao’s name as he unconsciously grasped Ling Miao’s shoulder.

“Ah?” Ling Miao suddenly jerked his shoulder. He looked at Su Yuyang, still somewhat caught up in a daze, but by this time Su Yuyang had regained his composure. He turned the laptop around and sat down beside Ling Miao. He asked, “Where’s your detailed outline?”

“I only have a rough outline,” Ling Miao said self-consciously.

Su Yuyang sighed and said with displeasure, “The rough outline, then.”

Ling Miao clicked open his rough outline for the current volume. Su Yuyang closed the text and began to peruse Ling Miao’s outline, occasionally asking Ling Miao about his thought process. As Ling Miao answered Su Yuyang’s questions, he suddenly had a breakthrough; he finally understood why he was stuck.

Su Yuyang yawned, radiating sleepiness: “It’s late. I’m going to bed. You should rest soon, too.”

Compared to Su Yuyang, Ling Miao wasn’t in a much better state, but he wasn’t like Su Yuyang in that he didn’t have chapters in reserve. His update for the next day still didn’t exist, so he had to stay up all night writing. Seeing that Su Yuyang had retired to his room, Ling Miao made a cup of coffee, then went to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water.

With Su Yuyang’s suggestions in hand, the dam of Ling Miao’s writer’s block broke.

Hearing the pattering of a keyboard outside his door, Su Yuyang tossed and turned in his bed. By the time the sounds of the keyboard ceased, Su Yuyang was pretty much fully awake. Looking at the night-blue sky, Su Yuyang sighed: When I feel sleepy, the circumstances won’t allow it. Now that I’m not sleepy, the environment is perfect for sleeping…

Forcing himself to sleep was a pain even worse than failing to update. Su Yuyang took out his phone and began to read a novel—Ling Miao’s novel.

Ling Miao was woken by his alarm. He needed to be up early to prepare breakfast for Su Yuyang.

Su Yuyang’s routine was fairly set. Previously, Su Yuyang would have been up before Ling Miao had finished cooking breakfast, but today Su Yuyang hadn’t even opened his door by the time Ling Miao put breakfast on the table. Ling Miao worried that Su Yuyang might have fallen ill. He paced for a while in front of Su Yuyang’s door, then decided to knock.

“Su Yuyang?” Ling Miao did not knock hard, but firmly enough that anyone inside would have heard. When Su Yuyang didn’t answer after five or six knocks, Ling Miao went ahead and opened the door.

Su Yuyang was wrapped in his blankets, lying on his side, facing the door. Ling Miao walked up to him and felt his temperature and his breathing; only after Ling Miao ascertained that nothing was wrong did his strung-out heart begin to relax.

Since Su Yuyang was still sleeping, Ling Miao prepared to exit the room. As he turned, he caught a glint from the corner of his eye, and looked down to see Su Yuyang’s cellphone. The screen was still on. Ling Miao picked it up and looked—a novel was open in reading view, and the words on the screen were familiar to him.

“He’s reading my novel?” As the thought occurred to him, Ling Miao felt like he’d been struck by lightning. “Fuck, don’t tell me he fell asleep while reading my novel? That’s … that hurts my pride.”

From Ling Miao’s perspective, good novels energized the reader, who then wouldn’t be able to stop reading. He’d completely lost track of time while reading novels before, and then of course when he went to class the following day he hadn’t been awake at all.

Ling Miao’s heart had just been indistinctly pinched by Su Yuyang, and the pain was indescribable. Ling Miao was close to smashing Su Yuyang’s phone. But Ling Miao’s heart wasn’t made of glass. Even though it had been battered, it still continued to beat resiliently.

“Since I have easy access to a successful novelist, it’ll be good if I can get tips from him. But I don’t know if he’ll agree.”

Having made up his mind, Ling Miao decided: it’s courteous to be humble after receiving gifts and to be pleasant when you eat other people’s food. Great Shu Yang, you ate the food I cooked, now give me a few pointers, won’t you?

Fantasizing that after getting pointers from Su Yuyang his work’s popularity would grow by leaps and bounds and readers would praise it every day, Ling Miao rushed out the door.

When Su Yuyang woke up, Ling Miao had still not returned.

“Xiao Miao, is breakfast ready?” Su Yuyang called Ling Miao out of habit, but the expected reply did not come. Su Yuyang rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he walked to the kitchen. He looked: Ling Miao was not in the kitchen.

“Where did he go?” Su Yuyang yawned and lay down on the sofa, and a piece of paper suddenly drew his attention.

“Su-ge, I went grocery shopping. Breakfast is on the table. If it’s cold, warm it in the microwave.”

“He didn’t leave?” Su Yuyang looked at the note and relief flooded his every cell.

Close to noon, Ling Miao returned carrying bags of various sizes and complaining a bit. He said that next time he went grocery shopping he’d drag Su Yuyang with him. Su Yuyang said only three words in reply: “Go and cook.”

Ling Miao dragged his two big bags of groceries to the kitchen, complaining that Su Yuyang wasn’t helping him. Su Yuyang’s clear voice came: “Xiao Miao, remember to do laundry in the afternoon, and clean my room too.”

“I…” Ling Miao choked. He grit his teeth and let out a cold ‘hmph’: “Su Yuyang, will you die if you don’t remind me to do those things?”

Laundry… heh heh.Thinking of the clothes he had washed before, Ling Miao grieved for them.

[Table of Contents] | [Chaleuria is on Twitter!]