BSS CH 11

Heartbeat

Before Liang Jingmin could consider how to respond, a young police officer opened the door and entered. His crisp, pressed uniform contrasted with the sternness of his expression as he announced, “Mr. Liang, Mr. Cheng has issued a settlement letter and will not sue you. You’re free to go.”

Liang Jingmin frowned. “What?”

The officer, who had taken Cheng Jing’s statement, felt anger bubbling within him as he looked at Cheng Jing’s deep scars. He reluctantly repeated, “You’re in a marital relationship, and Mr. Cheng’s injuries are classified as minor. He’s chosen to settle privately, so you don’t need to stay here at the station.”

Liang Jingmin stood up quickly, his heart racing. “Where is he now?”

“I don’t know; he’s your husband. You can contact him yourself,” the officer replied, turning to leave, unwilling to engage further.

Liang Jingmin rushed out, searching for another officer who had handled Cheng Jing’s case. “Where is he?”

The officer frowned at Liang Jingmin’s urgency. “He just signed the papers and said he was stepping out to buy a pack of cigarettes…”

A deep crease formed between Liang Jingmin’s brows. Cheng Jing didn’t smoke at all.

He turned to Butler Zhai and commanded, “Contact the airport and train station. Don’t let Cheng Jing leave Xijing.”

“I thought of that earlier,” Butler Zhai said, his calm demeanor slightly reassuring. “If he tries to leave, I’ll know immediately. Don’t worry.”

But Liang Jingmin’s expression betrayed no relief; he looked worse than before. After a moment of deep thought, he finally spoke.

“He left by plane last time…” His face paled. “This time, check the high-speed rail station.”

…

Cheng Jing stood in the crowd, adjusting the brim of his hat. He realized his decision to flee had been far too hasty.

Upon learning that Liang Jingmin had broken his promise and informed his parents, a surge of anger filled him. He had endured years of pain to protect his parents from his chaotic life, hoping they could live peacefully in their small town.

But when he saw Zhai Zhenlei at the police station, he understood this was a trap set by Liang Yulin.

Murderers always return to admire their crime scenes. If they can’t appear in person, they send a proxy. Zhai Zhenlei, the longest-serving butler to Liang Jingmin, was loyal to Liang Yulin. This trap could only have come from him.

Cheng Jing knew he had misstepped. Yet, with the arrow already shot, there was no turning back.

The scars he had fabricated were never meant to incriminate Liang Jingmin; they wouldn’t withstand close scrutiny. They were only meant to buy him enough time to escape.

He should have left Xijing the moment he called the police. Instead, indecision led him to stay—first getting his injuries examined and then falling under Butler Zhai’s watch.

Even he didn’t fully understand his motives. Was he eager to see Liang Jingmin dragged into the police station, or did he want to see him one last time?

Bound by emotions that betrayed him, he felt like a prisoner of his own feelings, unable to break free.

Like the hot winds of Jingxiang’s sweltering summers, he wore long sleeves even in midsummer, sweat trickling down his neck and soaking his clothes, making him tremble with discomfort. Yet, he couldn’t resist lingering under the dappled light filtering through the tree-lined avenue.

Fortunately, he managed to snap out of his confusion long enough to buy cigarettes as an excuse to slip away from the police station.

What’s wrong with me? Cheng Jing asked himself. I left so easily that night; why is it so hard to leave now?

Perhaps it was the fireworks that night, so bright and chaotic along the riverside—much like the heartbeat he had felt in the top-floor villa.

If he had to recall unforgettable fireworks in his life, there were only two such times.

In Yuecheng, fireworks lit up the riverside on holidays, unlike in Xijing.

The sounds of fireworks echoed even before the evening self-study session ended. No. 1 High School, with its prime location, had a clear view. Students poured out of classrooms, and the hallways buzzed with eager onlookers.

Cheng Jing was a first-year high schooler at the time, absorbed in his work during the evening self-study session after the Mid-Autumn Festival break.

When the fireworks began, the classroom buzzed with excitement. Some students peered out the windows, while others fumbled with their Nokia phones under their desks, calling girlfriends from other classes to watch the fireworks together.

His seatmate, a tall, slim class monitor with good looks, couldn’t wait to go out and whispered, “Let’s go early to get a good spot before the hallway fills up.”

Cheng Jing laughed. “Aren’t you the class monitor? Why are you leading the charge?”

Feeling guilty, the monitor replied, “If you don’t go, I’m going by myself!” He grabbed a textbook and dashed out through the back door.

Watching fireworks with a textbook—what a half-hearted excuse, Cheng Jing thought as he returned to his work.

The monitor had guessed right; by the time the bell rang, the hallways were packed. Students from senior classes also filled the corridors, the noise rising as if it were the end of the world—a grand, splendid celebration.

It was Cheng Jing’s first time seeing such lively fireworks, and he felt a surge of excitement. He squeezed into a spot by the glass in the stairwell, where the view was relatively wide and clear.

The crowd mingled, breaths stifling and warm. A thin fog formed on the glass, like silent resistance.

Amid the chaos, he heard a voice say, “If we keep crowding like this, there’ll be a stampede. Let’s leave early.”

Another voice replied lazily, “You insisted on coming here, and now you want to leave? You’re from Yuecheng; you’ve seen these fireworks a hundred times.”

“But it’s your first time. I dragged you here just to show you…”

The voices sounded familiar, and Cheng Jing turned to identify them. Just as he was about to recall who they belonged to, someone stepped on his left foot.

He yelped in pain, instinctively pulled back his right foot, and lost his balance, stumbling down the steps.

In an instant, a cold hand grabbed his arm to steady him, but the momentum pulled the person down with him.

The stairwell was packed, and as they tumbled, their bodies collided, their noses filled with a pleasant scent.

Amid the sweaty high school boys, Cheng Jing couldn’t understand why this person smelled so uniquely—like the forest after rain.

They finally came to a stop as the crowd moved aside, and Cheng Jing, slightly dazed, felt a firm hand cradling the back of his head.

He looked up to meet the gaze of the person holding him.

In that moment, he understood why the scent reminded him of rain; they’d first met on a rainy day. In Yuecheng’s rainy season, the earthy scent of the ground mingled with a quiet chill, and the person in front of him had offered him a test paper.

As the fireworks burst outside, Cheng Jing stared into Liang Jingmin’s deep eyes, his heartbeat quickening as the distant lights reflected in his gaze.

Their breaths mingled, and if Cheng Jing had been a shyer boy, this scene might have felt like the dramatic first encounter of a romance.

But like fireworks that last only a moment, their gaze broke. Liang Jingmin, who had fallen too, grunted softly, then quickly gathered himself, brushing off his clothes and extending a hand to help Cheng Jing up.

With his straight posture and effortless elegance, even the ordinary school uniform seemed tailored for him. He possessed a breathtaking beauty that made the bruise on his forehead nearly unnoticeable.

The cool grip on Cheng Jing’s arm lingered, leaving him dazed. He didn’t dare meet Liang Jingmin’s intense gaze and stood up on his own.

After blinking, he finally said, “Sorry… thank you.”

Liang Jingmin seemed amused. “So are you apologizing or thanking me?”

Cheng Jing felt his cheeks warm, perhaps from the attention they were drawing. But before he could respond, another boy ran over—the voice from earlier: “How’d you end up falling? Classmate, are you hurt?”

Interrupted, Cheng Jing shook his head.

He overheard whispers praising Liang Jingmin’s looks and glanced up out of curiosity. Just as the corridor lights dimmed, the fireworks illuminated his profile.

A soft autumn breeze drifted by, and when the lights brightened again, Cheng Jing felt his heart skip as he caught Liang Jingmin’s expression.

With a soft, incredulous smile, Liang Jingmin simply said, “Your eyes… they’re purple.”

What a simple sentence, but with the distant fireworks lighting up the night, everything felt different. In that instant, Cheng Jing glimpsed something stirring within himself. It was just a fleeting moment, and in the years that followed, he nearly forgot it.

This led him to many attempts to understand when he had fallen in love with Liang Jingmin, but he never found an answer. In the end, he could only describe it with a hint of regret: falling in love with someone is rarely an earth-shattering moment—it’s more like a bittersweet ending that slips beyond control.

Outside, the wind blew strongly, as if announcing the end of autumn. Cheng Jing felt that whenever something momentous approached in his life, it often arrived with an overwhelming force, like a tidal wave that couldn’t be evaded.

Like the changing seasons or fireworks scattering into fragments, when seventeen-year-old Cheng Jing fell in love, the waves surged ten meters high—the fiercest he had ever seen. He didn’t know how to stop it, so he simply let himself drift with the current.

Yet in his youth, Cheng Jing hadn’t realized that this fall would shatter the peaceful life he had once known.

Just as that seventeen-year-old had never imagined that the sight beyond the fogged glass that night would be the most beautiful fireworks he would ever witness.