Decayed Vulgarian chapter 23
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Meng Yuan Cen fell silent at the words, and his hand held by Shen Xun’s wrist made a slight turn.
It was as if a prelude to breaking free. The sensation of finger bones rubbing against wrist bones made Shen Xun suddenly wake up. He withdrew his right hand abruptly and stood there, somewhat at a loss, trying to figure out what to say.
The silver-rimmed glasses, unnoticed earlier, now perched on Meng Yuan Cen’s nose bridge. He didn’t reach out to adjust them when looking at Shen Xun, so his gaze was hidden behind the transparent lenses.
In the end, Meng Yuan Cen broke the silence with an expressionless tone. “I’m not angry.”
Is he really not angry?
Shen Xun lowered his gaze and pondered repeatedly, still unable to understand.
The conversation had a brief pause and was difficult to continue. Shen Xun then heard, or rather felt, Meng Yuan Cen release a very light sigh, almost a barely audible exhale of air through his lips, a sound that came before articulating any words. “I mentioned passing by Emerald Garden to return your book. I didn’t plan to stay for long. You can recall my words on the phone.”
Shen Xun re-evaluated the content of their conversation. Meng Yuan Cen did indeed say that. Since Meng Yuan Cen put it that way, Shen Xun couldn’t force him to stay.
Shen Xun tentatively suggested, “Shall I accompany you downstairs?”
“No need,” Meng Yuan Cen immediately refused. He held the door handle and turned it. The door opened. “You were up late last night. Have a good rest at home.”
Shen Xun wasn’t particularly eloquent and hadn’t thought of a retort in time. As he watched Meng Yuan Cen head out the door, he could only murmur softly, “Goodbye.”
Meng Yuan Cen might have had important business to attend to because he barely glanced at Shen Xun before disappearing around the corner of the staircase. Shen Xun was still looking for a long while, as if he could extract something from it.
Is he really not angry?
The clear sky outside the window had turned into dark clouds, and the living room was engulfed in gloom.
The strong wind knocked on the window mullions, reaching the laundry rack hanging in mid-air. Clothes were about to be blown away.
Perhaps this was the prelude to a heavy rain.
Shen Xun went to the balcony and opened the window, taking in the clothes outside, one by one, then hung them on the indoor laundry line.
Among the clothes was Liang Yan’s jacket, and as he looked at it, Shen Xun sighed.
What Liang Yan did in the end, even though the result was as expected, the effect was completely opposite to the original intention. What was all this?
Thinking of this, he felt a little frustrated, unable to suppress his thoughts. He fell into the trap of overthinking it.
Meng Yuan Cen said he wasn’t angry, but was he just trying to save face? Or was he genuinely speaking from the heart?
The loading bar on the computer had been going for a while now, but Shen Xun’s attention was elsewhere. He had a headache and wanted to see what was going on with Meng Yuan Cen. So, should he take the initiative to find Meng Yuan Cen?
The progress bar had suddenly paused, and the replay symbol appeared in the center of the screen. Shen Xun snapped back to reality, and the video had finished playing. He knew himself too well. Once he started overthinking, he couldn’t help it, and trying to force himself not to think about it was futile. It was better to make dinner.
Even though it was only 4:30 in the afternoon, he had just finished lunch two hours earlier. Shen Xun busied himself in the kitchen, but his actions of washing and cutting vegetables seemed to be going slower and slower. By the time he was finished with dinner, it was already 5:30 in the evening.
Shen Xun finished his meal and washed the dishes in the kitchen. He also organized the bottles and jars of oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar while doing so. He rushed to the bathroom to freshen up, which was something new for him.
So, the power of love could really change him. Surprisingly, it had helped him overcome his procrastination.
With nothing else to do, Shen Xun sat down, feeling somewhat annoyed. He thought, why can’t he distribute his busyness evenly across every day of his life? Instead of being busy when he missed messages and idle when he was waiting for messages.
Returning to the living room, it was empty. The book Meng Yuan Cen had returned, “Philosophy of Crime and Punishment,” lay quietly in one corner of the coffee table.
Before going to the kitchen, Shen Xun had turned off the living room lights, and he had no intention of turning them on again. Relying on his memory, he felt his way past the coffee table, taking the book and returning to the bedroom.
The rain outside had shown no signs of stopping, and the night had grown darker. Shen Xun turned on the white ceiling light in his bedroom, lay against the pillow, opened the book, and flipped through it from the first page to the last.
Meng Yuan Cen had kept the book properly, just as he had promised, with no stains, creases, damage, or missing pages.
With nothing else to do, Shen Xun repeated the act of flipping through the book. However, this time, as he turned to a certain page, his fingers suddenly stopped.
There was a card inserted in the book.
Could it be that he once again inserted some random stuff into the book?
Shen Xun took the card out, puzzled.
Ink in shades of blue and purple, a line of English written with a fountain pen, definitely not his handwriting from his university days.
“The rainbow means life, healing, sunlight, nature, harmony, spirit, and me, as love is love.”
Shen Xun turned it over thoughtfully, realizing it wasn’t just a card but a photograph of a rainbow.
It was the same rainbow that he first saw when he met Meng Yuan Cen, the one Meng Yuan Cen had taken using the professional mode on his phone.
The list of words in the English sentence felt familiar to Shen Xun, so he silently read through it in his mind, once, and then again, and once more.
Rainbow Flag.
In an instant, his memory was restored, and the word “flag” unexpectedly came to his mind. Shen Xun understood everything.
He rushed to his desk, grabbed the phone from the desk, and, taking advantage of the impulse that was still there, he wanted to send a message to Meng Yuan Cen. His fingers were trembling as he typed.
“Do you need me to return the card to you, the one with the rainbow picture?”
Sent successfully.
Shen Xun held the phone tightly in silence. His heart rate and breath both unconsciously accelerated. He desperately wanted to know now:
Did Meng Yuan Cen intentionally insert this photograph into the book?
Did Meng Yuan Cen write this English sentence himself?