Let Me Meet You chapter 22
Settling the Debt
It was mealtime, and the cafeteria was crowded. After ordering their food, they couldn’t find an empty table, so Li Xuan had their meals packed. They found a bench by the sports field, ate there, and then headed to the classroom.
Statistical Mechanics was a large class, and it was fifteen minutes before class started, yet the room was already packed. They entered through the back door. The front rows and the very back were already full, typical prime seating. Li Xuan glanced around and saw a few open spots by the window.
“Let’s sit over there,” he gestured, taking off his hat.
“Pull up your mask a bit more,” Sheng Min murmured.
Li Xuan noticed his tension and, in a low voice, said, “Don’t look back.”
“Hmm?” Sheng Min followed him forward.
“The girl we passed just now is an actress from your last drama,” Li Xuan said with a serious face. “I forgot her name.”
“What are you talking about?” Sheng Min was puzzled, but Li Xuan looked so convincing that he almost turned around. “Cheng Xi? What’s she doing here?”
Li Xuan walked ahead briskly. “Then what are you doing here? No one would think of it that way.”
Realizing what he meant, Sheng Min glanced at him, muttering quietly, “Ridiculous.”
“Stop overthinking it,” Li Xuan replied, but as he glanced at the table next to them, he spotted a drink bottle with Sheng Min’s face on the label. His words trailed off as he chuckled.
“What are you laughing at?” Sheng Min asked helplessly as they reached their seats.
Li Xuan shook his head without explaining, signaling for Sheng Min to sit down. They had just settled in when a guy two rows up suddenly turned around. “Li Xuan?”
“Uh… morning.” Sheng Min stiffly raised his hand in greeting.
“Morning!” The guy cheerfully replied, then glanced curiously at the masked Li Xuan beside him, “Who’s this…?”
“Caught a cold,” Sheng Min cut in seriously. “A bad one. Stay back; don’t want to spread it to you.”
“Oh,” the other student nodded in understanding and turned back around.
As Sheng Min quietly breathed a sigh of relief, Li Xuan chuckled.
“Your classmate?” Sheng Min mouthed.
“Probably. Not sure,” Li Xuan shrugged.
“He greeted you.”
“Yeah, it’s not like I greeted him,” Li Xuan replied, tossing his bag under the desk. Inside was his laptop, broken since the car accident and still unrepaired.
He wasn’t great with hardware—swapping out a graphics card was one thing, but this laptop wouldn’t even start. He didn’t want to take it to a shop because it had too many important files. After class, he thought he’d stop by the internet café and have Zhu Zhou take a look.
Sheng Min was at a loss for words. Li Xuan went on, “But you handled it well. Quick reaction—did you rehearse that line? Need me to cough for effect?”
His joking eased Sheng Min’s tension a bit. Sheng Min tapped the table. “Let’s switch seats; you take the window.”
“Are you cold?” Li Xuan asked, but moved as suggested.
“No, but if you keep laughing like that, you might get recognized. Better to have an escape route, just in case. Nothing to do with me.”
Li Xuan blinked, then genuinely laughed out loud.
“Stop laughing.”
“No worries; you’ve even planned my escape route.”
Shaking his head, Sheng Min shot him a playful glare, finally allowing himself a small smile.
The Statistical Mechanics professor was strict, taking attendance and banning electronic devices.
“I thought university professors wouldn’t care about that,” Sheng Min murmured.
“This one’s strict. That’s why I dragged you to class,” Li Xuan replied, pulling out a printed research paper to read and jotting notes as he went.
Sheng Min peeked over but couldn’t understand it; it was clearly unrelated to the class.
Noticing his gaze, Li Xuan wordlessly produced a book from his bag. “Picked this up from the living room this morning. Can’t use your phone, so read this to pass the time.”
It was a play script Sheng Min had been reading recently.
“Aren’t we supposed to listen?” Sheng Min hesitated, leaning closer and whispering, “Doesn’t this class have a final?”
“Don’t worry. If the time comes, we’ll switch back.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then we’ll deal with it then.” Though the prospect annoyed him, Li Xuan smiled at Sheng Min’s concern, “No need to stress yourself over it.”
“I’m not. I just don’t want to cause you trouble,” Sheng Min replied.
Something shifted in Li Xuan’s heart, as Sheng Min leaned on his hand, focusing on the blackboard. “I’ll listen to the lecture just in case.”
He didn’t sound fully confident, though. Sheng Min had started his acting career early and completed high school while filming. He did pass the entrance exam for the drama academy, but soon after, his agency had him enter a reality competition. With increasing projects, he couldn’t keep up with classes and eventually had to drop out. But even if he had stayed, tackling N University’s physics classes was a whole different challenge.
He tried to focus on the lecture, but the professor’s enthusiastic explanations left him bewildered. Li Xuan glanced at him, the early summer sunlight streaming through the window. In the light, a faint mist seemed to hang in the air, making the figure beside him appear hazy.
For a moment, Li Xuan felt like he wasn’t looking at his own face but Sheng Min’s face. It struck him as strange—they hadn’t even known each other before.
“Have you ever acted in a school drama or something?”
“I’ve acted in quite a few… have you seen me?”
“I don’t know, probably not. I might have glimpsed accidentally.” Li Xuan shrugged, noticing that Sheng Min was struggling to follow the lecture. He hesitated briefly, then took out his textbook, glanced at the teacher’s current spot, and turned to the chapter, pushing it toward Sheng Min.
“Why is it still a new book?”
“It is new. My other book is in my dorm; I ordered this one a couple of days ago.” Li Xuan continued reading his paper and said casually, “But my other book is blank, too.”
“Didn’t you used to pay attention in class?” Sheng Min asked curiously. “If you don’t like this major, why did you choose it?”
Li Xuan paused slightly, his tone a bit nonchalant. “Can people really only do what they like?”
Sheng Min shook his head, hesitated a moment, and then said softly, “But I don’t think you’d choose something you dislike.”
“You know me well, huh?” Li Xuan laughed, then fell silent, his gaze unfocused. Sheng Min thought he wouldn’t respond and regretted his boldness, but Li Xuan suddenly spoke up, “To pay off a debt.”
This was an unexpected answer, and Sheng Min looked at him, wondering if he’d misheard. But Li Xuan seemed to have said it casually, without further explanation, as he returned to his paper.
They didn’t talk again for the rest of the class. Sheng Min couldn’t understand the professor, so he wrote down everything on the blackboard, word for word. He couldn’t remember writing this much, and by the time the bell rang, his fingers were tingling.
The boy in the front row called to him before leaving, and Sheng Min replied absentmindedly.
Li Xuan finished reading his papers and was now focused on writing something, his brow slightly furrowed. Once absorbed, he was immovable. Sheng Min didn’t rush him and started reading his play script, and soon, everyone else left the classroom, leaving only the sound of Li Xuan’s pen scratching the paper.
As he read, Sheng Min couldn’t help but wonder about Li Xuan’s mention of debt.
What debt?
Years ago, Wang Shuying had borrowed money for gambling, and during the holidays, loan sharks chased them home. Even after so many years, the word “debt” still stirred him.
But Li Xuan didn’t seem like someone who owed money. Sheng Min’s fingers brushed the page. What kind of debt is repaid like this? He wondered if Li Xuan had just said it to brush him off, but it didn’t feel like that.
If it were a money debt, I could help him. Sheng Min’s mind wandered, so much so that he didn’t notice Li Xuan had stopped writing.
“Hey.” Li Xuan called him, snapping his fingers in front of him, bringing him back to reality.
“What were you thinking? You seemed startled.”
Sheng Min shook his head. “Nothing. Are you done?”
“Yeah.” Li Xuan stuffed everything into his bag, his usual casual expression back as if he’d forgotten the debt conversation. “Alright. Could you go to the dorm and grab something for me?”
People outside the school needed to sign in to enter the dorms, and it would be inconvenient for Li Xuan to go himself. So he handed Sheng Min his key.
The dorm was on the fourth floor. One of Li Xuan’s roommates had transferred to another major, one practically lived with his girlfriend, and the other spent most of his time in the library. Sure enough, no one was there when Sheng Min opened the door.
Relieved, he turned on the light. Li Xuan’s desk, on the left, was easy to spot with its desktop computer taking up most of the surface, surrounded by scattered books and piles of printed documents.
Following Li Xuan’s instructions, Sheng Min found two USB drives in the drawer. Li Xuan had also listed a few books, and as Sheng Min searched through the mess, he was missing one. Just as he was about to call, he spotted a stack on the bed, with the book he needed in the middle.
He stood up, reached for it, and accidentally pulled out two envelopes that floated down to his feet.
People still write letters these days?
Sheng Min froze, his first thought wondering if they were love letters. Feeling awkward, he bent down to pick them up and was surprised to see that the sender’s address was from the city prison.
Both letters were from the same sender, Zhao Jizhe. Sheng Min didn’t recall Li Xuan mentioning this person. He frowned, checked the postmarks—one from last month, and another from a year ago.
He wasn’t sure if there were more letters, but these two had been opened; Li Xuan must have read them and put them back. He hesitated, not opening them, but noted the words “City Prison,” put the envelopes back, grabbed the book and USB drives, and quickly left.