Chapter 15: Sadly, It's Not You

Before encountering anyone, Wang Qiang forced himself to stay alert, afraid that if he fainted from heatstroke, there would be no one to help him.

But the moment he saw his old classmate, he finally relaxed. He put down the kickstand of his bicycle, crouched by the roadside, and gulped for air.

Jiang Lijuan was startled by his actions. She jumped off her bicycle and hurried over with quick, light steps, concern in her voice. "Wang Qiang, what's wrong? Are you all right?"

His parched throat barely allowed him to speak. He gasped for breath, gesturing to his mouth with his right hand. "Thirsty… so thirsty."

He was just about to ask Jiang Lijuan if she could buy him a bottle of water from the small shop next to the gas station ahead, when he heard her say, "Wait here." Then, her small feet in red summer sandals dashed swiftly to her yellow bike. She rummaged through the basket and pulled out a large glass bottle filled with a brown liquid.

As she walked back, Jiang Lijuan had already unscrewed the cap and handed it to him in a hurry. "It's sweet and sour water. Drink some, quick."

In the rural summer of Haitong, sweet and sour water was a household staple for beating the heat. As its name suggests, it's made by mixing saccharin and vinegar with cool, boiled water.

Wang Qiang grabbed the bottle eagerly, gulping down mouthfuls, his throat working as he swallowed. The cold, sweet-tart liquid blossomed on his tongue, flowed down his throat and into his stomach. Instantly, his body temperature dropped, every pore opened, his mind cleared. He felt a wave of relief.

Jiang Lijuan scolded him affectionately, "Slow down, slow down, nobody's snatching it from you."

Wang Qiang, head tilted back to drink, didn't notice her expression. He drank so quickly that some water dribbled down both sides of his mouth, cooling his skin.

After finishing more than half the bottle in one go, he finally set it down, still panting. "Huff… huff… thank you… thank you." Now that he'd caught his breath, Wang Qiang felt a little embarrassed as he glanced at Jiang Lijuan. "I almost finished your water."

Today, Jiang Lijuan was dressed in a little white dress, topped with a pink straw hat, giving her an air of sophistication.

Truthfully, back at school, Wang Qiang had never paid much attention to her, mainly because there were two exceedingly pretty girls in their class. He wasn't alone—almost all the boys focused on those two.

Maybe it was because she had helped him in a moment of difficulty, but suddenly, this old classmate with an oval face and large eyes seemed incredibly charming to him.

"It's fine. What happened?" Jiang Lijuan took back the bottle and screwed the cap on, looking at him curiously.

Wang Qiang said helplessly, "My tire burst, and with this heat, I nearly had heatstroke." He stood up and looked at Jiang Lijuan, "How come you're here?"

"I'm here to bring lunch and water to my dad." As she spoke, Jiang Lijuan took off her straw hat and used it as a fan for him, her tone laced with reproach. "Why did you go out in this heat? Here, let me fan you, or else if you really faint, I won't be able to drag you."

On this suffocating roadside, the breeze from her hat carried a faint fragrance. Wang Qiang suddenly felt something called happiness blooming in his heart. He had never thought that being fanned could be such a pleasure.

But she was just a classmate, not his wife. Wang Qiang felt awkward, quickly raising his hand to stop her. "No, really, I'm fine now."

"You say you're fine, but look at you, you're pale." Jiang Lijuan gave him a reproachful glance and kept fanning.

Wang Qiang was truly at a loss, the atmosphere growing a little awkward. To ease it, he tried to joke, "Why are you being so nice to me? Don't tell me you like me?"

"Bah, who would like you!" Jiang Lijuan retorted, but her fair cheeks flushed with two streaks of pink. She pretended to be angry, "Say nonsense one more time and I'll ignore you." Yet her hand didn't stop fanning, obviously not truly upset.

Could it really be true?

Wang Qiang was a bit stunned, then shook his head. What was he thinking? He'd spent three years as classmates with Jiang Lijuan and barely exchanged a few words—how could she possibly like him? If he had to recall any interaction, it was back in eighth grade when Jiang Lijuan was harassed by a ninth-grade boy. Wang Qiang spoke up for her. That ninth grader lived north of his house, so he showed Wang Qiang some respect—or perhaps he had no choice, afraid Wang Qiang would talk about him at home.

That was the extent of their connection.

After two or three minutes, Wang Qiang felt much better and insisted, "That's enough, really, you don't need to." He could see that the girl's face was slick with sweat.

Jiang Lijuan wiped her face and asked, "What are you going to do about your bike?"

"What else? Push it to town for repairs." Wang Qiang stood up, ready to push his bike again.

Jiang Lijuan made a sound of agreement and walked back to her little yellow bike. She patted the cargo rack, motioning for Wang Qiang to put his bike up.

Wang Qiang hesitated, "Aren't you delivering food to your dad?"

"No rush, he had breakfast late." Jiang Lijuan slipped the bottle into her basket, smoothed her damp hair, and spoke softly, "I'm afraid you'll really get heatstroke, so I'll walk with you."

It should be after one o'clock; even if breakfast was late, her dad must be hungry by now.

Even for old classmates, this seemed above and beyond. Giving him water was already kindness itself—unless…

By this point, Wang Qiang, whose actual mental age was forty and who had long since mastered the ways of the world, could not fail to see the truth. She must truly have feelings for him. Still, the prevailing values were conservative; if he didn't make the first move, she would probably never say anything.

Just like in his previous life.

He couldn't understand why she would like him, but it felt strange. In his last life, up through university graduation, he'd always assumed he was the one doing the liking and pursuing. He never imagined he might have a secret admirer.

Besides, Jiang Lijuan was more than average in appearance.

Ah, if not for that small figure in his memory, perhaps there might have been a chance—but now, he could only offer an apology.

He tried to decline.

Jiang Lijuan insisted, "Wang Qiang, are you a man or not? Put your bike up here, stop dawdling."

Well, there was no refusing.

Wang Qiang could only comply, laying his bike across the rack and steadying it with his hands.

"Hold it tight, don't let go. I'll push from the front." Jiang Lijuan wiped the sweat from her right cheek, and before he could reply, she started pushing.

"Hey, slow down, slow down." Wang Qiang hurriedly gripped the bike, making sure it wouldn't fall. This way, he was much more at ease. But Wang Qiang knew he shouldn't accept this sudden affection. So, along the way, he kept silent, pretending not to notice.

Girls were shy, and seeing him so quiet, Jiang Lijuan didn't know what to say either. The two walked in silence, one behind the other, down the road.

A gentle breeze stirred.

Suddenly, Jiang Lijuan turned back and said, "Wang Qiang, sing me a song."

Wang Qiang adjusted his slightly tilted bike and replied casually, "What do you want to hear?"

"Anything, whatever you sing, I'll listen." Jiang Lijuan turned her attention back to the road.

"Alright." Wang Qiang thought for a moment, deciding to use a song to express his attitude. Even if she didn't really like him, it wouldn't be awkward. So, he began to sing softly—

"At this moment, everything feels so familiar."
"Like yesterday and today playing at once."
"My tone sounds so much like yours… I know being cherished is a kind of luck, but I can't surrender myself completely… It seems like yesterday, but yesterday is so far away."
"But when I close my eyes, I can still see—too bad it's not you…"

His singing drifted in the air, and Wang Qiang couldn't help feeling a little melancholy. So much in the lyrics seemed to tell his story with his wife—like yesterday and today playing at once, yet the one he yearns for is absent. There was a sorrowful sense that "too bad it's not you who stayed with me till the end."

Ahead, Jiang Lijuan's shoulders trembled slightly. She listened carefully, and after a long pause, said, "That was a beautiful song, you sing well. Whose song is it? I've never heard it before."

Wang Qiang broke into a sweat and replied vaguely, "I don't remember, probably from some female singer in Hong Kong or Taiwan." He wasn't lying—it was indeed sung by Fish Leong, a Malaysian Chinese singer from Taiwan.

After that, silence fell between them again.

The distance wasn't far—just over a kilometer. In silence, they soon reached the entrance to Farmer Street. It was time to part ways.

Wang Qiang used his arms to take the bike down. As a sedan sped past, dust billowed. He steadied his bike and waved away the dust, saying, "Go deliver your dad's lunch, he must be starving."

"I'll head to the shop then." Sweat covered Jiang Lijuan's face as she said goodbye, reluctant to leave.

Wang Qiang noticed her back was soaked, and felt moved, but kept a casual smile. "Alright, thanks for today."

"It's nothing." Seeing he said nothing else, Jiang Lijuan looked a little disappointed, and pushed her bike southward.

Watching her recede into the distance, Wang Qiang sighed deeply.

It's my fault that I can't make things clear to you.

I'm just as helpless when it comes to love.

He withdrew his gaze in guilt, ready to find a repair shop for his bicycle. He comforted himself—maybe he was imagining things, maybe she didn't really like him.

Yes, that must be it.

But just as he took a step, Jiang Lijuan's voice called behind him, "Fool, how will you ever know if it's not me unless you ask?"

"No—" Wang Qiang's mind reeled and he panicked, about to turn back and explain, only to see the girl, shyly, pedaling away in haste.

It was real!

He was instantly thrown into confusion, swept away by the wind. Oh, what a misunderstanding this was.