Chapter 11.2 - 酸枣仁 Sour Jujube Seed
He Suye gave a sly smile, with the corners of his mouth slightly curling in satisfaction. “It was only once, and it was just the arm. Plus, it was early autumn, and I was wearing a shirt, so there was no exposure at all.”
Li Jie looked even more frustrated. “Back then, it was the middle of winter, I was wearing shorts to class, and that old guy made me pose with my legs out. If others didn’t know, they’d probably think something was wrong with my head!”
The three of them laughed uncontrollably, and the awkward atmosphere that had been present earlier completely disappeared.
Suddenly, Li Jie made a suggestion. “Senior Brother, let me borrow that precious set of yours. I have a headache and didn’t sleep well!”
He Suye had no choice but to go inside and get the box. Li Jie mysteriously told Shen Xifan, “Pay attention later. Senior Brother’s needles are worth a fortune.”
Shen Xifan was curious. “Are they made of gold? That valuable?”
Li Jie chuckled and spun a pen in his hand, making a “swish” sound. “Pretty close. They might be worth more than gold. It’s a family heirloom that isn’t shown to just anyone. Now, you can hardly find the Nine Needles anymore, they mostly use fine needles. But his set has everything!”
Just as she was about to ask what Nine Needles and fine needles were, He Suye came out, holding the box, and looked at Li Jie with a mischievous expression. “Are you going to do it yourself, or do you want me to help?”
Li Jie’s expression changed. “I’ll do it myself, I’ll do it myself. How could I trouble Senior Brother?”
In the end, he really did it himself. One hand held the needle while he explained the basic principles of acupuncture to Shen Xifan. Shen Xifan watched in shock, while He Suye casually played with a needle in his hand, looked at his left hand, and simply inserted it.
Shen Xifan stared at both of them in disbelief. To them, the needles seemed like toys—one needle in, if they felt good; one needle out, if they didn’t feel good. It was nothing like her experience today, where she had to endure excruciating pain just to get one needle.
Seeing her confused and slightly uneasy expression, He Suye quickly explained, “I’m not like Li Jie, poking needles for no reason. I injured my hand the day before yesterday while playing basketball.” He pointed to Li Jie’s arm. “That acupoint is called Qingling, located on the hand’s lesser yin heart meridian. It can treat headaches, chills, and shoulder or arm pain.”
Shen Xifan looked at the needle and acupoint with curiosity, her eyes sparkling with admiration. “You guys are amazing… it’s so magical…”
The three of them chatted late into the night, and He Suye accompanied Shen Xifan home, carrying a stack of materials. Shen Xifan, skipping happily alongside him, looked full of energy, her earlier fatigue and pain completely gone.
Looking at her made him feel a sense of contentment. Though menstrual pain wasn’t a serious illness, treating her personally gave him great satisfaction. Even though he treated hundreds of patients every day, none of them felt as real as her.
For some reason, he thought that maybe it was because he felt needed.
He realized that, even though he appeared calm and steady, he actually had a bit of vanity and needed constant affirmation from others.
As the lights of the community began to glow, it wasn’t exactly a scene of a thousand homes lit up, but it was still a warm, cozy sight. Cars occasionally passed by, blending into the dark night, while the faint sound of children laughing echoed in the distance.
When they were near the entrance of Area F, Shen Xifan absentmindedly caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye and frowned slightly—Yan Heng?
Although they were far apart, he stood on the main road of the community, leaning against a black BMW, separated from Shen Xifan by the iron fence. The cigarette in his hand flickered in the night, giving off a sense of disillusionment. The glow of the cigarette, mingled with the weak light from the streetlamp, made his handsome face appear a little lonely.
He stared blankly at Shen Xifan and He Suye, the smoke curling into the air, and the wind blew it away, blurring his vision.
However, He Suye didn’t notice. Annoyed by Shen Xifan’s dazed expression, he rubbed her hair, saying, “Why are you daydreaming all the time, little girl?”
Shen Xifan snapped out of it and scrambled to take the stack of materials. “It’s nothing, nothing. It’s just so cold that my thoughts froze. I’m home now, just give me the materials. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”
He Suye neatly arranged the materials, his expression cold like the stars in the winter night, yet there was a hint of affection. “It’s okay if you don’t finish tonight. Get some good rest.”
She squeezed out a faint smile. “No problem. I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
He Suye nodded, waved his hand, and walked back along the same path. Shen Xifan watched his back as he blended into the darkness, his calm and composed demeanor always giving people a sense of security.
She couldn’t help but wonder how such a good man could not have a girlfriend.
Her gaze then shifted to the man standing nearby. The face was too familiar, the posture too familiar, and the aura too familiar—so familiar that, three years later, it still felt strangely distant.
When did he start smoking?
Why did he change his last name? Why did he, who was flourishing in the U.S., suddenly return to China? Why did he keep appearing in front of her? Why was he waiting for her at her doorstep now?
An inexplicable sense of unease washed over her. She felt bitter about Yan Heng’s ambiguous attitude and how she had shamelessly kept him in her thoughts.
She watched as he discarded the cigarette butt and walked through the small gate. Shen Xifan’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt completely unprepared, wanting to run away. She had never been brave, and deep down, she had always been somewhat afraid of such moments.
As she reached the second floor and stopped to listen, there was no sound. She let out a relieved sigh, reached for the motion-sensing light on the stairs, but before she could touch it, a hand grabbed her arm, tightly and firmly, leaving her no room to move.
She was startled, and the stack of materials in her hand fell to the floor, scattering in a chaotic mess. The white papers tumbled down the stairs, landing on the ground like a sea of pale white, the cold wind blowing them with a crackling sound.
It felt strangely familiar.
Shen Xifan fought to control herself, refusing to look back. She twisted her arm with all her strength, half pleading, half helpless. “Don’t do this, let go, all the materials have fallen!”
“Who was that man just now?” Yan Heng asked, in a tone that demanded an explanation, unaware of the jealousy in his voice.
An overwhelming sense of anger and resentment surged inside her. She bravely turned to face him and saw the anger and unwillingness flashing in his eyes. Without thinking, she retorted, “What’s it to you? What right do you have to control me! Let go! I told you, let go!”
.
