Life in the rental apartment felt like a stagnant pool of water—calm on the surface, yet beneath lay countless unsettling details that troubled Lu Zhao.
The water heater was unreliable, delivering a cold splash in the chilly mornings; The neighbors next door seemed perpetually embroiled in late-night arguments, the slamming of doors and muffled cries piercing the thin walls; The street below buzzed with ceaseless traffic all night long, the honking of horns like a dull knife repeatedly slicing through his already fragile sleep. These physical inconveniences were bearable, but what truly left him feeling powerless was the isolation of being stripped from his original information network.
An important elective class had been moved to a different room at the last minute. The notice was posted in the class group chat, but Lu Zhao, deliberately avoiding any information related to "those two people," hadn't checked the group messages closely in a long time. He arrived at the original classroom at the scheduled time, only to find an empty room and a cold iron lock on the door. Only then did he absentmindedly pull out his phone and scroll through the dense pile of unread messages to find the notice. By the time he arrived at the correct classroom, panting, the class had already started twenty minutes earlier. The professor's displeased gaze and the stares of the entire class made him feel like he was walking on pins and needles.
Group assignments became his worst nightmare. Since he didn't live on campus, it was difficult for him to participate in the spontaneous discussions among classmates after class. Often, by the time online meetings rolled around, he discovered his groupmates had already reached preliminary agreements on frameworks and divisions of labor. Like a late outsider, he could only passively accept whatever marginal tasks were assigned to him. Communication became sluggish too—a question that could be explained in five minutes back in the dorm now required exchanging over a dozen voice messages, often leading to rework due to misunderstandings.
He began to realize that much of the valuable information and opportunities in college didn't come from classrooms, but from the informal, "tacit knowledge" flowing through dorm room chats, cafeteria gatherings, and after-class banter. And he had willingly cut himself off from these information sources.
Financial pressures also began to mount. Rent, utilities, commuting costs... every expense forced him to budget more meticulously. He took on a part-time tutoring job, spending two evenings a week crisscrossing the city. Returning to his rented room, he was often physically and mentally exhausted, yet still had to muster the energy to finish his coursework.
Physical exhaustion and emotional isolation intertwined like a net tightening around him. Sometimes he'd stare blankly at the unfamiliar nightscape outside his window, wondering if his decision to "escape" had been too impulsive and naive. Was trading tangible hardships for an elusive "psychological comfort" truly worth it?
This doubt reached its peak after an unexpected encounter.
It was a Friday night. After finishing his tutoring job, Lu Zhao trudged wearily from the subway station back to his rented apartment. Passing a dimly lit barbecue stall near the residential complex, he abruptly stopped in his tracks.
Not far away, seated at a simple table, were two figures he knew all too well—Gu Xun and Jiang Jin.
The pairing alone was shocking enough. What sent shockwaves through his heart was the atmosphere between them. Jiang Jin held the menu, tilting his head to speak to Gu Xun with an expression... one Lu Zhao had never seen before—almost cautiously inquiring. Gu Xun, meanwhile, wasn't reading or checking her phone. She simply sat there quietly, listening, occasionally nodding slightly. Several skewers of grilled food and two opened bottles of beer sat on the table. Steam rose in wisps through the cold night air, blurring the sharp, icy boundary that had once existed between them.
How could they be together? And it seemed... the atmosphere was even peaceful?
Lu Zhao felt rooted to the spot, a chill creeping up from his feet. His heart began to pound uncontrollably, and a complex, indescribable emotion instantly overwhelmed him. There was shock, confusion, the sour sting of exclusion, and even a hint of something he was too ashamed to admit... betrayal?
He'd assumed that after his escape, the two would remain locked in that suffocating stalemate—or worse, that their relationship would deteriorate further. He'd never imagined they'd appear in some corner beyond his sight, sharing food and the night in such an... ordinary way.
Just then, Jiang Jin casually lifted his head, his gaze sweeping across the street and locking directly with Lu Zhao's stunned eyes.
Jiang Jin clearly froze too, his hand holding the menu suspended mid-air. The cautious expression vanished instantly, replaced by a complex mix of surprise, awkwardness, and a hint of something elusive. He opened his mouth, as if to greet him.
Lu Zhao snapped back to reality, seized by intense embarrassment and an overwhelming urge to flee. Almost instinctively, he lowered his head, spun around, and hurried into the sparse crowd, practically running away from the place as if something terrifying were chasing him.
He sprinted back to his rented room, slammed the door shut, and leaned against the cold panel, gasping for breath. His mind was a chaotic whirlpool.
They were together. Out of his sight, near this new environment he'd chosen to escape them, they were together—eating barbecue, drinking, even... sharing a warm, intimate atmosphere.
This realization crashed like a boulder into the already turbulent lake of his heart, sending shockwaves rippling through his mind. He'd always believed himself the victim, the one who'd fled that twisted relationship. But now, he realized he might be more like... An outsider? A fool who overreacted, deluded himself, and was then ruthlessly cast aside?
That night, Lu Zhao lay awake. The quarrels from the next room, the traffic below—none could match the deafening roar of his own questions and self-doubt.
What had he left for?
What had he gained?
And after his departure, the world he'd desperately tried to escape didn't seem to halt its rotation in his absence. Perhaps it had even... achieved a new equilibrium in ways he couldn't comprehend?
The very justification that had underpinned his decision to "escape" now began to crumble, revealing its fragile foundation. He felt like a joke.