After dinner, the lingering warmth of camaraderie still in the air, Guozhao Zhiqiang and Deming accompanied Li Bingqing to her uncle's shop. Walking alone on the bustling street, a comfortable distance behind Deming and Li Bingqing, Guozhao Zhiqiang gave them space, a deliberate act of trust. He knew it was in Deming's best interest, and theirs, to allow them privacy, to let Deming navigate this delicate conversation on his own terms.
After learning that Deming's heart was never truly estranged from him, after the profound revelations of the previous night, Guozhao Zhiqiang vowed never to leave Deming again, never to push him away. He no longer questioned where Deming's heart lay; it was unequivocally with him. His first step to show Deming complete trust, a trust he had withheld for so long, was to give him his own space, to allow him freedom. He continued his slow walk behind Deming and Li Bingqing, a silent, watchful presence.
Even as he walked side by side with Li Bingqing, looking from one vibrant street vendor to the next, Deming's gaze would drift to Guozhao Zhiqiang from time to time, a constant, reassuring check. He knew in his heart that Guozhao Zhiqiang was not one to easily express his true feelings, that he held his emotions close. He worried that if he gave too much attention to Li Bingqing, Guozhao Zhiqiang might suddenly vanish, just as he had before, retreating into his sorrow. To reassure Guozhao Zhiqiang that his heart belonged unequivocally to him, he frequently met Guozhao Zhiqiang's gaze and offered a soft, loving smile. Each time, Guozhao Zhiqiang smiled back, a gentle, reassuring warmth.
Li Bingqing noticed Deming's frequent glances toward Guozhao Zhiqiang, a subtle but undeniable pattern. She already knew, deep down, that nothing she did or could have done would change Deming's feelings for Guozhao Zhiqiang; his heart was clearly taken. Still, she couldn't understand why Deming had called her special when his heart clearly belonged to someone else. She knew she had to make her feelings clear before nightfall, to lay her heart bare. It was the only way to truly know if Deming harbored any feelings for her beyond friendship. Her hopes weren't high, a faint flicker, but she wouldn't give up without trying, without asking.
Li Bingqing looked at Guozhao Zhiqiang, who was not far from Deming and her, a silent, watchful presence. Then she turned to Deming, her voice gentle. "Enlai, you can ask him to come closer to us. I don't mind," she offered, a generous gesture.
Deming looked at Guozhao Zhiqiang, offering him a warm, inviting smile. Guozhao Zhiqiang returned the smile, a subtle acknowledgment. Deming then looked back at Li Bingqing. "Let him be, Bingqing. He's the kind of person who likes to keep everything to himself, to observe from a distance," he explained, a fond exasperation in his voice.
"He doesn't mind?" Li Bingqing asked, a hint of surprise.
"He doesn't mind," Deming confirmed, a soft sigh escaping him. "He was going to let me take you home by myself, but I insisted that he come with me. I wanted him here." Deming sighed again, a deeper, more somber sound. "Bingqing, many years ago, he mistakenly thought I was someone else and stabbed me in the chest with an icicle. Moreover, he felt that my death was his fault, so he kept blaming himself, carrying that burden for years."
"Is it his fault, Enlai?" Li Bingqing pressed, her gaze earnest.
"No, it's my fault," Deming admitted, his voice soft with regret. "I didn't listen to him and wandered outside the camp's confines, creating opportunities for my attackers to strike. I was careless."
Li Bingqing looked at him earnestly, her wisdom shining through. "Enlai, you are doing what he is doing now. You blame yourself, and he blames himself. If the two of you don't clarify this matter, if you don't talk, then both of you will never be able to get rid of this self-inflicted blame on your heart and mind. It will fester."
Deming looked at Li Bingqing, a profound gratitude in his eyes, and smiled. "Bingqing, thank you for your advice. You're right. I will talk to him tonight. We need to clear the air."
"Sometimes," Li Bingqing wisely noted, her voice gentle, "outsiders who stand outside of the inner circle can see better than those inside. They have a clearer perspective."
"You're right," Deming agreed, his smile widening, a newfound lightness in his heart. "I used to think that people like me would never see the light of day, that I was doomed to darkness, but here I am, embracing every sunrise and every sunset." He chuckled softly, a genuine, joyful sound. "I also thought that no one would love me outside of the dark dungeon, that I was unlovable, but I was wrong. I have you who love me. I have Weici who loves me, and Zhiqiang who loves me." He looked at Guozhao Zhiqiang, a soft, loving smile on his face, his heart overflowing. "Bingqing, I want to stay here with him. I want to forget the past and choose to release the shackles of hatred that bind my hands and feet. I will not be returning to Haven Mountain with you. Life is short, so I want to spend it wisely with Zhiqiang here, in Cloud City." He took a deep breath, the decision firm and resolute in his heart. "When Zhiqiang and I first met, he promised me he would take me out of that dark place and let me live quietly in the city in the clouds, which has always been my dream. Since I'm here now, since I've found my home, I won't give it up for anything or anyone." He bit his lower lip, a hint of apology in his eyes. "I hope you understand, Bingqing."
Li Bingqing smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes, but also a profound understanding. "I understand, Enlai. Truly."
As they neared Li Bingqing's uncle's clothing store, its colorful fabrics spilling onto the street, Guozhao Zhiqiang stopped, a silent signal. "I'll wait for you here," he said softly, his voice gentle.
Deming and Li Bingqing paused in front of the shop. "Good night, Bingqing," Deming said, turning to walk towards Guozhao Zhiqiang, his heart already pulling him.
Li Bingqing quickly reached out and gently grabbed Deming's left arm, her fingers trembling slightly. "Wait," she said, her voice hushed, a desperate plea.
Deming turned back, a question in his eyes, sensing her distress. "What's wrong, Bingqing?"
Li Bingqing looked at Deming, her gaze searching, her heart laid bare. "I want to ask you; how do you feel about me during the three years we've been together? Was it ever more than friendship?"
Deming looked at her, his voice soft with genuine affection, filled with regret that he couldn't offer what she sought. "What I feel for you is the love between brothers and sisters, Bingqing, not the love between lovers. You are like family to me."
"Apart from the love between siblings, don't you have any other feelings for me, Enlai?" Li Bingqing pressed, a desperate hope, a final flicker, in her eyes.
Deming looked at Guozhao Zhiqiang, a loving smile on his face as their eyes met, a silent affirmation of his true feelings. "No," he said gently, then turned back to Li Bingqing, his voice kind but firm. "When I saw how Sister Xiao Mei cared for the juniors, I truly wished there was a sister who cared about me. When I opened my eyes, you were there, caring for me. Your caring reminds me of Sister Xiao Mei and Weici, a cherished sister."
"That means you only like men?" Li Bingqing asked, a flicker of understanding, a painful acceptance, in her eyes.
Deming chuckled softly, a gentle, almost embarrassed sound. "I like men and women, Bingqing, but I only love Zhiqiang. He is my one."
Li Bingqing sighed, the finality of his words sinking in, a heavy weight. "So you said I was special to you, you meant as brothers and sisters, right?"
"Yes," Deming confirmed, his voice filled with regret that he couldn't offer more, that he had inadvertently caused her pain.
Li Bingqing sighed again, a deep, wavering breath, a silent release. She finally understood, the last vestiges of hope fading. She managed a small, brave smile, tears welling in her eyes but held back with fierce determination. "Having a brother is better than having no brother, I suppose."
Deming saw the tears welling in her eyes, glistening in the lamplight, and the struggle to hold them back. His heart ached for her, a genuine sorrow. "I'm sorry, Bingqing," he said sadly, his voice filled with empathy. "I can't accept you as anything more than that. My heart is already taken."
Li Bingqing nodded, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek, a silent testament to her heartbreak. "I think I should have asked you directly, Enlai, and part of it was my fault for not understanding sooner." She offered him a fragile smile, a brave attempt at composure. "Good night, Deming. Thank you for taking me home." She turned abruptly, hurrying into the store before Deming could see the tears now freely falling, a silent, solitary grief.
Deming slowly walked back to Guozhao Zhiqiang, his steps heavy with the weight of the conversation. Guozhao Zhiqiang offered him a gentle smile, his eyes filled with understanding. "Did you get to say what you wanted to say to her?"
Deming nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. "Yes, Zhiqiang. And it feels much better now. It was hard, but necessary."
"That's good," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice light, a sense of relief in his tone. "Do you want to go back to the school or stay here for a while? It's still early."
"Back to the school," Deming replied, his gaze unwavering from Guozhao Zhiqiang, his hand reaching for Guozhao Zhiqiang's.
Guozhao Zhiqiang and Deming walked back slowly, side by side, their shoulders almost touching, into the bustling, vibrant streets of the evening, their hearts finally at peace, bound by a love that had weathered storms and emerged stronger.