Chapter 10: P. Icelandic Ice Cream

Before Ning Yixiao could speak, Su Hui thanked him, his tone light. “You go ahead and get busy; I won’t disturb you anymore.”

He didn’t have the habit of saying goodbye, because he could never guarantee he’d be able to see someone properly again. After Ning Yixiao said “Okay,” Su Hui hung up.

This was difficult. In the midst of his manic phase, he usually had no way to voluntarily cut off a conversation. He would talk and talk, his thoughts like a deer running wild; even if the other person asked for a pause, he couldn’t stop.

But while talking to Ning Yixiao, Su Hui had keenly sensed the emotions in the other man’s silence. He suddenly realized that the way he was clinging to him was like clutching at a life-saving straw.

This wasn’t right. So, Su Hui forcibly cut off his desire to express.

He wanted to be a normal person in front of Ning Yixiao.

After hanging up, Ning Yixiao stood alone on the balcony for a moment, glanced at the time, and returned to his student’s room. Perhaps he had opened the door too suddenly; the student sitting inside was lifting his shirt, twisting his body to look at his own back.

With the first glance upon pushing the door open, Ning Yixiao saw a bruise on his side waist.

“What’s wrong, Xiaochen?”

Ding Xiaochen hurriedly pulled his shirt down and turned to face Ning Yixiao, whispering that it was nothing.

Ning Yixiao had been tutoring him in mathematics for a semester and knew well that he was a kind, timid child. Seeing that he wouldn’t speak, he didn’t press him, opting instead to sit in his own seat. “Have you finished the practice problems I assigned earlier?”

“Two questions left,” Ding Xiaochen said in a low voice.

Ning Yixiao nodded. “Let me see what you’ve done so far.”

He checked Ding Xiaochen’s homework as if he hadn’t seen anything, corrected it, and picked out a few typical problems to explain, helping him consolidate his knowledge.

As the lesson neared its end, Ding Xiaochen buried his head in his notes. Ning Yixiao checked the time and then glanced at the boy’s thin, frail frame.

“Teacher, I’m done taking notes.”

“Mm.” Ning Yixiao nodded and rose to leave. Just as he opened the door, he stood still for a moment, back to the boy, before closing the bedroom door and turning back to face Ding Xiaochen.

“What happened to the injury on your back?”

Ding Xiaochen looked up at him, feeling that Teacher Ning was different today—his face lacked that gentle smile, appearing cold, calm, and expressionless.

He hesitated for a long time, but due to the reliance built up over their time together, he told Ning Yixiao everything.

The explanation was actually very simple: Ding Xiaochen’s father was an alcoholic who frequently abused him and his mother.

When he was in fifth grade, his father’s business hit a rough patch, and ever since then, he started drinking heavily. When drunk, his temper was volatile; he would berate the mother and son, and if they talked back, it meant a beating. Over time, this became the father’s habit for venting his frustrations, and it continued to this day.

Ning Yixiao had only met his father a few times. His impression was that the man was reticent and rarely asked about the boy’s grades—that was always left to the mother. His father never cared.

But Ning Yixiao hadn’t expected that he would do such a thing to his own child.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t interfere and couldn’t change anything, Ning Yixiao stepped in anyway. Perhaps it was seeing Ding Xiaochen inspecting his own wounds that reminded him of his past self.

He bought medicine for the bruising for Ding Xiaochen that day. On the way home, he spent a long time thinking, eventually composing a long message to the boy. It mostly taught him how to avoid getting hit, along with words of encouragement—telling him that although it was hard now, he had to learn to be strong and protect himself and his mother.

But having had the same experience, Ning Yixiao knew best that this was a hopeless situation. Even calling the police didn’t have much effect.

In a family dynamic, under a marriage certificate, even the most violent acts could be framed as “legitimate,” and the true reality of the crime could easily be buried.

In the days that followed, Ning Yixiao went to school and ran experiments as usual.

He was always helping his teachers, never afraid of hardship or fatigue. This time, it finally paid off—he secured an internship offer at a major firm. The tight, stressed rhythm of Ning Yixiao’s life finally relaxed a little.

He first resigned from his coffee shop job, collected his pay, and started browsing online rental listings. He wanted to find a cheap, short-term room to survive the expensive summer in Beijing.

A week later, Professor Wang called him to a group meeting. Ning Yixiao sat in the very back row, behind the dozen or so graduate students.

At the meeting, he saw Su Hui again. This time, Su Hui wasn’t too late; he hurried in just before Professor Wang arrived. He looked to be in a good mood, wearing a soft pale pink short-sleeved shirt that made his complexion look incredibly fair. As he pushed the door open, his face was full of radiance.

Ning Yixiao noticed his hands were behind his back, his steps light. Something shiny dangled from his earlobe, attracting his attention. It wasn’t until Su Hui approached that Ning Yixiao saw it clearly: a small silver heart.

Swinging gently, Su Hui smiled as he sat down next to Ning Yixiao. With a familiar air, he put down his bag and said “Good morning” to him lightly.

Ning Yixiao collected his thoughts, about to respond, but noticed Su Hui pulling a bouquet from somewhere to hand to him.

It was a tiny bunch, easily held in one hand. Inside were three fully bloomed pale pink peonies and a few stalks of pure white jasmine, emitting a delicate fragrance.

“For you,” Su Hui whispered. “Thank you for listening to my complaints last time.”

Ning Yixiao immediately recalled Su Hui’s sticky, light voice on the phone and the mention of the ant.

“Take it.” Su Hui stuffed the small bouquet into his hand. “I wrapped it myself. It might not be great, but the flowers are beautiful. I picked them in the garden for a long time; I almost was late.”

Ning Yixiao wasn’t used to receiving flowers. He had received gifts on Valentine’s Day in the past, both public and anonymous, but his attitude had always been cold. His first reaction was always not knowing how to handle them.

Most gifts were useless, and flowers were the most useless of all—their viewing period was short; they would wither in a few days.

Romance was too much of a luxury for him at this stage.

Lowering his eyes to stare at the flowers in his hand, Ning Yixiao suddenly wondered why he was inexplicably associating this with romance.

“These are the last batch of peonies. This is called Icelandic Ice Cream; it’s my favorite variety.” He pointed to the bloom, which could only be described as a cluster of flowers. In the layers upon layers of snow-white petals, a hint of pink shone through. Ning Yixiao’s gaze involuntarily shifted from the flowers to Su Hui’s pink-tinged fingertips.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Su Hui lowered his eyes, smiling like a child. “And this is pearl jasmine. It’s very fragrant. I’ve been growing it for a long time. The rain almost ruined them a while ago, but luckily Auntie Chen helped me save them. A few stalks still withered, though…”

He whispered on and on until Professor Wang entered, at which point he straightened up, took out his laptop, and obediently looked ahead.

Ning Yixiao lowered his hand slightly, looking down at the wrapping paper, only to realize there was writing on it—a rough, jagged edge where it had been torn off.

It looked like a page Su Hui had ripped out of a book on the fly to wrap the flowers.

During that one-hour group meeting, Ning Yixiao’s nerves were more relaxed than usual. For once, he wasn’t fully focused on the lecture, writing code instead, as if forcing himself to concentrate that way.

Until the end of the meeting, he stared at the page of running code, but his mind stayed on the last line of text on the paper:

[The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. ①]

After the meeting, they were kept behind. Professor Wang asked for their thoughts, talked about the framework of the paper, and discussed the experimental results.

It was 11:30 AM when they left. The sunlight was beautiful, filtering through the gaps in the greenery and spilling onto Su Hui’s beautiful face; he was practically glowing.

Su Hui walked in front, talking to Professor Wang about a piece of literature he had read, his hands occasionally raised to make childlike gestures.

“Yixiao?”

When Zhang Shuo called his name for the third time, Ning Yixiao finally came back to his senses, turning his head to smile at him. “Mm, you were saying? I’m listening.”

Zhang Shuo smiled, not noticing anything, and told him about the problems he encountered while debugging code, almost taking his laptop out right there to ask for Ning Yixiao’s help.

They walked all the way to the foot of the teaching building where they would part ways with Professor Wang. Zhang Shuo happened to have an elective in the same building, so he left with the teacher.

Suddenly, only Ning Yixiao and Su Hui were left.

Su Hui turned his head, a very cute, smiling expression on his face. He took a large step back, moving to Ning Yixiao’s right side, his voice very soft. “Did you hide my flowers?”

Ning Yixiao could almost smell the pleasant botanical scent on him. He nodded, a smile touching his face. “I put them in my backpack.”

To do so, he had to carry his books and laptop in his hands.

“They’ll get crushed, won’t they?” Su Hui pretended to be very anxious, leaning forward. “Don’t crush my flowers.”

Ning Yixiao was startled and turned to take the bag off to check, but Su Hui’s hand had already pressed onto it—pressing right onto his wrist.

“I’m teasing you.” Su Hui couldn’t help but laugh, letting go. “You’re so easy to trick.”

“It doesn’t matter if they get crushed.” Su Hui looked at him. Ning Yixiao’s features were deep; when he wasn’t smiling, he looked very earnest and very cold. The mole at the tail of his right eye was the only soft point.

“I still have more.”

There are plenty more I can give you.

Ning Yixiao stopped talking. The heavy books and laptop seemed to tilt his body, his heart tilting to the right along with them.

He began to imagine the garden that Su Hui possessed. This did not seem to be a good omen.

They walked side by side for a long time. Su Hui was about to leave. He took a candy from his pocket, carefully peeled back the wrapper, popped it into his mouth, and then looked up, subconsciously looking at Ning Yixiao.

“Do you want one?” His eyes were very bright.

Ning Yixiao didn’t like sweets and wanted to refuse, but Su Hui’s hand was already extended toward him.

“It’s very delicious,” he said.

Ning Yixiao had no choice but to take it. It was a candy.

“I’m leaving now.”

Su Hui left again, just as he had come, before Ning Yixiao was ready. His steps were light, leaving Ning Yixiao standing where he was, palm spread open.

He stared at the candy wrapper and suddenly found it familiar.

His memory suddenly pulled back to a sunny day not long ago. While working at the coffee shop, he was cleaning a table and found an extra candy on the tray he had served.

He couldn’t remember the guest’s face, only that he was very thin, very pale, and his hat brim was pulled very low.

The candy wrapper was colorful and beautiful. When he returned to the back kitchen, a female colleague joked that he actually liked eating candy. She also said the candy was expensive—hand-crafted custom work from Sweden—and hard to buy even if you had the money.

Ning Yixiao had lived to this age and had been to very few places: from the small fishing village to the county seat, and then to the capital. His life was so monotonous it could only form a sharply acute triangle on a map, let alone having traveled to the snowy lands of Northern Europe.

So, he had remembered this candy for a long time because it was a rare expression of gratitude he had received at work.

Ning Yixiao recalled the low air conditioning at the time, the guest’s voice which was so small it was almost inaudible, and his snow-white hands.

He hadn’t expected that he could receive another precious candy, and even less did he expect that the person back then was Su Hui.

No wonder.

Ning Yixiao stopped, frozen in place at the foot of the bustling dormitory building.

He finally understood why he had felt strange when they shared an umbrella after leaving the media room.

[Ning Yixiao, you have a mole here.]

He clearly hadn’t introduced himself at that time; Su Hui shouldn’t have known his name.

But he did. He had known all along.

A miraculous feeling filled Ning Yixiao, lasting until he went upstairs.

The dormitory was empty. He searched for a long time but couldn’t find anything to use as a vase. He went back downstairs, walked out, and bought a bottle of mineral water. He unscrewed the cap, drank some, and returned to the dorm.

In the end, Ning Yixiao cut open the empty plastic bottle and filled it with half a bottle of water. He took apart the paper that had wrapped the flowers, smoothed it out, and kept it. He placed the delicate, beautiful flowers into the bottle, but no matter how he arranged them, they didn’t look as good as when Su Hui had wrapped them.

They were too beautiful to belong here. Their habitat was nothing more than a plastic water bottle—cheap and unstable. It looked completely mismatched.

He watched them for a long time, until his roommates returned. Upon seeing them, they made a fuss. “Where did the flowers come from?”

“Tsk, it’s nice being handsome. Someone is sending you flowers again. We don’t have to help you deal with it this time?”

Another roommate leaned in to gossip. “Hey, how about it? Pretty?”

He didn’t speak, leaning back in his chair, staring quietly and intently at the blooming Icelandic Ice Cream.

The other man nudged him again. “Speak up, handsome. This is your first time bringing flowers back to take care of. Who sent them? I’m dying of curiosity. Are they pretty?”

This time, Ning Yixiao finally answered, his eyes deep, his tone calm.

“Pretty. Satisfied?”

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Author’s note:

① From Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray