Chapter 27

The honor wall stretched on and on, listing the institute’s outstanding students and key researchers over the past twenty years.
Jing Miao started from the beginning. He found Professor Jin, who often spoke with Xi Siyan—appearing in the commendations almost every year.
Then he saw Xi Siyan from six years ago, when he earned the qualification for the combined master’s-and-PhD track.
Through the glass, Jing Miao reached out and touched the ID photo of the twenty-two-year-old Xi Siyan.
So young and heroic, eyes full of bright, soaring spirit.
Jing Miao took out his phone and snapped a picture of the photo.
After that, like Professor Jin, Xi Siyan appeared every year—each year with a new photo.
In the photos, Xi Siyan gradually grew more mature and colder. His face grew more handsome, yet his gaze grew flatter.
He looked different from the others—different from people like Professor Jin, whose features aged with time but whose eyes stayed proud and radiant because of the work he loved.
Jing Miao’s heart went slightly numb.
He was afraid that Xi Siyan’s growing lifelessness… had been because of him.
Not until he reached the most recent commendation—this year’s.
Xi Siyan had gone from doctoral student to assistant researcher. His brows no longer looked cold; his eyes no longer looked heavy.
It was the gentleness Jing Miao knew.
Only then did Jing Miao finally breathe out in relief.
“Siyan will become the best aerospace materials researcher our country has.”
Jing Miao jumped, startled. He turned and saw Professor Jin.
He greeted politely and obediently, “Hello, Grandpa.”
Professor Jin looked at him with kind eyes and smiled. “How old are you?”
Jing Miao hesitated, unsure which age to say. In the end, he chose to lie.
“Nineteen.”
Professor Jin nodded and didn’t expose him. “Came with Siyan to work today?”
Jing Miao thought he was being scolded for being brought into the institute, and hurried to explain:
“I didn’t bother him. I didn’t go into where you work. I just waited here.”
Professor Jin chuckled. “Silly child—why are you nervous? You called me Grandpa, so don’t treat me like a teacher.”
He was one of the few people at the university who knew the rough story of Xi Siyan and Jing Miao. And he had met Jing Miao before.
Before the accident, this top math student often came to the School of Materials for work-study shifts. He would even sneak notes in the first-floor exhibition hall.
After Jing Miao’s accident, Xi Siyan submitted three foreign-language translations of a paper he had written in graduate school—credited under Jing Miao’s name.
Only then did Professor Jin recognize that name. After asking around the Xi family a little, he pieced together the story: this child’s heartbreaking background, and his reckless bravery.
“You used to come here often,” Professor Jin said.
Used to?
Jing Miao had no memory of his lost past at all. It wasn’t that he had amnesia—his memory had regressed, so there was no “gap” to recall, no fuzziness to chase.
“I don’t remember,” he said, lowering his head.
Professor Jin offered him a piece of candy.
“Siyan pulled it out of his pocket this morning and gave it to me. He said you like putting little things into his coat pockets. Now it’s returned to its owner.”
Jing Miao took the candy and stared at it, dazed.
“Back then, you must have liked Siyan very much,” Professor Jin said with feeling. “How wonderful—two people running toward each other, changing each other. A beautiful love.”
Hearing Xi Siyan’s name made Jing Miao finally feel a little curiosity about his “before.”
“I’ve always liked gege. Liking gege is… normal.”
Professor Jin laughed out loud at his bright, eager eyes.
“Silly child. Nothing is ‘normal.’ It’s only because he’s worth it.”
Jing Miao thought it over, then nodded. “Mm. Gege is very good.”
Professor Jin glanced at his watch. “Grandpa’s going now.”
Jing Miao waved. “Bye, Grandpa.”
Professor Jin smiled. “You’re worth it too, kid.”
Jing Miao didn’t quite understand.
He walked back to the twenty-two-year-old Xi Siyan and stared for a few minutes, then smiled foolishly.
“Gege is worth it.”
He was Xi Siyan’s light.
The direction he would chase for his whole life.
Xi Siyan could finally take a long vacation. He invited Auntie Jiang to go with them for New Year.
Auntie Jiang lived alone. She had divorced early; her daughter and son-in-law were overseas. Airfare was expensive, and they wouldn’t make it back by Lunar New Year’s Eve—only by the fifth day of the new year.
She had worked for Xi Siyan for two years. It was “work,” yet she had gradually come to treat Xi Siyan and Jing Miao as family—becoming part of her life.
She took pride in caring for Jing Miao. She often exchanged “raising-a-kid tips” with Xi Siyan’s mother. She got along happily with the family; it was the job that had brought her the most happiness.
Jing Miao was growing up, yet he still called her “granny,” and liked her very much.
When Xi Siyan heard her family wouldn’t be back for the holiday, he asked her to come along.
“Is that really okay, sir… I’m an outsider…” she said nervously.
Xi Siyan smiled. “If Miaomiao’s granny doesn’t come with us for New Year, he’ll be disappointed.”
Her eyes turned red. She nodded and said yes.
Xi Siyan told her to go home and rest for a few days, then they would depart together three days later.
That evening, not long after returning home, Xi Siyan fell asleep on the sofa from sheer exhaustion.
Jing Miao felt heartbroken for him. He copied Xi Siyan’s usual routine: adjusted the heater, placed a pillow under his head, wiped his face, hands, and feet. After doing all that, he carefully helped Xi Siyan change out of his clothes and into pajamas.
Such a small task took Jing Miao a full hour because his hands shook and fumbled.
He was happy. He felt that he, too, could start taking care of Xi Siyan.
The villa sofa was huge—fine for one person, cramped for two adults.
Jing Miao carried a blanket out, squeezed into Xi Siyan’s arms with difficulty, and spent the night clinging to him like he was sleeping on a tightrope.
Xi Siyan slept through the entire night. In the morning, Xiaoxiao’s small whines woke him—the dog couldn’t hold it and needed to pee.
Xi Siyan lowered his head and saw Jing Miao in his arms.
His first instinct was to reach for Jing Miao’s back—only to discover nearly a third of Jing Miao’s body was hanging off the couch.
He quickly wrapped him in the blanket and carried him back to bed.
After walking the dog, he returned—Jing Miao was awake too.