Chapter 7: Starting Over

Under Jiang Ya’s surprised gaze Qi Yu went on: “Then somewhere nearby. You have evening study tonight, right?”
Jiang Ya thought a moment. “Bao Xiang?”
“Bao Xiang… which one was that again?”
“Turn right at the intersection ahead, walk a bit more—end of the road, next to the newsstand.” Jiang Ya pointed, paused, added softly: “The place… we used to go often.”
“Business is still great. They renovated recently—there’s a second floor now. When we went we only ever sat downstairs.”
Qi Yu drifted a beat.
She looked at the person beside her. “I haven’t been back so long I forgot where. You remember so clearly…”
“Because I still go sometimes.” Jiang Ya turned. “Lots of students too. Close to school, cheap.”
“Mm… but I remember… the school has a staff cafeteria? Free, wasn’t it?” Qi Yu asked. “Why don’t you eat there?”
“Staff cafeteria… like chewing wax.”
“What?”
“It’s bad.”
“Yesterday’s braised pork—the fat-to-lean ratio… I thought they were feeding me lard.”
“I’m not on a weight-gain plan yet.”
Hearing Jiang Ya’s deadpan matter-of-fact tone, Qi Yu’s lips climbed despite herself.
She knew Jiang Ya’s breeding—seven years ago or now, she was used to her flawless courtesy.
This blunt talk was unexpectedly funny.
From the gate to Chen’s place along the shaded path—not far, not near, familiar and strange.
Most walking with them were students.
Boys with arms over shoulders, girls in threes—each with their youth topics: tonight’s dinner, some game, which teacher’s belt was loose or fly undone…
Small things now, whole-day talk for teenagers then.
Youth on the evening breeze, straight in the face.
The two watching the groups were not only watching them—something more complex flickered in their eyes like sparks, gone in a flash.
Silent walk, separate thoughts.
.
Carrying metal trays of chosen dishes upstairs—packed. Students clustered, noise dense and hard on the ears.
Qi Yu and Jiang Ya squeezed in, found a corner table for two.
Qi Yu saw Jiang Ya pull wet wipes from her pocket—wipe the greasy table, new wipe for hands, paper towel to dry.
That habit had lasted many years.
Qi Yu had seen it the first time they ate out together.
She remembered asking—*Isn’t it a hassle?* Jiang Ya said it was dining etiquette. In her family, whatever you did, etiquette and manners…
“Want a napkin?”
Jiang Ya noticed Qi Yu staring at her hands, puzzled, and passed a tissue.
“Oh… thanks.” Qi Yu woke, took it.
Self-serve home-style dishes—but the owner cooked well, portions generous. No wonder business stayed hot all these years.
Qi Yu was hungry, shoveled two bites without grace, then heard Jiang Ya: “Were you spaced out just now?”
She looked up, tofu and stir-fry still in her cheek, mumbled yes.
Jiang Ya: “What were you thinking?”
“Uh…” Qi Yu paused, watched the person across eat slowly, chew.
After thought she said: “Nothing. Too many people, noisy. I zoned out.”
“But business really has always been good. I thought we’d lose a seat.”
Jiang Ya did not answer at once—swallowed completely, wiped oil at the corner with tissue, then: “Mm. Cheap and good value. Students like it.”
“You brought me here first. Don’t you remember?”
Qi Yu stalled, blinked faster, spooned meat sauce on rice. “Remember.”
How could she not.
She even remembered—it was senior year of high school.
Near gaokao Jiang Ya did not go home before evening study. Knowing that, Qi Yu offered every day to walk her around spots near school.
Restaurants, noodle shops, little stalls—they had tried them all. Seven years on, some familiar places were gone. Only this one still stood.
Pulling out of memory she saw Jiang Ya tilting her head, fussing with long hair.
She kept gathering it up; strands rebelled, falling when she looked down.
Helpless, Jiang Ya asked: “Do you have a hair tie?”
“Huh? I think so.”
Qi Yu dug in her small bag, found a black band, handed it over.
Jiang Ya tied a low ponytail in one flow—slender fingers, done.
The style suited her, matched the blouse— a touch intellectual.
Qi Yu glanced more than once without meaning to.
Jiang Ya was striking—no question—from the first sight.
Freshman representative on stage, slim frame straight, bright and outstanding. Students below looked up as at stars and moon.
Stars and moon dazzled—but untouchable. Not something to wish on foolishly.
Qi Yu quickly lowered her eyes.
A thought flashed: if untouchable—what kind of person could deserve her?
Strange notion gone. Qi Yu speared tofu—felt a gaze on her head.
Jiang Ya was looking at her.
When she looked back, Jiang Ya did not look away.
Like study, like thoughtful sizing-up.
“What?” Uneasy, Qi Yu asked while eating.
Across the table chopsticks still. Jiang Ya wiped her mouth again, voice very low: “Feels like… so long apart… we’ve gone distant.”
“Like… we’re almost strangers now.”
She crushed the tissue, smiled at her.
The smile was a little forced.
Qi Yu’s hand stopped. Chewing stopped.
She lifted slowly. In Jiang Ya’s eyes—not the constant warm smile but blankness, almost stunned.
Something inside pinched lightly.
Not pain—just sour.
Fact on the table—but hearing Jiang Ya say it outright, Qi Yu did not know how to answer.
Jiang Ya was not rushed. Eyes on her face, patient for a reply.
Maybe she already knew—still wanted to hear Qi Yu say it…
A moment later Qi Yu spoke—but threw the question back: “Then… what do you think?”
Jiang Ya honest: “I think we can still be friends.”
Qi Yu curved her lips without smile. Two more bites. “Then friends.”
“We’ve known each other so long. Weren’t we always friends?”
Jiang Ya clearly froze.
Lips moved as if to say more—but Qi Yu was already head down eating, casual, as if the earlier words were a joke.
Noticing her daze, Qi Yu held her gaze. “Why ask that suddenly?”
“Nothing.” Jiang Ya shook her head, flawless smile back. “Just wanted your thoughts…”
“Never mind. Eat.”
.
Except two sentences leaving the stall, no one spoke on the way back to school.
Street lamps lit the night, weak light like white mist on the crossroads by the school—people and cars flowing.
Walking past, light made Jiang Ya’s clear profile flicker bright and dim. Eyes always down, absent.
“Careful!”
An e-bike shot from the left. Qi Yu grabbed Jiang Ya’s wrist fast—she stopped in time.
*Whoosh—* it flashed past in an instant.
“Delivery guys don’t want to live anymore…” Qi Yu frowned after it, turned to Jiang Ya.
The person beside her looked badly shaken—still stunned, staring at her.
Still in the road—could not zone out.
Qi Yu pulled her onto the brick sidewalk. Still dazed, she asked: “What were you thinking? Almost hit.”
“Oh… I…” Rare embarrassment on Jiang Ya’s face. “I was thinking about school. Spaced out. Sorry…”
“School… what? Students?” Qi Yu followed naturally.
“No…” Jiang Ya lowered her head more, pressed lips, no more explanation.
Qi Yu glanced, did not press.
A hundred meters from school Jiang Ya started to speak, stopped, then as if very solemn:
“I have one more question—the one I asked before… why you deleted me…”
“Honestly—when you deleted me, was it… was it because…”
Jiang Ya seemed unable to say it. Eyes lower and lower.
“No.” Before the second half came out, Qi Yu answered.
If today was truth day—she would tell it properly.
They were going to be real friends from now on.
“I know what you’re thinking. I deleted you—it wasn’t about you.”
Qi Yu sighed deep, dug out words buried years.
“I admit—in high school I… mm… probably had different feelings for you. But I knew some things can’t be forced. Hope you don’t mind…”
“And at dinner you said we’re like strangers.” Qi Yu laughed lightly. “I am awkward. I can’t pretend nothing happened.”
“But after you asked, I thought about it.”
“Before was before. Now is now…” Qi Yu turned, looked at Jiang Ya seriously.
“I think being friends again is pretty good.”
“Right?”
She looked into Jiang Ya’s eyes. Lips pressed, slight lift—relieved smile.
Of course—that was what Jiang Ya most wanted to hear.
She got her wish.
So why… could she not quite smile.