A Friend I've Loved for a Long Time - Chapter 16

When Nan Qiao received the call from Zhu Qingmeng, she had just stepped out of an art gallery. Even though it was a weekday, the area was swarming with people. Muttering an apology to her companions, Nan Qiao walked to a quiet corner and answered.

“Are you free? Let’s meet at ST tonight.”

As soon as the call connected, Zhu Qingmeng got straight to the point. Hearing the edge in her voice, Nan Qiao could guess the reason—it likely involved Jiang Yan’an. The two must have argued again; otherwise, Zhu Qingmeng wouldn’t be asking to meet at a bar.

“Did you invite Yun Zhi?” Nan Qiao asked hesitantly. Ever since their falling out downstairs at the apartment complex, the two hadn’t spoken for several days.

There was a pause on the other end. Then: “No.”

“Oh,” Nan Qiao pursed her lips. She glanced at the woman taking photos by the stone lions outside the gallery and asked softly, “Why not invite her?”

To outsiders, it seemed Nan Qiao and Zhu Qingmeng were close, but in reality, they didn’t have much of a personal friendship. Zhu Qingmeng reached out to her primarily because Jiang Yan’an and Yun Zhi were so close; she didn’t want to compete for Jiang Yan’an’s attention or leave Jiang Yan’an with no one to turn to when she was angry.

Zhu Qingmeng only cared about Jiang Yan’an; she wasn’t particularly interested in anyone else’s life. Nan Qiao had realized this back when Jiang Yan’an once “broke up” with her. Back then, Nan Qiao had entered a relationship and tried to chat with Zhu Qingmeng, only to find she had been deleted.

No matter the person, Zhu Qingmeng only stood by Jiang Yan’an.

“It’s about you. We’ll talk tonight,” Zhu Qingmeng said tonelessly and hung up.

This piqued Nan Qiao’s curiosity. What could be so important that it couldn’t be said over the phone?

“Are you done with your call?” The woman who had been taking photos approached Nan Qiao and asked gently.

Nan Qiao snapped back and nodded with a smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s fine,” Qin Rou smiled. She pointed at Nan Qiao’s phone and asked, “You took so many photos just now—were you planning to send them to someone?”

Nan Qiao looked down; the screen was indeed on a messaging interface. “Mm.”

“A friend?”

“Mm.”

Qin Rou saw her hesitation and bit her lip, dropping the subject. She bent down to rub her leg and whispered, “My leg seems to hurt a bit.”

Hearing this, Nan Qiao’s focus immediately returned. She frowned. “See? I told you not to come this far. Your leg hasn’t fully recovered; what if it causes permanent damage?”

“I’m fine,” Qin Rou smiled, a flush coloring her face at the concern. She looked down apologetically. “I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time. I even made you miss your appointment with your friend last time.”

“I was the one who accidentally bumped into you. If not for me, you wouldn’t have been bedridden for so many days and missed the dance competition. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

Nan Qiao supported her as they walked down the steps.

“My talent wasn’t that great anyway; I wouldn’t have been selected even if I participated,” Qin Rou said softly, her face reddening further. “By the way, did your friend blame you for the last-minute cancellation? Should I meet her and explain? I’m sure she’d understand.”

Nan Qiao frowned slightly and bypassed the topic. “I’ll take you back so you can rest.”

Qin Rou didn’t press further, but she had already made a guess. She simply nodded and followed.

At 8:00 PM, the nightlife at ST Bar was just beginning. The rock music was loud and piercing, and dazzling lights swept across the center of the dance floor. Nan Qiao entered, weaving through the crowd until she reached the bar and stopped behind Zhu Qingmeng.

Just as the bartender placed a freshly mixed drink in front of Zhu Qingmeng, Nan Qiao snatched it away. Zhu Qingmeng put away her phone and glanced at her. Nan Qiao sat on a high stool, took a sip, praised the bartender, and then turned to Zhu Qingmeng.

“This angry? Aren’t you afraid Jiang Yan’an will be mad if you’re here?”

Zhu Qingmeng ignored her and ordered another drink. “I saw someone today.”

“Mm, and?” Nan Qiao propped her chin on her hand, waiting for the next sentence.

“A very beautiful woman. She was with Yun Zhi, talking and laughing,” Zhu Qingmeng said flatly.

Nan Qiao, who had been lounging lazily, slowly sat up straight. Her gaze turned serious, though she feigned indifference. “Isn’t that normal?”

Zhu Qingmeng didn’t rush to speak. The atmosphere between them felt like a standoff, waiting for the other to break first. Finally, Nan Qiao gave in.

“Who?”

They knew almost all of Yun Zhi’s close friends. If Zhu Qingmeng was bringing this up, the person must be special.

Zhu Qingmeng remained silent. The bartender handed her a drink—a swirling mist obscuring a blue liquid. It reminded her of the quiet, introverted girl from high school. A girl who, like this drink, hid all her emotions beneath a quiet exterior. Including her love.

In their senior year of high school, Zhu Qingmeng had just transferred to Yun High. In her previous schools, she had always been rank one. But in her first monthly exam after transferring, she lost to Yu Mingxia.

She wasn’t overly competitive, but meeting someone who could surpass her piqued her interest. After the exams, students chose their own seats based on their rank. She and Yu Mingxia both chose the same row and became seatmates.

Yu Mingxia was quiet and withdrawn; one could go a whole day without hearing her speak. The only times she opened her mouth were to answer teachers’ questions, speak a few words to her sister Yu Chuxue, or briefly answer a classmate’s question. During the noisy breaks, Yu Mingxia almost never left her seat. Her desk was always occupied by textbooks and a sketchbook. In a school where uniforms were only mandatory on Mondays and Tuesdays, only Yu Mingxia wore hers—along with her school badge—every single day. She was the model student in every teacher’s and student’s eyes.

During their first three days as seatmates, they didn’t exchange a single word beyond a “pardon me” on the first day. On the fourth day, Zhu Qingmeng was bored and, perhaps in a good mood, noticed Yu Mingxia drawing. She asked, “Have you studied art? Your drawings are quite good.”

She rarely praised people, but Yu Mingxia really was talented. Yu Mingxia hesitated, then simply bit her lip and shook her head.

“Self-taught? Your self-taught skills are better than those who have studied for years.” Zhu Qingmeng offered more praise. But her initiative didn’t open Yu Mingxia up; the other girl remained silent for a moment before finally saying a soft “Thank you.”

Yu Mingxia spoke little, but she wasn’t “weird.” She would answer classmates’ questions, though her explanations and steps were always extremely brief and concise. Still, that day’s initiative changed things. The girl who used to be silent during breaks began to occasionally speak a few words to her.

Though it was always about Jiang Yan’an. Back then, Jiang Yan’an often came to find her. Whenever Zhu Qingmeng returned to the classroom, she would often meet Yu Mingxia’s calm gaze.

“Is that your friend?” That was the first thing Yu Mingxia ever asked her.

As it happened more often, Zhu Qingmeng sensed something was off—she even spent two days worrying that Yu Mingxia might be a romantic rival for Jiang Yan’an’s affection.

Those worries were shattered one afternoon. After two weeks of rain, the sun finally came out, and Class 7’s PE class was reinstated. Zhu Qingmeng had chosen that seat because it offered a perfect view of a corner under a tree on the playground—Jiang Yan’an’s favorite spot.

That afternoon, Jiang Yan’an and her group were resting under the tree after exercising. In the classroom, they were in self-study. Uncharacteristically, Yu Mingxia wasn’t studying or drawing; she was staring out the window. Zhu Qingmeng thought she was looking at Jiang Yan’an, but a moment later, Jiang Yan’an left the area.

Yu Mingxia continued to stare out the window. The only person left under the tree was Yun Zhi.

Zhu Qingmeng thought about it carefully and realized: the few times Yu Mingxia had spoken to her weren’t because of Jiang Yan’an, but because of the girl who always came with her—Yun Zhi.

“Are you looking at Yun Zhi?” Zhu Qingmeng asked to be sure. Yu Mingxia pulled her gaze back and remained silent.

Two weeks later, Zhu Qingmeng caught Yu Mingxia secretly looking at Yun Zhi again. She found it fascinating—even the quiet, introverted model student had a crush.

“You’re looking at Yun Zhi.” This time, it wasn’t a question, but a statement.

Yu Mingxia didn’t deny it. Instead, she asked, “Are you close with her?”

“I’m not that close with her, but I’m close with the girl next to her.” Zhu Qingmeng, who usually prided herself on being a woman of few words, found herself becoming a chatterbox. “I like her. She’s going to be my girlfriend.”

The silent Yu Mingxia was the perfect confidante. Even though Zhu Qingmeng never expected the first person she’d tell this to would be someone she’d only sat with for a short time.

Yu Mingxia seemed surprised by her bluntness. She was silent for a few seconds before saying, “Congratulations.”

” I didn’t expect the first person to congratulate me would be you,” Zhu Qingmeng laughed. She then remembered Yu Mingxia’s situation. “Since you like her, why don’t you confess?”

Yu Mingxia froze. The tip of her pen left a long, dark streak across her sketchbook. She asked, “How do you confess?”

“My plan is to write a love letter. You’re a good writer—why don’t you write a love letter too?”

Yu Mingxia didn’t comment on the suggestion, but she did hand over a notebook. It contained notes for the two classes Zhu Qingmeng had missed while on leave. She figured it was Yu Mingxia’s way of saying thank you.

The mist in the glass dissipated, and the memories faded. Zhu Qingmeng took a sip of her drink.

“That person likes Yun Zhi very much.”

Nan Qiao’s expression faltered, but she immediately countered with a smile: “That’s impossible. Yun Zhi never acts ambiguous with people who like her.”

Zhu Qingmeng shot her a look. Nan Qiao bit her lip and asked, “Who is it?”

Zhu Qingmeng drained her glass and sneered. “I’m not telling you this so you can chase away the people around her.”

“I’m telling you: stop wasting her time.” Zhu Qingmeng paused. She thought of the past and wanted to say more, but she didn’t want Nan Qiao to know it was Yu Mingxia, so she fell silent.

The music around them was chaotic, but Zhu Qingmeng’s words were piercingly clear. It was a reminder and a warning.

“Don’t you regret it?” Nan Qiao looked up at her. “Fighting and ‘breaking up’ every day… if it ever becomes real, have you considered that you might not even be able to stay friends?”

Zhu Qingmeng’s expression turned cold. At the mention of a “real” breakup, she sneered: “I am not like you. We share no common ground.”

“If you want to be friends, then be friends properly. Can you do that? Yun Zhi sees everything you do; she just doesn’t want to make a fuss about it.” Zhu Qingmeng’s words grew more blunt.

“We are friends right now,” Nan Qiao said, avoiding her gaze and brushing off the weight of the comment.

Zhu Qingmeng didn’t want to say more. From the past until now, she had never wanted to take Nan Qiao’s side. As Jiang Yan’an said: Respect Yun Zhi’s wishes.

She never mentioned Yu Mingxia to Yun Zhi because Yun Zhi was repulsed by the name—and because of Yu Mingxia’s own request. Because of her recklessness in the basketball gym years ago, Yu Mingxia had been hurt. The girl who never wasted a second of study time had slept through an entire evening of self-study that day. Her eyes had been red when they spoke.

Zhu Qingmeng couldn’t explain to her that Yun Zhi didn’t actually hate her; she could only apologize for her own blunder. The result was Yu Mingxia’s request: Never mention my name in front of Yun Zhi again.

To this day, Zhu Qingmeng still didn’t understand why Yun Zhi had taken such a sudden, groundless dislike to someone.

Thinking of the past soured her mood. Her contact with Yu Mingxia had only lasted that one month as seatmates. After that incident, they changed seats. Aside from mandatory class activities, they had no interaction and returned to being strangers. Over time, they lost contact entirely. After graduation, there was nothing.

But she still felt a sense of guilt toward Yu Mingxia. At seventeen, how fragile and strong must one’s self-esteem be? How devastating must it have been to have it crushed?

Zhu Qingmeng stood up to leave. Before she walked away, she glanced at the silent, downcast Nan Qiao. She thought of Yu Mingxia, then of Nan Qiao’s hypothetical about breaking up.

“Nan Qiao.”

“Mm.”

“Are you insecure? Find someone suitable and give it a try. You really don’t deserve Yun Zhi.” Without waiting for a reaction, Zhu Qingmeng left.

Nan Qiao’s body stiffened. A string in her heart suddenly snapped. Just then, the bar lights swept across her eyes—a burst of brightness, like a cloth covering an object being suddenly yanked away, revealing all the ugly scars beneath.