novelones Chapter 13 Youthful Feelings Are Always Poetry
Chapter 13 Youthful Feelings Are Always Poetry
By the time I got home, it was already completely dark.
The moment Wang Yueling pushed open the door, the warm aroma of food wafted in on the evening breeze. Her grandmother, wearing a cream-colored apron, was setting the table with bowls and chopsticks, the porcelain bowls making a soft, gentle sound as they touched the wooden table.
He changed his shoes in the entryway and placed the seasonal white peaches he was holding on the shoe cabinet.
"You're back. Wash your hands and have some dinner."
Grandma looked up at him and smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes curving into soft arcs. Looking at the fruit he was holding, she exclaimed with delight, "Oh! White peaches! It's rare to see 'Gangshan County peaches' on the market so early this year!"
"Um."
Wang Yueling agreed, went into the washroom and washed her hands with warm water, noticing that her grandmother was packing white peaches into oil paper bags.
"Actually, it hasn't been officially launched yet. These are trial harvests that the company received. They will be packaged and sold at a high-end price later. I thought they looked good, with a strong floral fragrance, thin skin, and plenty of juice, so I kept a batch for myself so that my grandma could try them."
As she spoke, she casually helped her grandmother bring the last pot of piping hot lotus root soup to the table.
"You silly child, you've taken over my work as soon as you get back." Grandmother laughed and patted him, but didn't refuse, taking off her apron and hanging it up.
Dinner was eaten quietly, with only the soft clinking of bowls and chopsticks.
His grandmother placed a piece of eel in his bowl and asked casually, "Did everything go well when you went to see that boy named Seiichi today?"
Wang Yueling took a bite of rice, looked up and nodded, a slight smile unconsciously curving her lips: "Yeah, it went pretty smoothly. Jing Shi has a gentle personality, and it's very comfortable to be around him. He was also in good spirits today, and we chatted for a long time."
"That's good."
Grandmother took a sip of soup, her gaze falling on his face with a hint of curiosity. "Do you like the wagashi and mung bean cakes I made? I thought that sick people don't like sweet food, so I didn't put in too much sugar."
Mentioning Yukimura, Mochizuki Ryo's eyebrows softened involuntarily, her face radiating tenderness: "He gave it a very high evaluation, saying that his grandmother's cooking was the best he had ever tasted. He ate two pieces of wagashi (Japanese sweets) and also some mung bean cake, saying that it was sweet but not cloying, just right for his taste."
He added, "He also asked me to convey his thanks to you for your hard work, and to tell you to take care of yourself and not overwork yourself."
Upon hearing this, the grandmother's smile deepened, and the lines at the corners of her eyes smoothed out.
"That child is very thoughtful. I'll think about some new flavors these next few days. Since you brought back some white peaches, I'll make some peach-flavored wagashi and some matcha daifuku. I'll try making some different kinds. People who are sick can feel better if they eat something sweet. You can bring some for him next time you go."
"Then I'll thank Grandma on behalf of Seiichi." Mochizuki Ryou put down her chopsticks, leaned forward slightly, and said in a warm and sincere tone, "If Seiichi knew, he would be overjoyed."
Looking at my grandson across from me, grinning like he owns nothing, I saw him calling me "friend" yesterday, but today he's all talk and no action.
Grandmother paused, holding the soup bowl, and looked up at the simple-minded boy across from her. Her eyes held a knowing smile, but she didn't say anything. Suddenly, she asked, "Seiichi, what does he look like?"
Wang Yueling was taken aback: "What do you mean, 'what does it look like'?"
"It's just a matter of whether it looks good or not."
"...She's beautiful." He didn't know why his grandmother suddenly asked this, but he answered honestly anyway, "She's very beautiful, with blue-purple hair and fair skin... What's wrong?"
"It's nothing." Grandmother looked away, her tone casual, but her smile deepened as she slowly said, "Middle-aged worries are as rich as wine, while youthful sentiments are always poetry. The feelings of young people are the hardest to hide; they all come out with a gust of evening wind."
Hearing this made Wang Yueling's ears burn, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing the rim of her cup, and she felt a little flustered.
His grandmother's eyes were so gentle, yet they seemed to see right through his hidden thoughts, leaving him defenseless. He gave an awkward laugh and made up an excuse: "I've finished eating. I'm going back to my room to pack my things."
As she spoke, she got up to clear the dishes and fled into her room on the second floor.
The moment the door closed, Wang Yueling leaned against it, patted her burning cheeks, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled before calming down.
He took off his coat, walked to the bedside, and fell forward, burying his face in the blanket with his limbs outstretched, like a deflated balloon.
He reached out and grabbed the Yukimura doll from the bedside, hugged it to his chest, his nose rubbing against the soft fabric, and closed his eyes to recall the events of the day.
It was so clear, as if it had just happened.
Wang Yueling rolled over, took out her phone, opened the photo album, flipped to the top photo, and stared at it for a long time.
He secretly took that picture downstairs at the hospital today.
Yukimura stood on the rooftop, his back to the camera, looking up at the sky. He looked thin and frail, as if he could be blown away by the wind at any moment. There was an indescribable loneliness in that figure, not the kind of loneliness of "no one is with me", but the loneliness of "I can only bear things by myself".
Wang Yueling sat up cross-legged, placed the doll on her lap, pointed at the photo, and spoke in a childish, slightly serious tone: "See? This is what you looked like this morning, standing on the rooftop, head tilted back like a lone little white goose. But thankfully, I appeared and saved your boring time. I'll keep up the good work in the future."
As he was talking, he took out the mini version of Yukimura doll that had been hanging on the violin case from the drawer of his desk. He sat on the edge of the bed, placed the small doll on his left, moved the large doll to his right, and placed his phone in the center of the three small triangles. The screen was still lit up with the photo of Yukimura on the rooftop.
After doing all this, he leaned against the headboard and, like a child, began to ramble on about his "good deed" of the day.
"Let me tell you, today I acted as a chivalrous knight-errant who drew his sword to help those in need."
Wang Yueling's tone was tinged with arrogance and indignation as she tapped her phone screen with her fingertip. "At Tachikawa Tennis Park, I heard those Seigaku guys spouting nonsense, and I immediately confronted them. Their own captain also plays technically difficult shots that injure his wrist, so why doesn't he say anything about that? Why does he criticize others? There's a limit to double standards."
"You didn't see their expressions at the time." He got more and more excited as he spoke, and couldn't help but laugh, "Tezuka Kunimitsu's icy face cracked. Fuji Syusuke just stood there, his eyes wide open, unable to say a word..."
He laughed for a while, then his voice gradually became lower.
He rearranged the dolls, making them closer together.
"Actually, I know they're not some heinous villains." He looked at the silhouette on his phone screen, his voice soft. "But that's how the world is. It's not only bad people who do bad things; there are also stupid people who do stupid things..."
He truly meant what he said; there was no falsehood in it.
He also understood that those people from Seigaku didn't mean it that way.
Fuji Syusuke genuinely cares about his younger brother, and the Seigaku team members are truly standing up for Fuji Yuta. Tezuka Kunimitsu's words were just an objective analysis.
They were simply speaking from their own perspectives, saying what they believed to be right.
But here's the problem.
They are lenient with their own people, but treat others with the worst malice.
This is how vicious double standards arise.
……
Ryou Mochizuki's gaze fell on Yukimura Doll's soft face, and her tone deepened: "I know your illness wasn't caused by them, and the plot of this world wasn't decided by them. But..."
He took a deep breath, a hint of displeasure in his eyes.
"It's really hard for me not to think that way."
"Once I found out that this world is the world of anime, and that they are the main characters while everyone else is just a supporting character, cannon fodder, or tool, I couldn't help but get angry."
"You were so amazing, so hardworking, the prodigy of Rikkai University, leading your team to the national championship for two consecutive years. It was as if you were building up to the protagonist group's perfect victory in the third year of junior high school. Then you were suddenly struck down by a serious illness. Isn't that a coincidence? Our protagonist, Echizen Ryoma, happened to return to Japan in the same year."
"What gives them the right?"
Ryo Mochizuki's voice was tinged with grievance and anger. "Just because they're the main characters, does everyone have to make way for their victory? Seigaku wasn't even a seeded team before their third year of middle school, but just because Ryoma Echizen joined halfway through, they suddenly soared to the top and became a dark horse?!"
"You're like the final boss in the plot; you're too strong, so strong that the main characters can't defeat you. Therefore, the world's consciousness needs to add a debuff to you, and the author needs to give you an injury, otherwise how can Seigaku win?"
"You bastard!"
After Wang Yueling finished cursing, she suddenly found herself a little funny.
Why am I getting angry at two dolls? How can I be so childish?
After venting to the doll, the bitterness in my heart gradually dissipated.
Living in this real world, seeing Yukimura's true self, feeling his gentleness and resilience, he simply couldn't remain detached. In his previous life, Yukimura was his light, the reason he picked up a racket; in this life, Yukimura is right before his eyes, how could he watch Yukimura be mistreated by the so-called "plot"?
Wang Yueling sighed deeply, lay back down, picked up his phone, and looked at the photo for a long time.
Yukimura's figure remained quietly on the screen, offering no answer, nor needing one.
"Never mind," he said softly, "You wouldn't hear me anyway."
The phone vibrated as soon as I finished speaking.
This is a new message.
He swiped it open and saw the note "Jingshi".
[Ling, I've discussed it with my family. The new treatment plan can begin at any time.]
Wang Yueling stared at the words for three seconds, stunned.
He jumped out of bed instantly, the gloom in his eyes vanishing in an instant, replaced by overwhelming joy. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he replied: "Great! I'll head over with the medical team first thing tomorrow morning. Don't worry, I've got you covered."
The other side replied.
"Yes, I'm not in a hurry."
A photo of pink chrysanthemums on the windowsill was also attached.
Upon receiving the reply, Wang Yueling immediately exited the chat interface, opened her assistant's chat window, and typed: "[Tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM, notify the medical team to assemble at Jinjing General Hospital. The treatment plan will officially begin. All preparations must be in place.]"
The other party replied quickly: "Received from the boss, I've already been notified."
After doing all this, he put down his phone, let out a long sigh of relief, and couldn't hide the smile on his lips; even his eyebrows and eyes curved into crescent moons.
The feeling of a heavy weight pressing on my chest since morning has finally disappeared.
He turned to look at the two dolls on the bed and smiled: "He agreed to the treatment."
After saying that, he jumped off the bed, walked to the wardrobe, opened the bottom drawer, and took out a half-finished doll... It was a miniature version of himself, just a few stitches away from being sewn up.
(Ignoring the newly started red-haired doll in the corner—Jiro: My doll~)
He sat down at his desk, turned on the lamp, and began to sew.
Her fingers moved nimbly through the fabric, while she hummed a light French tune, a nursery rhyme she had heard in France as a child, gentle and cheerful.
Under the light, the boy's profile was delicate and gentle, his eyes full of tenderness, and his fingers flew as he sewed, his movements elegant and skillful.
Little by little, the cotton and cloth pieces were transformed into the shape of a little person's clothes.
"I'll send you to Seiichi tomorrow."
He shook the doll in his small hand, unable to suppress the smile on his lips.
The night outside the window was deep, and the only sound in the room was the faint sound of needle and thread cutting through the fabric. The evening breeze gently stirred the curtains, also stirring the secret and sincere joy in the boy's heart.