Chapter Thirty-Five: Turmoil Upon Returning to School

Long before the journey home was over, Ji Ning had already mapped out how he would idle away the coming holidays, doing nothing but eating and lazing about. Yet when the first aimless morning slipped by, an unexpected boredom crept in. Before enrolling in Deer Academy, he could easily spend weeks playing at his computer, and even during regular training he longed for the holidays, dreaming of playing games to his heart's content. But now, faced with the reality, he found himself uninterested.

Closing his laptop, Ji Ning felt an emptiness pervade the world, as if loneliness were an uninvited guest knocking at his heart's door. His phone had long since been buried in Siberian snow, and the replacement was still en route; without a phone, a modern person was no different from a caveman. Well, perhaps there was one difference—at least cavemen could watch saber-toothed tigers bare their fangs.

He decided to go out, reasoning that even asking Afra out for tiramisu would be better than sulking alone in his dorm. He sent Afra an email from his computer.

"Hey, is this Afra? It's Ji Ning. Want to go out for dessert? There's really nothing special, just that I'm bored out of my mind. You mentioned your holiday internship in Italy last time—was it any fun?"

After sending the message, he strolled leisurely towards Ambrose Restaurant. The usual blond waiter seemed to have the day off, so after placing his order, Ji Ning found himself staring absentmindedly at a still life painting in the restaurant. The apples in Paul Cézanne's work did not look particularly appetizing—perhaps a plate of braised ribs would have suited him better.

Ten minutes later, he found himself scratching his head at the two plates of tiramisu before him. Was this really that delicious? It looked so sweet. Maybe he should give both to Afra—she never seemed to mind too much.

Afra did not come alone. Qin Mo, her hair simply draped and a backpack slung over her shoulder, was linked arm-in-arm with her. Qin Mo’s uniform had yet to complete its enchantment, so she wore a deep black trench coat, a badge at the lapel denoting her status, pale blue skinny jeans hugging long, graceful legs, and a pair of black Martin boots. The ensemble was high-end and elegant, yet not ostentatious—the balance was just right.

Simply standing there, the world seemed to shine a spotlight upon her. This tall, spirited beauty drew every gaze, yet she was not the type to shrink behind others. Her proud, cutting glance swept the restaurant, a rose brandishing its thorns—proud, refusing to evade any gaze.

Ji Ning, accustomed to her gentle demeanor, had never witnessed this proud side of her. It was hard to imagine that the teary-eyed girl he once knew could now radiate such confidence, almost as if she looked down upon the world. When he was still doubting whether she was truly Qin Mo, her cold, distant gaze fell upon him, their eyes meeting. In that instant, the icy indifference melted into a fleeting, gentle shimmer, like sunlight glancing off melting snow—softness that vanished as quickly as it came.

From afar, Qin Mo’s expression tightened at the sight of Ji Ning. Though she purposely looked away, the awkwardness was evident—everyone knows that the more one tries to seem indifferent, the more one actually cares. Only when Afra greeted Ji Ning did Qin Mo “happen” to notice him, her mood improving only slightly upon seeing the two desserts set before him.

Ji Ning was no fool; seeing Qin Mo, he promptly pushed his own tiramisu next to the other.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he said, gesturing gallantly to the desserts. It struck him belatedly that he should be talking to Qin Mo—she was new to Deer Academy, and if he didn’t speak with her, she would be as lonely as he.

“Qin Mo says you’re a bit silly, but I don’t think so—you’re quite smart, actually, knowing how to take the roundabout way,” Afra said with a grin, then called over the waiter. “Please pack these up, and bring us two more to go, plus a coffee each. The two of them have a lot to talk about tonight.”

She turned to Qin Mo with a smile. “If you’re back in an hour, we’ll split the tiramisu.”

Afra was not one for sitting still. After a few pleasantries, she shrugged, pointed at the crystal chandelier overhead, and muttered, “Any longer here and I’ll be glowing brighter than it.” When the waiter brought over the boxed desserts, she rose briskly, adding teasingly as she left, “I only got back yesterday, and someone spent the whole night complaining you’ve been ignoring her.”

Both Ji Ning and Qin Mo were a little embarrassed. Outspoken as ever, Afra had a penchant for being too direct. In the end, it was Qin Mo—her gaze cast downward—who broke the silence. “Long time no see.”

Ji Ning racked his brain, trying to recall what he might have done to upset her, but came up empty. He forced a cautious smile. “Did I forget something important?”

Qin Mo stirred her coffee, the cute bear latte art obliterated by her spoon. She didn’t even want to look at him. She didn’t quite know what was wrong with her, but she felt an irrational anger—a whole week without a single phone call. After hesitating for several nights, she finally mustered the courage to call, only to be met with silence.

What was this? Utter disregard! Fuming, she continued to stir her coffee. You brought me here, she thought, and now you act as if you’re a stranger. Though she sensed her logic was shaky, she didn’t care.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Her tone unwittingly betrayed her agitation and grievance, sounding like a wronged wife. The moment she spoke, she felt so aggrieved she wanted to cry.

“There was a bit of a situation,” Ji Ning thought, what kind of logic is this? Was he supposed to check in with her like a eunuch reporting to an empress dowager? Still, he didn’t show any annoyance. Pretty girls—even when unreasonable—were worth indulging, especially this girl with whom he was so entangled.

Qin Mo realized her tone was off and blushed. To cover her embarrassment, she sipped her coffee, stealing a deep breath while Ji Ning’s attention was elsewhere. Calming herself, she asked as evenly as possible, “What situation?”

“I went for a winter internship these past two weeks,” Ji Ning replied earnestly, suddenly feeling like a child being interrogated for not doing his homework.

“I thought only Ancient Languages majors had winter internships. Was yours tough?” Qin Mo blinked, thinking, no wonder he’d disappeared for two weeks. She felt a wave of relief; she’d been doubting her own charm all week, thinking of him constantly and even shedding a few tears in the quiet of night.

“Actually, I have a secret to tell you.” Ji Ning beckoned her closer, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Qin Mo hesitated, but tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned in—she had a rare trust in him.

“In reality, freshmen aren’t required to do internships. The upperclassmen finish the tasks themselves and just stamp your record,” Ji Ning confessed with a hint of her fragrance clouding his senses, sharing a secret only passed among students.

But to his surprise, Qin Mo’s gentle expression flashed to anger. If she weren’t restraining herself, he imagined she’d have poured her coffee over his head. “So you just went traveling?”

Though she’d only known him for a month, she understood enough—he’d treated the assignment as a publicly funded trip. That was fine, but he’d been having fun every day and hadn’t even remembered to call her, ignoring her calls night after night.

Qin Mo didn’t probe why she was so angry; she simply felt she had the right to be. She forced herself to wait for an acceptable explanation.

“Why are you so angry? Listen, I barely enjoyed an afternoon. On my first day in Irkutsk, I took on a local assignment and almost didn’t make it back—thirteen days of wilderness survival! Do you know what that was like?” Ji Ning, warming his hands on his coffee, resolved never again to toy with her emotions. He launched into a detailed recounting, embellishing a bit for effect.

Perhaps because he was well-read, he was a good storyteller. By the time he finished, afternoon tea had turned to dinner. Qin Mo, watching his animated expressions, felt a pang of sympathy. She wanted to hug him as he once hugged her, but instead she asked, “Who is Catherine?”

Ji Ning felt a bit hurt—after all that, she didn’t ask if he was traumatized, nor offer comfort. What if he had a breakdown at the sight of snow in the future? He sighed. “Just an old friend.”

Qin Mo’s mood shifted again—a girl’s name! An old friend! She twirled her hair, trying to seem casual. “Are you close?”

“Pretty close, I guess. We’ve done a few assignments together,” Ji Ning moped, lamenting the world’s indifference as he called for the waiter and ordered a few unfamiliar dishes.

Qin Mo accepted the menu, trying to appear unconcerned and gracious, but couldn’t suppress herself. Flipping through, her gaze drifted, not really seeing the dishes. “Is she pretty?”

“Yes, she’s quite pretty. I’ll introduce you sometime,” Ji Ning replied breezily, folding his hands on the table. As expected, he thought, women are emotional creatures—their first concern is always appearance.

Qin Mo kept telling herself to be patient, to let him explain, but he stared intently at the menu as if it would reveal some secret. Glancing at him, she felt increasingly awkward—the more she looked, the more frustrated she became. With a rare display of petulance, she pushed the menu away. “I’m not hungry, I have things to do. I’m leaving.”

Ji Ning watched her rise, bewildered. Who turns down a free meal by claiming they’re not hungry? Still, he let her go—perhaps she was dieting. Every girl he’d met claimed to be dieting, as if being thin was the key to beauty. Later, he realized it was just an excuse—humans need hope, after all.

“Alright, bye, take care.” Ji Ning waved her off, looking forward to dinner.

But Qin Mo, not being asked to stay, was even more upset. She realized Ji Ning genuinely didn’t notice her emotional shift. Annoyed to the point of laughter, she returned to her seat. “Actually, I’m hungry again.”

Ji Ning deftly handed her the menu. She wanted to stuff it in his mouth, but seeing him sit there so obediently, she couldn’t find an excuse.

The waiter, sensing the atmosphere, spoke up. “Sir, it seems your companion wishes to speak privately with you. I’ll step away—just call when you’re ready to order.”

Only then did Ji Ning catch on. “If you have something to say, just say it. Aren’t you too old to be sulking like a child?”

Qin Mo could have eaten him alive—what did he mean by sulking? Couldn’t he see she cared? Didn’t he know how much he meant to her? She opened her mouth to speak, but the words changed as they reached her lips. “How am I sulking? I just want to know what’s going on between you and Catherine.”

Even Ji Ning, slow as he could be, sensed the hostility. “Why do pretty girls always end up being rivals?” he mused aloud.

Qin Mo glanced at him. “Are you two very close?”

Ji Ning reconsidered; maybe it wasn’t wrong to say so. He scratched his head. “Just normal friends—like you and me.”

All the grueling coursework at Deer Academy hadn’t made Qin Mo frown, but this simple answer left her pale. Struggling to maintain her dignity, she closed the menu with a cold remark, “Eat by yourself,” and walked out without looking back. Though her attire was unchanged, the pride had vanished from her bearing, the light in her eyes dimmed.

Ji Ning watched her go, bemused. “Women are so strange.” SCP-CN-655 couldn’t help but comment, beginning to doubt itself—had all its study of humanity only scratched the surface?

“Qin Mo really is acting strange today,” Ji Ning agreed, striking up a conversation with SCP-CN-655. That entity rarely initiated contact, usually too busy conserving energy, so Ji Ning refrained from disturbing it. But since it reached out, it was a good chance to solve a few puzzles.

“Why did that Siberian wolf freeze into a statue last time?”

“I told you—it was assimilated by me.”

“But you’re just a puddle of water—why didn’t it turn into a puddle?”

“Ice is water,” SCP-CN-655 replied, exasperated. Humans were so obtuse—he already had all the knowledge needed to answer his own questions, yet always asked again.

Sensing SCP-CN-655’s disdain, Ji Ning snorted, tucking in his napkin and starting to eat. Fine, be that way. If you’re so capable, stop clinging to me and go play by yourself.

SCP-CN-655, sensing Ji Ning’s thoughts, spoke calmly. “If I offended you, please forgive me. You promised you’d help me return home.”

Unused to the entity’s apologetic tone, Ji Ning softened. “No need to apologize—we’re friends, aren’t we? Friends don’t need to say sorry. That wasn’t really an offense; it was just banter. You take things too seriously. As for sending you home, don’t worry—I’ll do my best, no matter how long it takes.”

SCP-CN-655 didn’t understand why Ji Ning could be angry one moment and gentle the next. But it didn’t matter; the promise was enough. It wanted to go home, however long it took.

As Ji Ning battled a golden pork chop, a thought struck him. “No wonder they say onlookers see clearly while those involved are confused. I’m just as clueless as a pig.”

SCP-CN-655, watching Ji Ning’s hippocampus like a movie to learn about humanity, was baffled. Why would Ji Ning call himself a pig? Pigs, in his mind, were rotund creatures who ate and slept. Even by human biological classification, pigs were nothing like humans—except perhaps for Ji Ning’s eating style. The more it learned, the less it understood.

After dinner, Ji Ning patted his satisfied belly and strolled back to his dorm. “She must like me! The hero-saves-the-damsel routine is so cliché, I hadn’t even considered it. But cliché as it is, it’s logical. A young, beautiful girl rescued by a dashing young man from evil cultists—who wouldn’t see him as a hero sent by fate? Who wouldn’t be moved?” Carrying his takeaway, hand on his chest feeling his racing heart, he smiled so oddly that many students detoured around him.

“655, don’t you think I’m right?” Ji Ning couldn’t wait to share this giddy feeling with his only friend, but SCP-CN-655 ignored him.

“What if she confesses to me? Should I just go with the flow, or play hard to get? Maybe I should pretend to reject her a few times, to seem reserved? She’s so gentle, she probably doesn’t like wanton people, right?”

“655, what should we name our future child? If it’s a boy, how about Ji Liu? Sounds elegant and appetizing. What about a girl’s name?”

SCP-CN-655, who had planned to feign exhaustion and avoid conversation, finally couldn’t stand it. “Judging by your mental archives, all of this is still far off. Besides, in your memories, it’s mostly males proposing. Why, why…” SCP-CN-655 realized it couldn’t quite comprehend or describe its own feelings. Did thinking like a human induce human emotions? The sensation was so odd that it fell silent.

“Hmph, what do you know? I’m human—I understand women better than you ever could.” Ji Ning was a little guilty; after all, the greatest delusion is to believe she likes you. But then he thought, SCP-CN-655 only knew about humans through his own memories. It couldn’t discern anything; whatever he said would be the truth.

SCP-CN-655 lapsed into reflection. It seemed it still understood nothing of humanity. Seeing it remain silent, Ji Ning grew even bolder, weaving tales of his imagined married life.

“What is marriage? Your mind only contains the concept of a wedding—a kind of gathering, is it?” SCP-CN-655 asked, still hoping to understand humans, knowing it would likely be with Ji Ning for a long while yet.

Ji Ning’s joy faltered at such a serious question. “Marriage is a kind of constraint, a bucket of water that douses instinct.” But this metaphor only confused SCP-CN-655 further.

“Humans are fascinating creatures. We evolved from apes but pride ourselves on civilization. The key is our moral code. We try to assign all virtues to civilization, even if they defy biology,” Ji Ning explained seriously, abandoning his earlier levity.

“Biological instinct makes us want more and better offspring, so everyone instinctively desires multiple partners and seeks the best possible mate. But there’s always someone better out there. Most people don’t blindly follow instinct; we pick someone we like—but what we like isn’t always the best. Over time, we meet others who are better. If we were beasts, everyone would just be a passerby; we’d forget former loves and seek new ones. But if we truly lived by instinct, what would distinguish us from beasts?

“So we’ve evolved emotions stronger than instinct—love. We believe a perfect life requires one soulmate, no more, no less, so that both can give each other their whole hearts. Love is complex—it can be rational or mad, blind or purposeful, noble or base. Maybe you won’t understand, but even among humans, few truly do.

“Love has no threshold; as long as both people truly love each other, it counts. So everyone thinks they deserve love. But love is only between two people—outsiders can’t see. So people invented a ritual: a public demonstration of love—marriage.

“Marriage is an announcement: ‘I have love.’ Strange, isn’t it? Sometimes I think humans are odd—they always seek others’ approval as if it brings happiness. People yearn for love, so they marry to show the world they possess it. Yet true love is rare, while marriages are abundant.

“Marriage means announcing your love to your community, so you must restrain your instincts, be faithful, accompany each other, depend on each other, and truly possess one another. If it’s real love, these things are easy—you do them naturally and willingly. If anything is eternal in human life, it must be that emotion; true love is impervious to time. It’s like a promise between two strangers, fusing them into one so they never feel innate loneliness again.

“It sounds beautiful, so why the odd metaphor?” SCP-CN-655 asked, unperturbed.

“Because love is love, marriage is marriage. Love doesn’t always lead to marriage, and marriage doesn’t always include love. Most people insist on linking the two, and end up unhappy—tormenting each other because of marriage while lacking love. I don’t understand why so many can’t admit they’re just making do. Their feelings only relate to love because they call it love, but in truth, there’s no connection. In the twenty-first century, roses are everywhere—everyone feels entitled to one and takes one with a sense of inevitability. But not every flower is the right one. Love is rare; loneliness and desire confuse people.”

“Can marriage be dissolved?” SCP-CN-655 asked.

“That involves many things—morality, ethics, habit, dependency, fear, guilt. People are bound by so much,” Ji Ning said, his voice growing somber.

“Are you ready?” SCP-CN-655 suddenly asked, catching Ji Ning off guard. Ready for what? He was only in his early twenties.

“Ready for what?” Ji Ning asked blankly, not quite processing the question.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to marry Qin Mo?” SCP-CN-655 reminded him, beginning to grasp the meaning of forgetfulness.

“That was a joke—I was just teasing about my feelings for Qin Mo. You didn’t take it seriously, did you?” Ji Ning pulled out his key and opened the dormitory door. The turning of the brass handle, the resistance of the lock, and the click as it opened all reassured him—this was his little home now.

“But since you like her, why not try to find love? Isn’t love precious to your kind?” SCP-CN-655 didn’t really understand love, or even affection. It was simulating conversation based on Ji Ning’s memories.

“True love? That sounds like something out of a third-rate romance novel—something you have to get battered and bruised to attain.”

Ji Ning’s hand lingered on the curtain, thoughtful in the pale light. In terms of looks, Qin Mo was certainly worth a stint as a lovesick hero, but he knew little of her besides her beauty.

He wasn’t about to let his impulses dictate his actions. Though Qin Mo was the prettiest girl he’d ever met, he was still an inexperienced, pure-hearted young man, still hoping to find a soulmate rather than settle for mere attraction.

Opening the curtains, Ji Ning, with less than two weeks of holiday remaining, glanced at the calendar and realized the New Year was only days away. He wasn’t sure whether Deer Academy observed the holiday, but judging by their Christmas and New Year classes, everyone seemed to celebrate their own traditions. With students from every continent and ocean, it wouldn’t do to grant special days off for every culture.

The New Year—a distant yet intimate phrase. In past years, only as it approached did Ji Ning realize its significance. Migrant workers would board trains or motorcycles, backpacks and bags in tow, returning to their native towns. No matter the year’s fortunes, seeing family always brought a rush of warmth.

He loved the festive mood in his apartment building at New Year’s. No one was wealthy, but everyone greeted each other cheerfully. When family returned, even Mrs. Wang, who usually cursed at everyone, would share candy with the children.

Adults visited relatives, children ran wild, and at night, fireworks soared amid the clatter of mahjong—a festival as ancient and formal as any in China. No matter where you grew up, if you were Chinese, the Spring Festival was a fixture in your calendar.

New Year’s was about family reunion. People put aside work and idled away the days in joyful celebration—the most authentic way to spend the holiday.

Propping his chin, Ji Ning mused, “Am I really destined to spend the rest of my life alone like this?”

“I thought you wouldn’t cry,” said SCP-CN-655, its voice growing more emotive, sensing he especially needed company—his own kind.

Ji Ning wiped his eyes, snapping, “Nonsense, there’s just dust.”

SCP-CN-655 couldn’t understand why Ji Ning would hide it. If you’re sad, why not cry? That’s normal for humans. It too suddenly felt a twinge of sadness. Humans were too mysterious—it might never truly understand them. Though all were human, each had their own worldview and values. It couldn’t use a single template to measure everyone; perhaps its research was futile from the start.

Ji Ning, feeling downcast, asked, “Do you have family? Or friends? Or, I guess, a puddle of water you like?”

“By your definitions of ‘species’ and ‘individual,’ I have no family or friends. All versions of me are part of myself, sharing a single consciousness,” SCP-CN-655 replied earnestly.

“Then you don’t even have a home. Why do you want to go back?” Ji Ning was curious; SCP-CN-655’s concept was too strange to grasp.

After a long pause, SCP-CN-655 answered, “For me, the place I’ve always lived is home. My instinct is to return.”

“But what’s the difference? In a new place, you’re still alone—a single puddle. Isn’t that lonely?” This time, Ji Ning received no answer, but he was used to SCP-CN-655’s vanishing acts. He drew the curtains and tried to find childhood New Year memories in his dreams, but his eyes caught on the moon outside. He thought of the signet ring on Qin Mo’s hand—its intricate design and old-fashioned style clashing with her slender, fair fingers even when sealed. He decided to make a pretty cover for it as a peace offering.

“Loneliness,” mused SCP-CN-655, gathering and dispersing within Ji Ning. It felt it had found a topic more interesting than observing humans.

Having never sewn before, Ji Ning worked all night, finally producing a cover that was at least not ugly. Dozing off, he was awakened by a gentle voice calling his name—a sweet, soft voice like a breeze, familiar and warm, wrapping him in a feeling he’d never known.

He opened his eyes. Outside, snow cicadas buzzed ceaselessly in the plane trees, singing a winter dirge. At sunset, these cicadas—unique to Deer Academy—would emerge from the earth. No one found it odd; the students themselves were far stranger.

Ji Ning resolved to seek out the sulking Qin Mo. He was sure she harbored some affection for him, just as he liked pretty, youthful girls—especially her. He felt a sense of unspoken responsibility towards her.

He called Afra and, learning that Qin Mo was making up a Supernatural History class, checked the classroom location and headed there.

He nearly dozed off again waiting outside, slumped on a bench, before he finally glimpsed her emerging from the classroom.

At the sight of Ji Ning, Qin Mo’s fatigue vanished, replaced by a stern expression. She walked past him in silence, catching him off guard as he prepared to greet her.

“Qin Mo,” Ji Ning called, following, unsure how to continue.

Sulking girls were the most unfathomable beings—crying one moment, laughing the next, entirely dependent on how you treated them.

Qin Mo kept walking, unhurried and unyielding.

“With New Year’s coming, I thought you might be lonely alone. If you don’t mind, I’d like to spend it with you,” Ji Ning said, avoiding any mention of their earlier argument. Changing the subject was an instinct embedded in male DNA. Those who insist on resolving matters logically with women are destined to be alone and never pass on their genes.

“Thank you, but I prefer peace and quiet. Why not ask Miss Catherine to keep you company?” Qin Mo’s voice was flat, polite as if addressing a stranger.

Ji Ning knew he needed to say something to salvage their drifting connection. But as he began, his words startled even himself with their boldness—almost a confession. “But I only want to invite you. My feelings towards you are different from those towards others. Yesterday, I denied it to seem less frivolous, but you’re not like anyone else to me.”

Inside, Ji Ning was deeply anxious, unsure why he’d blurted out something so close to a confession. Was he still half-asleep, wandering the realm of dreams? But what was said was said; he could only try to look calm. Qin Mo turned, staring at his familiar face in disbelief. A blush bloomed across her cheeks as she hurriedly raised her books, attempting to build a small, fragile barrier.

In the starlight depths of her eyes, a fleeting brightness sparked, her delicate lips pressing together, legs unconsciously drawn close, long black hair spreading behind her like ink. Bathed in the sunlight pouring into the corridor, she exuded an air of serene elegance.