Chapter 25 - Deeply In Love With You [Quick Transmigration]

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Chapter 25: True Feelings (2)

 

 

After they finished dinner and cleaned up, Zong Que washed his hands and carried the trash to the door. "I'm heading off now."

 

"You're going back this late?" Lin Heng asked, looking at his silhouette.

 

"Mm. I said I'd be home tonight," Zong Que replied as he changed his shoes.

 

"Right… Take care on the road," Lin Heng said with a sigh. After all, he had just returned from a trip. His grandmother, at home, must be worried sick. Zong Que had already done more than enough by coming here first.

 

"I will." Zong Que pulled his suitcase close and looked back at him. "The situation isn't fully resolved yet. Don't go out alone at night."

 

"Will my situation affect you?" Lin Heng asked, concern in his eyes as Zong Que stepped out.

 

"It won't. I just want you to be cautious—not paranoid to the point it disrupts your life." Zong Que said.

 

"Okay." Lin Heng smiled and walked to the doorway. "Tomorrow's the weekend. I doubt the school can process any paperwork. Can I find you to hang out?"

 

Zong Que picked up his suitcase and responded with a soft, "Mm."

 

After Zong Que went downstairs, Lin Heng locked the door behind him, then added a door stopper for extra security before picking up his phone. On the screen were two missed calls from Zong Que—and a message from an unknown number.

 

[Someone's planning to kidnap you for ransom. Stay safe.]

 

The message was abrupt, easy to mistake for a threat or scam. But Lin Heng knew—it had to be from Liao Yan.

 

He walked to the window and made a call. "Hey, Dad. I want to hire a lawyer."

 

Some of the culprits had been caught, but others were still on the run. Charges hadn't been finalized, and how long they'd stay behind bars was uncertain. The longer, the better—ideally, forever.

 

...

 

The biology competition in April ended, and though spring was well underway, the air still carried a chill.

 

The yard stirred early with activity, and by the time Zong Que woke, breakfast had already been made.

 

There were large steamed buns and a whole pot of porridge. His grandmother had ladled herself a generous bowl, appetite clearly strong.

 

Zong Que had already secured a provincial first prize in the national biology competition. Scholarships from various institutions were practically guaranteed—possibly even more than Liao Yan's. His relatives' debts were paid off, and the household now had some savings. His grandmother no longer had to go out scavenging for recyclables, though she still picked up bottles she came across and carefully bundled cardboard boxes, more out of habit than need.

 

Now free from endless errands, she'd become deeply invested in gardening. The brick-bordered patch of earth in their courtyard was filled with makeshift planters—buckets turned flowerpots. Grapevines climbed the trellises, while buds bloomed or filled the air with soft fragrance.

 

"Eat more—you've lost so much weight since you left," his grandmother said with concern. "All that studying's worn you down. Even your clothes hang loose on you."

 

"Mm." Zong Que didn't argue—he simply ate quietly.

 

"Now that the competition's over, do you still need to attend class?"

 

"I have to go until the results are out," he answered.

 

With his provincial score, getting into a top-tier university wasn't a problem—but not the one he really wanted. If the results fell short of expectations, taking the college entrance exam would be inevitable.

 

"Alright then. Take the weekend to rest at home," his grandmother said, clearly worried. "What do you want for lunch? I'll bring it back for you."

 

"Where are you going?" Zong Que asked.

 

"Well, now that spring's here, that cherry orchard nearby is hiring help to weed. I figured I'd go since I'm free." She rolled her shoulders lightly. "Can't sit around all day—it's bad for the body."

 

"Lin Heng might come over today," Zong Que said as he finished his porridge.

 

"The little class rep?" Her face lit up. "Then I'll let them know I won't be going today. I'll stay and make you two something good."

 

"Mm," Zong Que replied.

 

Not long after breakfast, someone knocked on the courtyard gate. A clear voice followed: "Is anyone home?"

 

By the time Zong Que opened the door, his grandmother had already wiped her hands dry and was hurrying out from the kitchen.

 

"Oh! Little class rep is here. Come on in, come in."

 

Lin Heng had been a bit unsure if he'd found the right house, but seeing the two familiar figures in the yard, he smiled. "Hello, Grandma. Just call me Lin Heng. This is a little something I brought for you."

 

She looked at the gift box he handed over and tried to refuse. "You're just here to visit—why bring gifts? Take it back, I can't accept this."

 

"Grandma, I'm really just here to hang out. These are health supplements my mom asked me to give you. I'll be in trouble if I take it back," Lin Heng said with a gentle smile.

 

The old woman paused, then relented with a sigh, taking the box. "You kids… Alright, but next time don't bring anything. Come in, come in."

 

Zong Que stepped aside as Lin Heng entered. His gaze dropped slightly as he looked at the slightly worn-down house. "Granny, there's no need to fuss over me."

 

"You've come all this way—I should at least get you some water," she said, bustling around.

 

"No need, really. I can help myself." Lin Heng hurried to stop her, but Zong Que gently pressed him down into the couch.

 

"You're a guest. I'll handle it," Zong Que said.

 

"You sit too. Keep our little class rep company," his grandmother chimed in cheerfully as she headed off.

 

"This doesn't feel right…" Lin Heng muttered as he sat down, looking a little awkward.

 

Letting an elder serve tea and snacks felt too impolite.

 

"It's not just about tea." Zong Que sat beside him. "You'll get used to it."

 

"Mm?" Lin Heng looked puzzled.

 

Then he truly experienced the depth of his host's hospitality: first came the tea, then biscuits and sunflower seeds. After that, soda arrived. Then bananas, followed by fragrant mangoes and rolling pears that tumbled a bit as they were placed on the table.

 

In that moment, Lin Heng began to suspect that, in this old woman's eyes, his stomach was a bottomless pit.

 

"Grandma, we still need to save room for lunch," Zong Que gently reminded her, and the flood of snacks finally stopped.

 

"Oh, that's true. Tell me what you two feel like eating—I'll get started early," the old woman said, undeterred in her enthusiasm.

 

Lin Heng looked slightly embarrassed. "For lunch, how about…" I treat you both to a meal out.

 

"He really likes your steamed buns," Zong Que interrupted smoothly.

 

"Steamed buns, is it? I'll make them fresh—guaranteed to taste better that way," the old woman said brightly, already turning to leave. Lin Heng couldn't stop her in time.

 

"Isn't eating out easier?" he asked, standing as she stepped outside.

 

"Grandma thinks restaurant food is overpriced, unappetizing, and unhygienic," Zong Que said simply.

 

"Then some simple home-cooked dishes would do just fine," Lin Heng sighed. "Steaming buns looks like a lot of work. I'll go help."

 

"If it's home cooking, she might end up preparing something like New Year's Eve dinner," Zong Que said while pouring him more water. "I'd advise against it."

 

Lin Heng rolled up his sleeves in confusion. "Why not?"

 

"Can you mix filling?" Zong Que asked.

 

Lin Heng shook his head.

 

"Knead dough? Wrap buns?"

 

Another shake. "Nope. But I can wash and cut vegetables."

 

Zong Que paused. "Mm. Worth a try."

 

Lin Heng lifted the curtain and stepped into the kitchen, but moments later returned, flopping onto the sofa with a faint sigh. He looked at the perfectly peeled mango in Zong Que's hand and asked, "You knew I'd get turned away, didn't you?"

 

"There's not much room for me to intervene in household affairs," Zong Que replied.

 

Aside from doing his own laundry, most chores were forbidden to him under the reasoning that his hands needed to be protected if he wanted to become a doctor.

 

"So there's a kind of cold called 'Grandma thinks you're cold,'" Lin Heng chuckled, settling beside him. "Share half that mango with me."

 

"Mm."

 

Lin Heng accepted the half-peeled mango cradled in its skin. "Just sitting here like this makes me feel a bit guilty."

 

"If you did help, she'd feel guilty," Zong Que replied.

 

In Grandma's eyes, Lin Heng was basically the reincarnation of the God of Literature. If this were ancient times, he'd be a top scholar—practically sacred. Letting him suffer even a little was out of the question.

 

"All right then." Lin Heng nibbled at the mango carefully. It was slightly overripe, but incredibly sweet.

 

This place… it wasn't quite what he'd expected.

 

He'd known Zong Que's family wasn't well-off, but he hadn't imagined he lived in such a remote and rundown area.

 

The alley was deep and narrow. The gate was iron, but so rusted and chipped that you couldn't even tell what color it had once been. Every time it opened or closed, it groaned loudly.

 

Zong Que had never mentioned his parents, and it was obvious he lived here alone with his grandmother.

 

Compared to Liao Yan, his situation wasn't much better—if at all.

 

But even if the house was old, the courtyard and interior were tidy. Under the grape trellis, flowers bloomed. The cushions, though faded, were freshly washed and carried a faint, clean fragrance.

 

The furniture was old, but there was a brand-new washing machine in one corner, and the TV was clearly a recent upgrade.

 

"Wanna watch something?" Zong Que asked as he stood, carrying a basin of water into the room.

 

After washing his hands, Lin Heng said, "I'd like to see the grape trellis outside."

 

"Mm." Zong Que carried the water outside and poured it beneath the vines.

 

"Isn't that a bit much water?" Lin Heng asked.

 

"Should be fine," Zong Que replied, placing the basin down.

 

"Xiao Que, don't water that much! The grapevines will drown," the old woman called from nearby.

 

"Mm, got it," Zong Que answered.

 

Lin Heng chuckled at that, brushing the vine leaves gently. "So even you get scolded sometimes."

 

"You sound a little too pleased about that," Zong Que raised a brow.

 

Lin Heng straightened his expression, pretending to be serious. "No. Is this a grape? It's so small—will it really grow?"

 

His gaze was full of delighted curiosity, like he had discovered something new.

 

"It will. They'll ripen this year. I'll send you a few bunches when they do," Zong Que replied.

 

"Alright, I'll thank you in advance," Lin Heng smiled.

 

The April sun wasn't harsh, and under the grapevine, the air was refreshingly cool. The elderly woman, perhaps in high spirits, played a segment of Huangmei opera* on a cassette player.

 

[T/N: Huangmei Opera is a form of Chinese opera originating from Anqing, Anhui province, as a form of rural folk song and dance.]

 

The buns were steaming on the stove, and she called out from the kitchen to watch the time.

 

Lin Heng, curious and eager, tried to go in and help stoke the fire, but was once again firmly refused and ushered back out.

 

"I really do want to try lighting the fire," Lin Heng said, now seated in the house, still wistful.

 

"You never got to as a kid?" Zong Que knew that Lin Heng was often fascinated by the things he had never experienced.

 

"No." Lin Heng shook his head. "I had a mini scooter as a kid, but anything even slightly dangerous, they never let me near. What about you? What did you play with when you were little?"

 

"Fishing, catching longhorn beetles, digging up cicada pupae, roasting sweet potatoes in winter…" Zong Que was thoughtful, recalling distant memories. It was probably during those days that he developed a love for exploring.

 

When he finished speaking, he saw the envy shining clearly in Lin Heng's eyes. "You never did any of that?"

 

"No." Lin Heng sounded genuinely regretful.

 

He'd rarely been allowed out of sight of the adults when he was young, and nannies would never have let him dig in the dirt or play with bugs.

 

"You can still try all that now," Zong Que said.

 

Life is long—many regrets can still be mended.

 

Lin Heng looked up at him, moved by the thought. "Then will you come with me?"

 

"Mm." Zong Que gave a soft reply.

 

The buns came out of the steamer—perfectly plump, one as round and full as the next. Steam curled upward, carrying the warm, rich fragrance of fresh dough.

 

Lin Heng helped clear the table. When everything was set, the three of them gathered around two small side dishes and a bowl of garlic water, eating the buns together. Normally, two buns were enough for Lin Heng, but today he couldn't help himself—he ate three.

 

"If you like them, I'll pack some for you to take when you leave," the grandmother said cheerfully.

 

"Okay. Thank you, Grandma." Lin Heng smiled.

 

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