Modern Epilogue (5)

Modern Epilogue (5)

A buzz rang in Jiang Yuxun’s ears.

What Ying Changchuan had just said—

did he mean what I think he meant?

Visitors at museums were often curious about the private lives of historical figures. Although Jiang Yuxun hadn’t been working long, he was already used to such questions.

Yet Ying Changchuan’s words inexplicably made him feel embarrassed.

As though the person being gossiped about wasn’t the historical Minister Jiang—but him.

Under the afternoon sun, the ice cream melted and dripped onto Jiang Yuxun’s fingers.

He hurriedly pulled a tissue from his pocket to wipe his hand, then cleared his throat and turned to face Ying Changchuan.

“Ahem… Personally, I think we should view historical figures and history itself with a serious, rigorous attitude.”

The summer breeze lifted Jiang Yuxun’s soft, short hair. Sunlight settled between the strands, casting a warm glow over his dark hair.

His tone was solemn, his brows faintly furrowed.

But the half-melted ice cream in his hand rendered his words completely non-threatening.

Ying Changchuan instinctively raised his hand, wanting to ruffle the soft hair atop Jiang Yuxun’s head.

Jiang Yuxun, as if sensing his intent, stepped back half a pace, full of alertness.

Seeing this, Ying Changchuan chuckled and finally withdrew his hand.

He lifted his gaze toward the tall ginkgo tree in the distance and said lightly,

“Perhaps… they didn’t mind these things.”

Jiang Yuxun looked at him with open suspicion.

Clearly asking: And how would you know that?

“Let’s go, Teacher Jiang,” Ying Changchuan said after glancing at his phone, a hint of regret in his voice.

“If I’m not mistaken, your off-work time is approaching. We should head back.”

Until it was confirmed whether Ying Changchuan had deceived the director or not, he was still a VIP of the Huaguo Museum.

After issuing his reminder, Jiang Yuxun immediately returned to professional mode.

He nodded politely.

“Alright, Mr. Ying.”

Then he turned and led Ying Changchuan toward the hotel they had come from.

The ice cream in Jiang Yuxun’s hand melted a little more.

Seeing that it was about to drip again, he lowered his head and took a bite, his museum uniform looking oddly formal for the action.

The next second, a soft laugh sounded behind him.

The sweetness melted instantly on his tongue.

Jiang Yuxun ground his teeth lightly.

What’s so funny, Ying Changchuan?!

The Zhaoshi Garden Hotel, used for hosting VIP guests, sat at the very center of Yanxian Island.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the entrance.

Even then, Jiang Yuxun still hadn’t finished his ice cream.

He glanced subconsciously at a nearby trash bin.

Just as he was hesitating whether to throw it away, Ying Changchuan stepped forward and gently shook his head.

“No rush. I’ll wait for you to finish it before we go in.”

…Throwing it away now would feel rather rude to Ying Changchuan, wouldn’t it?

After hesitating, Jiang Yuxun hurriedly finished the ice cream and tossed the wrapper into the bin.

Almost immediately, Ying Changchuan handed him a tissue.

Jiang Yuxun’s temper flared quickly—and faded just as fast. Seeing Ying Changchuan offer the tissue so considerately, he felt embarrassed instead.

“Thanks…” Jiang Yuxun took it, hesitated, then turned to him sincerely, biting his lip unconsciously.

“What I said earlier wasn’t directed at you. I was just worried that visitors might take rumors and gossip seriously, so I got a bit anxious.”

Sunlight reflected in his dark eyes, making them shine.

Ying Changchuan smiled as well and shook his head.

“I’m not interested in gossip.”

Not interested?

If anyone else said that, fine—but what right did Ying Changchuan have to say it?

Seemingly reading the question in his eyes, Ying Changchuan walked alongside him into the hotel and said with a smile,

“I’m only interested in Minister Jiang.”

As the words fell, he suddenly stopped and added behind Jiang Yuxun,

“Besides, Teacher Jiang, you can’t prove those stories are false, can you?”

Spotting them from afar, hotel staff immediately came forward to greet them.

Jiang Yuxun had no choice but to swallow the words he hadn’t managed to say—

What difference was there, really?

You’re truly impossible, Ying Changchuan.

—

That evening, Jiang Yuxun finally got off work on time.

By the time he returned home and finished dinner, Zhuang Youli—exhausted from overtime—pushed open the door.

The sight of Jiang Yuxun furiously tapping at his phone on the couch startled him.

While changing shoes, Zhuang Youli asked,

“What’s wrong, A-Xun? What’s with that expression?”

After a pause, he suddenly grew nervous.

“Did something go wrong at work today?”

“Work’s fine,” Jiang Yuxun shook his head, eyes never leaving his phone.

“I’m trying to feel out the director, see what Ying Changchuan is actually planning to donate.”

Unfortunately, the usually loose-lipped director had become remarkably tight-lipped this time.

No matter how much Jiang Yuxun asked, he couldn’t pry out any details.

“Isn’t it going to be announced sooner or later anyway? Why are you in such a hurry?” Zhuang Youli asked, pulling watermelon from the fridge.

At that, Jiang Yuxun finally stopped typing and slowly looked up.

After hesitating, he lowered his voice conspiratorially.

“I just feel like he’s kind of unreliable… Youli, do you think Ying Changchuan might be a scammer?”

“A scammer?!”

……

Jiang Yuxun recounted everything that had happened that afternoon in one breath.

Zhuang Youli listened while eating watermelon, growing more puzzled by the minute.

After a while, he finally put the watermelon down and said with a conflicted expression,

“I don’t really understand antiques, but… whether he donates or not doesn’t seem to have much to do with you, does it? To you, Mr. Ying is at most a somewhat bizarre visitor.”

Jiang Yuxun paused, then set his watermelon down as well.

“That’s true…”

The only real loss he’d suffered was a bit of overtime.

“Then why are you so worked up?” Zhuang Youli asked, baffled.

Jiang Yuxun fell silent.

In just two months, he’d already encountered all kinds of visitors—he’d even been knocked into a display case not long ago.

Yet today, his emotions had fluctuated far more than usual.

He didn’t understand why.

But he realized…

he seemed to care a little too much about Ying Changchuan.

—

Having stayed up late the night before, drowsiness finally crept in.

After showering, Jiang Yuxun lay on his bed, planning to glance at his phone briefly before sleeping.

The moment his head touched the pillow, something struck him—

Why hadn’t that online friend messaged him all afternoon?

Had he already left Zhaoshi? Maybe he’d been on a flight, phone off…

The thought instantly banished Jiang Yuxun’s sleepiness.

He opened WeChat and found the chat.

JIANG: Are you still in Zhaoshi? I won’t be too busy starting tomorrow—if you’re free, I can show you around.

–: Still in Zhaoshi~

–: Where to?

…Oh. He’s still in Zhaoshi.

 

Jiang Yuxun’s drowsiness vanished instantly.

He narrowed his eyes and sat up in bed.

Both men—those planning to donate cultural relics to the Huaguo Museum—looked reliable on the surface, yet both felt oddly unreliable underneath.

And most importantly…

When Ying Changchuan had been with him, this online friend hadn’t sent him a single message.

Jiang Yuxun’s finger hovered over the screen.

After hesitating for a moment, he finally tested the waters:

JIANG: How about Yanxian Island? Have you been there?

One minute…

Two minutes…

Ten minutes!

The online friend—who usually replied instantly—still hadn’t appeared.

If that wasn’t suspicious, then what was?

Jiang Yuxun decided to give him one last chance.

Having always chatted with him through text, Jiang Yuxun cleared his throat, then—for the first time—pressed the “Hold to Talk” button.

Jiang Yuxun’s voice was distinctive.

Sending a voice message was practically telling the other person outright:

I’m the guide who was wandering around with you today.

If that online friend really was Ying Changchuan, then continuing to hide his identity would be downright rude.

Jiang Yuxun took a breath and asked softly into the phone:

“Are you busy right now? Do you not want to visit Yanxian Island… or have you already been there?”

Worried that Zhuang Youli in the next room might hear and misunderstand, Jiang Yuxun deliberately lowered his voice.

At the same moment, on the other side of Zhaoshi—

A voice message suddenly appeared on the still-open chat screen.

Ying Changchuan tapped it open immediately.

“Are you busy right now? Do you not want to visit Yanxian Island… or have you already been there?”

The intentionally lowered voice carried a faint nasal tone.

Gentle, cautious—

and laced with anticipation he himself hadn’t realized was there.

Ying Changchuan turned up the volume and let the voice echo through the room.

It transformed into a faint electric current, flowing through his limbs—

and his body suddenly grew warm.

……

More than ten minutes passed.

Still no reply.

Having completely given up on prying information out of the director, Jiang Yuxun switched back to the chat history and muttered softly, “That’s strange…”

Why hadn’t the online friend replied yet?

Was he really busy all day—and Jiang Yuxun had misunderstood him?

They’d known each other for over a month, yet Jiang Yuxun had never seriously looked at the other person’s profile.

Unable to wait any longer, he finally chose a different approach.

He tapped on the avatar.

After a few seconds of loading, he realized—

The avatar wasn’t just a galaxy.

Against a deep indigo sky, the Milky Way poured down like a river of stars.

Beneath it stood a small, solitary pavilion.

Beautiful—

and lonely.

Others might not recognize the place, but Jiang Yuxun did at a glance.

It was the high tower in Pinghuaiyuan Ruins Park.

Pinghuaiyuan had once been a royal leisure and hunting ground—arguably the earliest form of a wildlife park.

The Zhou Emperor Taizu and the Minister had even hosted emissaries from Kehan here.

Later, the site gained a military-training function.

Though it once held an important place in history, the Pinghuaiyuan of today looked nothing like the records.

As for the wooden tower in the avatar—

it had long since vanished into the erosion of time.

The present structure was a modern reconstruction based on ancient paintings.

Why would he choose this tower as his avatar?

Just because it looked nice?

It fit the image of a history enthusiast—but still revealed nothing about his identity.

Seeing no reply, Jiang Yuxun finally opened the man’s Moments.

To his surprise, this mysterious person—who even used punctuation as an avatar—had all Moments publicly visible.

Jiang Yuxun scrolled and scrolled, unable to reach the end.

The most recent post was from over a month ago.

A deserted seaside at night.

Only a lighthouse glimmered faintly in the distance.

To Jiang Yuxun, all coastlines looked similar.

Just as he wondered where this was, he noticed the location tag on the previous post:

“Lelin Province · Sacred Bay”

Lelin was historically known as Shuolin, and “Sacred Bay” was named after Zhou Emperor Taizu himself.

Legend held that he and his court had rested there during an inspection tour of the southern commanderies.

That post was from the same day.

This one, however, showed no sea—only a hand holding a shell.

The small shell shimmered with pink-violet light under the sunset.

Pretty—but to Jiang Yuxun, shells all looked about the same.

He hadn’t examined Ying Changchuan’s hands closely before. Slightly regretful, he exited the photo and continued scrolling.

Deserts in Roubei Province.

Moonqiao Mountain photographed from an airplane.

And countless historical sites even Jiang Yuxun himself had never visited.

There were no people in any of the photos.

But after a while, Jiang Yuxun noticed a pattern—

Every one of these places had been visited, and lingered in, by the Zhou-dynasty Minister Jiang.

Curiosity chased away his sleep.

Before he realized it, he’d reached the very bottom of the Moments.

The final photo was painfully familiar.

“…The Yi River.”

The photo was taken in winter, several years ago.

The Yi River renovation had not only created new shipping routes—it had also left Zhaoshi with numerous lakes.

In late January, heavy snow had fallen over the city.

Under the thick snowfall, the river blurred—but crowds still lined both banks.

Fireworks bloomed overhead, cascading like waterfalls and branching like trees.

Since the Zhou dynasty, fireworks had been set off along the Yi River every New Year.

Jiang Yuxun had stayed in Zhaoshi during his freshman year and gone alone to watch them.

Unfortunately, his phone had died before the show began.

He hadn’t taken a single photo.

In the years since, he hadn’t spent New Year in Zhaoshi again—nor seen the fireworks.

Jiang Yuxun reached the end of the Moments without confirming the man’s identity.

The only thing he could confirm was that the man had excellent photography skills.

With nothing else to scroll, he opened the fireworks photo and admired it closely.

Seeing how late it was—and still no reply—Jiang Yuxun yawned.

“…Forget it.”

He lay back down and, before exiting, casually liked the photo.

One like.

Jiang Yuxun’s eyes flew open.

Wait—

I liked it?!

AAAAAAAA—why is my hand so stupid?!

That photo was from years ago!

Wasn’t that an instant confession that I stayed up late and scrolled through his entire Moments?!

Panicking, Jiang Yuxun immediately unliked it.

His fingers trembled slightly from nerves.

Still not reassured, he shot upright again.

He tossed the phone onto the bed and went to Zhuang Youli’s room.

“Youli—if I like your Moments and cancel it within one second, can you still get the notification?”

“You’re asking the right person!” Zhuang Youli answered confidently.

“If I’m scrolling at that moment, I’ll see it. If not, I won’t.”

“I see—!” Jiang Yuxun finally relaxed.

Zhuang Youli asked curiously, “What happened? Did you accidentally like someone’s post?”

“N-no… nothing,” Jiang Yuxun lied awkwardly.

“Uh… I accidentally liked the director’s post.”

“Oh.” Zhuang Youli didn’t think much of it.

Back in his room, Jiang Yuxun took a deep breath at the edge of the bed.

After a pause, he picked up his phone again.

Don’t see it, don’t see it…

He unlocked the screen.

The once-dark display lit up.

Against all odds—

The online friend was suddenly online.

And he had forwarded that very photo into the chat.

–: Looking at this photo?

Jiang Yuxun:

“……”

Guess I’ll just die.