Chapter 11 — Icebergs Also Know Red Eyes

“I know To Niem already told you.” He spoke, his voice deeper than usual, "First year story."

My breath missed a beat.

“It's not important,” he said, “I'm just asking you one thing now.”

“What?”

“You want to break up, is it because you don't want to lose weight anymore, or is it because you don't want to be with me?”

The wind blew past, blowing a few strands of hair across my forehead. I stood there, eyes glued to his.

"If it's because you don't want to lose weight," he held up the thermal bag, "I won't force you to eat or drink anything anymore. Grilled meat, fried chicken, hot pot, I'll take you whatever you want to eat."

“And if it's because you don't want to be with me—”

He stopped. The throat rolled for a while.

“Then just say it clearly.”

I moved my lips. No words were uttered. He waited ten seconds, twenty seconds. Then he placed the thermal bag on the steps in front of the door.

“Beef stewed with tomatoes,” he said, “Eat it while it's still hot.”

He turned around to leave. My hands react faster than my brain. I grabbed the hem of his hoodie tightly behind his back. He was stunned. Don't turn around.

“To Nghien.”

“Um.”

“I don't want to break up.”

His back stiffened.

“I just…” I bit my lip, my voice almost inaudible, “I feel like I'm sorry to you.”

He turned around. My hand was still clutching the corner of his shirt, I lowered my head, not daring to look.

"You've been pursuing me since freshman year... And you only chased me because you wanted to lose weight—"

“I know.”

I looked up. He looked at me, his expression extremely calm, but his eyes sparkled with light.

“I knew it from the beginning,” he said, “To Niem's plan, your purpose, I know it all.”

“You know and still agree?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He didn't answer, he looked down at my hand holding his shirt tightly. Then he reached out and covered that hand completely. The palm of his hand was very warm, each finger threaded into my fingers.

“You can just think carefully and then answer me,” he said, “There's no rush.”

I stood in front of the dormitory door, my hand was warmed by him, the sunlight shining on me. The lump that had been stuck in my heart all day suddenly disappeared. 10 You said you're not in a hurry. But I'm in a hurry. That day, after holding my hand, he stuffed a thermos bag into my hand, said, "Let's eat," then turned and walked away. Go very decisively, don't look back. But the tips of his ears were red. I stood in front of the dormitory door, my palm still felt his warmth, the same thing kept echoing in my head - He said "not in a hurry". So what does that mean? Wait until I think things through before giving you an answer? But I think it's okay. I like him. This conclusion was certain the moment he clasped his hand in mine. Even earlier — the moment he blushed in the cafeteria, the moment he made pan-fried chicken breast, the moment he pushed the milk tea away from me. But I was speechless. Because I'm afraid he will think I said I like him just out of guilt and pity.

"You're really being careless with your free time." To Niem lay flipping through the magazine on the bed, not bothering to look up, "My brother has been waiting for you for two years. Now that you say you like him, he won't be so happy that he'll take this school apart."

“What if he thinks I pity him—”

“I pity the moldy monkey,” To Niem threw the magazine down on the bed, “My brother's face, his figure, his brain, everything. How many people in this school are competing to pity him? Is it your turn?”

I hugged my pillow silently.

"Okay, if you don't go talk then just wait," To Niem shrugged, "Let's see who can't stand it first."

The next morning, I went to the stadium. At six o'clock, he was running on the field. I ran parallel to him, he glanced at me, said nothing, but his speed slowed down. We ran two laps, but no one said a word.