Thousands Of People Thought Of Him - Chapter 4

Copper Coin

“Isn’t it cold sitting out here?”

Ying Fusang looked up, startled.

So much time had passed, and the surrounding scenery had completely changed from that long-ago day. Yet amid all that was different, the person before him stood just as he had back then—arriving with the wind and snow, dressed in red, holding an umbrella, smiling softly. Not changed at all.

“…No,” Ying Fusang quickly looked away and mumbled his reply.

Qi Xingwen studied the face now gradually overlapping with the one from his memories. After a pause, he said softly, “It’s been a long time, Sangsang.”

Hearing those words, Ying Fusang suddenly stood up, stepping back out of the umbrella’s shelter. He lowered his gaze and said, “You’ve come to find me again. Is there something you need?”

Qi Xingwen’s outstretched hand froze in midair. He raised an eyebrow, slightly amused. “Still think I’m a kidnapper?”

“…No,” Ying Fusang unconsciously began to dig his nails into his palm. “I’m just curious.”

Qi Xingwen’s eyes lowered, quickly noticing something off.

“I’m your guardian spirit. Of course I want to see you often,” he said gently, voice low and calm.

Guardian spirit…

Ying Fusang repeated the words silently in his mind, chewing on the meaning.

“Sangsang, did something happen?”

His nails dug deeper into his palm, and the pain seemed to help clear his head. He shook his head slightly. “No. You should go. There’s no need to check on me.”

Having stayed out in the cold for a long time, Ying Fusang looked visibly unwell. He probably hadn’t even realized his body was trembling slightly.

“…”

The other man stayed silent for a long while. Ying Fusang, still looking down, finally felt relieved. He assumed Qi Xingwen had left.

The very next moment, without warning, he was pulled into an embrace.

Ying Fusang: !

Qi Xingwen’s body temperature was low, and the hug wasn’t particularly warm—but Ying Fusang could feel his heartbeat clearly. There was even a strange, inexplicable sense of familiarity.

“It’s okay.” The words sounded softly beside his ear. One hand still held the umbrella, while the other gently patted his back—an undeniably comforting gesture.

Still being treated like a kid, Ying Fusang: “…”

He had to admit: that creeping sense of anxiety and restlessness had… indeed lessened.

Ying Fusang pushed away from the embrace with some effort. His expression was slightly unnatural. “I’m really fine. I just came out for some fresh air.”

Qi Xingwen didn’t insist. He simply chuckled, “Alright.”

As he spoke, Ying Fusang suddenly noticed the chaotic tangle of red threads around the man’s exposed wrist. He hadn’t looked closely when he was a child, but now it caught his full attention.

“These are threads of fate under my care—also called mortal threads,” Qi Xingwen explained after noticing his gaze.

After speaking, he focused for a moment and selected one thread. “Sangsang, give me your hand.”

Without understanding why, Ying Fusang complied.

Qi Xingwen gently laid the red thread against his wrist. As soon as the two touched, the thread shimmered and transformed into a finely woven red string bracelet.

Ying Fusang: ?

Qi Xingwen didn’t rush to explain. He slowly wrapped the thread around Ying Fusang’s wrist. The thread seemed to have a life of its own, looping into a seamless bracelet. Finally, a copper coin appeared from nowhere, dangling at the end with a crisp jingle.

Ying Fusang: ??

“What is this…”

Before he could finish the question, Qi Xingwen finally spoke, “This copper coin is the same as the one on my earring. I remember you quite liked it when you were little.”

Ying Fusang’s eyes widened slightly. “I didn’t… and besides…” This accessory looked a bit too flashy to wear in public.

Almost as if he could hear the unspoken complaint, Qi Xingwen added with a smile, “Don’t worry. Only you and I can see this bracelet. Just take it as a small gift from me.”

“…” Well, now there wasn’t really a good reason to refuse.

Ying Fusang examined it seriously for a moment, then quietly pulled his sleeve down to cover it. He looked up and said, “Thank you.”

“As long as you wear it, I can appear whenever you need me,” Qi Xingwen added.

At that, Ying Fusang frowned slightly. “Then if I don’t wear it, will you not show up?”

Qi Xingwen smiled faintly. “I still will.”

While Ying Fusang was caught off guard by that, Qi Xingwen noticed a little tuft of hair sticking up on his head and reached out, trying to smooth it down.

Ying Fusang quickly stepped back, “I’m not a seven-year-old anymore.”

Qi Xingwen gave a thoughtful nod. “You’re right. You’re not.”

Ying Fusang wasn’t used to talking so much with others and began to feel awkward. “…Aren’t you gods supposed to be busy during the New Year? You should go back.”

“Mm, that’s true,” Qi Xingwen said, seeming to catch his discomfort. He then handed the paper umbrella over. “If you want to stay out a bit longer, take the umbrella.”

“Then you…” Ying Fusang hesitated. He had a strong sense for kindness—especially the kind that came out of nowhere. It often made him feel lost and uncertain.

Qi Xingwen simply shook his head, smiling. “If you run into trouble, remember to call me. And—”

A soft breeze passed. Ying Fusang instinctively closed his eyes.

“Sangsang, happy New Year.”

When he opened his eyes again, Qi Xingwen had vanished. Ying Fusang looked down to find a skewer of candied hawthorn in his hand.

“…”

He sat back down on the steps. After a moment’s hesitation, he took a bite.

“…Too sweet.”

Expressionless, he made his judgment.

…

The senior-year winter break was short. Classes resumed just a few days after the New Year.

Ying Fusang didn’t arrive particularly early; most classmates had already gathered and were chatting about their holidays.

“The snow-capped peaks of Cangshan, candles glowing in the southern sky. At dusk, the sunlight paints the city, rivers and mountains as picturesque as ever…”
(Note 1: excerpt from a classical Chinese text)

On his left, idle chatter; on his right, students reciting aloud. Ying Fusang focused on reviewing yesterday’s mistakes.

Morning reading hadn’t officially started when two people entered the classroom.

One was the homeroom teacher, Qiao Hongjin, who wore formal attire today. She clapped her hands and said, “Everyone, quiet down.”

Her authority in class was strong, so most students quickly returned to their seats and looked toward the podium.

Qiao Hongjin said, “Today we have a new student joining our class. He’ll be with us for this final stretch of senior year.” She stepped aside. “Please introduce yourself.”

The other person was—

Ying Fusang had just finished solving a problem on his scratch paper. He looked up just as the entire class turned their attention forward.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Fang Baiyu…”

His voice was soft and gentle, his smile polite and courteous—easily likable.

Fang Baiyu had noticed Ying Fusang the moment he entered, and during his introduction, his gaze never left him.

Ying Fusang felt uncomfortable under the stare. He tilted his head slightly, trying to recall who he was. After half a minute, it finally clicked.

“…That’s all. Thank you.” Fang Baiyu bowed slightly and ended his introduction.

Amid applause, he walked to the seat Qiao Hongjin had pointed out—an empty desk near the back, in the middle row.

Their class used single desks arranged in spaced-out rows, and Fang Baiyu’s seat just happened to be in the same row as Ying Fusang, separated only by the aisle and one student.

Fang Baiyu gave him a friendly smile.

The morning bell rang.

Ying Fusang averted his eyes and didn’t respond, pulling out his vocabulary book to start memorizing words. Because of that, he didn’t see the brief change in Fang Baiyu’s expression.

A few seats back, Sun Wenhao was cracking sunflower seeds and caught the whole thing. He spat out the shells and tapped the seat in front of him with his foot.

The tall, skinny Liu Yizhuo turned around, confused. “What is it, Hao-ge?”

Sun Wenhao smirked and waved him closer.

…

Just after morning reading, Fang Baiyu was called outside. Ying Fusang went to fill his water bottle and, coincidentally, ran into the two of them.

Ying Chenglang’s class was upstairs. He had come down specifically to check on Fang Baiyu, worried that he might not adjust well to the new environment.

When Ying Chenglang saw Ying Fusang, his first reaction was a frown.

He really shouldn’t have listened to Xiaoyu—how could someone like Fang Baiyu be in the same class as Ying Fusang?!

Ying Fusang, unaware of the drama unfolding in his mind, just walked faster to secure his spot at the water dispenser.

To Ying Chenglang, though, this looked like cowardice. He crossed his arms and sneered, “Pathetic.”

He then turned back to Fang Baiyu and began listing school tips: “…If anyone bullies you, make sure to tell me!”

Fang Baiyu nodded obediently the entire time, looking sweet and well-behaved. “Mm-hmm, I’ll remember. Thanks, Chenglang-ge.”

Break time was short. As it ended, Ying Chenglang warned again, “And stay away from Ying Fusang, okay? You know his brain isn’t right.”

From his angle, Fang Baiyu had already seen Ying Fusang approaching and made sure his voice could be heard. He tugged gently on Ying Chenglang’s sleeve and frowned, disapproving, “Chenglang-ge, don’t say that. Xiao-Sang is my friend too.”

Ying Chenglang sighed and patted his shoulder. “Xiaoyu, you’re just too kind. You think everyone’s a good person.”

Meanwhile, Ying Fusang walked back with his full water bottle. He was inwardly pleased with how quickly he’d finished—only to get randomly glared at by Ying Chenglang as he passed.

Ying Fusang: ?

He was used to it, though, and ignored them, walking past into the classroom.

That entire day, Fang Baiyu displayed an exceptional social ability—quickly befriending both boys and girls in class.

Other than that, he made no attempt to speak to Ying Fusang again.

…

As the sun set, red bleeding across the sky, a crescent moon crept up over the treetops and bathed the world in quiet light.

“This concludes today’s lesson. Class dismissed,” said the teacher, Zheng Qin, tossing the chalk back into the tray and packing her things.

At her words, students who had been quietly packing started doing so openly.

Click. Ying Fusang capped his pen and swiftly swept his books and pencil case into his bag.

Per his own personal rule, he could keep thinking about problems, but his hands had to be packed up within three seconds of dismissal.

He stood up, grabbed his bag, and prepared to head for the front exit.

Just as he stepped forward, a voice came from the right—not loud, but clearly audible.

“Xiao-Sang, want to walk home together?”

Ying Fusang paused and turned to look. He didn’t respond immediately.

Fang Baiyu’s desk was a bit messy, and he packed slowly.

Ying Fusang stared at him, unblinking, then after thirty seconds said:

“Sorry. I’m leaving first.”

By his estimate, the guy still needed at least two more minutes, and waiting might cost him a shared bike slot. Plus, there was a 97% chance Fang Baiyu would ride home with Ying Chenglang.

Ying Fusang prided himself on having good judgment.

Fang Baiyu froze, clearly surprised even this offer was rejected.

That short delay had already emptied half the classroom.

“So rushed? Then… alright.” He forced a weak smile.

Ying Fusang nodded politely and left quickly.

Just moments after he exited through the front door, another person burst in from the back.

“Xiaoyu, ready?” Ying Chenglang strode over and reached to carry his bag.

“…”

But Fang Baiyu didn’t move, like he was frozen.

Ying Chenglang was puzzled and looked at him—only to see his face dark with shadow, eyes cold and vicious. A look completely unlike the one he normally wore.

Even Ying Chenglang was startled.

“Xiaoyu?” he called again, uncertain.

“Mm?” Fang Baiyu turned back, blinked, and smiled. “I’m ready, Chenglang-ge. Let’s go!”

Ying Chenglang let out a breath of relief, convinced he’d just imagined it.

After they left, no one noticed the two students who had quietly watched everything from the corner.

Sun Wenhao grabbed the paper bin full of sunflower seed shells and headed for the trash, where he “accidentally” bumped into the tall, broom-wielding Liu Yizhuo.

The two exchanged a meaningful look.