novelraw Chapter 822: Tang Song
Chapter 822: Tang Song
In the quiet living room,
twilight flowed softly around them.
Bai Yueguang’s abrupt, fragmentary words made Tang Song’s heart skip several beats.
"Qing Ning..." His hand, suspended in midair, finally settled gently on her back and patted soothingly. His voice was very soft, "What’s wrong? What happened?"
Liu Qingning still didn’t speak.
Her forehead rested against his jaw, but the hand cupping his cheek did not loosen at all; its grip remained stubborn.
As the person who knew her best, Tang Song could clearly feel that Bai Yueguang’s state right now was unusual.
There was tenderness, and also a fear that felt like something almost lost and then nearly reclaimed, edged with lingering shock.
It was as if she herself had believed she had almost completely lost something.
But he could not infer the cause or sequence, so he could only hold her more gently.After a long while.
The sun outside the window finally sank below the horizon.
Dusk closed in.
Neon lights and building lamps along the Deep City Bay waterfront blinked on one after another, redrawing the city’s silhouette.
The main light in the living room was off; the lighting was dim and tranquil.
They stood there in that slightly odd posture, like two trees leaning on each other.
Until the body pressed against his chest began, at last, to relax bit by bit.
Liu Qingning slowly released the hand that had been cupping his face, and her arms slid down from around his waist.
Tang Song bent his head, using the faint light coming through the window to look at her impossibly familiar, adorable face.
His eyes were full of pity. He kissed the swollen rim of her eye.
"You know you’re thin-skinned and delicate. When you cry your eyes swell up, and then you’re not as pretty."
"Do you still like me then?" she asked.
"I do."
Liu Qingning said nothing, only looked at him.
Then she rose onto her toes, tilted her chin up, and her lips brushed his.
It was a light, quick kiss, like a confirmation.
When it ended, it still felt insufficient.
She stepped onto tiptoe again. This time the kiss lasted a little longer.
Her soft lips pressed against his, tentative and exploratory, with a thread of a dependency she seldom showed—almost like a child asking for affection.
Tang Song’s heart jolted; an indescribable flutter surged up inside him.
He could feel clearly.
This kiss from Bai Yueguang was different from every previous one.
It was as if...
the girl from his memories, who once bloomed with a smile, had solemnly kissed the present him across countless diverging branches of time.
Inside it was no longer just plain fondness, possessiveness, or grievance,
but a subtle, hard-to-name thing that was slowly and firmly unfolding within her heart.
"Little Song." She suddenly spoke again.
"Here," Tang Song answered, "Qing Ning."
"Forgive me." Liu Qingning stared at him, her voice low and very earnest. "Since I met you again in Shen City and realized you had changed so much, I’ve been looking at you with this awkward mindset.
Because I always felt... you had placed me outside so many of your stories.
You have your massive career now, and other girls you like.
That awkward feeling got worse after I knew about Su Yu and Director Jin."
Tang Song opened his mouth, then finally said only, "It’s not your fault. I’m the one who should say sorry."
He truly couldn’t explain this matter to Liu Qingning.
He understood her feelings too well.
As the one who had, since youth, planned the future together with him in everything,
one day to find out
that he had walked alone along another invisible track to its peak—
with Liu Qingning’s temperament, how could she not feel resentment?
She never voiced it, but internalized it; that was already quite restrained.
"No." Liu Qingning shook her head forcefully, her gaze clear and stubborn—the expression Tang Song knew best. "I should have trusted you. You haven’t really changed, right? High school, college, Imperial Capital... you’ve always been you. Always Little Song."
For some reason Tang Song’s eyes suddenly burned; his vision blurred.
He pressed his lips together instinctively and blinked hard to push back the moisture.
He made a low "hm."
Although through the Feather of Memory he had regained many complete memories from the past,
those dream-state experiences and the core of his marrow were actually different.
They were more like a construct he had invented for himself to erase all regrets, a carrier that bore every "perfect fantasy"—
powerful, calm, flawless.
But the real stories that had happened to him—
those in classrooms, in rented rooms, in office buildings—
the smoky, tender, weak, hesitant, joyful, hard-working, affectionate moments were the skeleton that supported his soul.
So he had never truly "become someone else."
He only had more shells and identities.
And his feeling for Bai Yueguang remained engraved in his bones to this day.
"So I need to say sorry to you."
Her voice was quiet, each word clear.
"In college, I focused on study, societies and the lab, always rushing forward. I neglected you and didn’t understand your feelings. You gave up the postgraduate exam to come to Imperial Capital; I knew you couldn’t fit into my social circle, but aside from occasionally consoling you, most of the time I was busy with my own projects, not really standing with you."
She paused. Her breath brushed his cheek, carrying a slight tremor of warmth.
"And when I decided to leave Imperial Capital for Shen City, I didn’t properly tell you. I was naive, thinking I could give you a surprise next time we met. I didn’t realize that separating at the college entrance, you coming to Imperial Capital to find me, my lack of clear emotional response, and then suddenly leaving for the so-called 'distant place'...
All of that together was slowly pushing you toward despair."
Her words continued.
A sourness rose to Tang Song’s nose; the moisture he had just suppressed climbed uncontrollably back up into his eyes.
Liu Qingning was right.
In his truest feelings, those years had been a long, silent chase and a sense of weightlessness.
After high school graduation,
they had gone into completely different worlds.
He attended a very ordinary undergraduate school.
Though his major was also computer science, compared with Imperial Capital University and the way Liu Qingning excelled in cutting-edge topics and competitions, it felt as if separated by dimensions.
He studied hard, but no matter how diligent, the courses, teachers, and projects he could access were limited.
She excitedly chatted online about the latest algorithm models, paper trends, and tech sharing sessions from international giants.
On his side, many terms were unfamiliar.
That intellectual and horizon gap made him deeply insecure.
In Imperial Capital, that gap magnified to the extreme.
He entered Meigou Technology when it was not yet a giant, doing the most basic coder work, ground down daily by requirements and bugs at his desk.
Meanwhile Liu Qingning had become a core executive at the AI startup Century Zhixue, which had received angel funding.
She attended high-level technical forums and discussed industrial transformation and capital layout.
She would share with him:
which renowned professor she’d talked to about the newest models,
which closed-door salon she attended,
what industry predictions an investor had made.
He listened and felt like he was in another world.
Even though then they rented apartments close to each other,
countless nights he sat opposite her—
the light dim, her BP and technical materials and his laptop spread on the table—
within reach.
He dreamed of the old days—confiding in each other like in high school, even daring to cross that ambiguous line and finally confess his feelings.
But the real gap was too wide.
He could clearly feel that the Bai Yueguang in his memory was flying toward a place he could never catch no matter how hard he tried.
Unreachable.
Until one day Liu Qingning’s mother came to talk to him about moving to Shen City for Century Zhixue.
Between polite small talk and well-wishing about their futures, she for the first time gently mentioned housing, cities, and the future.
Then he learned Liu Qingning herself had decided to move to Shen City.
Only then did he truly lose heart and choose to make peace with himself.
He left Imperial Capital and bid goodbye to the Bai Yueguang in his memories.
He returned to familiar Yancheng and found a fairly stable job.
He imagined an office goddess colleague Tian Jing, and even developed a fondness for the elegant CEO Xie Shuyu...
That time he truly intended to say farewell properly to his youth.
No more forcing, no more chasing, no more fantasizing, no more hoping for childish "meet-at-the-top" miracles.
If there is no miracle, reality really would be tragedy.
Unnoticed, tears silently slid down Tang Song’s cheeks.
Liu Qingning was startled.
She hurried to wipe them, but her fingers trembled slightly.
"Sorry, Little Song. I’m sorry for those past years. You sacrificed so much and endured so much."
"I’ve been understanding these truths bit by bit only in the past few months."
"It’s just that I used to feel so awkward, thinking you had first pushed me out of your world, so... I never seriously talked to you."
"Really sorry, Little Song."
"Sorry... sorry..."
She repeated "sorry" over and over,
as if making up for all belated apologies at once.
As if finally reckoning with that proud, self-centered neglect hidden beneath familiarity throughout those years.
Tang Song watched her.
His nose filled with sourness, his chest aching painfully.
He reached out, placed his hand over hers as she clumsily wiped his tears, and pressed gently, enclosing her cool fingers.
"It’s okay, Qing Ning, stop. I’m fine, I was just thinking about some things..."
"I know."
Before he finished speaking, warm lips kissed his again.
This time it was especially strong and especially deep.
At first the mouth was full of saltiness; he couldn’t tell whose tears were whose.
Slowly, within the mingling of lips and teeth, a gentle sweetness carrying warmth began to dispel all bitterness.
Neither of them closed their eyes. They watched each other from such close proximity.
Their gazes intertwined, no words necessary.
So many complicated feelings, as the two who had known each other the longest and were most deeply bound, they could read clearly in each other’s eyes.
Liu Qingning did not ask about the "parallel worlds," did not ask about the "split Tang Song," and did not probe the secret he kept hidden in his heart.
Because she understood those things weren’t important.
What mattered was that the person in front of her was her Tang Song.
Night had fallen completely.
Neon along Deep City Bay flashed silently, illuminating two figures embracing.
After an unknown stretch of time they finally separated, panting.
Liu Qingning’s forehead rested against his shoulder as she drew a breath like someone waking at last from a long dream.
In the next second, her whole aura changed.
The broken, near-collapse feeling was replaced by a bright and soft spirit.
She did not continue the heavy emotional talk; instead she suddenly smiled and began recounting the "achievements" and lessons she’d learned from cooking with Auntie Mei recently.
Which dish had too much salt, which one she hadn’t controlled the heat on.
Her tone was lively and natural, as if tugging the weight of life back to the everyday, grounding world of ordinary domesticity.
"I’ll cook for you."
She said it and, without waiting for his answer, already turned toward the kitchen.
The kitchen light was warm and bright.
Liu Qingning found an apron and tied it on, gathering her long hair into a bun.
The girl who had been sobbing a moment ago became, in the blink of an eye, a little cook tying her hair and fastening the apron.
Tang Song moved closer, about to help.
"Get out."
"I’ll just pass you something—"
"No. If you stand here I’ll lose my rhythm." She didn’t look back. "You’ll ruin it; if it flops it’s all your fault."
Tang Song: "?"
She glanced back, gave him a mock glare, then burst into laughter herself. "Really, go wait outside."
He raised his hands in surrender but didn’t go far, only stepping back to the bar in the open kitchen to quietly watch her.
The knife’s chop on the cutting board sounded crisp and efficient.
Eggs were beaten gently.
The oil in the pan sizzled; steam and scent rose instantly.
The exhaust fan hummed quietly; the aroma of homestyle cooking began to spread through the air.
Her movements were clean and brisk, her steps precise. She was serious as though she had reverted to the studious girl who sat in evening study, solving physics problems with meticulous care.
Tang Song’s gaze gradually softened.
This scene made him feel like he was seeing many versions of her all at once.
...
Half an hour later.
Two dishes and a soup were placed on the table.
Tomato scrambled eggs, shredded pork with green peppers, and a bowl of seaweed egg drop soup.
Bright colors, steaming hot.
They sat across from each other, no TV on, no phones out.
Just quietly eating.
Occasionally their eyes met, and they smiled at each other.
Like all ordinary, quiet, and incredibly precious nights.
After clearing the dishes,
Liu Qingning suddenly pulled him to the center of the living room.
"Let me show you something." She said, and began demonstrating the smart home system built on the Qingning Technology platform.
Lights adjusted automatically, curtains closed slowly, the air system ran silently.
As she demonstrated, she slipped into the familiar rhythm of her work.
"This is the multimodal interaction fusion module... voice, vision, and environmental data are input simultaneously; the system judges priority."
"The sensor array here was designed redundantly, so even if part fails, the dynamic optimization of environmental parameters remains unaffected..."
Mid-sentence, she suddenly smiled to herself.
"I used to tinker with this every day in the lab back in university."
"Back then I thought technology was the world itself; if you ran fast enough you could leave every problem behind."
She swiped the interface with downcast eyes; her voice slowed.
She began to tell small details from her university days.
Quiet late-night labs, the discouragement after a failed first demo, the mentor’s critique...
After touring the smart devices in the apartment, they took the elevator downstairs.
They crossed the high-ceiling lobby and stepped out of Tower 5’s entrance.
The night’s moist sea breeze hit their faces, carrying Deep City Bay’s characteristic salt-and-fresh scent.
They walked, fingers interlaced, slowly along the waterfront boardwalk.
Liu Qingning continued talking about her college days.
No longer about grades or awards,
but about late-night lab silence, the discouragement of a failed demo, the mentor’s criticisms...
Her pace was steady, voice calm.
The sea breeze scattered her words, then gently returned them.
Tang Song understood.
She was unfolding, in the way she knew best, the world he had not truly entered in those years, piece by piece.
It was not showing off.
It was an invitation.
Waves slapped the rocks; the lights of the cross-sea bridge flowed like a glowing dragon across the water.
Street lamps cast their shadows long.
Sometimes overlapping, sometimes apart, but always closely linked.
Near the viewing platform,
Liu Qingning suddenly released his hand, quickened a few steps, then turned back.
The wind lifted stray hair at her cheek.
Her eyes were still a little puffy from crying, but astonishingly bright.
"What’s wrong?" Tang Song asked.
She looked at him, expression so serious it was almost solemn.
"Tang Song, in matters of the heart I was inexperienced and immature. I did many things poorly. But I’m willing to learn, to learn how to love you more maturely."
She paused and breathed gently.
"I must admit—you’ve already become a new, more complex you. You have many choices I don’t understand, responsibilities I didn’t partake in, and people around you who are connected to you but unrelated to me."
She raised her eyes.
"So I won’t stand in the old place waiting for you to return to a world that is 'only mine.'"
"I choose to walk into your current world."
When she finished, she suddenly smiled.
That smile no longer carried Bai Yueguang’s halo or pride, but a woman’s gentleness and courage.
The next second she ran back, lightly jumped up and nimbly climbed onto his back.
Her hair brushed his cheek, carrying the cool of the night breeze and her faint scent.
"From now on... you have to teach me how to stand steady in your world."
She whispered this against his ear.
Tang Song was silent for a long time.
His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.
"Okay."
He tightened his arms, supported her knees, steadied her on his back, and then stepped forward.
Their shadows merged on the ground.
In the deep of night, the sea breeze continued to blow gently.
...
By the time they returned home it was nearly ten p.m.
"I’m going to shower. I’m sweaty and sticky."
Liu Qingning embarrassedly tugged at her collar, then hugged her change of clothes and turned into the bathroom.
"Whoosh—"
Before long, the steady patter of water sounded.
Only a floor lamp was on in the bedroom, its warm yellow light quietly pooling on the floor.
Tang Song sat at the edge of the sofa, body slightly leaned forward, fingers interlaced, eyes fixed on the Deep City Bay night view outside the window.
Tower lights, the light band of the cross-sea bridge, the passing navigation lights of a boat...
The city kept running while his thoughts slowly sank.
Tonight he didn’t press Liu Qingning about what had happened.
But he could feel that Bai Yueguang had already guessed.
After all, she knew Tang Song—the original template—better than anyone in the world.
The ordinary, gentle, even somewhat plain boy from high school and the President Tang who could flip fortunes were separated by an illogical chasm.
That she could so naturally behave like the old girl and be with him that way tonight made Tang Song feel a relaxed relief.
He tipped his head back and took a sip of cola; bubbles crisply burst on his tongue.
Tang Song closed his eyes; his thoughts drifted back to several months ago, to the Feather of Memory triggered at Jing County Yizhong.
In that set of system-completed, true memories from 2016,
the origin of everything was the hot afternoon he found Liu Qingning’s forgotten HiFi earphones, and, accompanied by a dull English listening voice, fell into a long, real dream.
In that dream he caught glimpses of the "future" many times.
On that timeline without a system or miracles—
autumn 2018, senior year three. The fallen leaves around the unnamed lake at Imperial Capital University carpeted the path; he and Liu Qingning officially confirmed their relationship.
After graduation, they reasonably stayed in Beijing, living together in a narrow rented room.
That was the future he longed for, where he had all her youth and passion.
But as time stretched, the script did not turn into a fairy tale.
Ordinary talent, modest family background—no matter how hard he fought he could hardly keep pace with her rapid career rise.
She was a core backbone in a top firm; he was a replaceable ordinary programmer.
Quarrels over trivial things, sensitivity to the gap, fragile pride so as not to drag the other down...
These grains of reality like sandpaper gradually wore at the once sparkling relationship.
Then came the separation.
Just like the real November 7, 2022—the start of winter.
To preserve the last shred of dignity and not make things hard for her, he chose to give up and left, returning alone to Yancheng.
The dream stopped there.
He didn’t know what lives they would lead after the breakup in that "future."
But he vividly remembered the eighteen-year-old himself, snapping awake from the pile of test papers on his senior desk, the heart-stopping pain.
Watching the thing he cherished most crumble under reality’s weight, piece by piece, the helplessness was more torturous than death.
One could say the Dream System he gained and all the changes he made
were initially motivated only to prevent that future from arriving.
After all, for the innocent eighteen-year-old Tang Song sitting in the senior classroom...
career, wealth, and status were too distant and incomprehensible.
He only knew that the girl in the front row with a high ponytail who would turn and smile at him during breaks was more important than the whole world.
...
"Vrrrr—"
The low whir of the hairdryer gradually quieted.
Tang Song opened his eyes and his consciousness slowly returned.
After a while,
the wardrobe door was gently pushed open.
Liu Qingning came out.
He lifted his head automatically.
Then he froze.
She wasn’t wearing any refined or sexy sleepwear,
just a simple striped T-shirt dress. The cotton fabric hugged her softly; it barely covered her thighs and revealed a pair of fair, well-shaped legs.
Her hair was tied high in a ponytail with an ordinary black hair tie.
Just blow-dried, fluffy and smooth.
No makeup.
Her round, pale doll-like face in the soft light exuded a touching cleanliness and innocence.
For an instant,
Tang Song vaguely saw—
the window seat in the high school classroom where sunlight spilled across a desk piled with papers, a girl bent over a pen, glancing up at him with knitted brows when he disturbed her;
the noisy cafeteria line where, after he mischievously tugged her ponytail, she turned back, huffing;
the side view of her after an 800-meter run in PE class, high ponytail, flushed cheeks, hands on her knees panting;
so familiar it made his chest ache.
Seeing Tang Song dazed, Liu Qingning couldn’t help but smile, her brows curving.
The smile was clean and bright, carrying the long-missed candor of youth.
She walked step by step.
Cotton slippers tapped on the wooden floor with quiet "tap, tap" sounds—clear and steady.
She reached the single sofa and leaned forward slightly.
A fresh lemon body wash scent mixed with warm steam and gently enveloped them.
She looked at him with eyes clear to the bottom, not flinching at all.
Then, in a serious tone, she softly said:
"Little Song."
"I love you."
"Will you be with me?"
The air stilled.
Only their interwoven breaths remained.
After she finished speaking, Liu Qingning didn’t avert her gaze, didn’t shyly lower her head, and didn’t feign composure.
She stood quietly before him, watching him.
Like years ago on the field at dusk with the scent of grass in the wind, at the empty end of the school corridor, on that path carpeted with golden leaves.
She finally said that sentence to her best friend—the words that had been delayed too long, and that had steeped for too long.
Tang Song’s breathing grew uneven.
"I love you too, Liu Qingning."
Liu Qingning leaned forward and gently sat on his lap; her soft body sank into his arms.
Tang Song’s arms immediately wrapped around her, holding her securely.
Through the thin cotton T-shirt dress he could clearly feel her warmth, softness, and the full curve at her chest.
Her scent, that confession, and the present cuddling intertwined with recalled memories,
quietly igniting the heat in his blood.
His hand stroked her back; the cotton rubbed softly along her spine and slowly slid downward.
Liu Qingning made a low "hm" and a faint mist rose in her eyes.
The air filled with a silent, swelling desire.
He helped her up; she walked a few steps to the bed and he gently placed her within the soft covers.
A bedside night lamp quietly glowed, casting a vague halo on the wall.
Each kiss was long and focused.
From forehead, to nose tip, to lips, down the slender neck and hollow collarbone, reverent with the solemnity of confirmation and a long-hidden throb.
Each touch felt like reading a book finally recovered.
Clothes slipped away silently at some point.
When skin met skin with no barrier, their breathing merged into one.
His movements were as gentle as possible yet carried desire that had been pent up for too long.
No words.
Only mingled breaths and the faint sounds of skin rubbing.
Neon and shadow from the city outside slid through the gap in the curtains, slowly painting the walls and ceiling.
The light shifted like an aurora that belonged only to them.
Tang Song felt Bai Yueguang beneath him, her clean, crisp breath at his face; where his fingertips landed was the soft part of memory he could never let go.
Countless images since they first met flashed gently in his mind—
summer in the small town, the county's tree-lined road, the wind at the classroom window, the evening glow at the field’s end.
The unspoken feelings, those lives that diverged and then overlapped,
seemed finally to catch that beauty that had hung precariously at the end of youth for so long.
Outside sounds and outlines faded into a distant backdrop.
"!" A system light screen unfolded before his eyes.
[January 11, 2024, Deep City Bay]
[After experiencing time misalignments, fate’s divergences, and long internal struggles, you have finally completed a true reconciliation and return with the life coordinate that threaded through your entire youth and defined why you became you.]
[This is not only an emotional arrival but also a closure in the meaning of your existence.]
[The void that hung in the depths of your soul for many years, always with nowhere to land, finally has a name and a place to belong.]
[You are no longer chasing the past, nor do you need to desperately repair any hypothetical regrets.]
[You have completed the redemption of the 'former Tang Song'.]
[Your state of mind has undergone significant growth]
[Your charm +1]