She wasn’t wrong, I just didn’t know how to answer her.

Over ten years ago, basically I spoke and she listened.

But today, it’s basically her talking and me listening.

This has to do with my life situation over the past four years. For four years, I never left anywhere more than twenty kilometers from home, until a month ago when I came to Tibet. I also don’t interact with anyone except family and old friends, because many people look at me as if I’m some kind of comedian—worse yet, as if I’m a clown, as if my only purpose in life is to make them laugh.

I used to shamelessly do some outrageous things in public, but I wasn’t actually happy. One day I suddenly realized that how I live is my own business, so I simply stopped talking much.

Some abilities don’t deteriorate even if you don’t use them for years, like riding a bicycle—if you could ride ten years ago, you still can now. Some abilities do deteriorate badly if unused, like playing basketball—ten years ago you might have been a sharpshooter, but now you probably can’t even hit the rim. I never expected that social skills would also atrophy if unused for a long time. Now, I actually have a certain degree of social anxiety.

Let’s put it this way: I used to be a talker, now I’m more of a listener.

“Sorry, am I bothering you?”

Jane Jenkins took a step back, looking at me hesitantly.

I understood what she meant. In 2007, I ran into a classmate from elementary school. He was busy, I was busy, we both brushed each other off, didn’t even exchange phone numbers, just made a few polite remarks and went our separate ways. It was only a few days later that I remembered that over ten years ago, he and I used to play marbles together.

“It’s not what you think…”

I wanted to explain, but couldn’t figure out exactly how.

At that moment, the airport broadcast sounded: “Attention all passengers, attention all passengers, flight number XXX from Lhasa to Chengdu is about to depart, please board immediately.”

“I have to get on the plane now, goodbye.”

She was much more decisive than me—she left as soon as she finished speaking.

My thoughts suddenly split in two, forming two perspectives.

One perspective was that my lack of enthusiasm made her misunderstand me.

The other was that she never cared about me at all, and the excitement or surprise I thought I saw in her was just my own illusion.

Either way, the fact is that she and I didn’t exchange contact information.

Without contact information, meeting her today was basically the same as not meeting at all.

So my “and then” just ends here?

Chapter 009 The Story That Follows

Believe me, giving up halfway is a kind of inertia.

Once you get used to giving up halfway, you’ll always find all sorts of excuses to do so.

The above is the heartfelt advice of a chief eunuch who has abandoned many web novels.

Likewise, success also has its own inertia.

If you persist in doing every detail well, it’s hard not to succeed.

The above is also the experience of that old eunuch who has weathered storms and seen rainbows.

As for who that eunuch is, clever students could guess it with their chrysanthemums.

The “and then” I pursue is a miracle—there’s absolutely no reason to give up halfway.

When Jane Jenkins had walked ten meters away, I chased after her.

I really wanted to show my manliness, just like back in the day when I could carry a girl straight up to the sixth floor and do fifty push-ups on the spot. Reality is always a bit different—just a ten-meter sprint left me out of breath, so what I said next was nothing like the powerful line I’d planned at the start. Gasping for air, I said, “Give me your phone number.”

She stopped, with no intention of reciting her number, just quietly looked at me.

There was a time when I thought I was past the age of blushing and getting flustered at the sight of a pretty girl, but now I realize that can happen again at any time. Even though I wasn’t blushing or getting all worked up, I was really nervous—just like when I was young, waiting for a girl’s reply.

After five seconds, she spoke: “You used to know my pager number. I always hoped you’d call me, but you never did. I don’t trust you anymore. Why don’t you give me your number instead?”

I let out a sigh of relief, then felt awkward: “I don’t know my own cell phone number.”

“That’s just like you.” She wasn’t surprised at all, reached out her right hand, and said, “Give me your phone.”

She used my phone to call her own number, and everyone was happy with this ending.

Then, finally, I could say “and then”—then she and I said goodbye to each other quite naturally.

Watching her walk away, I felt a bit reluctant to part.

This feeling was so intense for me—I hadn’t felt this way in years.

For a while, I even thought I’d never feel this way again in my life.

As I said above, the secret to success is doing every detail well.

Right now, I was filled with the energy of a young man, sitting in my chair preparing for the details. The first detail was figuring out how to send a text message. In the past five years, I’ve sent fewer than twenty texts per year. This year, I simply don’t know how to send a text at all.