Chapter 4: The Fall from the High Platform

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Su Qingyi watched as he bent down, closing her eyes to take a deep, silent breath.
Stop looking, stop looking—continuing to gaze at a man like this would only bring heartache.
The man standing beneath the seven-leaf tree seemed to sense something and, caught off guard, turned to look at her.
Su Qingyi had liked people before during her school days, but never had she felt such instant affection from just a glance.
Feigning composure, she averted her eyes.
Holding the incense stick given to her with the prayer lamp, she approached the stone incense burner before the temple.
Beside it stood a candlestick for holding candles. Su Qingyi dipped the incense stick in oil and was lighting a candle when suddenly a shadow fell behind her. A man dressed in a black shirt with traditional Chinese buttons stood expressionless at her side, holding an incense stick identical to hers.
His face remained unreadable.
His thick eyelashes naturally drooped; his broad eyelids half-covered his pupils; his nose was high and straight, his features sculpted and strikingly handsome.
He was examining her as well.
But unlike her heartache, his deep eyes bore a hint of scrutiny. Su Qingyi’s heart raced, yet she remained calm outwardly. Seeing her incense stick stubbornly refuse to light, she quietly stepped aside. “You go first.”
“No need. Take your time.” His voice was as cold and gentle as he was, like the chime of a temple bell, calming restless hearts effortlessly.
Su Qingyi glanced at the incense stick in his hand.
It was the same as hers—apparently also given by the temple.
Her lips moved slightly to speak when a child suddenly ran out laughing from the main hall, not noticing the candlestick ahead and crashed headfirst into the metal frame. The child immediately fell to the ground, and the triangular candlestick, heavily laden with candles, began to wobble, tilting in Su Qingyi’s direction.
Snapping back to awareness, Su Qingyi sensed danger but it was too late; she could only watch the candlestick fall.
At the last moment, a strong, sturdy arm reached out and caught the candlestick’s center, holding it steady just an arm’s length from her.
She clearly saw the candles on the candlestick fall and shatter.
Molten red wax dripped onto the man’s black shirt and pale hand, leaving vivid droplets.
Su Qingyi stared in surprise at the man supporting the candlestick. He furrowed his brow slightly, realizing it was heavier than expected. He withdrew his hand and used his shoulder to brace the tilting candlestick, shielding her within his embrace.
At that moment, the scent of cedar mingled with lily of the valley washed over her like the first snowfall of the northern lands.
Su Qingyi’s expression froze, lost in a daze.
“Ah—” startled exclamations arose around them as the monks and worshippers quickly lifted the iron candlestick. The shadow looming over Su Qingyi dispersed.
She saw the broad shoulder before her stained with iron marks and asked with concern, “Are you alright?”
He relaxed his tense brow and shook his head gently.
Apparently, he was fine.
Unable to resist, Su Qingyi grabbed the front of his shirt. “Brother, do you really have to be so reckless?”
She wasn’t lying—she truly liked this face.
One glance and she was already captivated.
The man seemed taken aback by her words, a look of puzzled confusion flashing across his handsome face.
Even more confusing to him was her grasp on his hand. He looked down once, then back up, hesitating to speak, as if about to say, “Madam, please conduct yourself.”
Reluctantly, Su Qingyi let go of his hand.
He opened his lips hesitantly but finally sighed and, passing by her, walked toward the child.

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The young novice monk who had rushed over was frantic, blurting out, “This candlestick has stood in the temple for decades without ever shaking. What’s going on today?”
Anyone with some experience could tell immediately—the metal frame had aged and weakened. When nothing goes wrong, people remain complacent, but once something happens, panic sets in.
Su Qingyi opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the man carrying the child, his expression stern as he said, “When there’s a problem, solve it. Don’t waste time blaming others.”
The novice monk blushed and nodded repeatedly.
Su Qingyi’s heart broke once more. No wonder there were no good men left in the world—good men had all become monks to save others. But even if he had ordained, he would surely be an exceptional abbot.
The young man glanced briefly at her as if lost in thought, then quickened his pace away.
The child’s guardian followed after him.
Su Qingyi stared after his tall, upright back, heart aching anew. At that moment, Wang Zhenfeng suddenly pulled Jiang Yue forward and spat harshly at Su Qingyi: “Didn’t you say you’re too old to endure that kind of torture? Then why did you grab Jiang Ge?”
“What Jiang Ge?” Su Qingyi was utterly confused.
“The one you just grabbed was Jiang Ge, wasn’t it?” Wang Zhenfeng, worried for their mutual friend’s expression moments ago, shouted angrily with a flushed face, “Do you know that Sister Xiao Lan almost cried because of you? She’s had a crush on Jiang Ge for a whole year and hasn’t even spoken to him, and you just go and… you scheming vixen, you green tea b*tch!”
Su Qingyi ignored all her insults, focusing only on the core question: “You mean that man just now was Jiang Jingye?”
“Who else?”
“That’s impossible.” Su Qingyi had seen Jiang Jingye before. No matter how much genes might change as he grew up, he could never have turned into such a level of handsome.
Looking at him, she truly felt a kind of compassion—as if aware of the vast universe yet still cherishing the small green growing things—calming and serene, as if arriving at the edge of endless flatlands, everywhere symbolizing beauty and renewal of spring hills.
Jiang Jingye’s flamboyant, rebellious style couldn’t compare.
“If that’s not Jiang Jingye, then who else?” Wang Zhenfeng was nearly exasperated, “You mean all of us have been mistaken, and only you can tell he’s not him?”
Su Qingyi was speechless.
After a brief silence, she gradually calmed down. To be honest, when she first learned that the handsome man was Jiang Jingye, she had indeed been a little shaken.
No wonder he kept looking at her earlier—once a disdainful schoolmate, now surrounded by fangirls fawning over him. How could that not please him? For Su Qingyi, it was like social death.
“But he doesn’t look anything like before, right?” Su Qingyi still refused to accept the fact that Jiang Jingye had transformed into a supermodel-level charmer, struggling in vain.
“Girls are allowed to change when they grow up, but not our Jiang Ge?” Wang Zhenfeng frowned, “Listen, stay away from Jiang Ge. If you make Sister Xiao Lan cry again, I won’t forgive you!”
“Wang Zhenfeng,” Su Qingyi spoke with rare severity.
“Wang Chaoyan!” Wang Zhenfeng called back with a desperate face, equally serious.
Su Qingyi had no patience to indulge her. “Do you believe I’ll tell your mother what you just said?”
At the mention of Su Yu, Wang Zhenfeng instantly quieted down, no longer shouting, though still visibly resentful.
“And about your wanting to change your name—should I tell your father too?”
Only then did Wang Zhenfeng relent completely, releasing Jiang Yue’s hand and speaking kindly, “What’s wrong, cousin?”
“Find a place to eat, and then tell me everything about your Jiang Ge.”
...
In truth, there wasn’t much to say.
Wang Zhenfeng knew no more than Su Qingyi. Jiang Jingye had lived abroad with his parents until recently returning to the ancient city. He was always busy with unknown things, often disappearing for long stretches, only occasionally seen at the temple on the Buddha’s birthday.
Even then, he maintained a solemn, aloof demeanor, making anyone who spoke to him feel like they were committing an offense.

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Su Qingyi recalled that fleeting glimpse when they first met.
It was about the same feeling, but none of this was what Su Qingyi wanted to ask.
Seeing Wang Zhenfeng fall silent, Su Qingyi pressed, “And then nothing?”
Wang Zhenfeng nodded.
“Weren’t you curious how he transformed from that into this?” Su Qingyi asked the three girls before her.
They exchanged glances.
Xiao Lan, clutching her guzheng, was the first to answer, “We don’t even know what ‘that’ was. Everyone calls him Jiang Jingye—if he’s not Jiang Jingye, then who else?”
“Let me describe what he was like in middle school,” Su Qingyi said, tracing her palm along her nose bridge, “He always had bangs covering his left eye, his back was always hunched, he never looked people straight in the eye, and when someone spoke to him, he’d shake like he had Parkinson’s. Not that I mean to insult Parkinson’s patients—it’s just... he didn’t deserve to grow up looking like this now, you understand?”
They didn’t understand.
But Xiao Lan had already burst out laughing at her. “Xiao Yan, your sister is so funny, not like what you said...”
Suddenly realizing this was a slip—essentially telling Su Qingyi that Wang Zhenfeng badmouthed her—she quickly shut up.
Fortunately, no one else noticed.
Wang Zhenfeng didn’t understand why Su Qingyi was so stubborn about this. Did it matter what Jiang Jingye looked like? She frowned and asked, “Sister, do you think pretending to be Jiang Jingye has any benefit?”
Su Qingyi was speechless.
She had to admit, Wang Zhenfeng’s words opened her eyes.
Before liberation, the Jiang family was indeed a prominent household in town, but in recent years they had become so poor they couldn’t even renovate the ancestral home. Although his parents lived abroad, mainly in Vietnam and Cambodia, there was no reason for anyone to impersonate them or scheme against them.
But she simply couldn’t accept herself being infatuated with a man she once scorned.
“Don’t you think he’s just too handsome?”
So handsome he seemed out of place everywhere.
“Isn’t that obvious?” Wang Zhenfeng scoffed, “If he weren’t so handsome, do you think Sister Xiao Lan would even consider him?”
Su Qingyi was speechless.
She had to admit, Wang Zhenfeng’s words convinced her.
She finally gave up and accepted the fact that the handsome man was indeed Jiang Jingye.
And it hurt even more.
At least then, it might have been better if he had become a monk.

**

After a brief heartbreak, Su Qingyi quickly regained her spirits.
No one knew she had briefly been moved by Jiang Jingye, and given his current temperament, it was unlikely he’d become gossip.
So she would simply pretend nothing had ever happened.