Chương 3: Chẳng bao giờ có anh

Lần đầu tiên Đường Nguyệt gặp Hướng Cẩn là ở buổi tuyển thành viên mới của câu lạc bộ.

Khi ấy, anh là sinh viên xuất sắc của khoa Kiến Trúc, là thần tượng nổi danh trong trường, dù cô chẳng mấy quan tâm đến những tin đồn như mọi người, nhưng tên tuổi của anh cũng đã từng lọt vào tai cô.

Nếu khôngBecause of joining the same club, they might never have crossed paths.

It was indeed a good thing that, in her first year, Đường Nguyệt didn’t join any clubs. It wasn’t until her second year that she realized she should have participated in more extracurricular activities, so she chose a book club—something she found interesting.

As she carefully reviewed the club’s activity photos, she suddenly heard a growing commotion nearby. She turned around and found the usually empty counter now crowded with people.

She overheard excited chatter from the girls around her.

"Hướng Cẩn is here!"

"That’s him filling out the application form."

"He’s so handsome!"

Without thinking, Đường Nguyệt looked toward the source of the commotion.

Hướng Cẩn smiled gently, his eyes crinkling, his lips curling slightly. When he met her gaze, he tilted his head, his reflection flickering in his long, narrow eyes.

"Hey, you. Want to join our club too?" He handed her the application form.

"Y-yes," she stammered, taking the thin paper with trembling hands.

The form required basic personal information, a list of favorite books, and a recent book review. After a strict selection process, only a few were accepted—Đường Nguyệt was one of them.

After joining the club, she had to admit that Hướng Cẩn was impressive. The number of books he had read far exceeded that of his peers, and his unique insights often made others mistake him for a literature student.

Not only did he arrive on time for every activity, but he also completed every task assigned by the club flawlessly. To everyone, he seemed perfect—talented, kind, and almost flawless.

Sometimes, Đường Nguyệt wondered if Hướng Cẩn was wasting his talent in a book club. Someone like him could shine anywhere. Compared to a book club, he should have joined a debate or journalism club—something that would boost his academic profile.

But no matter what, they were here now, and she had to work with him.

When they collaborated, they rarely spoke, but whenever they needed each other, they understood without words and helped silently before exchanging thanks and smiles. Sometimes, they would chat briefly about the books they had just read, and the relaxed atmosphere made everything feel at ease.

Their relationship changed at the end of their third year.

A heavy rain poured over Giang Thành, and the weather forecast sent repeated warnings, advising people to stay indoors.

Early that morning, Đường Nguyệt and many other passengers were stranded at Giang Thành Station.

At first, she didn’t realize the severity of the situation. She even casually ate at McDonald’s. But as time passed, she saw the red notices on the schedule board—her train was delayed. The severe rain had suspended many services.

Đường Nguyệt helplessly watched her scheduled departure time extend from 30 minutes to 310 minutes.

The station was packed, and many passengers simply sat on the stairs or on mats. She checked the schedule multiple times, her heart pounding with impatience.

She sat near the aisle, to her left was a middle-aged man. Probably bored because of the delay, he struck up a conversation with her.

Đường Nguyệt ignored him, barely responding with vague "hmm" sounds, clearly showing her disinterest.

But the man didn’t give up. After some small talk about the weather, he suddenly shifted to personal questions.

"How old are you?"

"Where do you study?"

Then he bluntly said, "You’re really pretty."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Đường Nguyệt frowned. She felt insulted and didn’t want to engage further. But the man only grew bolder.

"Is talking to you that bad?"

"Kids these days are always glued to their phones."

With that, he suddenly reached out, brushing aside a lock of her hair and bringing it close to his nose, inhaling deeply with a disgusting smile.

Đường Nguyệt panicked and instinctively pushed him away, looking like a frightened little rabbit—both pitiful and cute.

The man’s eyes burned with excitement, recalling the soft texture of her hair. He moved closer again.

"What are you doing?" she stood up abruptly, her voice trembling but loud enough to draw attention. She had hoped someone nearby would notice—this was a public place, he wouldn’t dare act recklessly, right?

Her heart raced as she thought.

The middle-aged man, seeing her soft, submissive demeanor, assumed she wouldn’t resist. But when she suddenly shouted, he was taken aback.

He laughed it off to the bystanders: "She’s my girlfriend. We’re just arguing. Don’t mind us."

Then he reached for her again.

Her body tensed, her mind racing: *Absolutely not!*

Just as she was about to fight back, a slender hand suddenly grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it hard.

A sharp *crack* echoed. The man yelped in pain, his face contorting like a bitter gourd, his features twisting as he screamed, "A—!“

Đường Nguyệt swore that sound was the most pleasant she had ever heard. Her eyes lit up, feeling a surge of satisfaction.

Fortunately, someone intervened. As she turned to thank them, she realized it was someone she knew.

"Daring to harass a girl in public? I thought you were someone special," Hướng Cẩn said calmly, though his lips curled slightly. His eyes were cold, not amused at all. To the man, his calm demeanor was a provocation.

The man panted, balling his unharmed hand into a fist and swinging at Hướng Cẩn.

Hướng Cẩn remained expressionless. He dodged effortlessly and landed a quick, precise punch to the man’s stomach.

The man doubled over, gasping for air, but still managed to curse: "Mind your own business, brat! I’ll call the police!"

"Girlfriend? I don’t even know her," Đường Nguyệt snapped, her face flushing with anger. How dare he still make excuses after all this?

Amid the chaos, Hướng Cẩn remained composed. "If he were her boyfriend, what would I be?" His calm tone stirred something in her chest.

*What?*

Hướng Cẩn took advantage of her distraction, taking her hand. His palm was warm, as if a small sun had fallen into her grasp, the spot he touched burning as if about to evaporate.

She didn’t pull away.

The crowd gathered around, realizing the man had been harassing her and was now caught red-handed by her boyfriend.

"Talking about ‘stealing’ after harassment? If you call the police, it should be you who gets arrested," someone jeered, earning agreement from the onlookers. They pointed at the man, as if ready to pounce.

The man, seeing his advantage slipping, shouted, "What are you looking at? I’ll gouge your eyes out!"

But his body betrayed him—he hastily fled, his back hunched as he rushed away.

The commotion died down quickly.

Hướng Cẩn let go of her hand, lowering his head slightly. "I’m sorry. I acted without your consent—"

"It’s fine," she said, though the skin he had touched still felt tense. She didn’t want to make him apologize. "I should be thanking you," she added, stealing glances at him.

He was dressed in a short-sleeved white shirt and khaki pants, his handsome face as if painted, exuding a gentle charm. She noticed the small suitcase by his side—he seemed to be traveling somewhere.

"Elder brother Hướng, which train are you taking? Where are you going?" she asked out of curiosity.

Hướng Cẩn sat beside her, speaking softly. His destination was the same as hers—"Dong County Station."

*Not the same station.*

A vague sense of regret rose in her heart. Earlier, she had wondered if he was going to the same place as her. But now that she heard the name, her floating heart sank, and she couldn’t help but laugh at her own naivety.

*Indeed, how could such a coincidence happen?*

"So you’re getting off before me. My home is in Xi Du," she said, forcing a smile. "But I didn’t expect elder brother Hướng to be from Dong County."

Hướng Cẩn remained gentle, shaking his head. "No, I’m from Giang Thành. This time, I’m just visiting Dong County," he explained.

Dong County was close to her hometown, only a two-hour journey. She had been there with her parents before and enthusiastically recommended famous scenic spots and local delicacies to him. She even warned him to avoid the touristy souvenir shops.

Hướng Cẩn listened attentively, as if seriously absorbing her advice, satisfying her desire to share.

It wasn’t until she had exhausted all her knowledge that she couldn’t help yawning.

Last night, she had stayed up late, and now, after being harassed and the stress of the delay, her fatigue caught up with her. Her eyelids grew heavy, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

She glanced at Hướng Cẩn, who sat upright, as if listening to a lecture.

"If you’re tired, rest for a while," he said gently.

She nodded slowly. "I’ll just rest a bit. Just a little—"

With him beside her, she unconsciously felt safe. Soon, her eyelids grew heavier, the world fading into darkness. Her consciousness drifted like a cloud on the horizon, slowly dissipating.

Occasionally, faint noises reached her ears, muffled by a fog.

She frowned in her sleep, her body twitching nervously, until a warm hand gently covered her ear.

Finally, she felt at ease, as if the noise had been obscured by a mist, fading away. Instinctively, she pressed her cheek against his palm and rubbed lightly. His hand hesitated for a moment before gently stroking her ear, as if soothing a kitten.

Throughout this, Hướng Cẩn occasionally pulled his hand back. Though she was asleep, she seemed unsatisfied, murmuring something unintelligible.

He quickly covered her ear again, laughing softly at her unconscious actions.

...

When she woke up, she found her head resting on Hướng Cẩn’s shoulder.

She jolted awake, the sleepiness gone. She sat up straight, as if a spring had been released.

Hướng Cẩn spoke first: "The train arrives in half an hour."

She studied his face—he remained as calm as ever, as if nothing had happened. So he probably hadn’t noticed her unintentional behavior earlier.

The words stuck in her throat, swallowed back down.

Under the worried gazes of the passengers, time passed. Finally, the train she had waited for so long arrived at the station.

Because she had booked late, she only got a hard seat, while Hướng Cẩn had a soft bunk. They were in different carriages. After helping her stow her luggage, he left.

The floor vibrated as the train began to move, the metallic clatter of the wheels on the tracks filling the air. The station quickly faded into the distance.

The train left the city, rolling through vast, endless fields toward the horizon, where emerald mountains rose from the earth. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained ominously gray, thick clouds churning silently above the ashen expanse.

Đường Nguyệt sat by the window, gazing blankly outside for a long time. It wasn’t until a soft rustling sound beside her pulled her back to reality.

The familiar young man with black hair sat next to her, just like when they had waited for the train together before.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

Hướng Cẩn replied calmly, "I switched seats with the passenger here."

The man had agreed immediately, fearing Hướng Cẩn might change his mind if he hesitated.

While she was curious why he had switched, she decided not to ask. She had a guess, but instinctively, she chose to ignore it.

After Hướng Cẩn sat down, an unusual silence settled between them.

He didn’t speak, and she didn’t know what to say. She tried to act indifferent, forcing herself to look out the window.

His reflection flickered faintly on the glass, blurred like mist. She absentmindedly glanced at it, but before she could get a good look, darkness swallowed her vision.

The sound of the train entering a tunnel echoed. The dim lights inside cast weak illumination, some sections even unlit due to years of neglect.

She turned to look at Hướng Cẩn beside her. In the dim light, his expression was unclear.

"What’s wrong?" he asked.

As the train exited the tunnel, the view brightened. She could see his usual gentle expression.

"Nothing," she smiled.

Just... suddenly wanting to look at him, nothing more.

Time seemed to accelerate. Finally, the train arrived at Dong County Station, and the passengers who needed to disembark prepared to leave. As the train stopped, they filed out one by one.

Hướng Cẩn remained seated.

"It’s your stop," she reminded him.

He looked at her, as if lost in thought.

She reminded him again.

"Aren’t you going to ask why I switched seats?" he suddenly asked.

"Huh?" She hadn’t expected that question.

Dong County Station was small—the train wouldn’t stop long. If he didn’t get off now, he’d miss his destination.

She glanced at the window, but then his hand turned her face back.

"I switched because I wanted to sit next to you," he said.

Her cheeks warmed, unsure if it was from his touch or her own embarrassment.

"Đường Nguyệt," he called her name in a serious tone. "Let’s give it a try, okay?"

For a moment, she didn’t understand. Everything had happened so suddenly. It wasn’t until her overloaded brain processed it that she realized what "give it a try" meant.

The tracks trembled as the train resumed its journey, carrying them forward—toward the unknown.

The warmth of his hand and the gentleness in his gaze were the most vivid memories she had of that day.

She couldn’t recall what she had said in response, but she was sure of one thing: she had agreed.

Without much thought, it was as if a sudden courage had taken over, and she had accepted his confession, even though she hadn’t fully considered where this relationship would lead.

She thought she had agreed to date Hướng Cẩn because she had liked him for a long time.

But... time had silently changed them both.

She didn’t know why he had been avoiding her. From start to finish, he never explained, as if there were something he couldn’t say. But she was tired—too tired to keep asking.

The disappointment, the anxiety, the endless waiting...

She didn’t like being this kind of "her," so she gave up.

She let go of all the memories, let go of Hướng Cẩn.

She thought that was the end.

But in that moment of decision, her chest still felt strangely empty.

A few days later, she called Hướng Cẩn. It sounded like he was with someone. The line was muffled, and she couldn’t tell how many voices were on the other end.

But soon, the line went quiet, and his voice came through clearly.

"Hướng Cẩn, let’s meet and talk. Now." She should have suggested they meet in person to say goodbye properly. Ending things over the phone felt disrespectful.

She set a meeting place, but that day, she waited for a long time. The station was crowded, from day to night, but he never came.

In the end, he never showed up.

He was already gone.