Chapter 781: A Dream

After Leyao left, I sat alone facing that wall for a long time. I felt as if loneliness had turned into a breeze brushing past me. I lit my lighter, watching the flame dance in the wind and then extinguish. After repeating this several times, the loneliness in my heart seemed to burn away. Then, a strange emotion arose—neither good nor bad—but it held me in place, making me reluctant to leave immediately and chase after the city lights.

A high-speed train roared past, suddenly bringing life to this previously endless expanse of wilderness. Unfortunately, Leyao didn’t get to witness this scene. I also dared not regard this train, which passed after such a long wait, as a gift from the night, because I saw the people inside—travelers moving through the carriages—whose loneliness seemed even greater than my own. At least behind me was my hometown; they, however, had left their homes behind for this journey.

…

Since Mi Cai officially became the Executive President of Xinlv Energy, her public exposure had significantly increased. That night, after returning home, I once again saw news about her. This time, she represented the group in a vertical acquisition of a large enterprise primarily manufacturing energy-saving appliances. This acquisition was hailed by the industry as a classic, textbook case. Analysts unanimously believed that after acquiring this company, Xinlv Energy would achieve a new breakthrough in both technology and market share, eventually dominating the industry and becoming a true energy giant.

I lit a cigarette, put down the tablet in my hand, and idly imagined Mi Cai’s current appearance. Surely, she had already returned to her demanding work schedule, and the extra weight she had gained during her travels must have returned to normal. Unfortunately, this report on her acquisition was only textual, accompanied by previously used photographs. Otherwise, I could have taken the opportunity to catch a glimpse of how she looked now.

I stared at the ceiling and took a deep drag from my cigarette. I felt an intense longing to achieve another breakthrough in my career. At this moment, compared to Mi Cai’s, my business was nothing more than small-time operations. How could I possibly fall behind that woman far away?

That’s right—right now, I had already begun viewing Mi Cai as my career rival. Perhaps I didn’t have the strength to enter the energy industry, but at the very least, I couldn’t fall behind her. That way, when the day came for her to return to me, we wouldn’t have to struggle anymore over differences in status and identity. By then, I wouldn’t call her President Mi, nor would I want her to address me as President Zhao. We could leave our wealth behind and walk hand in hand, either at dusk or in the morning, along that same Mo Chou Road again!

The next day, the city, usually in the depths of winter, surprisingly revealed a sky as blue as a gem. Inspired, I put on my long-unused athletic gear and ran a lap along the familiar moat. Then, I sat at the small fitness plaza that had recently been renovated and chatted with Old Li about his flock of pigeons and the cat I had given him last time. Later, we went together to the newly opened snack shop across the street, where we drank a bowl of spicy soup and ate several strips of rice cake. Of course, I ended up paying the bill again—Old Li wasn’t exactly known for his generosity—but this didn’t affect my willingness to come here whenever I had free time. I really enjoyed the world of the elderly. Their wealth and emotions had already stabilized, with little chance of change. Apart from life and death, the sense of security they had toward life was precisely what we young people lacked the most, so I envied him greatly.

After breakfast, Old Li and I walked toward the square by the moat. Today was one of my rare days off, and I had no desire to go anywhere else—I simply wanted to enjoy this sunlit morning beneath a blue sky.

The aunties who had been watching over my guitar returned it to me and took the opportunity to urge me to sing for them, making me increasingly resemble a “favorite of the aunties.” I didn’t mind in the slightest, smiling as I asked, “What song would you ladies like to hear?”

One of the lead dancing aunties kindly replied, “This time, you pick the song you want to sing. We’ve been making you sing these square dance songs for so long… it’s time we gave you the freedom to sing whatever you like. Sing well, kid! If you do, we’ll all listen to you sing pop songs from now on!”

I politely replied, “Aunties, this is your territory. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy! Please don’t mention how you forced me to sing—because even if you really did force me, I wouldn’t dare complain. After all, I still want to come here and hang out sometimes!”

The lead dancing auntie laughed, patting my shoulder, “You cheeky one! Twisting words to talk behind our backs!”

I chuckled along with the aunties, then closed my eyes and carefully considered which song to sing. Because the aunties were usually so domineering, such an opportunity to choose my own song was truly rare. Moments later, I finally strummed the guitar strings. This time, I didn’t want to sing folk or rock. Instead, I chose the classic pop song “Dream a Dream.” As for why I chose this song, I couldn’t say for sure. Perhaps it was just out of habit, because I had sung it countless times here before. I remembered how much Jian Wei used to love listening to it, and naturally, I had come to love it too because of her.

“We both made promises to each other out of loneliness,

We both grew tired of life through torment.

But how much longer can we continue this way?

We changed our attitudes to accept each other,

We sacrificed ourselves for someone else’s dream.

But how much longer do we have left? It doesn’t matter anymore.

I often recall the warmth of the past,

It keeps me warm through the night.

You said one person’s beauty lies in self-respect,

Two people being together is fate.

Had I known it would be like this, like a dream,

Why would I have placed all my love in one place?

I can forgive your recklessness,

But the greater recklessness is that I can’t forget you myself.

Had I known it would be like this, like a dream,

Why would I have locked all my tears inside my eyes?

Let you go mad, let you run wild,

Let you be strong in a place without me,

Let me heal in a place without you…”

Throughout the song, I kept my eyes closed, because the lyrics seemed to describe my past with Jian Wei. After we broke up, she became strong in a place without me, while I healed in a place without her. Looking back now, that love that had stirred up so much emotion between us was really just a dream we had in a half-awake morning. Yet in that dream, we had wounded each other deeply, each carrying the pain for years. But who could we blame?

We were simply too young back then, unable to find the right way to handle love.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw Jian Wei standing beside me, wearing a hood and a mask. She seemed to have listened to the entire song.

I quickly brushed the dust off my pants and stood up, looking at her somewhat awkwardly. Since she had lost part of her memory, I had never imagined she would come back here again…

She casually removed her mask and lowered her hood, then tidied her hair before saying to me, “So you can play the guitar, and you sing pretty well too!”

I nodded, suppressing my nervousness as I asked, “How come you came here?”

She looked up at the sky and replied, “The air is nice today, so I wanted to go out for a walk. I ended up here without realizing it… However, the surroundings seem to have changed. I remember this section of the river didn’t used to have this fitness plaza.”

For some reason, upon confirming that Jian Wei’s memory was still missing, I actually felt a little relieved. Finally, I told her, “This fitness plaza was built earlier this year. Since its completion, more people have come here to walk and exercise. It used to be quite deserted.”

“Hehe…” Jian Wei smiled, then turned and leaned against the riverside railing, gazing at the opposite bank that hadn’t been renovated. It was still lined with high-rise buildings, exuding a modern urban atmosphere.

I packed the guitar into its case, slung it over my back, and stood beside her, facing the gentle breeze blowing from across the river. In my memory, Suzhou’s winters had never felt this gentle before.

“Zhaoyang, can you tell me what it feels like to like someone?”

I thought for a moment and replied, “Sometimes, just waiting for someone can feel like happiness.”

She finally turned to look at me, but I couldn’t meet her gaze. I simply stared at the river surface where Jian Wei and I had once jumped. Back then, I had jumped to save the guitar she had given me, while she had jumped to save my life. Now, the river seemed so calm, as if it had never witnessed such a dramatic event.

I lit a cigarette. Jian Wei put her mask back on—she hated the smell of smoke drifting from me. And with that, the conversation ended. We fell silent, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable with the silence. In Jian Wei’s eyes, I was at most a slightly more familiar stranger, and our past was just a forgotten dream to her now. So, there was no need for us to face each other the way we used to—with such heavy burdens.

After a while, without saying goodbye, Jian Wei walked away along the riverside path in the direction she had come from. As she was nearly out of sight, a taxi pulled up by the riverbank, and then Mo Zishi stepped out. He walked down from the road above to the small path along the riverbank, hurriedly chasing after Jian Wei…

They walked further and further away, seemingly holding hands, yet perhaps not. I was too far away to see clearly.

It felt like I had just experienced a dreamlike vision, and with that, my morning came to an end.

…

In the afternoon, I went again to Mo Chou Road in Nanjing. I wanted to visit the small-eared cat I had left at the “Mo Chou Café.” Why did I keep this cat?

It was simply because the breeder told me that this breed of cat takes about two years to fully grow. I impulsively bought it, calculating that by the time the cat stopped growing, Mi Cai would have returned. Using this kind of comparison to wait made time pass less painfully—a lesson I had learned over the past year since Mi Cai’s departure.

Pushing open the door of the “Mo Chou Café” beneath the gentle afternoon sunlight, I called out, “Xiaodao (the name I gave the cat), Xiaodao, your big brother is here. Hurry out and greet me!”

Immediately, a gray kitten about the length of chopsticks mewed twice from a corner beneath the bar counter. I walked over and picked it up, grumbling, “Do you deserve such a tough-sounding name I gave you? Last time, you pissed behind a flowerpot. This time, you’re hiding and trembling under the bar counter… Can’t you welcome your big brother with a little bravery?”

The staff laughed, covering their mouths, but I didn’t care. I held Xiaodao tightly, examining him carefully several times. He had indeed grown very slowly—there was no noticeable growth at all during this time. Disappointed, I placed him back under the bar counter to continue trembling.

That afternoon, I stayed at the “Mo Chou Café” without a moment’s rest. I used some scrap wood to make several minimalist flower stands. I had already planned that when spring came next year, I would fill the small backyard with all kinds of flowers.

Winter’s dusk arrived around four o’clock. After finishing my work, I held Xiaodao and sat near the window, enjoying a cup of coffee. Soon, I would return to Suzhou, but I felt reluctant to leave everything in this café behind—especially that rainbow-shaped window and the carefree feeling I experienced here. Sometimes I even thought: if I weren’t burdened by worldly fame and fortune, I truly wished I could just stay in this Mo Chou Café, waiting for Mi Cai’s return as if in a dream.

While drinking my coffee, I came across an entertainment news item about Leyao. Her agent had issued a statement on her behalf, announcing that from that day forward, she would take her father’s surname, changing her name to Xiaoyao. In the future, if she and Cao Jinfei had two children, one would take her surname, Xia, and the other would naturally take Cao’s surname.

After this statement was released, it immediately sparked widespread public discussion. People were speculating about what had happened in Leyao’s past—why she had changed from her mother’s surname to her father’s now. But to those of us who knew the truth, such discussions were completely meaningless. If not for Leyao’s stubborn insistence, she should have taken her father’s surname years ago. Otherwise, why would she have drifted to Suzhou and endured those difficult years? I still clearly remembered: back then, she was just a small model who often struggled to find work.

As I was about to lock my phone screen, I accidentally saw another celebrity gossip item. The protagonist was Fangyuan, who had always been cautious and conservative in his actions. The news claimed he was allegedly involved in an improper relationship with a female celebrity from Chongqing. Someone had reportedly seen the two entering and exiting a luxury hotel in Macau, behaving intimately.