After leaving the cemetery, I walked down the straight road with my hands empty. The road stretched wider as I walked, merging seamlessly with the blue sky and drifting clouds above. I stopped, lifting my gaze to the distant city skyline. What I felt was the scar that time, relentless and irreversible, had carved into our lives. Whether to persist or let go was merely a fleeting thought, yet I still haven’t figured out which choice could open a window for our lives.
Over the years, I’ve only seen countless emotions colliding amidst worldly troubles. All we could do was chase after freedom—sometimes real, sometimes illusory—with imprisoned eyes. Perhaps because I no longer had burdens, I walked freely through this city that had troubled me for so many years, until I reached the moat.
Today, this place has been transformed into a riverside plaza—a gathering spot for leisure. Every time I see the countless smiling faces here enjoying themselves, I realize that this place no longer belongs to me and Jianwei. The labels we once attached here have been ruthlessly torn away by time, leaving only a faint, lingering nostalgia that floats on the river surface, drifting toward the city’s edge with the wind.
Amidst the noisy crowd, I sat on the riverside guardrail. Here, I didn’t desire much anymore. I only wanted to sit quietly for a while, light a cigarette, and think about some things.
I really lit a cigarette, but found that there wasn’t much left to think about at this moment. It wasn’t until a withered leaf silently landed on the river surface that my memories were unlocked.
At this very spot, a lipstick had once slipped from Jianwei’s hand. At that moment, her expression seemed to have lost the entire world. Yet it wasn’t until more than two years later that I finally realized: six years ago, she had used that very lipstick to write on the car window, leaving behind a waiting that I would never forget for the rest of my life.
Waiting?
I waited, but ultimately there was no result—only a deep wound left in both of our lives.
Yet even so, I would never forget the first time I saw her, wearing a white T-shirt, stunning me throughout that entire summer.
I took a deep puff of the cigarette, but held the smoke tightly in my mouth, reluctant to exhale. Because I feared that within the swirling smoke, I might see that very beginning.
“Jianwei, we no longer have a future, just like the water in this moat before us. Although once, we flowed together without distinction, as the winds changed, we have drifted in opposite directions. Now, I have reached the shore. What about you?”
“You must be striving too, right?”
Finally, I exhaled the smoke I had held in my mouth. But what I saw wasn’t the beginning I once knew. Instead, I seemed to see Jianwei’s future happiness. She wouldn’t be any less than Yan Yan, her dearest friend. One day, she would become the most beautiful mother in the world, holding her beloved child in her arms, smiling under the bright sunlight.
…
Walking had become something I could no longer stop doing today. So I continued northward, arriving at a section of railway tracks that Yaoyue often regarded as a place of solace. As I stopped walking, dusk quietly arrived. Under the scattered glow of the setting sun, I seemed to see a lonely figure gently stroking her hair, gazing toward the farthest end of the railway tracks.
Amidst the sound of trains rubbing against the tracks, I gradually recalled some of the words she had once spoken to me.
She said: We must become masters of life.
She said: There was an island in her heart, where she would wait for the man who would come sailing to her.
She said: All human suffering arises merely from considering oneself too important, from craving to satisfy those intangible desires in one’s heart—such as love. Once love fails to match the fantasy, suffering ensues.
She also said: In this lifetime, she had planted a seed in my heart. If it were nourished by rain, I must remember to let it bloom and bear fruit.
“Yaoyue, you truly understand the principles of life better than any of us. Yet for a long time, you refused to apply these principles to become a master of life. Actually, I’ve always known what you were thinking, but I never understood why you thought that way. Perhaps this was the greatest regret in our time together. But in my heart, I will never forget those years when we were deeply intertwined in pain—those were the years when you painted recklessly across my life, which I once resented. Yet when I look back at your artwork now, I realize that it was actually the most beautiful painting in my life.”
“Yaoyue, we both have our own families now, and our opportunities to interact are becoming fewer and fewer. But our longing for each other will probably never diminish. Carrying this longing, I really want to see what kind of woman you will become after understanding the responsibilities of family—you, who used to be playful and lively, like the wind. Actually, family responsibility is like a railway track—it must be precise, symmetrical, and perfectly aligned to support the train of family, smoothly moving toward the station that represents a fulfilling journey. Do you agree with that?”
…
Under the setting sun, two trains passed each other in opposite directions, as if carrying away many memories from my life, chasing toward the farthest horizon.
And I had to leave Suzhou again, returning to my hometown to wait for the woman who was indispensable to my life and the surprise she was about to bring me.
…
On the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, I sat in the image café I had built with my own hands, sipping coffee and reading the latest issue of a financial magazine. On this special day, the café was closed to the public—I only wanted to wait in peace.
Putting down the magazine, I squinted at the blue sky and clouds outside the café window. I opened a window and stretched my hand outside. The sunlight was radiant, without the bone-chilling cold of winter. On such a beautiful day, I couldn’t help but smile. I removed from my collar the necklace with a butterfly pendant that Mi Cai had once given me, placing it beside me. I watched the sunlight refract through the butterfly’s wings, creating dazzling circles.
From afar, a figure approached the café gently in the breeze. My heart, which had remained calm all afternoon, began to beat violently.
She came closer and closer, and I saw her clearly, along with the child in her arms wearing a bear-eared hat. I felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity, for the child’s features bore so much resemblance to mine, while inheriting Mi Cai’s fair skin and lips. I had never seen such a beautiful and adorable child, and I couldn’t help but tear up. I knew this was my child, and finally understood why Mi Cai had disappeared for such a long time last year.
Under the setting sun, Mi Cai stood outside the glass window. She lifted the chestnuts she had bought, and lovingly said to the child in her arms, “Suo Wei, give the chestnuts from Mommy to Daddy…”
Tears blurred my vision, making the beautiful world in front of me heartbreakingly tender. Our child was named Suo Wei. It must have been Mi Cai who chose this name. Only she had the grace to name her child “Suo Wei.”
The child couldn’t speak yet and couldn’t carry the chestnuts. He simply looked at me with a babbling smile, then nestled against Mi Cai’s shoulder, playing with the strands of her hair by her ear—seemingly his greatest joy.
A gentle breeze carried the scent of Mi Cai and the child toward me, flowing through the window into the open collar of my shirt. I knew I wasn’t dreaming.
In this half of my life, I had been downcast, in pain, hurt by love, and betrayed by friends. But all of that had melted away in the sunlight of this afternoon. I was willing to forgive all the injustices and hidden wounds of this world for the sake of the beloved people in front of me.
At this moment, I seemed to see a kind of purity floating before that city, returning gracefully and merging with the blue sky and white clouds. Then, with the sunlight, it scattered down onto the ground, becoming an endless stream of affection.
I stepped forward firmly toward the outside of the café. I approached them—mother and child. Mi Cai handed Suo Wei to me. I held him so carefully. He didn’t cry because he had never seen me before. Mi Cai kept holding his little hand, encouraging him to accept my embrace. My heart melted completely. Choking back tears, I said to Mi Cai, “Four years ago, you were my tenant. Four years later, you are my wife. Fate is truly mysterious!”
“Yes, two years ago, you were the man I deeply loved. Two years later, you are the father of my child. We should both be grateful to fate, grateful for that old house that brought us together in our destined encounter.”
I nodded, gently pulling Mi Cai into my arms. From afar, the firecrackers of New Year’s Eve had already begun to sound. Holding Mi Cai’s hand and carrying Suo Wei, I walked along the gravel path heading home. Our figures stretched longer and longer under the newly lit streetlights, leaving behind a trail of harmony. And the scene of my first meeting with Mi Cai on that rainy night four years ago was embedded in the gentle night, like a long film colored by fireworks, describing the sentiments of youth and the indelible hopes in life!
…
My name is Zhaoyang. This is my story. Perhaps the ending is also a beginning…
(The End)
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