novelraw Chapter 170 A Hangzhou Love Story
Chapter 170 A Hangzhou Love Story
October 1, 2025.
The first day of the National Day Golden Week. The weather was clear, with not a cloud in the sky.
“Jiang Ran! Over here, over here!”
In front of the dorm building, Cheng Mengxue stood on tiptoe and waved at Jiang Ran.
With his backpack slung over his left shoulder, Jiang Ran looked over.
Today, Cheng Mengxue was dressed in an especially fresh and airy style. She wore a white dress, standing beneath the sunlight brighter than the sunlight itself.
A grayish wheat-colored sun hat rested atop her head, swaying together with the hem of her dress in the breeze.
From childhood until now, it seemed this had always been her style.
Her fair arm waved high in the air, and around her wrist was a simple bracelet. Most girls probably preferred to keep a hair tie looped there instead, ready to tie up their hair while eating or exercising.
But Cheng Mengxue’s neat neck-length short hair was light and free, naturally needing no restraint from a hair tie.She rarely wore jewelry, yet today a delicate necklace shimmered beneath her neck. As it shifted along her collarbone, it refracted the sunlight into rainbow fragments that scattered into Jiang Ran’s eyes.
“You actually brought a suitcase too?”
Jiang Ran walked up and noticed that behind Cheng Mengxue was an extremely tiny rolling suitcase. Judging from its size, it probably didn’t hold much more than what his own backpack carried.
“What else would I do?”
She was in an excellent mood today. Pinching the brim of her sun hat, she giggled. “Going out is different for girls than it is for you boys. We need to bring a lot of things!”
Jiang Ran straightened his collar, reached out, and took the suitcase handle from her with a faint smile.
“Then let’s… head out.”
After leaving campus, they took a taxi straight to the high-speed rail station. Once they entered using their ID cards, the broadcast soon announced that their train had arrived and boarding had begun.
Later that morning, seated side by side in seats D and F, Cheng Mengxue was visibly a little excited.
“Come to think of it, this is the first time the two of us have gone on a trip together. And it’s also our first time taking the high-speed rail together.”
Jiang Ran nodded.
On this No. 1 worldline, that was indeed true.
On the second day of the college entrance exam, Cheng Mengxue had been in a car accident. Unlike on Worldline 0, she had not gone to Donghai University with him.
Naturally, the two of them had never had the chance to sit on a high-speed train together.
But from the perspective of Jiang Ran’s Worldline 0 memories, in every winter break, summer break, and nearly every holiday, they had always sat side by side like this, watching the power poles outside the window slide endlessly past.
That was right.
Back then, Qin Feng had been there too.
The three of them had always been inseparable, sitting in a row in seats A and B, chatting and laughing. Time passed quickly, and before they knew it, they had arrived home in the middle of laughter.
Jiang Ran unconsciously touched the button at his collar.
There should be plainclothes officers from the Donghai City Public Security Bureau somewhere in this same carriage, right?
He simply didn’t pay too much attention to it.
Just as Officer Liu had said yesterday, the more natural today’s itinerary looked, the better.
Blinking, Cheng Mengxue stared out the window and remained silent for a long while.
“I used to imagine this scene.”
“Which one?” Jiang Ran turned his head.
“This one. Right now.”
She leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes.
“Going to college in another city together, taking the high-speed rail out together, and then taking it home together during breaks.”
“It’s such an ordinary scene, but it makes me feel so relaxed. It gives me this feeling that… no matter where we are, as long as you’re beside me, everywhere feels like Hangzhou.”
Slowly, Cheng Mengxue opened her eyes and grinned at him.
“After all, we grew up together. Aside from these past two years, we’ve almost never been apart.”
“There’s no high-speed rail in America. All they have are endless straight highways disappearing beyond the horizon. I’ve always felt trains are a kind of romance unique to Dragon Country, a symbol of returning home carved into our bones.”
“When a lot of people first see a train, the first word that pops into their heads is home. I don’t really know why. But I’ve always loved riding trains. Of course, now they’re called high-speed rail, but in my memories, it doesn’t really feel any different.”
Jiang Ran listened silently to Cheng Mengxue’s murmuring.
Today, she was talking a lot.
But that was normal.
Because Cheng Mengxue had always been a little chatterbox.
“Going home!”
Stretching lazily, Cheng Mengxue raised both small fists as if trying to touch the overhead luggage rack.
“The feeling of going home is so nice.”
She turned to look at Jiang Ran.
“Hey, did you buy the return ticket yet?”
“Not yet.” Jiang Ran shook his head.
She blinked.
“Why not? There’s so much passenger traffic during National Day. If you don’t buy in advance, won’t there be no tickets left?”
“Hangzhou to Donghai is fine.”
Jiang Ran smiled.
“You do need to fight for long-distance tickets, but for a trip as short as Hangzhou to Donghai, even a standing ticket would get us back, so there’s no rush.”
To be honest, the question really had caught him off guard.
He really…
Hadn’t thought about the return trip.
It was as if, deep in his heart, the answer to many things had already been decided. It was only that before the moment truly arrived, he still wasn’t ready to face it.
“Wow, wow!”
At the gates of Hangzhou Wonderland, Cheng Mengxue stood there dumbfounded.
“There are way too many people! Wasn’t this place supposed to be past its prime?”
Jiang Ran was shocked too.
After getting off the high-speed rail, they had eaten a quick lunch and headed straight for Hangzhou Wonderland.
Along the way, there were people everywhere, bustling shoulder to shoulder. In some places, the crowd was so dense it was almost people piled on top of people.
During National Day, Hangzhou felt as if a hundred million people had gathered here.
He had thought that once they arrived at this supposedly “outdated,” “long-declined,” “on-the-verge-of-bankruptcy” Hangzhou Wonderland, the sea of people would ease a little.
Yet to his complete surprise, the place was still packed so tightly that not even water could trickle through, giving the illusion of a grand opening ceremony.
“There are still just too many people in Dragon Country…”
Jiang Ran couldn’t help sighing.
“Let’s go buy tickets first, then store the backpack and suitcase.”
Although the process was slow, the two of them eventually made it inside Hangzhou Wonderland.
Looking ahead, several towering drop towers stood before them, changing patterns as they flung people into the sky.
“Hehe, which one should we ride first~”
Like a little girl, Cheng Mengxue skipped ahead, then turned around.
“Hurry up! What are you spacing out for back there?”
As they strolled along the tree-lined path crowded with visitors, Cheng Mengxue looked left and right, curious about everything.
“You look like someone who’s never been to an amusement park before.”
Jiang Ran laughed.
“Even if I didn’t come here as a kid, aren’t rides like these everywhere?”
“I have been before.”
Cheng Mengxue looked at the carousel ahead, jingling and spinning in circles.
“But—”
She never finished the sentence.
Instead, she grinned and tugged at Jiang Ran’s sleeve, pointing at the carousel.
“Let’s ride that!”
“Huh? No way.”
Jiang Ran looked troubled.
“That’s for little kids. Since when do adults ride—”
Jingle jingle~ jingle jingle~ bells ringing bright~
Sigh.
Jiang Ran let out a helpless sigh as he sat astride a black horse.
Ahead of him was Cheng Mengxue’s back as she rode a white horse.
He really couldn’t understand why Cheng Mengxue would be interested in something this childish.
Honestly, it didn’t feel like her style.
Even if she was pure-hearted inside and occasionally delightfully offbeat, she was already twenty years old. Could someone’s mindset really revert to childhood the instant they stepped into an amusement park?
“Wow, look at that princess! Her gown is so beautiful!”
By the roadside was Hangzhou Wonderland’s National Day special parade float procession.
Ever since the parade projects at Disneyland had become popular, amusement parks all across the country had started copying the idea. It didn’t matter whether they actually had enough recognizable IP characters, nor whether their parks were filled with random gods, demons, and monsters.
The important thing was: start parading first!
To prepare for the National Day crowds, Hangzhou Wonderland had clearly put in serious effort. Not only had they extended operating hours until 9 p.m., they had also added many special programs that normally didn’t exist.
This imitation parade was one of them.
Several long-haired “princesses” in white gowns and crowns danced gracefully to the music as they slowly paraded down the main avenue. From time to time they waved to the surrounding tourists, drawing cheers from the children.
High atop the float stood a white-bearded “king” holding a scepter. The way he gazed down with solemn authority made it seem as if he were enjoying the worship of his subjects.
Afterward, Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue followed the program schedule to watch the circus performance.
A classic red-nosed “clown” entered on a unicycle. His ridiculous movements and ridiculous costume sent waves of laughter through the crowd.
He even pulled out a deck of playing cards to interact with the audience, though his skills were extremely clumsy, serving only as comic relief without any real technique.
Just as everyone was beginning to tire of the crude performance, the theater suddenly went dark.
Then white doves took flight, and a spotlight struck the center of the stage—
A dazzling figure appeared.
A purple top hat, black suit, short wand in hand.
“Mom! It’s the [Magician]!”
A child nearby shouted excitedly.
It seemed that the clown’s earlier slapstick routine had only been a setup, a contrast to make the magician’s grand entrance even more dramatic.
The magician conjured a fish tank out of thin air, then performed a string of card tricks, and the atmosphere in the theater rose higher and higher.
“[Mister Magician is about to perform his most treasured illusion! Let’s hear your applause!]”
As the host shouted, the atmosphere hit its peak.
Thunderous applause.
“Then next comes today’s most spectacular magic trick—[Shadow Shift]!”
A slender female assistant in a tight outfit stepped onto the stage.
The magician first showed that the wooden box was empty, with no one inside and no visible mechanisms, then had the dancer climb in.
This was followed by a series of incomprehensible gestures and increasingly excited music.
With a bang, the wooden box was opened—
No one was inside.
The entire audience fell silent.
And just then, several white doves flew up from the highest point of the audience seats, and the spotlight swung there.
The beautiful female assistant stood proudly, raising both hands high toward the crowd.
Another wave of roaring applause erupted.
“Fake.”
Resting her cheek in her palm, elbow propped on her knee, Cheng Mengxue spoke softly.
“The woman who appeared in the back just now is clearly not the same person as the one who climbed into the box.”
“Heh.”
Jiang Ran smiled faintly.
“You’re overthinking it.”
He traced a line in the air from the stage to the highest point of the audience seating.
“It’s nowhere near as complicated as what you’re imagining. There’s just a mechanism at the bottom of the box that lowers the person beneath the stage.”
“And under the stage there’s a hidden passage leading straight to the highest seats. The assistant simply ran through the tunnel and stepped out there.”
“Everyone’s attention was drawn to the magician’s movements just now, so of course nobody noticed someone suddenly appearing behind the audience. It’s all just misdirection.”
Yet—
Faced with such logical reasoning, Cheng Mengxue merely raised an eyebrow.
“Want to make a bet?”
“Bet on what?”
“Mmm—hehe, it doesn’t really matter, because you’re definitely the one who’s going to lose.”
Naturally, Jiang Ran refused to accept that.
So after the audience had dispersed, the two of them went to the spot where the female assistant had appeared after [Shadow Shift] and opened a hidden side door.
“Huh?”
Contrary to Jiang Ran’s deduction, there was no passage behind the hidden door.
It was simply a small room enclosed by four walls.
After that, the two of them ran backstage.
Sure enough, they found two female assistants wearing identical bodysuits, identical wigs, and identical makeup, with even their figures and chest proportions nearly indistinguishable.
At that moment, the two women were chatting and laughing with the man playing the magician. The three of them clearly belonged to the same troupe and were obviously long-time partners, the atmosphere between them relaxed and harmonious.
“See~ you lost~”
Tilting her little head, Cheng Mengxue looked extremely pleased.
“I could tell at a glance. These two women are dressed exactly the same, but they still couldn’t escape my fiery golden eyes!”
Jiang Ran studied the two women backstage.
To be fair, now that he was looking this carefully, he could also tell there were subtle differences in their facial features.
But under lighting that dim and with the pace of the show changing so quickly, it really had been almost impossible to tell truth from falsehood.
Still, this proved Cheng Mengxue had been right.
The principle behind the trick wasn’t as complicated as Jiang Ran had imagined. There was no tunnel beneath the stage.
Instead, it was extremely simple.
There were simply two identically dressed assistants.
One climbed into the box and disappeared.
The other had already been hidden inside the small secret room at the highest point of the audience seating, waiting only for the loudest point in the music to push open the door and appear.
What looked like [Shadow Shift], like [Openly Replace, Secretly Transfer], was in truth nothing more than a [Twin Misdirection]—a simple substitution.
“Those eyes of yours really are fiery golden eyes.”
Jiang Ran sighed in admiration.
“Exactly~”
Cheng Mengxue giggled.
“With these eyes of mine, if I chose to become a police officer, I’d definitely be a great detective who notices every detail!”
Gradually, night fell, and the amusement park entered its evening phase, becoming even livelier than before.
Passing through a fantasy-themed display zone, they noticed a red tent.
Inside, a “witch” wearing a crooked pointed hat and holding a crystal ball waved at them.
“Young couple, would you like to have your fortunes told?”
“Fortune-telling?”
Cheng Mengxue stopped, visibly interested.
Jiang Ran followed her into the witch’s tent.
The woman playing the witch chuckled, set the crystal ball on the table, and took out a deck of tarot cards.
“How about a tarot reading? Which one of you would like to go?”
“Me, me, me!”
Cheng Mengxue hurried over, sitting cross-legged on the cushion in front of the table, eager to try.
“Well then, little miss, what would you like to divine?”
The witch theatrically shuffled the tarot cards into disorder, laying them all face down.
“Career, wealth, opportunity, or perhaps—love?”
After saying that, the witch tilted her head and looked meaningfully at the handsome young man and beautiful young woman in front of her.
“I’d say we should divine love.”
And with that, she took Cheng Mengxue’s hand and began muttering incomprehensible incantations.
Jiang Ran froze.
Was this a witch or a salesperson?
The customer hadn’t even said a word, and she was already forcing the sale.
Still—
Since the fortune-telling was free, there was no point arguing over it.
Very quickly, the chanting ended.
The witch released Cheng Mengxue’s hand and opened her eyes.
“Now then, little miss, pick any one card from these face-down tarot cards.”
Cheng Mengxue lowered her head and looked at the spread across the table, hesitating.
After all, every card back looked exactly the same.
It made no difference which one she chose.
“The card I choose… will be my fortune?” Cheng Mengxue asked.
“It will be the fortune of the love you encounter.”
The witch grinned.
“Come now, be brave. I’ll interpret it for you.”
In the end, Cheng Mengxue selected one card and pressed her finger against its back.
Even Jiang Ran found himself drawn in by the suspense, leaning forward to see what she had drawn.
Cheng Mengxue took a deep breath and flipped the tarot card over—
It was a skeleton draped in a tattered cloak, holding a scythe, riding atop a white horse.
At the top was the Roman numeral 13.
At the bottom were the letters DEAH.
Very clearly—
This was tarot’s thirteenth major arcana.
[Death].
5
[…]
6
Inside the tent, the atmosphere was as silent as an ice cellar, and the awkwardness was almost unbearable.
Cheng Mengxue tilted her head. “What does this card mean?”
The witch pressed her lips together, hesitating to speak, but in the end professional ethics made her tell the truth. “The end.”
Just two short words.
“Ah?”
Cheng Mengxue’s mouth fell open.
“But at the same time—” the witch added, “it also means rebirth.”
This little idealistic interlude had absolutely no effect on young people raised under the banner of materialism.
After leaving the witch’s tent, the two of them went to watch another show.
It was a very abstract live performance.
The [Priest] fought a [Vampire] draped in a red robe and baring fangs, using a Bible and a cross as weapons.
The plot was terribly cliché. The Priest was suppressed by the Vampire the whole time, but in the end, for some unknown reason, an [Angel] descended from the sky, reversed the battle, and joined the Priest in evaporating the Vampire with the righteous light of holy radiance.
“You’ve got to admit, Hangzhou Amusement Park really has a lot of shows.” Cheng Mengxue felt the trip had definitely been worth it.
“Maybe it’s because they’ve completely given up on treatment, so they just let themselves go a little,” Jiang Ran said bluntly.
By now, it was already 8:30 p.m.
There was only half an hour left before the park closed.
As the final stop of the amusement park, Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue lifted their heads at the same time, their gazes falling in perfect unison on the gigantic ring of neon lights glowing in the distance—the Ferris wheel.
Ever since the world’s first Ferris wheel debuted in 1893, this colossal structure had become standard equipment in amusement parks.
At first, the Ferris wheel had only been an exhibit at the Chicago World’s Fair, created as America’s way of competing with the Eiffel Tower completed in 1889 and demonstrating its industrial strength to the world.
But by today, the Ferris wheel had long since shed that original purpose. More often, it had become bound up with romance and love, the favorite check-in attraction for young couples.
“Let’s ride the Ferris wheel!”
Cheng Mengxue pointed at the neon glow spinning high in the sky. “Come to think of it, I’ve never ridden one before. This’ll be my first time.”
“Me neither.”
Jiang Ran raised his head and looked at the colorful steel beast.
In his mind surfaced the eerie mural burned into the wall of Qin Feng’s family courtyard—the Ferris wheel with the giant eye lying across it, the same symbol engraved on the back of the coin in the Priest’s hand.
Amusement park. Ferris wheel. Amusement park. Ferris wheel.
It was almost a blatant hint—linking the coin, the Priest, the Magician, Qin Feng, Lilith, and all those elements directly to the concept of Prodigy’s Playground.
Hangzhou Amusement Park operated on an all-inclusive ticket, so the Ferris wheel didn’t require a separate pass. They just had to queue honestly and wait their turn.
Perhaps because this Ferris wheel had been built relatively early, each cabin was very small, holding at most four people, though in practice it was usually just two.
Unlike the newer Ferris wheels built nowadays, whose cabins were large enough to fit a dozen people, even thirty, maximizing revenue to the limit.
Still, the small cabins had their own advantage. On a Ferris wheel of the same size, more cabins could be suspended, and at the same time it gave couples a better sense of privacy.
Soon, it was Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue’s turn to board.
Cheng Mengxue darted inside in a single step and waved at him. “What are you spacing out for? Hurry up!”
Jiang Ran was just about to follow her in—
Suddenly.
He lifted his head and froze there, a chill running down his spine.
At the top of the cabin door right in front of him, the cabin number was clearly written:
[42]
Again, 42.
This bizarre number always appeared when he least expected it, jolting him to the core.
“Jiang Ran! Hurry up!”
The Ferris wheel was still rotating. Cheng Mengxue stretched out a hand from inside, urging him.
Even the staff member looked baffled. “Young man, come on!”
And yet—
Jiang Ran remained rooted to the spot.
He thought of the 42 on Tian Xiaoli’s hospital room door, the miraculous awakening from a vegetative state, Old Tian pressing a gun to his own temple and weeping—
What exactly did this 42 mean?
“Jiang Ran!!” Seeing that they were about to miss it, Cheng Mengxue shouted from inside the cabin.
289269426494642
“42 is the correct one!”
Don’t believe 42.
“Follow 42!”
00:42
“42 is you.”
Countless images and echoes flashed through Jiang Ran’s mind like a carousel.
“Trust your own judgment.”
In the end, it was Officer Liu patting him on the shoulder, the final words of advice before parting.
Jiang Ran gritted his teeth and reached out his hand toward Cheng Mengxue.
Her small hand clasped his larger one, and within the safety limit, the two of them finally boarded the Ferris wheel cabin.
“What was that for?”
Cheng Mengxue punched him lightly and shot him a glare. “You keep going offline all day long. Are you still running on 2G?”
Click—
The staff member shut the cabin door and locked it.
For the next ten minutes, they would be sealed inside this narrow space, unable to move, unable to escape.
The moment the cabin door closed and the inside world was cut off from the outside, the world seemed to fall silent—
The noisy clamor outside disappeared. The altitude and the metal shell formed excellent soundproofing. Sitting face to face, even the sound of their breathing seemed a little hurried.
Just then, music began to play from the cabin speakers.
It was an incredibly familiar opening. Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue both lifted their heads and looked toward the speaker welded into the ceiling.
After the lingering violin came the crisp plucking of a guitar.
It was a song they had often listened to in middle school—Zhe Jingru’s “Love Song.”
[Time is amber, tear by tear, locked away.]
[Even the most eternal love letter wears down into an hourglass.]
The clear, pure, and warm voice bloomed inside the cabin, echoing through this tiny universe.
Listening to the soothing, beautiful singing, Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue exchanged a glance, then both turned their eyes to the window, their line of sight slowly rising with the Ferris wheel’s rotation.
[At the upstream of youth, white clouds drift away, old changes and seabirds.]
[A passing thought—surges away in waves.]
This song of Zhe Jingru’s was called “Love Song,” and yet what it seemed to sing was a story of longing, loss, and missed chances.
Jiang Ran had no idea why a Ferris wheel, where most riders were couples, would play a song like this.
Probably the operator backstage didn’t really understand pop music and simply saw the title Love Song, then stubbornly clicked it—
“Hangzhou really is a beautiful city.”
Against the backdrop of the song, Cheng Mengxue spoke softly. “I’ve never looked down on Hangzhou from this angle before. It feels like even those distant lights don’t seem that far away anymore.”
“This feeling is really strange. When you look at a city up close and live inside it, it always feels moving, busy.”
“But once your point of view rises, the city goes still. It’s like it turns into a painting—a faded old photograph.”
Jiang Ran nodded.
It really did feel that way.
These days had been so busy and anxiety-ridden that it had been a long time since he’d had the peace of mind to quietly admire a city’s nightscape.
[Slow motion rewinds the film roll, replaying a silent movie, freezing a single instant.]
[At our farewell concert, we promised never to meet again!]
As Zhe Jingru’s love song gradually swelled, their drifting little cabin also followed the Ferris wheel’s rotation toward the highest point.
“Jiang Ran.”
Cheng Mengxue stood up and pressed against the cabin glass, looking out over Hangzhou’s colorful night view. “Do you think this is the highest point in all of Hangzhou?”
Jiang Ran thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Probably not. If we’re talking Ferris wheels, the Thousand Island Eye over by Qiandao Lake should be the tallest one in Hangzhou.”
Huh?
He suddenly thought of Tianjin, where there was the largest river-crossing Ferris wheel in Asia, the Tianjin Eye. And then the largest Ferris wheel in the world, Ain Dubai.
It was almost as if—
Across the entire world, Ferris wheels were always bound up with the symbol of an eye.
“Jiang Ran, look!”
The cabin was still rising slowly. Cheng Mengxue pointed outside, motioning for him to come closer. “Look over there—is that West Lake?”
“It should be.” Jiang Ran estimated the direction and found it about right.
“How nice…”
Looking at the vast nightscape, Cheng Mengxue suddenly smiled. “If I’d known it was this beautiful, I should’ve come here when I was little.”
[Destiny is so ironic, it leaves the old ones speechless.]
[A whole universe in exchange for a single red bean.]
A regretful song. A regretful silence.
Time could not flow backward.
Everyone missed childhood, even if childhood itself had not been entirely happy.
Then why was it…
At last, the cabin they were in finally reached the highest point of the ring, allowing them to overlook the entire city of Hangzhou in a completely unobstructed view.
And that rich, precious singing voice once again reached its climax.
[The long shot pulls farther and farther away, farther and farther, after so many years.]
[At the concert of our memories, we kissed goodbye politely—]
Jiang Ran pressed his palm against the glass window, feeling as if the slow night wind had pierced through spacetime itself and seeped into his heart through his fingertips.
“Jiang Ran,” Cheng Mengxue called softly.
“Hm?” He turned his head slightly.
The next second—
A point of warmth touched his left cheek.
It was Cheng Mengxue’s lips.
She kissed the very place where she had slapped him the day before. The force was worlds apart, and yet it burned just as fiercely.
Jiang Ran’s eyes widened, and he froze there as if turned to stone.
He couldn’t believe it.
This was something Cheng Mengxue was capable of?
She wasn’t drunk. There were no drunken eyes beneath fireworks.
And yet that dragonfly-light touch made Jiang Ran involuntarily hold his breath.
Soon enough, Cheng Mengxue straightened up, her lips leaving his cheek. Only then did Jiang Ran turn his head fully, unsure what expression he was even supposed to wear as he looked at her.
“This is… a girl’s kiss.”
Her voice was tiny, as light as a falling leaf, as delicate as a cicada’s wing.
“Not a childhood friend’s kiss.”
Meeting Jiang Ran’s eyes, the girl repeated it once more:
[This is—a girl’s kiss.]
Ding.
The elevator doors opened, and Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue arrived on the floor of the hotel rooms, walking out one after the other.
Cheng Mengxue’s room was right by the elevator.
She walked over, swiped the keycard, and pushed open the door.
Then she turned back.
“Thank you, Jiang Ran.”
She smiled faintly. “I had so much fun today. It felt just like a dream.”
Jiang Ran smiled too. “It was only one trip to the amusement park. It’s not that dreamlike.”
“Good night.” Cheng Mengxue’s lips moved slightly as she pushed the door wider, pulling her mini suitcase inside.
Thunk.
With the force of the hinge, the door automatically swung shut, leaving only Jiang Ran outside.
He glanced at his watch.
10:07 PM
There were still 8 hours left until sunrise.
And 8 hours later, what came next would be the sunset of this story.
“Good night.”
Looking at the closed door, he spoke softly.
On the other side of the door, Cheng Mengxue leaned her back against the panel and slowly slid downward under the pull of gravity, until she was sitting on the floor.
Her head lowered, bangs covering her eyes, motionless.
“Cheng Mengxue.”
After a long while, she bit her lip and spoke.
“Everything you once wanted to do, I’ve already done it for you.”
[The two of us—this is where it ends.]
Bracing herself on her knees, she stood up and opened the small suitcase.
From inside, she took out three photographs and a lighter, then walked into the bathroom.
The first photo was a group picture of the four Film Camera Club members in Dazhi River Park.
She flicked the lighter, let the flame crawl over the photograph, and tossed it into the ceramic sink.
The second photo was a riverside picture of her and Jiang Ran.
Again she pressed the lighter, ignited the photograph in her hand, and dropped it into the sink.
The two flames crossed and danced wildly, until in the end they burned each other down into ash.
Then she picked up the final photo and held it before her eyes.
It was—
A childhood photo of an older sister and younger brother on a lawn.
The little girl in the short down jacket, only five or six years old, was running forward. Her right hand, covered in a pink glove, was pulling along a little boy behind her who looked less than three, his cheeks red from the cold.
Both of them wore bright, happy smiles.
Splash—
The girl turned on the faucet, washing the black ash in the sink completely away until every trace vanished without a shadow.
Then she lifted her head and looked at the bathroom mirror.
There was a pair of incomparably sharp eyes.
A face of absolute resolve.
No distractions.
No hesitation.
No tenderness.
“I am Li Yini.”
In front of the mirror, inside the mirror, the two girls spoke at the same time.
“Li as in plum-tree Li. Yini as in splendid scenery.”
The two of them gazed at each other. At such close distance, they seemed to merge into one.
“Little brother, your sister is here—to take you home!”