It Turns Out I Really Love You - Chapter 2

Wednesday morning was supposed to be the time for recording the interview program, but Nie Xi told Sang Wuyan that she didn’t need to go; the program was already prepared.

“Who’s being interviewed?” Sang Wuyan asked.

Nie Xi smiled mysteriously, “It’s a secret for now. You’ll know when it airs tonight, won’t you?”

Sang Wuyan glanced at Nie Xi’s radiant face. It was rare to see her so happy, indicating that it was no ordinary person. Sang Wuyan didn’t take this to heart and promptly forgot about it.

Regarding job interview issues, the school had offered a series of career guidance courses starting from junior year. This semester, the department invited a teacher from the School of Literature to teach “Communication and Eloquence,” which coincidentally had two classes in the afternoon. Unexpectedly, upon arriving at school, Sang Wuyan saw a notice on the blackboard stating that the teacher had a temporary matter and the class was rescheduled for the evening.

Although this teacher never took attendance, his lectures were extremely interesting, so not many people skipped.

For example, in one class, he said, “From your psychology perspective, people face three major fears when speaking in interpersonal communication: fear of strangers, fear of high status, and fear of groups. The degree of this fear varies from person to person, and from experience to experience, but they are all unavoidable. Your job interviews, postgraduate entrance interviews, and civil servant interviews are all occasions that combine these three fears, which is why so many people feel they are huge obstacles.”

A classmate below asked, “Teacher, do you have group fear when facing us?”

The teacher smiled, “Yes. For example, if you suddenly stand up and ask a question now, although my face won’t change, my heart will still be startled, just fearing you’ll ask some question that puts me in an awkward position.”

After class, Sang Wuyan returned home and suddenly remembered that Nie Xi’s mysterious interview would be broadcast tonight. As soon as she turned on the radio, she heard Nie Xi say, “Today, I sincerely thank Mr. Yi Jin for taking the time out of his busy schedule to join our program.”

“You’re welcome.”

The voice that answered Nie Xi was a man’s, slightly deep, with a pleasant magnetic quality.

It’s Yi Jin?!

Sang Wuyan widened her eyes and looked at Cheng Yin.

“It’s actually Yi Jin?!” Sang Wuyan asked Cheng Yin.

“But it seems the program has already ended,” Cheng Yin poured cold water on her.

This was the first time Sang Wuyan heard direct information about Yi Jin. Although it was just two faint words, spoken by that talented man, they carried a peculiar charm.

He said, “You’re welcome.”

Such a short phrase without context made people think a little. Was this man tall or short, fat or thin, introverted or outgoing… it seemed impossible to determine.

Sang Wuyan stared blankly at the radio, and after a long time, she fell asleep with that voice, feeling a strange mix of emotions.

The next afternoon, she had no classes, and it wasn’t even rush hour, so there were even fewer people on the 101 bus. Sang Wuyan got on the bus and found a window seat in the back.

The 101 bus was a sightseeing bus line in A City, winding its way through various famous attractions from the city center to scenic areas. Locals didn’t often take it. Firstly, it was very circuitous, and secondly, it was a bit more expensive than regular buses.

However, if she had nothing else to do, Sang Wuyan would often spend three yuan to sit on the bus and wander around the city for most of the day. Most of the time, there were few passengers, scattered here and there. She liked to listen to music alone, staring blankly outside and thinking about things. This was the introverted Sang Wuyan. She had been shy and introverted in front of strangers since childhood, and only after growing up and going to university did her personality slowly begin to become more active.

It was on this bus that Sang Wuyan heard a rerun of Nie Xi’s interview with Yi Jin from yesterday.

At this moment, a fine drizzle was falling outside the window. The early autumn rain was somewhat lingering, and the air of the entire city became fresh after the rain’s cleansing.

There weren’t many people on the bus, and on the bus’s radio, she heard the man’s voice again.

This time, she heard it very clearly.

A mature male voice, with an elegant, low, and slow tone, mixed with a hint of indifference. Every time Nie Xi asked a question, he would ponder for a moment, answering very simply, with very few words.

“Why did you think of pursuing songwriting? Did you have a dream of writing poetry when you were young?” Nie Xi asked.

“Sometimes things just happen, I never thought about it before,” he replied.

“Mr. Yi Jin, you have so many fans, why do you deliberately avoid the public?” Nie Xi asked.

“To maintain privacy.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“What else could there be?” he countered.

“You are so successful in this industry, but I hear you have other professions, or that songwriting is just your side job?”

“Yes.”

His answer to this question was without hesitation. The brevity of his two words gave off a feeling of arrogant talent, but Sang Wuyan, sitting in the last row, quietly chuckled. Perhaps he wanted to be modest. At that time, Nie Xi asked two questions in one breath, so he was too lazy to waste more words and simply affirmed both.

Then an advertisement was inserted into the broadcast.

Or—

A moment later, Sang Wuyan looked out the window and thought again: Or, he was just such a proud person to begin with.

“Mr. Yi Jin, does your stage name have any meaning? ‘One day, one night,’ so it means ‘one present’? Or is it to commemorate something? Someone?”

“No, it’s simply because it has few strokes,” he said calmly.

Sang Wuyan admired Nie Xi a bit; to be able to maintain the program in an orderly manner with such a personality. If it were her, the show would definitely have gone silent several times.

“A few months ago, a female fan impersonated you online. Why didn’t you come out to clarify then?”

“What others think, I don’t care.”

“Many of your songs have moved many female fans, such as ‘Dawn’s Pale Blue’ and ‘Libyan Shell’. Do they contain your own stories?”

“No, I…”

Perhaps this was the longest sentence he spoke in the entire program, but it was drowned out by the bus stop announcement, then many people got on, and the radio was subsequently turned off by the driver.

His voice then slowly disappeared from above her.

Sang Wuyan felt a sense of loss.

She and Yi Jin were actually in the same city, breathing the same air in the same area, and looking at the same sky when they gently raised their faces.

While studying for the postgraduate entrance exam, Sang Wuyan was also busy with her graduation thesis.

By mid-term, everyone had been assigned an internship task. Li Lulu’s group was assigned to a high-security prison in the suburbs of A City for psychological rehabilitation.

“What’s a high-security prison?” Sang Wuyan asked curiously.

“It means everyone inside is a serious offender with sentences of fifteen years or more,” Li Lulu replied nonchalantly.

Sang Wuyan immediately widened her eyes, “Are they all murderers?”

“Not necessarily,” Li Lulu smiled slightly, “There are also kidnappers, drug traffickers, smugglers, and rapists.”

Sang Wuyan’s face suddenly changed. She thought of The Green Mile, the movie she watched recently about how prisons carry out death sentences. The image of a prisoner with a wet towel on their head sitting in an electric chair made her unable to eat for days.

Li Lulu raised an eyebrow, “Good thing you pampered girls didn’t go, otherwise you’d be scared to death.”

Indeed, Sang Wuyan’s group had it easiest, assigned to a school for disabled people in the community. The school was a bit special; they were asked to submit their forms first and would officially start next month.

On Monday, Sang Wuyan went to the education office of that special school to submit her internship form.

She finished her business and left the office on the top floor, just as it was time for the children’s second class. As Sang Wuyan passed a small classroom on the second floor, she heard a familiar voice.

Then Sang Wuyan, through the window, saw that man for the third time.

He was wearing a soft white shirt, standing casually by the lectern. The children were doing their homework, and he was bowed his head, quietly remaining silent.

“Teacher Su!” a girl with pigtails called out from another spot.

So his surname was Su. Sang Wuyan smiled softly, remaining still, watching them.

His white cane was not in the classroom. His hand glided over several desktops, slowly moving towards the girl. It seemed he was very familiar with everything here.

The man bent down and said a few words, then propped his hand on the desk and continued to patiently communicate with the girl. His voice was completely different from what she had heard in the elevator—soft yet light, even making her feel as if he was smiling.

Finally, when class was over and he came out, Sang Wuyan, who had been secretly peeking from outside the window, hesitated for a few seconds before calling out like the children, “Teacher Su.”

He sensitively turned around, his pupils unfocused, his gaze seemingly fixed on a distant point. He asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Do we know each other?”

“I don’t think so either.”

Hearing this, he actually looked a little relieved, then leaned on his white cane with one hand and held the handrail with the other, preparing to go downstairs.

Seeing this, Sang Wuyan asked again, “Where are you going? Do you need help?”

But he turned around a second time, then pondered for a moment, and slowly said, “I think I’ve seen you before, at the radio station.”

“In the elevator,” Sang Wuyan added.

At that time, she had also kindly said the same five words, “Do you need help?”

Good thing his memory is decent, Sang Wuyan thought thankfully.

“I’m a new intern, my name is Sang Wuyan. And you, Teacher Su?”

“Su Nianqin.”

“Nianqing?” Sang Wuyan was quite surprised and repeated it once.

“No, it’s Qin,” Su Nianqin corrected her pronunciation.

She was from the south, and had always been a bit vague with front and back nasals. Precisely because of this, her own programs were often rejected by the station director. Now, she could say them accurately, but still couldn’t hear them very precisely.

Su Nianqin seemed to sense her confusion and added, “Jin Yi, Qin.”

Jin Yi, Qin?

Sang Wuyan smiled awkwardly. Her Chinese literature had always been poor; she didn’t recognize any “Jin Yi, Qin,” but she was too embarrassed to ask again to avoid seeming uncultured, so she just pretended to understand.

That night, as Sang Wuyan was at home memorizing vocabulary, she suddenly thought of his name. She hadn’t opened a Chinese dictionary in a long time and spent some effort finding it among a list of homophones.

Jin Yi, Qin.

She saw the annotation; it turned out to mean “quilt.”

“Nianqin? That must mean his family was very poor when he was little and didn’t have quilts,” Cheng Yin analyzed dully from the side.

“What if the name was chosen when he was born?” Sang Wuyan retorted.

“Then his parents were very poor before they got married. Chinese parents, you know, they all love to put their hopes in their children’s names,” Cheng Yin continued her dull analysis.

Sang Wuyan finally surrendered, no longer discussing such matters with this cold-water-splashing woman.

Su Nianqin.

Sang Wuyan lay on the sofa, holding the dictionary and silently reciting these three characters, recalling the scene of him talking to her during the day. She couldn’t help but smile faintly.

The man’s Mandarin was spoken clearly and distinctly, but in certain fixed words, it carried a slight accent. For example, the word “qin,” he would slightly raise the trailing sound of the original first tone. He should be a local, as people from A City tend to blur the first tone in Mandarin into second or third tones.

“Wuyan.” Cheng Yin interrupted her thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Quickly wipe your mouth; you’re smiling so much your drool is about to flow out,” Cheng Yin said, even handing her a tissue in a mock serious manner.

“…”

The second week, Sang Wuyan, being the leader of their group, went to that elementary school again to submit other classmates’ materials. Just as she arrived at Director Wang’s office in the teaching department, she happened to run into him about to go to class.

“Xiao Sang, please wait a moment, I’ll be back after class,” the director instructed.

“Oh, it’s fine, you go ahead and be busy, I’m not in a hurry.”

As soon as Director Wang left, the class bell rang. Sang Wuyan looked around the office, found a stack of newspapers, and then sat down in a wicker chair.

The teaching building was an old three-story structure. The corridors on each floor were in the center between the classrooms on both sides, making the hallways particularly long and prone to echoes. Generally, during class, most classrooms would keep their doors ajar to avoid sound interference.

However, Director Wang’s office was conveniently at the end of the third-floor corridor, relatively far from the classrooms, so it seemed a bit quieter.

That thick stack of newspapers was nothing but various party and education newspapers, without sensationalism, gossip, or gimmicks. Therefore, Sang Wuyan skimmed through them in a few minutes, and after finishing, she felt the remaining time was even more boring.

She looked up at the wall clock; only seven or eight minutes had passed, so she dejectedly rested her chin on the desk, feeling sleepy. Faintly hearing the children’s reading voices, she leaned on the desk and closed her eyes.

What were they reading?

It seemed to be Liu Yuxi’s “Wuyi Lane,” “Swallows that once flew before the halls of Wang and Xie, now enter the homes of common folk.”

Suddenly, a piano sound interrupted the clear reading voices.

Although Sang Wuyan was tone-deaf, she knew the song was “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” a few simple single notes were played easily once, but the second time, they became intermittent single notes, going back and forth, over and over again. Even if it was just once, but she actually heard the person play it thirty or forty times, and the pianist showed no signs of stopping.

She stood up somewhat impatiently, scratched her head, and then glanced at the clock for the N+1th time. The time until class ended was still so long…

Sang Wuyan walked out of the office and found that the piano sound was coming from the music room across the hall, and the door was ajar, not tightly closed, so a small sound leaked out.

She was afraid there might be children having a class inside, so she quietly peeked through the crack in the door. However, the inside was not what she had imagined; there was only one person sitting there.

And that person was precisely the figure who had been frequently appearing in Sang Wuyan’s mind recently—Su Nianqin.

He pressed the piano keys with his left hand and held a stylus in his right hand, writing on a small board. That kind of small board was also in Director Wang’s office; it was a braille board. He frowned deeply, pressing the piano keys while taking notes in braille. From his appearance, it seemed he was preparing lessons or something, probably racking his brains on how to teach those children.

But, it seemed he was stumped.

Su Nianqin pressed two notes, wrote something in his notebook, and then felt the piano keys again, immediately realizing it was wrong, and couldn’t help but shake his head. Sang Wuyan saw him struggle like this several times, and thus understood how that annoying piano sound came about.

His good temper seemed to have completely run out. The hand writing braille became increasingly impatient, and his strokes grew heavier and heavier, until finally, each stroke was almost a violent jab.

The last time, Su Nianqin finally erupted, directly slamming the stylus hard onto the braille board with a loud thwack.

Sang Wuyan was startled, instantly realizing that this person had an absolutely terrible temper, actually getting so worked up with himself. Immediately, she felt like slipping away, lest he discover her peeking, and she be cooked like the fish by the city gate.

But…

She also wanted to stay here.

At this moment, Su Nianqin extended his left index finger and heavily slid it across the piano keys, from right to left, then from left to right. After doing this back and forth on the piano with his eyes closed two or three times, his fingers, which had been stiff when he started, became soft, and his expression also relaxed slightly.

After letting out a heavy sigh, he placed both hands flat on the piano keys, paused slightly, and then skillfully played a tune. The piece was unusually slow and low, with a hint of Chinese style, and played by him so expertly on the piano, it had a unique charm.

It was a very pleasant song; if appropriate lyrics were added, it might be even better. Just as Sang Wuyan was thinking this, a gust of wind suddenly swept into the corridor, causing the music room door to swing open slightly.

The old door hinges let out a creaking sound.

Sang Wuyan was afraid he would notice the noise, so she quickly pulled the door, stopping it from swaying. Unexpectedly, Su Nianqin had already heard the sound, and the piano music stopped as he turned his head towards Sang Wuyan. His face paused slightly towards Sang Wuyan, then he tilted his head.

Sang Wuyan suddenly felt annoyed. The wind blowing the door was such a common thing, yet she had overdone it. She quickly held her breath and stopped all movement.

During this time, she could only faintly hear the children at the other end of the corridor still reciting “Wuyi Lane,” besides that, there was only the sound of the wind—the rustling of withered梧桐 leaves downstairs as the autumn wind blew through them, and the whooshing sound of the cold wind squeezing into the corridor.

A moment later, Su Nianqin spoke calmly, “Who’s there?”

This question caught Sang Wuyan off guard, and she subconsciously replied, “It’s me.”

It was originally a response with the highest frequency of use by billions of Chinese people, but Su Nianqin seemed to have a deep impression of her voice. He frowned and said, “You’re Sang…”

He paused slightly, and Sang Wuyan quickly and happily interjected, “Wuyan, Sang Wuyan.”

“What are you doing here?” Su Nianqin slowly asked again.

Noticing that his expression was much clearer than when he was having a tantrum alone just now, Sang Wuyan straightened her back and said, “I heard a nice song from the office across the hall, so I came over to take a look.”

“Well, I’m done playing now,” he said.

“Huh?” She didn’t quite understand what he meant for a moment.

“You can leave,” he said, then turned his face away and picked up his pen again.

Sang Wuyan froze for a moment, feeling a bit awkward facing such a direct dismissal, so she stood rooted to the spot. Unexpectedly, Su Nianqin didn’t give her a chance to think, adding another sentence without even raising his head, “Please close the door on your way out.”

Sang Wuyan numbly closed the door, turned around, and walked back to the office, a series of actions performed as if by some uncanny force. It wasn’t until half a minute later, when the class bell rang, that she snapped back to reality, instantly furious, “What’s with the attitude!” With that, she angrily kicked Director Wang’s chair to vent her frustration.

As Christmas approached, the radio station was preparing to rerun a compilation of the year’s classic programs. Sang Wuyan inadvertently heard Nie Xi’s interview with Yi Jin from several months ago in the editing room.

She took advantage of the situation and listened to it herself with headphones.

“No meaning, simply fewer strokes,” Yi Jin said.

Hearing this, Sang Wuyan secretly chuckled to herself for a while.

After finishing her work, Sang Wuyan walked from the radio station building onto the street. When she encountered couples busily preparing for Christmas, she suddenly thought of Wei Hao and Xu Qian. In truth, she was far from being as carefree as she appeared on the surface.

The following month, Sang Wuyan started her internship at the school for the disabled. During her internship, she studied under a teacher named Li.

Sometimes, when Teacher Li had meetings or taught parallel classes repeatedly, she would stay alone in the office and review English for her postgraduate entrance exam.

On a rainy day, she saw Su Nianqin again.

It rarely snowed in A City in winter, but it often rained, sometimes for three or four days without a break. Her mood was almost tied to the weather, so she was always listless. As she was staring blankly out the window, she saw Su Nianqin and a young woman walking in the distance, sharing an umbrella.

The rain was still falling.

He held the umbrella with one hand, and his folded white cane was tucked into the other. The lady beside him gently supported his arm that held the umbrella. With her guidance, he slowly walked through the path beside the playground towards the teaching building.

Besides her, there were two other teachers in the office, bent over their desks, correcting homework. Sang Wuyan glanced at them, then, pretending to want some fresh air, pushed open the window and craned her neck, just to get a clear look at the actions of this man and woman. Their movements were intimate, yet there were no superfluous small gestures. When they reached the bottom of the building, Sang Wuyan lost her observation angle and didn’t catch any gossip. After waiting for a while, the lady opened another umbrella and walked into the rain, leaving him alone.

Knowing he was about to come up, Sang Wuyan immediately closed the window, walked to Teacher Li’s desk, sat down formally, and even found some educational publications to hold in her hand, pretending to read. Teacher Wu, who taught music, looked up and glanced at Sang Wuyan. His gaze fell on the magazine in her hand, and his expression became strange.

Sang Wuyan then realized she was holding the book upside down. So, she smiled foolishly at Teacher Wu and quickly flipped it over.

Then, she occasionally glanced at the door, and then at the book in her hand.

He walked so slowly, taking several minutes to come up, and his footsteps were very light. When he appeared at the office door, the two teachers greeted him one after another, “Teacher Su, you’re here. Is the rain heavy?”

Su Nianqin nodded, then, leaning on his white cane, walked to his desk. He put down the cane, but the umbrella in his other hand left him in a dilemma.

The umbrella was still dripping, and if he just hung it, it would probably stain the floor. If he opened it, it would hinder people when class was over and there were many people. He wasn’t very familiar with this office and didn’t know where else to put it. And he clearly preferred not to ask for help from others.

The two teachers clearly hadn’t noticed his emotions, but Sang Wuyan had.

Sang Wuyan walked over: “Teacher Su, I’ll put it in the bucket over there for you.”

Originally, he hadn’t even noticed the presence of a fourth person in the office, let alone that this person was Sang Wuyan, whom he had previously scolded.

Sang Wuyan reached out to take the umbrella from his hand, but he showed no intention of letting go. But her words were already out, and in front of others, so she couldn’t let go, nor could she snatch it.

The two were at a stalemate for a few seconds when the class bell rang.

Looking at his cold face, Sang Wuyan immediately felt like she was a busybody meddling in others’ affairs. Those two teachers were so wise; they probably already knew he was a gleaming nail that could instantly take one’s life, so they simply didn’t provoke him.

The moment the class bell rang, the children’s playful shouts came from the corridor. Seeing the crowd about to surge this way, Sang Wuyan silently thought to herself: Count to five. If he’s still like this, I’m turning around and leaving.

Before she even counted to two, Su Nianqin suddenly released the umbrella and said calmly, “Thank you for the trouble.”

The words “thank you for the trouble” made Sang Wuyan open her mouth in surprise, and she replied sheepishly, “It’s nothing.”

Later, when she returned to her seat, she remembered that perhaps this person, besides having a bad temper, was also thin-skinned. If others saw him arguing over something with a young girl, it would indeed be quite embarrassing.

Teacher Li came into the office after class, and Sang Wuyan quickly stood up to greet her, but Teacher Li said to Su Nianqin, “Teacher Su, I’m sorry, I want to use some time during your next braille class. The school just announced that we need to inform students about the New Year’s holiday immediately. Is that okay?”

Teacher Li was always known for her kindness at school. Although Su Nianqin came through the rain just for this one class, he had no objections and nodded, saying, “No problem.”

Teacher Li got her answer and didn’t linger for a moment. She picked up her bag and walked out the door again, then halfway, she turned back and said to Sang Wuyan, “Xiao Sang, there’s nothing much here. If you have anything else, you can leave first.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sang Wuyan said.

But she had no intention of leaving. She had no classes at school either. Because of her internship, she had also taken leave from the radio station. If she went back now, she would be alone at home, feeling anxious in the quiet, so it was better to stay where the school was lively.

Sang Wuyan waited until the class bell rang before returning to her seat.

Su Nianqin’s desk was next to Teacher Li’s, facing each other. Therefore, now the two were directly facing each other.

Sang Wuyan started leaning on the desk again, daydreaming. Meanwhile, Su Nianqin methodically took out some braille books from the drawer, opened to the page with a bookmark, and began to read. His hands lay flat on the book, moving rhythmically from left to right.

This was the fourth period. The two teachers from earlier had already gone to class, and the teachers who didn’t have classes had all gone home. Only the two of them were left in the office. Su Nianqin hadn’t left because Teacher Li had just said she would be occupying some time, not the entire period, so if she finished early, he would still have to continue teaching.

The rain outside gradually intensified, drumming against the glass.

With nothing else to do, Sang Wuyan found a book on Teacher Wu’s desk next to her to read. Teacher Wu taught Chinese, so there were only a few Chinese teaching references. The creased page was “Wuyi Lane” by Liu Yuxi. Sang Wuyan had always been interested in poetry since childhood. Previously, Wei Hao’s family always played tapes of “Three Hundred Tang Poems,” and she learned them by heart from next door and could recite them fluently, while Wei Hao couldn’t.

She also knew this poem, “Wuyi Lane,” but couldn’t recall it exactly, so she couldn’t help but quietly recite it to herself while looking at the book: “Wild grasses and flowers by Zhuque Bridge, the setting sun slants by Wuyi Lane. The swallows that once flew before the halls of Wang and Xie, now enter the homes of common folk.”

Because she majored in science in high school and studied educational psychology in college, she hadn’t encountered this type of classical poetry for many years. Suddenly recalling some past events, she couldn’t help but feel a little emotional, so she repeated it once more.

Her voice when reading the poem was very soft, almost to herself; if one were a few steps away, they wouldn’t hear it at all. However, Su Nianqin, sitting across from her, heard it clearly.

As she recited “the setting sun slants by Wuyi Lane” again, Su Nianqin finally couldn’t bear it anymore and said, “This character is pronounced ‘xiá’.”

“Huh? What?” Sang Wuyan was puzzled.

“Wuyi Lane’s entrance, evening sun ‘xiá’.”

“It’s clearly ‘xié’ for setting sun,” Sang Wuyan frowned, preparing to hand the book to him, so he could see for himself that the book clearly wrote the character for “slanting,” but her hand stopped midway and quietly pulled back.

“I know it’s ‘xié,’ but in this poem, it should be pronounced ‘xiá,’ second tone,” Su Nianqin said, his brows furrowed, revealing a hint of arrogance.

He was usually a person who preferred to avoid trouble, yet he spoke so much to correct Sang Wuyan, indicating that listening to her repeatedly recite “xié” had truly frustrated him to no end.

“Uh?” Sang Wuyan’s face immediately flushed with embarrassment. She argued, “No way? When I was in school, it was pronounced ‘xié’.”

Su Nianqin then couldn’t be bothered to respond to her anymore.

She had been poor in her studies; this time, she was humiliated beyond words. Sang Wuyan bit her lip, anxious to say something else to ease the situation.

“I went to this place called Wuyi Lane when I was a sophomore,” she said, glancing at Su Nianqin, and found that his movements in reading braille had slowed down considerably, perhaps he was listening to her talk. So, she quickly searched her memory for interesting anecdotes related to Wuyi Lane.

“I only learned from the tour guide that Wang Xizhi and Wang Xianzhi were actually part of the Wang and Xie families in Wuyi Lane. And that Wang Xianzhi was terribly romantic, and even created some story about a ferry.”

Su Nianqin added, “It’s called Peach Leaf Ferry. But the Wang and Xie in this poem don’t refer to those two Wangs.”

“Ah? Then who?”

“Wang Dao.”

“Were they all from the same dynasty?”

“They were also relatives.”

She didn’t know if he was in an exceptionally good mood today, or if he was genuinely interested in what Sang Wuyan was saying, but Su Nianqin, for the first time, spoke to her in a normal tone.

Sang Wuyan chuckled, “But I don’t know Wang Dao, so I still find the story of Wang Xianzhi and Peach Leaf more interesting.”

But Su Nianqin’s hand completely stopped on the braille. He looked up, his gaze fixed elsewhere, lost in thought, not knowing what he was thinking. After a long while, he finally turned his attention back to the book.

The atmosphere returned to silence, as if the previous conversation had never happened. It was almost twelve o’clock, and to avoid the rush hour, Sang Wuyan decided to pack up and leave first. Downstairs, she looked at the sky, thought for a moment, and then turned back to the second-floor office.

She walked to the small bucket in front of the window, picked up Su Nianqin’s umbrella, and then placed it by his hand, “Your umbrella, don’t forget it, it’s still raining.”

She had helped him put it there; if she didn’t bring it back, he definitely wouldn’t find it.

Sang Wuyan had been at the school for less than two weeks and had already become familiar with the young teacher Wang who had been assigned there last year.

“He’s not a teacher here,” Xiao Wang said when talking about Su Nianqin.

“Huh?”

“Teacher Zheng, who originally taught braille, went on maternity leave after having a baby, and Teacher Xu retired. The school originally wanted to rehire her, but she had to go out of town to take care of her grandchild, so we’re short on braille teachers. Principal Pei is very familiar with Teacher Su, so he asked him to substitute, probably for more than half a year.”

“Then what did he do originally? Did he teach elsewhere?”

“I don’t know,” Xiao Wang shook his head, “He never chats with us either.”

“Oh.”

“But with his eyes like this, what can he do?” Xiao Wang countered.

Sang Wuyan shrugged, twirling the signing pen in her hand idly, her thoughts drifting elsewhere.

When she was in elementary school, she wasn’t tall, and every semester, when lining up for sports, she was always among the last few in the first row. Whether doing calisthenics or in PE class, she always stood next to Huang Xiaoyan. The two short girls together looked quite spirited. Coincidentally, Huang Xiaoyan’s home was close to hers, and they always agreed to go home together. If she was ever bullied, Huang Xiaoyan would always stick up for her, so for several years in elementary school, the two were almost inseparable.

One year, every time she and Huang Xiaoyan went home, they would meet a blind older brother at the bus stop. Although he was blind, it didn’t affect his attitude towards life at all. Because he was very handsome, and his expression was very kind and approachable, people waiting for the bus with him would often go up to him to chat, inquire about him, or offer help, including Huang Xiaoyan.

Huang Xiaoyan was a typical optimist, very outgoing, and could chat endlessly with anyone. In fact, Sang Wuyan had always wanted to ask him: “If you were born blind, when others say blue or red, do you know what they look like?” She had learned about red-green color blindness in biology class and knew that some people couldn’t distinguish between red and green; they looked the same.

She had always been curious about how a completely blind person perceives colors.

But Sang Wuyan never dared to ask. From beginning to end, Sang Wuyan had never spoken to him.

Sang Wuyan’s personality when she was a child was a bit different from now. At home, she was playful and feared no one, but outside, she was shy. If an aunt or uncle, or a classmate or teacher, suddenly asked her something when she wasn’t prepared, her heart would immediately pound like a drum, and she would start to stutter.

In Sang Mama’s words, she was not at all graceful or proper, and her words were not sweet. In short, she was not likable.

In fifth grade, Huang Xiaoyan already had her own philosophy of love—if you like something, you should bravely fight for it. In that period, there were indeed couples dating in class. When a girl and a boy played together after class, gossip would often spread.

Sang Wuyan was more introverted, but not dull; she could see that Huang Xiaoyan had special feelings for that blind older brother.

Later, Huang Xiaoyan had to go back to her father’s factory’s affiliated school for middle school. The affiliated school was a bit far from the city center, and Huang Xiaoyan could no longer pull her along the way past that bus stop. Only occasionally could Sang Wuyan still meet the blind older brother, with the same unchanging smile still on his face.

After Sang Wuyan went to the new school, Sang Mama initially still heard her mention Huang Xiaoyan from time to time, mostly about their group sweeping the floor, and how a certain boy wouldn’t sweep, causing them to take on a lot of the work, and they didn’t dare to tell the teacher.

“If Xiao Yan were here, she would definitely not let it go like that,” Sang Wuyan said sullenly.

“Then go tell the teacher,” Sang Mama said.

“Me? I wouldn’t.”

Or she would collect math homework, and a certain classmate hadn’t turned it in. She reported the name to the teacher, which resulted in that classmate giving Sang Wuyan the cold shoulder for a week.

“If Xiao Yan were here, she would definitely stick up for me,” Sang Wuyan started muttering to herself again.

But gradually, Sang Wuyan mentioned Huang Xiaoyan less and less. The two schools were far apart, and back then, not many people used phones. Contact became less frequent, and meetings also became rare. The friendship accumulated over several years seemed to gradually fade with the passage of time.

In the end, Sang Wuyan even forgot to ask her mother for pocket money in advance every September to prepare a birthday gift for Huang Xiaoyan.

Until one day, Sang Wuyan went shopping for shoes with her mother and saw Huang Xiaoyan’s mother at the entrance. Mrs. Huang looked haggard. When Sang Wuyan called out to her, she was waiting at a traffic light. She only came to her senses after a while and smiled. She probably only thought Sang Wuyan looked familiar but had forgotten her name.

“Auntie Li, I’m Sang Wuyan, Xiao Yan’s elementary school classmate.”

“Oh, you’ve grown so tall,” Mrs. Huang nodded and then smiled at Sang Mama.

Parents are generally like this; they always think their own children are difficult to raise, while other people’s children just grow up in a flash.

“How’s Xiao Yan? I haven’t seen her in a long time,” Sang Wuyan asked again.

It was better not to ask. As soon as she asked, Mrs. Huang didn’t answer for a long time, but her eyes turned red first.

“Xiao Yan…” She turned her face away. “Xiao Yan, she’s sick.” As soon as she finished speaking, tears rolled down.

Huang Xiaoyan had brain cancer.

It was discovered three weeks ago, and she had already been sent to Beijing for treatment. This time, Mrs. Huang came back to borrow money everywhere.

After parting ways, Sang Wuyan walked several meters, then couldn’t help but look back. She saw Mrs. Huang hurrying through the crowd, slowly becoming indistinguishable from the other figures.

Before, Xiao Yan always used to say, “My brain hurts.”

When Sang Wuyan cried and made a fuss at home, she often heard her mother complain to her father, “Your daughter is so noisy, she’s giving me a headache.” So she didn’t know what it felt like for her brain to hurt, nor could she fully understand what brain cancer truly was.

However, a teenager knew that cancer was a fatal illness.

She returned home extremely depressed. The adults called her to eat several times, but she didn’t hear them. Finally, after Sang Papa pulled her out and sat her at the dinner table, he discovered that Sang Wuyan was already in tears.

The two adults couldn’t help but exchange glances, then sighed together.

The second weekend, Sang Papa accompanied Sang Wuyan to Huang Xiaoyan’s house, where her grandmother was cooking. After receiving a nod from her father, Sang Wuyan handed the kraft paper envelope to Huang Grandma, exchanged a few pleasantries, and then left.

The envelope contained a wad of cash, Sang Papa’s freshly withdrawn salary from the bank.

A year later, Huang Xiaoyan finished her treatment and returned to B City. Sang Wuyan was overjoyed, but the adults knew that the surgery couldn’t save anything; the cancer cells continued to spread.

Sang Wuyan would forever remember the scene that day.

She went to Huang Xiaoyan’s house after school. The Huang family lived on the sixth floor of a building facing the street in a bustling urban area. Sang Wuyan ran up the stairs, breathless, carrying her schoolbag, and happened to see Huang Xiaoyan squatting in front of the honeycomb briquette stove at the house entrance, fanning the fire. The stove inside had gone out, and it hadn’t been lit yet, so the entire corridor was filled with choking coal smoke.

Huang Xiaoyan fanned the fire with one hand and covered her nose with the other, her eyes tearing up from the smoke.

“Xiao Yan!” Sang Wuyan called out.

Huang Xiaoyan heard her, turned around, saw it was Sang Wuyan, and then chuckled.

At the same time, a middle-aged man inside also peeked out, holding a baby carefully in his hands. This middle-aged man, Sang Wuyan had seen before; he was Huang Xiaoyan’s father. As for the baby, she didn’t recognize it.

“This is my little sister; she’s only two months old,” Huang Xiaoyan smiled.

Sang Wuyan widened her eyes and asked, “Biological?” She knew that Huang Papa was a factory worker, and having more than one child would mean losing his job.

“Of course she’s biological, don’t we look alike?” Huang Xiaoyan said.

Sang Wuyan stayed at Huang’s house for dinner until very late, only reluctantly leaving when her parents came to pick her up. As they walked downstairs, Sang Mama suddenly said, “These parents are too much; their child isn’t even stable yet, and they’ve already had a second one!”

Sang Papa glanced at the child, then gave his wife a look, signaling her to stop talking.

But that one sentence, along with the slightly coal-dust-stained, skinny, smiling face she saw in the hallway earlier, was etched into Sang Wuyan’s memory.

Months later, one day, Sang Wuyan received the news of Huang Xiaoyan’s death at home.

It was also on such a rainy, gloomy day.