In the blink of an eye, August quietly came to an end. School officially started. The campus was flooded with fresh, excited faces, and the scent of osmanthus, which had been dampened by the continuous rain, livened up, drifting everywhere.

The library was crowded with students from various classes lining up to collect new textbooks and workbooks, a lively scene.

Ruan Mian signed the registry, paid the fees, and successfully received three new textbooks: the required math book, history, and geography book that had been burnt that night.

Pan Tingting was waiting for her in front of the air conditioner, fanning herself with her hand while chatting with a boy who looked like a new student. “Oh my god, your homeroom teacher is Old Sun? That old man is notoriously difficult. Back in the day…”

She frightened the boy until he was completely bewildered.

Ruan Mian couldn’t watch any longer and quickly walked over to pull her away.

“Hahaha…” Once they were out of the library, Pan Tingting nearly rolled on the ground laughing. “Tsk, the little fresh meat is so tender!” She slowly tightened her fingers. “No, no, I can’t control myself.”

“But,” she added, “I still prefer older men. Hmm, at least five years older.”

Ruan Mian’s steps paused slightly. “Why?”

“They know how to cherish a woman, of course. Think about it. His age and experience are far above mine, so he won’t constantly argue with me, and also,” Pan Tingting spoke with great conviction, “he’ll help me clean up any messes I make…”

“Most importantly, the charm of a mature man, the charisma!”

Ruan Mian was jostled so hard she almost dropped the books in her arms. Then she heard her friend ask, “Do you still remember the man we saw when we went shopping that day?”

Of course she remembered.

Every contour of his body, the way he drank and smoked, his faint smile, the way he looked at her… every detail related to him was etched clearly in her memory.

“Hey, Soft Cotton, why are your ears red?” Pan Tingting leaned in curiously.

Ruan Mian glanced at her lightly, hugged her books, and walked on ahead.

The other girl quickly caught up. “Ah, ah, ah! I think I get it now! Ruan Mian, you…”

The two returned to the classroom. Ruan Mian placed her books back in her drawer, then crossed the hallway and went to the office.

“Teacher Zhao.”

The middle-aged man facing the computer screen looked up. “Ruan Mian?”

Ruan Mian walked closer.

“Is there something you need?” Teacher Zhao took off his glasses and rubbed his brow.

Ruan Mian kept her hands behind her back, head bowed, looking like a polite student admitting a mistake. “Teacher Zhao, I’m sorry. The art books you gave me a few days ago, I… I accidentally lost them.”

Teacher Zhao smiled. “Lost them?”

“In short, they can’t be recovered,” she added softly.

She had visited every bookstore and searched online, but couldn’t find the same art books. Unable to think of any other solution, Pan Tingting had suggested she just pay for them.

Teacher Zhao leaned back in his chair. Seeing her look of helplessness, he pondered for a moment. “There’s no need for compensation. How about this: draw me a painting, and we’ll consider it settled.”

He finished speaking, picked up his cup, and slowly drank his tea, waiting for her answer.

Draw a painting?

Ruan Mian’s fingers clenched and unclenched. She let out a shallow breath. “…Okay.”

Teacher Zhao received the satisfactory answer and nodded, smiling. “No rush. Take your time.”

Ruan Mian left the office. She hadn’t gone far when she ran into Pan Tingting coming out of the restroom. The two walked back together.

“Did you notice that everyone’s expression seems to have changed when they look at you?”

Did it?

Ruan Mian looked back in confusion. A large number of glances scattered along the corridor; she couldn’t even make them out clearly.

“Heh heh,” Pan Tingting put her arm around Ruan Mian’s shoulder and teased, “Since the little tyrant apologized to you, I feel like my back is a lot straighter when I walk next to you!”

Ruan Mian finally understood.

She didn’t particularly like this feeling, which felt like prickles running down her back.

Recently, everyone had been guessing Ruan Mian’s family background. Pan Tingting couldn’t resist dropping a hint: Someone even the little tyrant has to bow to, what kind of background do you think that is? This indirectly confirmed the speculation…

Actually, she didn’t know much herself, only that Ruan Mian’s father ran an import-export company, and she’d heard the business was quite large.

As soon as the two settled back into their seats, the class bell rang. This was an open English class.

A whole row of teachers sat at the back of the classroom to observe. Ruan Mian sat straight, taking notes diligently. Zeng Yushu chewed on his pen, opening his book to look at it with a serious pretense. Pan Tingting also restrained herself, no longer cracking seeds or reading novels, but she couldn’t stop shaking her leg under the desk.

The atmosphere in class was good, and the English teacher timed her lesson perfectly. Just as her voice faded, the end-of-class bell rang in response, and the whole class stood up.

During the break, Pan Tingting went to the office and came back to pack her things. Her mother had just called the homeroom teacher to ask for leave, saying her grandmother in the countryside had accidentally fallen. The old woman was old, and her health had been failing. It seemed she didn’t have much time left.

She had been raised by her paternal grandmother, so her feelings for her maternal grandmother weren’t deep. She remembered once being slapped by her maternal grandmother without questioning when she and her cousin were playing and she made him cry.

That slap was truly harsh. She remembered it to this day, trying to avoid her as much as possible every Lunar New Year. Her trip back this time was merely to fulfill her final filial duty.

Ruan Mian saw her turn around and place a book on her desk. She was surprised to see it was the romance novel she had just bought a few days ago, still unopened.

“I might not be back before the 6th,” Pan Tingting said, standing up with her school bag, explaining. “Consider this your birthday present.” She opened her arms and hugged Ruan Mian, lowering her voice. “Happy birthday in advance. And, Ruan Mian, welcome to the world of adulthood.”

Zeng Yushu had just walked in from outside. Seeing the two girls locked in an intimate embrace, with his deskmate’s face flushed with shyness, he pouted and slumped onto his desk, his gaze loosely circling them.

Sigh. When, when would he be able to…

Ruan Mian’s birthday arrived when she was only about one-third of the way through the book Pan Tingting gave her. The day happened to be Sunday. She woke up early, pushed open the window. The morning light was faint, and it was a beautiful day.

Everyone else was still sleeping. The grandfather clock in the living room ticked, tacked. She opened the door and walked out with her bag.

About an hour later, a taxi stopped before a downward slope. Ruan Mian got out of the car and looked up.

Her dark eyes were clear, illuminated by the sunlight. A faint blush dusted her cheeks. The wind lifted her white skirt, casting clean shadows on it.

Two cemeteries lay quietly amidst the green mountains and clear water, like open palms. Although they were in the same area, there was a world of difference between them.

The one on the right was Z City’s largest and best cemetery. A Feng Shui master from Hong Kong had been hired to evaluate it, claiming it was a rare and fortunate location. The news had even made it onto the Z City Daily in a big splash.

Unfortunately, three years later, the Feng Shui master, who was invited back to the mainland for a consultation, encountered a rare mudslide and tragically died.

It seemed to confirm the saying: Life and death are fated; one can calculate for others, but not for oneself.

The “commoner” cemetery Ruan Mian was heading to was on the left. Her mother was buried there.

The cemetery staff had called her a while ago to inform her that the cypress tree next to the grave had been snapped in half by the typhoon. She walked closer and saw that a small sapling had been replanted in the old spot, and the fence that had been crushed by the tree had also been replaced.

She placed her offerings down, knelt before the tombstone, plucked a few weeds, leaving a cluster of small, light purple wildflowers, and then took out a small packet of osmanthus cake from her bag.

“Mom, today is my birthday.”

A green leaf floated down, blown by the wind into her hair.

Ruan Mian ate a piece of osmanthus cake, her voice slightly choked. “Mom, from today onward, Mianmian is truly grown up.”

She wouldn’t cry again.

The sun had risen high, its light dazzling.

Ruan Mian moved her numb legs. “Mom, thank you for spending my eighteenth birthday with me.”

She stood up and slowly walked back along the path she came on.

The area was remote. She would have to walk a long way to hail a cab. Just as she was thinking this, she heard the sound of a car. She looked up and saw a black car driving toward her, then slowly stopping by the road.

“Ruan Mian?”

The scene was familiar, and the person in the back seat was just as familiar. “Get in.”

Ruan Mian felt drawn by some kind of spell, and before she knew it, she had gotten into the car and sat down beside him.

The car continued driving forward, heading towards the cemetery on the right.

She wondered if he was also here to pay respects to someone? Was it inappropriate for her to follow like this?

The first question was too private to ask.

The second question… she didn’t particularly want to ask. She clearly heard the voice in her heart: she wanted to spend more time with him, even just for a little while, on this special day.

The two remained silent.

The car stopped. Qi Yan opened the door and got out. Ruan Mian sat up straight, preparing to stay in the car and wait for him with the driver.

But he bent down and leaned in. “Come down.”

Ruan Mian remained motionless.

He added, “The person I’m going to see, you should know them too.”

Ruan Mian got out of the car and followed the man up the hill, her steps heavy and slow, weighed down by layers of confusion.

Someone she knew?

Did she and he share someone they knew?

Who could it be? She had absolutely no clue.

The person ahead of her also seemed to be burdened with thoughts. His tall figure looked solitary and somewhat shadowed. She hurried to catch up, walking side-by-side with him.

This cemetery faced the mountains and water, supposedly a sign of an auspicious location. Because of this reputation, the prices had been outrageously inflated, but after all, a person who died only left a name in the world…

They arrived.

Ruan Mian’s eyes immediately fell on the tombstone directly in front of them, widening in astonishment.

Tomb of Beloved Wife Qi Ruyan, Erected by Husband Zhou Guangnan and Son Zhou Yan… September 6th.

The middle-aged woman with the gentle smile in the yellowed photograph, wasn’t that the one Director Zhou had shown her that day…

Husband Zhou Guangnan, Son Zhou Yan?

Zhou Yan, Qi Yan.

So he, he was… he was that person…

Her mind was a tangled mess, struggling to process the information.

“Do you still remember her?” He didn’t turn around.

Ruan Mian nodded forcefully, then, realizing he couldn’t see her action, she uttered a heavy “Mm.” “I remember.”

Only the sound of the wind was around them, like a deadly silence.

So, today was his mother’s death anniversary.

It makes sense.

Ruan Mian remembered nine years ago today. She had excused herself from the celebratory banquet so she wouldn’t miss her mother’s call. On the way back to her room, she ran into the mother and son. Just as the three of them passed each other, the chandelier above their heads began to sway… and then, the disaster happened.

Her teacher, all the students who stood on the awards podium with her, were all…

The three of them were the only survivors from that hotel. And later, it was only her and him who remained.

Perhaps, it could have been her and her.

Ruan Mian looked at the solitary figure standing before the tombstone. She was terribly sad. She wanted to cry, really wanted to cry.

She slowly walked over, cautiously taking his hand. She felt him stiffen, but he didn’t shake her off.

His palm was very cold.

They stood side-by-side for a long, long time until the man turned his head and asked her a question in a hoarse voice

NOTES

Qi Yan  / Zhou Yan : The male lead is revealed to be Zhou Yan, the son of the deceased woman, whose name is apparently Qi Yan now. I will use Qi Yan going forward as that is his currently adopted name.