That single smile threw Jiang Du into a small panic. She reflexively returned a stiff, lopsided smile of her own.
As it turned out, both of them had had the same plan — they left one after the other and headed back toward the library.
They crossed the traffic lights one after the other; they turned the street corner one after the other. Jiang Du could see Wei Qingyue’s back clearly all the way. Sometimes several people came between them, and in the shifting of bodies, the boy’s figure would briefly vanish before sliding back into view — the feeling was like watching a silent film.
The boy soon noticed she was walking in the same direction as him. He was evidently surprised, and asked: “You’re not going home?”
She hadn’t expected him to ask first. The wind came through, tossing Jiang Du’s hair into a loose tangle. She had been about to say “I haven’t finished my homework,” but as the words reached her lips, they transformed inexplicably into a question in return: “What about you?”
The moment she heard herself, Jiang Du hurried to correct course: “Ah, never mind — I mean, I have my study materials to finish. I think the library environment is quite nice.”
Wei Qingyue nodded, without answering her “what about you,” and waited quietly for the library to open, adjusting the strap of his bag.
The boy’s hair caught the autumn light and shone with a luster that was difficult to look away from.
Jiang Du allowed herself only a single quick glance. The moment had a faint awkwardness to it, but overhead the sky was very blue, and the wind was strong, and the world was no different from how it had always been — yet somehow also entirely different. Jiang Du felt she simply didn’t know how to love this world well enough.
To be alive, to be human, to exist like this — how wonderful, truly. The young woman’s lips finally curved into a faint and gentle smile.
She had actually wanted to apologize again for having gotten sick on him that time, but some things, no matter how long you hold them ready on the tip of your tongue, can still lose their moment.
“Wei Qingyue.” Jiang Du called his name at the precise instant he was stepping through the door — as though those few syllables alone could compose a mysterious and extraordinary world.
The boy heard her. He turned around, let the people behind him pass first, stepped to one side, and looked at her with a questioning expression. “What is it?”
Jiang Du pressed down the leaping nervousness inside her, doing her utmost to appear composed: “Last time, getting sick on you — I’m truly sorry about that.”
Wei Qingyue hadn’t given the incident any thought whatsoever, but then something came back to him, and he laughed — he couldn’t resist teasing her: “You must have poured an entire box of laundry powder in, didn’t you?”
Jiang Du looked at him, confused. “What?”
“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let you wash it. I had to rinse it about ten more times myself.” Wei Qingyue said.
Jiang Du finally understood what he was referring to, and her face filled with sheepish remorse. She fidgeted slightly with the hem of her clothes: “I’m not very strong when it comes to washing things by hand. By the time I was done, I really had no strength left. I’m so sorry.”
Wei Qingyue laughed and shook his head. “Go on inside.”
“Are you upset with me for it?” Jiang Du asked softly.
Wei Qingyue looked at her with an expression that said he couldn’t quite follow her logic. “It’s nothing.”
“But you seemed quite angry at the time.”
“I was in a bad mood.” Wei Qingyue said lightly.
Jiang Du paused.
As for the reason his mood had been bad, Wei Qingyue clearly had no interest in elaborating. The two of them went inside the library.
The afternoon passed quickly. Jiang Du finished her practice paper, smoothed her skirt, and slipped over to the bookshelves to look at magazines. Through the gaps, she could just make out Wei Qingyue’s silhouette where he sat studying. Simply glancing up for a look every now and then was enough to make her quietly happy.
It wasn’t until closing time, when people began to leave one after another, that she and Wei Qingyue both stayed until the very last moment. She didn’t know why he stayed so late, but she knew why she did — she couldn’t bring herself to leave. These moments were rare and precious, and she had no way of knowing when the next one would come.
She had already sent a message to her maternal aunt’s family from her worn little pager, saying she’d be coming over later than planned.
She had just pushed the magazine back onto the shelf when Wei Qingyue came over to return his journals too. He asked naturally: “Still not heading home?”
Jiang Du gave a vague, equivocating answer, then ventured: “Are you heading home?”
Wei Qingyue gave a short laugh. “No — I’m going to the internet café.”
Jiang Du’s eyes widened, just as expected. The scene she had witnessed over the summer flashed back to her. The two looked at each other, and Wei Qingyue wore the expression of someone with complete telepathy — as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind.
But the next second, the girl lowered her eyes, and told him softly: “Actually, I’m not really going home either.”
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