Chapter 40: “It’s Okay.” Part 1

The city rescue team arrived late and directly towed the taxi to the repair shop.

They bid farewell to Wangwang and Xuebing at the spot where they had taken the group photo.

Wangwang and Xuebing said they were backpackers who had already made many friends along the way. Next, they needed to hitch a ride to China as quickly as possible, and after that, to Southeast Asia…

In short, they wanted to visit as many countries as they could in their limited time, planning a route that would take Wangwang several hundred years to retrace alone.

After hearing Xuebing explain their plans, Qiu Yiran tried her best to smile and gave them the most sincere blessing of her life.

“It will happen.”

Xuebing came over and hugged her. She carried the warm, toasty scent of freshly baked cookies.

“My Chinese friend, it was great to meet you.”

As Qiu Yiran hugged Xuebing’s back, she finally felt it for real—Xuebing was already very thin, so thin. It had just been hard to tell before because everyone was dressed so warmly.

But even in this not-so-intimate embrace, the feeling was obvious.

This realization made Qiu Yiran’s eyes heat up. “I was happy to meet you too.”

“Don’t be sad.”

Xuebing comforted her in return. “If you do more good deeds, we’ll meet in heaven someday.”

“Even though you’ll be a hundred-something-year-old Chinese granny by then, and I’ll still look as beautiful and young as I do now.”

“But don’t worry about that. You’ll still be my dear old-friend-from-another-generation Chinese buddy.”

Qiu Yiran always ended up laughing through tears at Xuebing’s persistent humor. “Okay.”

“By the way.” Xuebing seemed to remember something else. “There’s actually something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“What?” Qiu Yiran smiled. “You’re not the type to hesitate, are you?”

“True.” Xuebing mumbled. “Earlier, when I asked if you could give us a ride to the city, you asked if we knew you were the driver.”

“Were you afraid back then that we’d refuse the ride because of your leg and not want to be friends?”

“Not really.” Qiu Yiran hesitated. She remembered those passengers who had turned and left upon seeing the disability sign. “I just felt it was necessary to disclose it.”

“That’s good.” Xuebing let out a breath of relief.

“I was worried our behavior had made you misunderstand us.”

“No.” Qiu Yiran shook her head. “You and Wangwang are great. You’re the first pair of Russian friends I’ve ever made.”

“That’s right.” Xuebing’s tone lightened. “But—”

“But?” Qiu Yiran noticed Xuebing’s pause.

Xuebing sighed.

“But we’re just hitchhikers wanting a short ride, and you still hesitated. You even asked if we could accept your leg.”

“But my Chinese friend,” Xuebing whispered in her ear, emphasizing it,

“Never forget that on this journey, you already have the most loyal passenger, one who will always trust you completely.”

“And she’s been by your side the whole time.”

Qiu Yiran froze.

By then, Xuebing’s farewell hug had ended. She followed Xuebing’s gaze—

And saw Wangwang standing by the blue utility pole on the other side, with Li Wuhui.

Xuebing had said she had private words for Qiu Yiran, so the two had stepped away.

Now, those two were probably exchanging their own goodbyes.

Li Wuhui chatted idly with Wangwang and seemed especially attuned to their gazes—

As soon as Qiu Yiran looked over.

Almost the next second, Li Wuhui lifted her eyes and looked back.

The city street was woven with afternoon sunlight, shimmering like waves. Countless noisy cars passed between their eyes, smashing their intersecting gazes together—one car, two, three…

Li Wuhui narrowed her eyes and looked away first.

“No matter what the final outcome is between you two, whether you divorce or not,” Xuebing whispered to comfort Qiu Yiran,

“Remember to be good to this passenger.”

Qiu Yiran lowered her eyes and said softly,

“I will.”

–

Li Wuhui pulled her gaze from Qiu Yiran and saw Wangwang looking at her.

She thought Wangwang was about to say something “as someone who’s been through it.”

But Wangwang just shoved her hands in her pockets, stomped her cold feet, and said very amiably,

“Don’t take what we said today to heart.”

Wangwang shrugged.

“After all, when you’re facing death, you want to spout all kinds of nonsense.”

“You…” Li Wuhui hesitated.

“Oh, I’m fine.” Wangwang waved it off, then dramatically clutched her chest.

“But if she’s dying, my heart’s dying too…”

Wangwang put on a pained expression.

Anyone who didn’t know would think she was honing her acting skills to break into the Chinese idol drama scene.

But Li Wuhui didn’t find it all that funny.

She stared at Wangwang without speaking.

Wangwang quieted down too.

Her feigned heaviness faded, and suddenly she lowered her head, sniffed, and fell silent.

Li Wuhui sighed. “I only have one question for you.”

“What?” Wangwang’s tone brightened again.

“You said you two fought a lot before, even to the point of breaking up,” Li Wuhui thought it was impressive they’d reached this point. “So how did you finally make up in the end?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Wangwang spread her hands candidly.

“You don’t know?”

“Yeah.” Wangwang nodded, thinking back carefully.

“A lot of it is blurry. When something like this hits, no one can think straight.”

“So I was all muddled too. I was ready to give up, even planning to marry someone else out of spite. But out of nowhere, she shaved her head bald, crying as she came to find me. We held each other and sobbed, and while crying, we made up. Then we came up with this plan.”

“You mean,” Li Wuhui found it unbelievable, “you didn’t do anything, and she came back to you on her own?”

“Of course not.” Wangwang refuted her, sighing helplessly. “By then, I’d already done everything I could.”

Li Wuhui furrowed her brow—how could you even tell when you’d done everything possible?

She was about to ask.

But Wangwang spoke first.

“Because in the end, love is such a weird thing.”

Li Wuhui’s furrowed brow relaxed a bit—she could agree with that.

So Wangwang continued,

“As long as you let it be natural, it won’t disappear no matter what.”

Li Wuhui’s brow furrowed again.

“But if you force it too hard, the more you try, the more you want to grasp it and control it in your hand,” Wangwang looked at Li Wuhui as she said, “it gets covered by all sorts of complications instead, dodging around so you can’t find it.”

That was where their conversation ended.

Over there, Xuebing had finished her private goodbye with Qiu Yiran. She grinned at Wangwang and made a “let’s go” gesture.

Wangwang raised her hand high and waved back.

Then she excitedly turned to Li Wuhui.

“We’re off!”

Li Wuhui said “Mm,” without pressing further. “Safe travels.”

Wangwang and Xuebing met up.

Wangwang straightened Xuebing’s wig and head veil. Xuebing obligingly squinted her eyes.

The two chattered away in Russian.

After a moment, the pair with their big backpacks headed into the crowd, walking two or three meters.

Then they both turned back, raised their hands high, and shouted over the noisy crowd,

“Get rich!”

Who knew how popular they’d be in China if they greeted everyone like that.

Li Wuhui thought as she walked toward Qiu Yiran.

The light turned red just then.

She had to stop on the opposite side of the road.

She looked across at Qiu Yiran through the stream of cars—

Qiu Yiran was still dazedly staring in the direction Wangwang and Xuebing had gone, holding something in her hand.

Suddenly, from the dense crowd came the pair’s awkward Chinese again.

“Qiu Qiu—”

Very loudly.

“It’s okay!”

The words pierced precisely through the crowd to their side. It was Chinese, so it remained a secret language even in Kazakhstan.

Li Wuhui halted. She saw Qiu Yiran miserably covering her eyes with the back of her hand.

The light changed.

Li Wuhui clenched her fingertips, urgently wanting to push through the crowd.

“Little Li—”

After a few steps, Li Wuhui suddenly stopped.

She looked in surprise toward where the pair had gone. That white head veil was already fluttering far away.

So the voice that carried over was distant too.

But she heard it.

Qiu Yiran heard it too.

Her eyes red-rimmed, she lifted her gaze to Li Wuhui. Li Wuhui looked at her at the same moment.

They gazed at each other amid the shadows of people hurrying past.

Both froze in place.

And they both heard that faint, accented, but loud voice—

“You’re amazing!”

In the crowd, those two raised hands waved once more, then dropped, vanishing completely.

–

When Li Wuhui crossed from the other side of the road, Qiu Yiran was working hard to steady her emotions.

Li Wuhui stopped in front of her, still catching her breath from the hurried jog.

Qiu Yiran clutched the wisp of white gauze in her hand—so light it seemed about to float away—and said dazedly, “This… this is what Xuebing just tore off for me from her head veil. She said because I’m her first Chinese friend, I get this treatment. Normally…”

Her voice cracked here, unable to stay even.

“She said normal people don’t get it.”

In the end, they were just strangers who had crossed paths briefly. These two just left a deeper impression.

But Qiu Yiran had always been an emotional person. As a photographer, her job required digging into her subjects’ feelings and presenting them 100% to the viewer, so her eyes saw more than most.

That had once been her indispensable talent.

Li Wuhui hadn’t seen Qiu Yiran like this in a long time—

With such intense emotional waves, easily touched by small, everyday things, shedding tears for people she barely knew.

She suddenly felt lucky to have met these two.

At the same time, she felt at a loss for how to handle it.

Because Li Wuhui had nearly lost touch with her former self too.

So she awkwardly raised her hand.

Imitating the pair, she patted Qiu Yiran’s shoulder and said softly,

“It’s okay.”

–

The car repairs would take a few more days.

They needed to stay in Kazakhstan a few more days.

Back at the hotel, Qiu Yiran forced herself into a hot shower. When she came out, she still hadn’t turned on the room light because the brightness would sting her eyes.

So she just sat on the edge of the bed, dazedly clutching that scrap of white gauze.

These past few years, she had almost forgotten this feeling—like being trapped under a cover.

Most of the time, numb, lost in her own world, barely sensing what emotion she was in.

Like a clockwork figure whose spring had run down in stagnant time.

No energy for words or actions.

So she had shut herself away, forcing everyone around her to give up on her.

Until Li Wuhui knocked on her door.

“Knock knock, knock knock, knock knock—”

Patiently, three knocks then a pause.

Not like before, barging in without reason.

Qiu Yiran struggled up from the bed.

She hobbled over on her crutches and opened the door.

Li Wuhui, who had been about to turn away, froze.

The warm hallway light burned bright. Li Wuhui used it to study Qiu Yiran’s face—

Not great, but at least more alive than before. The sadness and grief were out in the open, fully released.

Not hidden behind that stifling cover where Li Wuhui couldn’t see.

“Want to go for a walk?” Li Wuhui ventured.

“Where to?” Qiu Yiran asked from the dark room.

“We’re heading to Russia next.” Li Wuhui had a solid reason. “They say it’s snowing hard there now, and it’s freezing, so we need to buy some thicker clothes.”

Qiu Yiran looked at Li Wuhui’s open windbreaker and remembered the zipper pull she had yanked off earlier. She nodded and agreed.

“Okay.”

“But aren’t you still unable to wear the prosthetic leg?” Li Wuhui suddenly remembered this.

“Did you apply medicine today?”

“I can apply it when we get back,” Qiu Yiran explained.

“I’m not wearing the prosthetic leg. I’ll bring my crutches, and we’ll just go out for a short walk. It should be fine. Besides, we’re going to stay in Kazakhstan for a few more days anyway.”