Chapter 34

Luo Qingmeng left in a hurry on the high-speed train. As soon as she arrived at the station, she rushed through ticket inspection and quickly boarded the train. She was flustered and clumsy as she sat down in her seat and watched the departure time.

Her home was far away—one in the south, the other in the north—spanning more than half of China. Even taking the high-speed train back took ten hours. She did a rough calculation: an hour by regular train from the provincial city to her hometown city, then another hour to the town. That was without accounting for waiting times, making the round trip twelve hours.

With all the various waits added in, she should arrive around eight in the morning.

Once the high-speed train departed, she lay her head on the tray table for a while. Then she looked at her phone again and added a message in the extra notes: 【I’m already on the train. I don’t know when I’ll be back. This is my first time rushing home for a funeral.】

Her paternal grandparents were still alive, and her maternal grandparents weren’t that old. She’d attended funerals before, but they had always been about eating meals and watching opera troupes perform. As a child, they had felt like they lasted three days, but now that she was grown up, things would probably be simplified.

Qiu Shuxue hadn’t replied to her. Luo Qingmeng checked Moments and saw relatives posting their sorrow over her outer grandpa’s passing. She stared at them for a long time before opening her sister’s Moments, which still had her blocked.

She had always thought she’d never contact them again in this lifetime, but she’d forgotten about death. Death drew together people who had drifted apart and grown unfamiliar, gathering them to mourn someone else they barely knew.

By the second stop, Luo Qingmeng’s nose began to sting. She had wanted to use this trip home to calm down properly and take her emotions seriously, no matter what the outcome of this relationship might be. She wouldn’t regret it, and she wouldn’t shed tears over loving someone again and again.

Luo Qingmeng really liked Qiu Shuxue. She just didn’t want Qiu Shuxue’s passion to fade and leave her hurt. It was embarrassing to admit, but she’d been married once before—this time, though, it was her first real love for someone.

The train announced the next station, and she couldn’t help glancing back. A dull ache throbbed in her chest. On the postcard, she had sincerely expressed that she would think carefully about their relationship.

She didn’t want it to be just a fling, something that ended once the lust faded. If she could, she wanted to date year after year, for a lifetime. She wasn’t afraid of going against societal norms to be with a woman. She hoped Qiu Shuxue would seriously consider whether they could spend their lives together.

Luo Qingmeng flipped through her phone over and over, but Qiu Shuxue still hadn’t replied. She had never accepted Qiu Shuxue’s friend request—it felt like her bottom line, a safeguard against becoming too obsessed and losing herself completely.

She was afraid to move forward, yet she wanted to advance alongside her.

She was afraid of being abandoned.

When Luo Qingmeng had left, she’d only packed clothes, leaving her with no way to pass the long journey.

She searched for novels online and read a few chapters before losing interest.

At ten o’clock that night, Luo Qingmeng’s stomach growled with hunger. Normally at this hour, she would have just finished making a snack and would be eating it in the living room with Qiu Shuxue while watching a movie. She wondered if Qiu Shuxue had eaten dinner.

Her thoughts kept wandering.

Gazing at the scenery outside the window did nothing to help.

The high-speed train reached the station, and she transferred to a regular train.

She would accept Qiu Shuxue’s friend request afterward.

If she still couldn’t figure things out—if they just weren’t right—there was no need to agonize over deleting each other. They could simply turn and go their separate ways.

The road after getting off the train was rough. She arrived in Cloud Sea City at five in the morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten. There were no buses running yet—just a few taxis parked around.

She stared fixedly at this city where she had lived for so long yet felt so unfamiliar. She took a deep breath and tapped to accept the friend request.

She typed out a message and sent it: 【Qiu Shuxue, I’ve arrived at the station and am about to transfer to the train.】

Qiu Shuxue didn’t reply.

She shared a taxi with some migrant workers and an auntie. They reached the county seat a little after six, and then she switched transport again to reach the town. As soon as she got off, nausea hit her, and she began dry-heaving. Her head spun as she followed her memories along the mountain path to her outer grandma’s house.

Fewer people farmed these days, and the once-fertile fields were overgrown with weeds.

The mountains looked even more barren, the houses more dilapidated, and people were scarce.

She stopped on the hill opposite her outer grandma’s house and gazed over. People were coming and going at the front door, and the sound of mourning music drifted across from them. She had the vague sense that someone was watching her from the second floor.

Luo Qingmeng lowered her eyes and kept walking.

She had left this city to make her way elsewhere without ever properly saying goodbye.

In her sophomore year of college, her mom hadn’t let her come home, saying everyone else was working summer jobs—why wasn’t she? After that, she’d kept working and drifting from place to place, never returning.

She appeared carrying her luggage bag, and everyone who saw her was shocked. No one could place who she was until her outer grandma came out and tentatively called, “Qingmeng?”

“Yes, Outer Grandma.” Luo Qingmeng carried her things up the steps. She saw the coffin lit by white candles, with her mom sitting beside it burning paper money. Mother and daughter exchanged a glance, but it was utterly cold—not even as warm as with the visiting mourners.

She peered inside, and her outer grandma’s voice choked as she said her sister still hadn’t returned and her brother was still studying.

Luo Qingmeng felt an indescribable mix of emotions in her heart. She kowtowed before the coffin and realized that she was the only one who took death so seriously—rushing thousands of miles back home. She was the only one who cared that much.

Everyone else seemed more composed than she was.

She hadn’t been close to her outer grandpa, so his death didn’t sadden her deeply. She kowtowed, then went to take a mourning band.

Then everyone began chatting and laughing. Her cousin was still in school, so she was the only grandchild there. She stayed kneeling on the ground, burning paper money.

Later, many people came up and said things like, “You’re Qingmeng, right? Linzi’s eldest daughter. Are you married? In your twenties? What do you do?”

Luo Qingmeng kept answering them one after another.

Midway through, she exchanged a single sentence with her mom, who asked how she’d come back alone. Hadn’t she been told to bring her sister along from Cloud Sea City?

Luo Qingmeng didn’t respond. Her mom noticed her aloofness and added, “Then I told your dad to come pick you up. You came all the way back by yourself?”

“Mm.”

They spoke a little more before going to eat lunch. Luo Qingmeng drank a bowl of porridge and promptly vomited it up. Some relatives came to check on her. Her dad happened to pass by, stopped to concern himself with her, and said, “Is your stomach upset? Ai, I’ve always told you to eat on time when you’re out there. Don’t rely on takeout.”

Luo Qingmeng turned slightly to the side, avoiding her dad’s gaze and shrugging off the hand he placed on her shoulder.

Everyone thought she was crying from being touched by their concern.

In truth, it wasn’t that. She hardly ever ate takeout—she’d never had much money and always cooked for herself. Back then at home, she had been the one cooking for all five of them.

She had started cooking from a very young age.

Luo Qingmeng smiled at them.

“She’s shy—this child is shy.”

Her aunt smiled and said, “Go on, cry. Cry properly for your outer grandpa. The other kids haven’t arrived yet.”

Her outer grandma said sadly, “Two years ago, your outer grandpa was still asking about you—where you were…”

Two years ago.

You have no idea what I’ve been through this past year.

That evening, her cousin, her brother, and her sister all arrived. Her outer grandma’s crying voice burst out as she craned her neck and called to them, “You’re all here! Come kowtow to your outer grandpa. Did Yuan Yuan take time off to come? Yue Yue, that was such a long ride—you must be exhausted.”

Luo Qingmeng’s mind was in a fog, her chest so tight she wanted to vomit. She didn’t speak to anyone, just nodded—like the only outsider at this funeral.

Aside from the lingering scent of incense and tobacco smoke in the air, the funeral felt as lively as a wedding celebration.

She didn’t hear what anyone said after that. Instead, an old memory surfaced in her mind—something her mom had once said.

“We named you Qingmeng because even in our dreams, we never imagined you’d be a girl. Everyone thought you were a boy. When you were born, your grandpa kept saying it was because I hadn’t kowtowed enough, that the ancestors hadn’t blessed us. I got so angry that I named you Qingmeng.”

Just a pipe dream, all for nothing.

As a child at home, her nickname had been Da Meng. Her sister was called Yueyue, her brother Yuan Yuan. Hers had always felt a little strange.

She had always sensed that something was missing.

Looking back now, it was love.

That night, the Taoist priest chanted scriptures.

Luo Qingmeng kept night watch and dozed lightly for a bit.

When she woke, she opened Moments to read the relatives’ elegies. That’s when she learned her outer grandpa had suffered a sudden stroke from high blood pressure. He had been attending a supermarket promotional event out of town when someone pushed him. He fell to the ground and never got up.

The supermarket rushed him to the hospital, but they couldn’t save him. The supermarket offered compensation voluntarily. Her uncle and the others didn’t make a fuss; they took the money and brought her outer grandpa’s body back.

In the latter half of the night, she persuaded her outer grandma to go sleep and sat by the lamp burning paper money herself. Along the way, she had worried that everyone would pressure her about marriage, but no one asked. They probably thought she was too old now—an old maid—and didn’t bother inquiring, or perhaps there were others more worth worrying about.

The next day, they hired an opera troupe. She handed out cigarettes to all the relatives and stayed busy all day without her feet touching the ground. She didn’t even check her phone.

With the immediate family arriving that day, she didn’t have to keep night watch as an outer granddaughter. Exhausted, she poured herself a cup of hot water and went out to the second-floor balcony.

The sky was very dark, with a forest behind it.

Bugs chirped incessantly.

She had been terrified of them as a child, but now she just felt tired.

She looked up at the sky. Stars dotted it sparsely. She had read plenty of books and knew plenty of theory, but when she tried to make them out, she realized she had no idea which one was a sixth-magnitude star.

Luo Qingmeng sipped her hot tea, scalding her tongue. Hot water spilled onto the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. She set the cup on the railing and fumbled around in a panic, cleaning herself up. As she did, she touched her phone.

She thought that if Qiu Shuxue was still sulking with her at a time like this, she would truly feel heartbroken. She was afraid their future life together would be just as immature.

Luo Qingmeng let out a breath. She thought again: Wait a little longer, just another hour or two. Maybe Qiu Shuxue would send a message. Shuxue didn’t need to be particularly mature—just a bit more sensible would do, since she was the younger one…

She was willing to give her time.

As she waited, she picked up her phone again.

The night in the mountains was pitch black, with the wind rustling the leaves and the trees swaying unsteadily.

After a long while, her phone rang.

A dull ache tightened in her chest.

Luo Qingmeng pulled out her phone. It was an unfamiliar number. Her fingers trembled lightly as she swiped to answer and softly asked, “Qiu Shuxue?”

There was no sound on the other end.

Luo Qingmeng called out again, “Shuxue?”

Still no response.

Luo Qingmeng pursed her lips slightly. She guessed it might be a wrong number, but somehow felt it was Shuxue. After a few seconds, she said, “Are you looking for me?”

The other side remained silent.

Luo Qingmeng said, “I’m at my grandma’s house. I’ll head back after paying my respects at the funeral.”

She asked once more, “Are you sick?”

“No illness,” Qiu Shuxue replied.

“I’ll go back.”

“Go back?”

Qiu Shuxue’s voice was ice-cold.

Luo Qingmeng hummed in affirmation. Qiu Shuxue said, “You still plan to go back?”

Luo Qingmeng felt she needed to explain herself clearly. She had only come for the funeral—there was her career back home, so of course she couldn’t stay away. Although now she realized she didn’t need to rush; she could have explained things to Qiu Shuxue before leaving. But she had been too hasty.

She had thought everyone would be grieving, that everyone truly cared about death.

Qiu Shuxue’s tone was nearly gnashing with anger, chillingly cold as she sneered, “You returned the money to me, every cent intact, even bought me a breakup gift. Is that so I’ll wish you a happy breakup?”

“No.” Luo Qingmeng felt she had been misunderstood. Her tone grew a bit urgent. “I only came for the funeral. I never planned not to go back.”

“Even if that’s true, you’re still moving out.” Qiu Shuxue pressed her. “You think I don’t know? I know everything.”

Luo Qingmeng fell silent for a moment, still wanting to say something, when a great-aunt passed by her side and nodded to her. Luo Qingmeng fell quiet and nodded back. From the other end, Qiu Shuxue said, “Moving out, giving back the money, saying there’s no misunderstanding and you’re not the other woman—isn’t that drawing a clear line? Luo Qingmeng, I think you hate me.”

“No, I just…”

“Just what?” Qiu Shuxue’s tone pressed aggressively and urgently. “Every single thing you’ve done isn’t screaming, ‘Qiu Shuxue, we should have nothing to do with each other’? If you don’t want to try with me, then forget it. You don’t need to tell me when you move out, and I won’t bother you.”

“I’m not that pathetic, Luo Qingmeng.”

It was the first time Qiu Shuxue had been so aggressively confrontational with her, even calling her by her full name.

Luo Qingmeng simply couldn’t handle her tone. Her heart felt even worse, and once again she felt that headache toward the girl—the kind of thought that said, “I don’t like someone younger than me.”

She said, “Can I explain when I get back?”

“What will you say when you come back—reject me? Then we might as well not meet at all.”

Qiu Shuxue continued, “It’s always me pushing. Luo Qingmeng, no matter what I do, you hesitate. Do I really make you that unsure? Actually, you don’t love me at all, do you? You haven’t felt the slightest bit moved, have you?”

Luo Qingmeng opened her mouth, about to say “calm down,” when she heard the great-aunt call out, “Ah, who’s there? Standing here like that—you scared me half to death.”

Luo Qingmeng hurriedly said sorry, then paused. There was no one beside her now; the great-aunt had already gone downstairs. The voice had come from the phone.

She froze slightly, then called out again, “Qiu…”

The call was abruptly hung up. She hurried to the railing and looked down. Someone stood at the bottom, completely out of place amid the surroundings.

She gripped her phone. Qiu Shuxue had her hair tied up, with a single strand loose by her forehead. She wore a white shirt. She pressed hard on her phone screen, and it went dark.

If not for the great-aunt muttering as she walked away—”Who’s that? Doesn’t look familiar. Who’s there?”—Luo Qingmeng might have thought this was all a dream.

Why had Qiu Shuxue appeared in this middle of nowhere, this rugged backwoods place that even she complained about on her way back, this spot she had desperately tried to escape because it felt so painful…

Luo Qingmeng dialed again. Qiu Shuxue’s screen immediately lit up, illuminating her profile.

Qiu Shuxue didn’t answer. Her phone screen flashed repeatedly in the darkness. Luo Qingmeng kept calling—three times in a row.

Finally, Qiu Shuxue picked up.

Luo Qingmeng said, “I see you.”

The figure below slowly raised her head. In the black night, their eyes met. Luo Qingmeng had always thought of herself as cold. Her grandfather had passed away, so she should have been grieving, heartbroken, shedding tears for him. But she hadn’t shed a single tear for him.

In a muffled voice, she said, “Why did you come?”

“Do you know how hard it was for me to find you? I got to this city before you did, but tracking you down was a nightmare—all mountains, no GPS signal on the maps, not even a place to rent a car. The vehicle was filthy, the roads bumpy as hell… I skipped dinner and rushed straight here… There’s not even a hotel. Do you know?”

“I know.”

Luo Qingmeng wasn’t sure if Qiu Shuxue had heard her. She held the phone to her lips and said, “Come on up.”

Qiu Shuxue pursed her lips and fell silent. She gripped her phone and started toward the steps at the side entrance.

She looked pristine and clean—not some distant star Luo Qingmeng had always searched for in the sky, with no pretensions of rank. She was simply the moon itself.

Luo Qingmeng called out to stop her. “Don’t come up.”

Qiu Shuxue immediately looked up, her eyes red, as if she were about to cry.

Luo Qingmeng took a deep breath, mustering all the courage of her lifetime, and said warmly, “I’ll come down to you instead.”