“You’re in your senior year this year, right? Don’t you need an internship stamp?”
Li Erning asked, “My brother and I have been making good progress with our entertainment company lately. Come work with us—we’ll stamp your internship and pay you a salary. How about it? If you’re interested, you can learn more.”
Lu Nan smiled. “Why does it sound like you’re handing out flyers? Sis, I’m not interested in that stuff.”
Li Erning teased appropriately, “How about swimming and fitness? Check it out, babe?”
Lu Nan’s brows and eyes curved with amusement. “Ah, life with Big Bro and Big Sis is just so comfy. I can happily be a rice bug.”
Li Erning knew this was Lu Nan’s way of refusing. She wanted to say something but held her tongue.
Before long, Lu Nan dragged her suitcase home. She planned to tidy up the house tomorrow before picking up Doggy. The place was just as it had been a few years ago.
She ran her hand over the uneven cement wall. It had borne so much joy and sorrow, everything feeling as fresh as yesterday.
Lu Nan had no intention of painting the walls. Rough as it was, she was used to the house matching her memories. Changing it would make it feel uncomfortable instead.
The bed felt smaller now, weird to lie on.
Lu Nan gave the place a quick clean, then went to the street to order some mala tang. Gazing at the familiar streets she hadn’t seen in so long, a touch of melancholy rose in her heart.
Thinking of something, Lu Nan pulled out her phone and booked a ticket to the amusement park. She really did want to ride the Ferris wheel.
The shop on Gutong Road had always been packed, and it still was now. Lu Nan took her number ticket and sat outside to wait.
Soon, it was her turn. She sat down at a table, tore open the chopstick wrapper, and prepared to dig in.
“See, I told you she’s pretty. With her curly hair, she looks just like a princess, doesn’t she? And her acting is great too.”
A long-haired girl nearby was enthusiastically discussing with her friend, bowl in hand.
“Really?” The other girl leaned over doubtfully to peek at the content on her friend’s phone. Seeing the somewhat familiar face, she exclaimed excitedly, “Her! She looks so familiar!”
“Of course she’s familiar. Her drama’s the hottest thing right now. People online have been clipping videos of her.”
“No, I mean… I think I’ve seen her before.”
“How could that be? She only started acting this year…”
“What’s her name?”
The girl grew anxious. She really did feel like she’d seen her somewhere, maybe from when she was little, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember.
“Her name’s Song Wenwei.”
Those few short words turned into a bottomless pit, sucking her in.
“Song Wenwei…”
Lu Nan listened from the side, her mind going blank. Her hand paused mid-motion as she reached for her chopsticks. Her heart sank several degrees, like she’d been hammered by a massive iron mallet a few times—her breathing even grew labored.
It wasn’t just her breathing; her whole body felt off.
She couldn’t hear the rest of the girls’ conversation anymore. Her ears buzzed, the scene before her eyes receding. In that moment, her mind was entirely occupied by those three big characters.
Lu Nan hadn’t expected that after all these years, she’d hear Song Wenwei’s name from someone else’s mouth.
Just a coincidence of names…?
Even as she thought it, Lu Nan’s heart skipped half a beat. She knew there was no such thing as that kind of coincidence in the world.
She looked up in astonishment at the wall. Right in the center of the mala tang shop hung a massive TV screen, and by some incredible coincidence, it was playing the very drama the girls had been talking about.
It was as if fate had destined them to reunite.
In the drama, the woman’s eyes fluttered slightly, her lashes flickering. In an instant, she opened those smiling almond eyes, and Lu Nan locked gazes with the woman on the screen across time and space.
A camera might have been in front of her; an electronic screen was in front of Lu Nan. If the screen faded, she’d be standing right there.
It was like reuniting with an old friend after a long separation, or like seeing her for the first time.
At that moment, Lu Nan had no extraneous thoughts. Like a starstruck fan, she just sat there in a daze, staring at the big screen. The drama’s lighting made her even more stunningly beautiful, her seaweed-like long hair cascading over her shoulders.
The woman’s plump lips parted slightly, her gaze tender as she looked at her. She spoke slowly, almost in slow motion: “Long time no see…”
Yeah, long time no see. Lu Nan gazed dazedly, peering through the screen as if through autumn waters.
She knew full well those words weren’t meant for her, yet her heart still rippled.
How long had it been? Five years?
Yes, five years.
Lu Nan’s vision began to blur. In that moment, the butterfly sealed away in her heart broke free from its cocoon.
Scenes from the past flashed through her mind like a lantern show: strolling together on the street, her taking the initiative to embrace her, her radiant smile…
She’d thought that after so much time, those memories should’ve lost all their power. But sealed memories always see the light of day eventually, and the deep-buried pain was undiminished.
She sat there in a daze, lost in thought—or maybe not thinking at all. By the time she snapped out of it, batches of customers had come and gone beside her, and the mala tang in front of her had gone cold.
Looking at the mala tang that wasn’t steaming at all, Lu Nan mechanically fished up some noodles and took a bite. After a moment’s hesitation, she set her chopsticks down.
It was really cold—tasteless, not good at all…
Lu Nan had no appetite left. She felt listless, an indescribable feeling weighing on her heart.
It was probably discomfort. Actually, she didn’t even know what she was uncomfortable about…
Was it sadness that Song Wenwei hadn’t sent a single message or made a single call in all these years? Sadness that Song Wenwei had abandoned her? Or regret that she hadn’t noticed Song Wenwei’s odd behavior sooner?
It was all a mess, her thoughts in chaos.
Lu Nan wasn’t sure. A jumble of complex emotions tumbled in her heart, impossible to sort out.
She forced herself to stop thinking about it. Deep down, she knew this was just avoidance.
Avoidance it was, then. Whatever.
Lu Nan changed tack, reminding herself not to let her stomach go empty. She’d gotten used to extra training in the military—if you trained on an empty stomach, you’d end up exhausted, chest to back. Not a pleasant feeling.
She ordered another bowl of mala tang to take home. The food, insulated by the plastic bag, steamed hot, white smoke rising.
She touched it and quickly pulled her hand away with a hiss.
Scalding hot.
