They walked along the small path.
It had taken half an hour to get there coming, so returning would naturally take the same.
Meng Bai couldn’t understand why Miao Bai had come all this way with her to this place, only to tell her that Zhou An wasn’t actually here. Wasn’t that a complete waste of time?
Recalling their earlier exchange, Miao Bai had mentioned she had few daily activities and her life was rather dull. So Meng Bai had asked, “Do you go to bed early every night, then?”
“Sleeping happens when it happens.”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t need to sleep.”
Meng Bai: “……！！！”
She truly began to suspect that Miao Bai was some kind of ghostly or divine being.
The thought slipped from her mind straight to her lips: “Are you a ghost or a god?”
“A ghost.”
“！！！！” Goosebumps prickled across Meng Bai’s skin. “You’re joking, right!”
Miao Bai smiled, but soon lapsed into silence again, as if genuinely pondering the question. “But I don’t even know what I am myself. Maybe I’m not that sort of thing at all.”
“That sort?”
Miao Bai nodded. “Things like ghosts and gods.”
“What sort is that?”
Miao Bai let out a helpless sigh. “I have no definition for myself.”
“Oh, I see.” Miao Bai’s words were vague, and Meng Bai didn’t want to press her. “But whatever you are, I really like you.”
“Like?” Miao Bai turned her gaze sideways, her eyes glinting with an odd light.
“Is that strange?” Meng Bai racked her brain for a better word. “Then let’s call it admiration.”
Miao Bai nodded. “Mm. Admiration works.”
They walked and chatted as they went, letting the conversation meander wherever it would. They felt like friends who’d known each other for years—comfortable and utterly at ease.
By the end of the half-hour trek, Meng Bai felt she’d gained fresh insight into Miao Bai.
She nearly always answered questions directly; if she was willing to share, she never minced words or dodged.
Miao Bai spoke in a slow, gentle manner, warm and unhurried, without any of the intimidating pressure Meng Bai had imagined.
It made Meng Bai happy. She felt like she’d unlocked a truer side of Miao Bai—one that felt like a big sister, brimming with a sense of security.
“Miao Bai, since I met you, my life feels so much more interesting.”
“Boredom is an everyday thing for me,” Miao Bai replied evenly.
“Hasn’t my being around made your life even a little more interesting?” Meng Bai held up her fingers to emphasize. “Just a tiny bit?”
She wasn’t watching where she was going, her eyes fixed on Miao Bai. Right as she asked about that “tiny bit,” her foot slipped into a roadside ditch. She would have tumbled in if Miao Bai hadn’t grabbed her arm.
“Watch the path.”
“Oh.” Still shaken, Meng Bai nodded. “Right, watch the path. So… even a little?”
Miao Bai hadn’t expected such dogged persistence. She could only nod. “A little, I suppose.”
Satisfied, Meng Bai’s lips curved into a smile. A faint blush colored her youthful cheeks, and she fell quiet.
They came down from the path into the small town, walking another ten minutes or so before reaching Meng Bai’s front door.
Suddenly reluctant to part—Meng Bai felt time had flown—she turned to Miao Bai. “Want to come inside? I have tons of books. Maybe you’ll like some.”
It was a clumsy invitation.
Never mind whether Miao Bai even enjoyed reading; dragging her into that cramped little room was ridiculous enough.
Yet Meng Bai saw no problem with it and added what she thought was a solid reason: “You don’t sleep anyway, and you’re bored.”
Miao Bai didn’t reply. She simply stood there in the darkness, watching Meng Bai.
This girl was clingy, wasn’t she?
Miao Bai figured she’d already spent plenty of time with her, but Meng Bai clearly wanted more.
“Your house has people in it.”
“It’s fine. Mom’s asleep.” Meng Bai took the initiative, opening the door and glancing back with hopeful eyes.
Miao Bai: “……”
Fine.
No more agreeing to outings like this.
Meng Bai’s family was utterly typical for the small town—no decorations to speak of, nothing aesthetic. Everything was purely functional.
Old wooden table, old wooden stools, old television, old cabinet.
All of it worn with age, but credit where it was due: the place was spotlessly clean and tidy.
Miao Bai prized cleanliness; excessive mess or filth put her off. Meng Bai’s home presented no such issues.
Meng Bai moved on tiptoe. “We should be quiet.”
“You be quiet. I can walk silently.”
“Uh…” Meng Bai was at a loss for words.
Of course. That was so Miao Bai.
They crept along stealthily until they reached the bedroom. Meng Bai ushered Miao Bai inside first, then slipped in after her and locked the door.
Phew.
The room was still and dark, no lights on.
Miao Bai’s slender figure stood right in front of her. Meng Bai’s hand paused over the light switch.
“Nah, no lights. You’ll vanish if I turn it on.”
“It’s fine.”
“Hmm?”
“Not too bright works.”
It wasn’t ideal, but she could endure it.
Still, Meng Bai didn’t want to. Anything that might discomfort Miao Bai, she wanted no part of.
“Candles? We could light a candle.”
Miao Bai nodded. “Candles are fine.”
Meng Bai darted out to rummage up some old candles, lit one with a mosquito coil lighter, and hurried back.
The moment she entered, a faint, dim glow filled the tiny room—just perfect for Meng Bai.
Miao Bai was still standing, so she said, “Sit on the bed anywhere you like.”
Miao Bai didn’t sit. She merely eyed the narrow bed.
It was tiny; anyone even slightly plump wouldn’t fit.
“Single bed,” Meng Bai said with a grin. “Dad picked it up for me at the market. Small, but so comfy.”
She tugged Miao Bai down to sit, then rocked the frame back and forth. It creaked softly. “See? Nice and soft, huh?”
“Mm.”
Meng Bai squatted to drag a box out from under the bed.
In her squat, the thin fabric of her T-shirt revealed the delicate outline of her spine.
Slender, but not unhealthily so—the natural leanness of youth, carrying a fragile sort of beauty.
Miao Bai’s gaze settled on her shoulders and back, lingering there.
Meng Bai hauled out the wooden box, gave it a pat, and looked up with a smile. “Ta-da. All my books. Have a look.”
Light sparkled in Meng Bai’s eyes. In the candle’s tiny flame, her gaze seemed utterly innocent.
Something stirred in Miao Bai’s chest. She accepted.
“What books?”
“There are so many—poetry collections, novels, essays. I have them all!”
She pulled out those books; some looked quite old, probably scavenged from second-hand markets, and there were even books in foreign languages.
“I love reading these when I can’t sleep at night.” Meng Bai took out a poetry collection titled Stray Birds and handed it to Miao Bai. “You can borrow it if you’d like.”
Miao Bai glanced at Tagore’s name on the cover and curved her lips into a smile. “So you like Tagore.”
“No, not really.” Meng Bai’s smile grew a touch awkward. “I don’t know that much about him. I haven’t read many of his books—after all, I can’t afford to buy too many. But I do like the poems in this one.”
Miao Bai held the book in her hand, gently stroking the cover.
“So which one’s your favorite?”
“The eleventh line.” Meng Bai flipped open the pages, her finger slowly trailing over the paper. It was a bilingual edition in Chinese and English. She pointed to a line and read it aloud: “Some unseen fingers, like an idle breeze, are playing upon my heart the music of the ripples.”
Miao Bai glanced at the annotation. “Your English is pretty good.”
“It’s okay. I looked up the parts I didn’t know in the dictionary.”
She truly was a diligent learner.
Miao Bai flipped through a few more pages, her gaze lingering on one spot before she read aloud: “I possess the stars of the sky, but the little lamp in my room does not light up.”
It was a very short line, yet Miao Bai brought it vividly to life. Her clear, resonant voice echoed softly in the dim candlelight, setting Meng Bai’s heart aflutter.
“So you’ve read Stray Birds before.”
Miao Bai nodded. “A long time ago.”
A long time ago—how long exactly? Miao Bai had nearly forgotten. Back then, she had been just like Meng Bai: a student.
The memories were fragmented. Miao Bai didn’t know how to put them into words, but in the end, it all boiled down to that one truth: she loved this small town.
Deeply. Passionately.
Meng Bai had no idea what was going through Miao Bai’s mind. She was squatting on the floor, flipping through one book after another, forced to crane her neck upward just to talk to her.
That black veil suddenly felt obtrusive.
“Miao Bai.”
“Hm?”
“Aren’t you stuffy wearing that?”
“It’s fine.”
“Why don’t you take the veil off?” Meng Bai ducked her head and murmured, “I won’t look.”
Miao Bai didn’t refuse; she seemed amenable to the idea.
“You can look if you want to.”
In truth, Miao Bai had no fear of showing her face. She wore the veil only because the light was too harsh. Besides, the girl before her seemed to know everything already anyway.
Meng Bai kept her expression calm on the surface, but her heart was pounding wildly inside.
Was she finally going to see Miao Bai’s face?
Did this mean Miao Bai had agreed?
She couldn’t suppress the thrill surging through her, could almost feel the rush of blood pulsing in her veins.
“Then you take it off.” Meng Bai bowed her head and slipped the earlier book back into the box.
She acted nonchalant, but every fiber of her attention was fixed on Miao Bai.
Miao Bai’s shadow fell across the top of the box—her neck, her head—casting a graceful silhouette against the wooden chest.
Then the shadow shifted.
She raised her hand, fingertips delicately pinching one corner of the veil.
As the candle flame danced, the veil slowly peeled away from its veil of mystery. Miao Bai’s shadow traced a fluid arc across the box.
Meng Bai couldn’t help but look up.
The moment her eyes landed on Miao Bai’s face, she drew in a sharp breath, her mind buzzing.
All those vile rumors of ugliness and grotesquerie shattered in an instant.
Delicate crescent brows, eyes brimming with gentle allure, lips vividly red.
Every feature was exquisite, forming a face that brimmed with unexpected beauty.
It was hands down the most stunning face Meng Bai had ever seen in her life—and up close, it was even more breathtaking.
Miao Bai’s skin was so fair. Miao Bai was so beautiful.
“Miao Bai, you—” Meng Bai scooted back on instinct, hands braced against the floor as she gazed up at her in awe. She wanted to speak, but the words came out in a jumble. “You—uh, I—” Frustration welled up in her. “I don’t even know what to say.”
Yet through it all—spoken or unspoken—her gaze never once strayed from Miao Bai’s face.
A smile bloomed on Miao Bai’s lips. “What do you want to say? Take your time. No rush.”
She had come alive.
A smiling Miao Bai, unveiled, was utterly enchanting.
Meng Bai knew full well how out of sorts she must seem, but she couldn’t help herself. Not one bit.
“You…” Meng Bai’s throat worked visibly. “You’re right to wear the veil.”
“Hm?”
“The men in town would go out of their minds if they saw you!”
“Pfft.” Miao Bai laughed, charmed by Meng Bai’s outburst. “You’re being a little silly.”
“Huh?”
“I mean you right now. A little silly.”
