Chapter 46: Memories Still Vivid

The memories were still vivid.

When Miao Bai had returned to this world, she knew from the start that no one could see her during the day.

It was a privilege, but also a curse.

If that power could be called divine, then the divine being had decreed that Miao Bai could appear anywhere in the daylight without anyone knowing.

Invisibility—what a perfect skill it seemed to the world. But only those who had truly wielded it knew if it was good or bad.

The divine had placed Miao Bai beyond the reach of ordinary mortals. It was a right bestowed upon her, yet also a double-edged sword.

Observing the masses from a god’s-eye view, unseen by all—it felt like true divinity. But in time, the world turned cold and distant.

Laughter and sorrow belonged to others. Miao Bai could only ever be a bystander.

When being a bystander became the norm, an unbreakable law, and then one person shattered that rule, the shock was profound.

That was exactly how Miao Bai had felt moments ago, when Meng Bai ran up and declared that she could see her.

Miao Bai hadn’t seen it coming. She never imagined Meng Bai could spot her.

Meng Bai was the first.

The divine being had once said:

“Miao Bai, daylight belongs to you eternally, yours alone. You will walk freely in the light, and no one will enter your world.”

No exceptions? No one at all could see Miao Bai by day?

There was one.

“Only those who truly love you have the right to enter your world, to see all of you—day or night, everything visible.”

“Those who truly love you, those who dream of falling in love with you.”

True love, the kind that yearned to tumble into romance?

The rule meant little to Miao Bai. She’d lingered too long in the Old Courtyard, barely encountering anyone. Folks called her Lunatic and bolted at the sight of her. Love? If they didn’t flee in terror, that was victory enough.

She’d never taken the covenant seriously. In her endless years, love seemed too ephemeral, too insubstantial. She didn’t need it. She didn’t need to be seen by day.

None of it mattered. Nothing was necessary.

But now Meng Bai stood right in front of her, those clear eyes fixed on her.

She hadn’t wanted love, yet here it was, knocking at her door.

Miao Bai was speechless, words catching in her throat.

Did Meng Bai love her?

That kind of love?

Impossible…

Wasn’t she just a girl barely out of childhood? What could she possibly know of love?

It wasn’t fair to Meng Bai. She had no idea that budding feelings would trigger such a mechanism, and Miao Bai could hardly explain it to her.

How could she blurt out: “Because you like me, love me, that’s why you can see me in the daylight”?

The very thought was mortifying.

“Say something, Miao Bai. Why won’t you talk?” Meng Bai urged.

Miao Bai sidestepped neatly. “Your friends are coming.”

Zhou An and Xu Zhou walked up, exchanging baffled looks as they glanced at Meng Bai.

They couldn’t hear Miao Bai or see her, so Meng Bai’s one-sided conversation came off as downright odd.

“You—” Meng Bai began, then caught herself. She couldn’t reveal Miao Bai’s presence yet. “You two go ahead. Stomachache. Gotta hit the bathroom.”

Zhou An nodded. “Sure. Xu Zhou and I’ll wait for you. We’ll hit the High-Altitude Bicycle after.”

“Not feeling great.” Meng Bai scrunched her face in mock discomfort. “You and Xu Zhou ride it. I’ll catch up after, but skip it for me.”

Zhou An grinned. “Pirate Ship get to you? You swore you weren’t scared!”

Meng Bai waved her off. “Go, go. You two, quit yapping.”

Thick-headed Zhou An brushed it off, and Xu Zhou was too wrapped up in Zhou An to care.

They headed off to the High-Altitude Bicycles soon enough.

Meng Bai exhaled, turning to Miao Bai—gone.

Where to? They hadn’t even sorted things out!

The Town Amusement Park teemed with weekend crowds. Meng Bai scanned the sea of people, but no sign of Miao Bai.

Disappointment tugged at her. She’d ditched Zhou An for Miao Bai, even though she wanted to ride too…

Had Miao Bai just bailed?

“What’re you spacing out for?” Miao Bai’s voice drifted from behind.

Meng Bai spun around. There she was, right back in the same spot.

?

“You weren’t there a second ago. How’d you—”

So bizarre. Visible one moment, gone the next.

“I checked out the ticket booth.” Miao Bai jerked her thumb that way and shoved two bills into Meng Bai’s hand. “Buy two tickets. We’ll do the High-Altitude Bicycle.”

Meng Bai stared at the cash, flustered. “Why money again!”

“It’s yours. Hold onto it.” Miao Bai pressed it firmly, giving her hand a pat. “Two tickets. No freeloading.”

Miao Bai even cracked a smile while she said it.

Meng Bai locked eyes with her, swept up in that grin.

Obeying was easier—especially when it was Miao Bai asking…

~~~

The High-Altitude Bicycle was your run-of-the-mill amusement ride, but a first for Meng Bai.

Not just her—Zhou An and Xu Zhou too.

Townies labeled them hicks who’d never seen the world.

Fair enough. The Small Town was too puny for thrills like this.

Meng Bai’s heart raced as she handed over the tickets.

Two, as Miao Bai instructed.

The staff took them, eyebrows shooting up.

“Too many tickets! One per rider!!”

Meng Bai shot Miao Bai a look. See? One each. Miao Bai wouldn’t cheat, insisting on two—her cheeks burned with secondhand embarrassment.

“Not too many. One ticket each. Two’s right.”

The staff laughed, shaking his head. “You goof! Never seen anyone gripe about extra cash!”

Meng Bai hopped on. He fastened her safety belt, blew a whistle, and added: “Half hour’s fine to return! Slow season—enjoy!”

“Thanks!”

Three p.m., sun still scorching. Meng Bai settled onto the creaky High-Altitude Bicycle and gave the pedals a light push.

Miao Bai sat right beside her.

At that moment, Meng Bai’s heart was filled to the brim, a profound happiness blooming in her chest.

She wondered why Miao Bai had appeared here today. Was it because today was her birthday?

Miao Bai said nothing, but she had done everything.

Towering oak trees surrounded them on all sides, their branches enclosing the narrow track. Warm sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the roof of the car in shifting patterns of light and shadow that seemed to blur the boundaries of time and space.

Meng Bai glanced down at her toes and noticed that her shadow overlapped perfectly with Miao Bai’s.

“You still haven’t answered me, Miao Bai. It’s broad daylight—how can I see you?”

Miao Bai didn’t answer directly. Instead, she turned the question back. “You first: when did you start being able to see me?”

“When?” Meng Bai thought carefully. “Didn’t I tell you? During tutoring, your figure flashed right in front of my eyes. I thought I’d imagined it that day, but then you were really standing beside me.”

She paused, then added, “But today, I don’t know why—when I looked down from the Pirate Ship, there you were, standing below.”

She started to say more, but Miao Bai cut her off. “I get it.”

Miao Bai reached out, her slender fingers gleaming even whiter in the sunlight. She waved her palm in front of Meng Bai. “Try touching me. See if you can feel anything.”

Meng Bai hesitated for a beat, realizing with a thrill that she wanted to. Miao Bai’s fingers looked utterly beautiful in the light.

She reached out and brushed them lightly—yes, she could feel them. In the next instant, she clasped Miao Bai’s hand, cradling it in her own palm.

“I can touch you. Your hand is so cold.” She added softly, “But I like the feel. Cool and smooth—it must be perfect for summer.”

Miao Bai: “…”

This girl was seriously off-kilter.

Miao Bai twitched her hand back, but Meng Bai held on tight.

It stirred complicated feelings in Miao Bai. She glanced sideways; the play of light made Meng Bai’s cheeks glow vibrantly, the joy in her eyes plain as day.

In that moment, Miao Bai realized she could no longer think of Meng Bai as a child.

From the day they’d met, Miao Bai had treated her like a little sister or a kid in her care—indulging her every whim, never minding the dynamic.

But now, as her gaze settled on Meng Bai’s face, she saw that the girl wasn’t so young anymore.

Her smile held a touch of innocence, but “childish” wasn’t the right word.

If anything, Miao Bai thought, it was the first stirrings of love.

She could see it clearly in Meng Bai’s eyes—that budding affection.

The unfamiliar hue reminded her of her own past.

Long ago, she had gazed at that opera singer with eyes just like these.

[Only those who truly love you can enter your world.]

The words echoed in Miao Bai’s mind once more.

But linking them to Meng Bai made her profoundly uneasy.

She looked away, slipping her hand free. In her usual flat tone, she said, “You can see me because I gave you that privilege.”

The lie was seamless.

Meng Bai believed it utterly.

“So that’s it! No wonder Zhou An and the others can’t see you. Why didn’t you say so earlier? I was dying of curiosity.”

“Mm. That’s it.” Miao Bai fell silent.

“But why me? Why give me this privilege?” Meng Bai’s clear eyes fixed on her, playful. “Am I special to you?”

It sounded like a joke, but Miao Bai pondered it seriously.

And as she did, another question arose: What did Meng Bai even like about her?

She voiced it aloud. “You first: am I your exception?”

Light filled Meng Bai’s eyes. “Of course! You’re the most magical, most fascinating person I’ve ever met. Second to none.”

Ah. So that was it.

Her powers had drawn her in.

Miao Bai felt nothing.

“And if I weren’t magical? If I was just some ordinary person?”

Meng Bai didn’t hesitate. “You’d still be my exception.”

Some words needed the perfect moment.

Meng Bai hadn’t planned to say it, but it slipped out anyway.

Maybe it was time.

Silence fell, heavy and thick. Miao Bai offered no reply.

Creak, creak—the High-Altitude Bicycle rolled on slowly.

Meng Bai’s heart hammered. She regretted her impulsiveness, worried she’d upset Miao Bai.

The car plunged into denser woods, the sun vanishing behind the canopy. Darkness closed in, the light spots winking out one by one. Meng Bai’s spirits sank with them.

A minute or two passed.

No response came.

“Miao Bai.” Meng Bai gathered her courage, meeting her eyes with earnest intensity. “Yesterday, you asked which boy in class I like, who I’m always thinking about. I want to say—there are no boys. I’m thinking about—”

“Stop.” Miao Bai cut her off sharply. She glanced at the sky and sighed. “I came to the amusement park to celebrate your birthday. Nothing more.”

“Oh.” Meng Bai’s throat tightened; she swallowed her words. “Okay.”

“After this ride, go find Zhou An and the others. Have fun with your friends.”

“Mm.”

“Happy birthday, Meng Bai. Happy eighteenth.” Miao Bai exhaled softly. “Stay happy forever.”

So she wouldn’t even listen.

Meng Bai said nothing, pedaling harder. She just wanted this agonizing ride to end.

They didn’t speak again for the rest of the way. The sun stayed hidden.

Along the track, Meng Bai suddenly remembered Zhou An’s words from that morning.

“Meng Bai, ever since you met the Lunatic, you’ve been acting crazy. Don’t tell me you like her.”

It had seemed ridiculous then. What even was “liking”? No one had explained it to her.

How could she like someone without knowing what it meant?

But now, a strange emotion wrapped around her, and Meng Bai felt deeply, achingly sad.

Not in her body, but in her heart.

Saying Miao Bai was the exception was true. Saying she hadn’t missed any of the boys was also true, of course.

She also wanted to tell Miao Bai that there were so many moments when she genuinely missed her.

She didn’t know if saying that would count as confessing her feelings.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was that Miao Bai clearly didn’t want to hear it.

Miao Bai was ready to slam on the brakes and shut her down over just the word “you.” That was heartbreaking.

What kind of emotion was this? One second, her heart soared into the sky because of her; the next, it plummeted off a cliff. The whole world could sparkle in her presence or instantly fade to gray.

If this was what liking someone felt like, then liking someone was something that could easily spin out of control.

After a long silence, Miao Bai showed no sign of speaking again.

In the end, Meng Bai’s resolve softened. “Then head back early. It’s broad daylight—you’ll feel uncomfortable. Zhou An and the others and I will play until six and then head home.”

“Okay, you go home early too. I’m off.” Miao Bai casually plucked a leaf from nearby and tossed it into the air.

Meng Bai’s gaze followed it, and by the time she snapped back to attention, Miao Bai had vanished.

She had arrived in a flash and left the same way. Meng Bai stared at the empty seat beside her, struck for the first time by how ethereal Miao Bai’s presence felt—like a fleeting illusion.

When Meng Bai dismounted from the High-Altitude Bicycle, her heart felt heavy.

Xu Zhou and Zhou An came running over from nearby, scolding her. “Who said they weren’t riding? You went up there for over twenty minutes! All by yourself!!!”

Xu Zhou couldn’t hold back. “Meng Bai, do you have some issue with me? You’ve been totally spaced out today. Is it because I’m getting close to Zhou An and it bothers you? That’s why you went off to ride alone? Don’t get the wrong idea—”

“No.” Meng Bai’s reply was listless. “It’s not about you two. It’s my problem.”

She took a step forward, and Zhou An reached out to take her hand. As soon as she got close, Zhou An sniffed the air. “See? That fragrance on you is back!”

It was fine until she mentioned it—then Meng Bai’s nose suddenly stung.

It was Miao Bai’s scent.

In that moment, she felt so fragile, like the fragrance carried thorns that pricked her with every breath.

“Zhou An, Xu Zhou…” Meng Bai’s eyes reddened, her voice trembling. “I’m feeling really troubled.”

“Troubled by what?” The two leaned in. “Spill it!”

“Miao Bai was just here. I wasn’t alone, but you couldn’t see her, so it looked like I was riding solo.”

Zhou An had a sudden realization. All of Meng Bai’s odd behavior suddenly made perfect sense.

It was Miao Bai again. Everything came back to Miao Bai.

“Where is she?”

“She’s gone.”

“Oh, you—” Zhou An noticed Meng Bai’s distress and pulled her into a hug.

Xu Zhou was even sharper. She spun around and bolted to the little shop for tissues, moving like storm clouds had rolled in and she needed an umbrella fast.

Sure enough, the next second, Meng Bai broke down crying. She buried her face in Zhou An’s chest, her voice muffled in quiet sobs. “I feel like I’m really not normal… not normal at all…”

“Pfft, pfft, pfft!” Zhou An patted her shoulder. “I’m just messing with you! You’re totally fine. How could you not be?”

“Not fine, I…” Tears streamed down Meng Bai’s face unchecked, a wave of helplessness, sorrow, and confusion washing over her. “I think I really have these weird feelings for Miao Bai. The second she leaves, I just feel so sad.”

Xu Zhou returned with the tissues just in time to catch that line.

Her expression froze for a beat, but she said nothing, simply handing the pack to Zhou An.

Zhou An took them and murmured comforts to Meng Bai. “What’s got you like this? So, do you like her? Liking someone isn’t against the law. If you like her, you like her. No need to cry!”

“But Miao Bai is so… special…”

Zhou An gently wiped Meng Bai’s tears. “You like who you like. She’s special in her own way. Where’s the conflict? There isn’t any.”

Meng Bai sniffled, blurting out foolishly, “She’s a girl, and I’m a girl. I’ve never liked a girl before, and I’m not even her type…”

Xu Zhou stayed silent through it all, her eyes fixed on Zhou An.

Oblivious, Zhou An went on. “How do you know you’re not her type? You got a worm’s-eye view inside her gut or something? And so what if it’s a girl? If you ask me, that’s exactly who you should date. Look at the guys around town—they’re all so gross. The idea of marrying one and popping out kids? Pfft!!!!”

Only then did Zhou An notice Xu Zhou staring and turned to her. “Right, Xu Zhou?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Xu Zhou nodded vigorously, her head bobbing like it might hit the ground. “It’s no big deal at all. What’s wrong with liking a woman?”