Idle

Liu Chang'an kept a firm grip on the orange juice he had retrieved from the milk tea shop, not spilling a drop even when he was shoved. Watching him walk away slowly and steadily, clutching that cup, An Nuan felt a mix of joy and worry.

The reason for her joy was simple: Liu Chang'an had fought for her. In truth, girls are drawn to boys who will throw a punch on their behalf; this is one of the reasons why many good-for-nothing thugs and hoodlums never lack female company. Not every girl considers the long-term consequences.

Yet, while some girls might goad their boyfriends into fights, others, while gratified that their boyfriends would stand up for them, worry more about their safety.

Ultimately, she was the one who had caused this mess. An Nuan didn't truly blame Liu Chang'an, but he remained as nonchalant as ever. What would happen when Ma Benwei actually brought people to find him?

A rustling sound came from behind. An Nuan turned around and jumped in surprise to see Liu Yuewang, brow furrowed, squeezing out from behind a hedge. She stumbled over to An Nuan's side and pinched her ear. "Did you treat everything I said as wind in your ears?"

"Mom... how long have you been crouching there?" An Nuan's ear stung, and she quickly grabbed her mother's arm.

"Hmph... I came back from class and saw Zhizhi lurking outside the milk tea shop, acting all suspicious. Once she left, I took a good look for myself and discovered the situation." Liu Yuewang pinched An Nuan's ear as she walked back. "Tell me, what were you two talking about? I didn't hear clearly... such a big mosquito, it bit my neck..."

"You actually spied on us..."

"I was concerned for you. That was perfectly aboveboard..."

"I think you should hurry home and put some floral water on your neck. If a red mark stays there, what will people think?"

Reminded, Liu Yuewang let go of her ear, touched her neck, and headed home, calling out to An Nuan, "Hurry up and come back to explain everything!"

After taking two steps, Liu Yuewang stopped and looked at An Nuan sternly. "How do you know what people would think if a red mark was left behind?"

An Nuan sighed. "I'm not a three-year-old, am I? I know what things are. It's commonly called a hickey; you get them from kissing the neck too hard."

"At such a young age..."

"At such a young age?"

"..."

Liu Yuewang's cheeks flushed, a shade only slightly lighter than her lipstick.

Liu Chang'an finished his orange juice at the bridgehead and jumped from the highest point in the center of the bridge down to Juzhou below. It was only twenty or thirty meters; he felt almost nothing under his feet as he landed steadily.

An elderly man with white hair, sitting in a wheelchair, stared blankly at Liu Chang'an, then looked up at the top of the bridge.

"I jumped from up there," Liu Chang'an gave him a definitive answer, sparing him the thought that his failing eyesight was causing him more sorrow over the passage of time.

Baolong Center was nice, Liu Chang'an thought, looking toward the distance, but he wouldn't do that again anytime soon. Walking along the scenic boulevard against the river breeze, the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the shore brought a sense of calm. He arrived at the base of the massive statue at the southern end of Juzhou. Looking at the towering monument, which sat on a 3,500-square-meter base made of 8,000 granite blocks, he gave it a hard shove.

It didn't budge.

"What are you doing?" The administrator had seen people burning incense, people trying to chip off pieces of granite, people praying for children or marriage, and even people trying to climb it... but this was the first time he'd seen someone trying to push it.

This guy must be a lunatic.

"I'm testing how much strength I have."

Definitely a lunatic.

Liu Chang'an clapped his hands, feeling no frustration. Human strength has its limits; that was simply the reality of the situation.

By the end of October, the oranges on Juzhou would ripen one by one. Liu Chang'an walked through the orange grove and sat quietly in the plaza before the statue.

Autumn flowers, the night in Xiaoxiang, the beautiful scenery of Juzhou like a painted screen.

Amidst the green mist, under the bright moon, the small boat finishes its fishing.

Water as a home, reeds as a shelter, fish soup and rice as a daily meal.

The scenic area closed at night. Liu Chang'an left with the tourists, walked onto the bridge, and followed the bustling streets. At the entrance to Taiping Street, he bought a flask of green plum wine; it was a bit sour and had a sharp, astringent taste.

Exiting Taiping Street, he reached the famous bar street of Junsha. Years ago, many "fish" would flip their white bellies along the street, though they only reeked of the stench of drunkenness.

A young man with curly hair, thick eyebrows, and full lips was running a lamb skewer stall. Liu Chang'an ordered two skewers of lamb liver but asked to grill them himself. Since business wasn't busy yet, the young man agreed. Once Liu Chang'an finished grilling them, they were mouth-watering before he even took a bite.

He had just returned home when he received a call from Qin Yanan, asking about his plans for tomorrow. Liu Chang'an hesitated for a moment before telling her to come over early.

Qin Yanan arrived even earlier than Liu Chang'an had anticipated.

It was the first time someone had knocked on his small door before he was even awake; not even Zhou Dongdong had ever been this early.

The temperature had dropped slightly, and the morning air was cold. Qin Yanan looked at Liu Chang'an, who was wearing a tank top and loose shorts. He hugged his arms, yet there wasn't a single goosebump on his skin.

"Old people truly hope to reunite during the holidays, especially the Dragon Boat Festival... every time is one less chance," Liu Chang'an said, looking at Qin Yanan. "If you really don't want to stay in Junsha and insist on running back, what can he actually do to you? In his heart, he's still very happy."

"I've realized you really don't like me," Qin Yanan confirmed once more, though she felt a little happier. "I wouldn't dare defy him, at least not until you've written the letter and he has given up on that idea."

"I don't dislike you. I like you very much—more than you imagine. I'm very happy to see you." Liu Chang'an turned around. "Find a small stool outside and sit for a while. I will write the letter, you can rest assured. I need to wash up first."

His tone held the kind of gratification an old man feels when seeing the descendants of an old friend—a tone Qin Yanan had heard often.

Qin Yanan looked around and finally found a small stool, likely made of bamboo, near some jars. It had a simple, elegant feel. Looking closely for the first time, she realized that while Liu Chang'an's dwelling was small, it exuded a sense of peace and seclusion.

The window, the size of a washbasin, was covered in faded paper-cuts, intricate to the point of obsession, appearing like a landscape painting with hidden poetry. The wall beneath the window was plastered with mud and climbed by emerald green vines. Near the corner, there were traces of water, and various small flowers and grasses grew in bottles and jars that looked like they had been picked up at random. They were common roadside varieties, yet clustered together, they looked surprisingly beautiful.

It made one feel as if this were the residence of a leisurely, carefree old man.

Liu Chang'an came out after washing up and asked, "Going for a run?"

Qin Yanan was wearing a white jacket with traditional knotted buttons today. Her hair was loosely pinned into a bun at the back of her head, with a few strands dangling by her ears like swaying vines. The ornaments trembling on her earlobes were naturally formed flowers. Her slender neck was tightly framed by the collar, her arms were like white lotus roots, and her high-waisted trousers of the same color made her legs appear even longer. She paired them with flat running shoes, which didn't seem out of place at all. Perhaps when someone is beautiful and has a good figure, anything they wear looks fine.

"I rarely exercise. I won't run," Qin Yanan waved her hands, keeping an eye on whether Liu Chang'an's eyes betrayed any masculine disappointment or knowing, playful mockery.

"Oh, I see. Your mammary roots hurt when you run, so you can only perform exercises with smaller ranges of motion that aren't too intense." Liu Chang'an nodded, then turned and walked back into the room.

He spoke as if merely describing an objective fact, devoid of any infuriating teasing, yet it made Qin Yanan's fair face flush with a surge of blood.

She had a dream last night, unexpectedly dreaming of her great-grandmother. It is said that the people one meets in dreams have no faces when recalled, but after waking, Qin Yanan clearly remembered that Ye Sijin's appearance was no different from the photographs—elegant and quiet, with a knot of sorrow between her brows. She only remembered that in the dream, her great-grandmother was calling out a name, likely that of the man who had been close to her.

Qin Yanan had never dreamed of Ye Sijin before. After all, her great-grandmother had passed away before the liberation, and everything she heard were heroic deeds as described in textbooks; her feelings toward her were more of admiration than the intimate affection of a child at a great-grandfather's knee.

Qin Yanan interpreted such a dream as a visitation from the beyond. Although, as a materialist who believes in Marxism, she shouldn't believe in the feudal superstition of dream visitations, it still affected her mood, so she came to find Liu Chang'an early in the morning.

She felt a bit inclined to tell Liu Chang'an about her dream, because Liu Chang'an was always muttering about her great-grandmother; perhaps he could offer some other explanation for such a dream?