Pei Yubai walked on from memory.
He did not remember the route from that day very clearly. The fog had been thick then, visibility low, and he had followed behind the other guests.
Although he had deliberately memorized the route, he had realized even then that he could not recall its details at all.
Given how easily he could memorize lines while filming, there was no way he simply could not remember a route.
That meant the problem could only lie with that residence.
Or with this forest.
But he remembered the general direction: leave the village entrance, head northeast, cross a stretch of farmland, then keep going deeper into the woods.
He walked for about an hour.
The woods grew denser and denser, the canopy blocking out the sky completely, letting only scattered fragments of light through.
The ground was covered in fallen leaves and weeds, making it impossible to tell where there was a path and where there was not. The leaves felt soft underfoot as he stepped on them, barely making a sound.
He stopped and looked around.
According to his memory, he should already have reached the residence.
But there was nothing in front of him. Only trees, densely packed trees. Their trunks were dark brown, their branches tangled together, and vines climbed from one tree to another, bearing a few small flowers he could not name.
No stone path. No bamboo grove. No residence, and no bronze wind chime hanging from its doorframe.
Pei Yubai stood where he was and looked around once more. Still nothing.
He walked a little farther and pushed aside a clump of shrubs. Behind it were more trees.
He walked farther still and rounded a thick old tree. Ahead were more trees.
It was as though the residence had never existed. As though it were reminding him that Qiguan Yuan, too, seemed never to have existed.
He stood beneath a tree without moving. Wind swept through the woods, rustling the leaves overhead. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting a small patch of light on the ground, right beside his feet.
He lowered his head and looked at that patch of light, standing there for a long time.
He remembered that, after they had left the residence that day, Qiguan Yuan had led them for two hours before they emerged from the woods.
He remembered that route: follow a stream downstream, keep walking, and make no turns.
But now he could not even find that stream. There were no other sounds in the woods, only the sound of leaves.
He slipped his hand into his trouser pocket, his fingers touching the sheet of paper folded twice. It was still there, rustling and thin to the touch.
He suddenly realized something.
He knew almost nothing about Qiguan Yuan.
He knew Qiguan Yuan lived deep in the mountains behind Cloud-Hidden Town, that he visited the Yue Lao Temple once a year, interpreting only three people's fortune sticks each time, and only ill-fated bonds.
He knew Qiguan Yuan wore dark red clothes, had silver hair, and had a red thread wound around his finger.
He knew that when Qiguan Yuan said his name, the last syllable would dip slightly, as though he had a piece of candy in his mouth.
That was all.
That was all he knew.
He did not even know where Qiguan Yuan had come from or where he was going.
He was not even sure whether he was standing here now because he wanted to find Qiguan Yuan or because he wanted to confirm that the residence had really existed.
He stood there for a while, then kept walking.
There were no paths in the woods, so he could only go by instinct. He would walk a little, stop to look around, then walk some more.
The trees all looked much the same, and he could not distinguish the places he had been from those he had not. He passed a fallen, dead tree, its trunk covered in mushrooms of every color, as pretty as the three he had picked that day.
He glanced at them and walked around.
After walking for roughly another half hour, he still had not found anything.
He stood in a clearing, surrounded by trees. Sunlight shone down from overhead, shrinking his shadow into a small clump beneath his feet.
Mud clung to his shoes, the shrubs had torn several slits in his trouser legs, and a few leaves clung to his thin black jacket.
Pei Yubai thought, Why had he come looking for Qiguan Yuan?
Only a few short days had passed since their first meeting. All the words they had exchanged might not even have amounted to twenty sentences.
He had put shoes and socks on Qiguan Yuan once, and Qiguan Yuan had given him a task once. Qiguan Yuan had asked whether he liked him, and he had said no.
He stood in that clearing, looking at the surrounding trees, silent for a long time. The wind turned the leaves over, exposing the pale green veins on their undersides.
Birds called in the distance, one cry after another, unhurried.
He took out his phone and glanced at it. There was not a single bar of reception, but he could still check the time.
It was almost nine. Meng Xu and the others should already have come down the mountain.
He put his phone away, ready to leave.
He turned around.
"Were you looking for me, Pei Yubai?"
The voice came from behind him. Quiet and languid, its final note lilting slightly upward, it was the voice Pei Yubai wanted to hear.
Pei Yubai turned around.
Qiguan Yuan was leaning against a tree. He was still wearing that dark red robe, its color seemingly deeper than those he had worn over the past two days, like blood on the verge of drying.
His silver hair was loose, untied, spilling over his shoulders and chest.
He held a book with a red cover and yellowed pages. It looked very old.
He leaned at an angle against a tree trunk, his posture casual.
Sunlight filtered through gaps in the leaves and fell over him, dappling his dark red robe with light and shadow.
His silver hair flashed in the light, then dimmed again. He looked at Pei Yubai, the corners of his mouth faintly curved. Like a fox.
Pei Yubai stood where he was, looking at him.
His heart was beating fast, but his expression barely changed. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but the first word caught in his throat and only emerged after a pause. "Yes. I was looking for you."
Qiguan Yuan tilted his head, silver hair slipping from his shoulder. "What were you looking for me for?"
His tone was the same as ever, languid and a little careless. As though Pei Yubai appearing in this forest were perfectly normal, nothing worth being surprised about.
He seemed to have known all along that Pei Yubai would come looking for him.
Pei Yubai looked at him.
Qiguan Yuan leaned against the tree, sunlight falling on his face, silver hair hanging over his dark red robe. Those pale eyes watched Pei Yubai with a little curiosity, but not much.
Pei Yubai heard his own voice, a little lower than usual. "Yesterday, you asked whether I liked you. I said no. I wanted to say, that wasn't what I meant."
Qiguan Yuan gave an "Oh." He drew it out, the final note sliding down before curving upward again, like a winding line.
"What did you mean, then? Do you like me now?"
Pei Yubai's ears began to burn.
He looked at Qiguan Yuan, and Qiguan Yuan looked back at him.
There was no urging or questioning in Qiguan Yuan's gaze. He simply waited patiently, as though he was in no hurry, whether Pei Yubai spoke or not, whatever he might say.
Pei Yubai lowered his eyes to the fallen leaves on the ground. They were brown, their edges curled, and lay in a thick layer.
"I don't know."
He said those words and paused. Then he added, "I don't dislike you, Qiguan Yuan."