Return to Town
Bluestone Town hasn't changed much.
The dirt road at the town entrance was still the same dirt road, but the poplar trees along the roadside were taller than they had been three years ago, their trunks so thick that one hand could no longer encircle them. The main street of the town was paved with bluestone slabs, and several shops on both sides had changed their signs, but the candied hawthorn stall was still in the same place, with a younger face now running it. Long Tian walked along the main street for a while, and when he passed the braised meat shop, he glanced inside. Steam rose from the edge of the pot, carrying the familiar aroma of the old broth, and the tables and chairs inside were still arranged as they had always been, crammed together. Zhao Xiaopang used to love coming here on his days off to buy half a jin of pig's head meat, hiding under the wall by the side gate of the college to secretly eat it before going back.
As the two crossed the main street and turned into the alley leading to the college, Long Tian slowed his pace. The old locust tree at the alley entrance was taller than he remembered, its branches spreading out to cover most of the alley. The locust flowers were in full bloom in late spring, with dense clusters of white blossoms hanging among the branches, and a gust of wind would scatter tiny white petals all over the ground.
The academy's gate was open. The plaque above the door frame was still there, the characters faded by the wind and rain, but the words "Bluestone Town Junior Soul Master Academy" were still legible. The large banyan tree in the courtyard was more lush than before, its canopy almost covering half the courtyard. Several children in gray uniforms were reciting their lessons at a stone table under the shade of the tree. Their voices were childish yet orderly, reciting an excerpt from the Introduction to the Fundamentals of Soul Power: "Soul Power is the foundation of the body, the flow of the meridians..." They recited with swaying heads, as if performing a little play.
Long Tian stood at the courtyard gate for a while, not in a hurry to go in. Yu Jin stood behind him, observing the scene in the courtyard—he had never seen such a place before. There were walls, trees, the sound of reading, and several children awkwardly huddled together around a stone table, reading the same book. His gaze slowly moved away from the children, sweeping over the courtyard wall, over the floor of the teaching hall, and over the half-open window on the second floor, as if he were watching how something he had never seen before worked.
A chubby figure rushed out from the side corridor of the teaching hall. The man was carrying a tea tray with two porcelain bowls on it. His footsteps stumbled on the stone steps, and the bowls made a crisp sound as they hit the rim. He looked up, his round face first showing a blank expression, then his eyes widened suddenly, and the tea tray slipped from his hand. The porcelain bowls fell to the ground and shattered.
Zhao Xiaopang.
He stood there, mouth agape, stunned for what seemed like two or three breaths. Then he rushed forward, his feet crunching on the broken porcelain shards, crashing into Long Tian —not to pounce and hug him, but to abruptly stop half a step in front of him, his hands and feet flailing wildly in mid-air as if he didn't know what to do with them, before finally grabbing Long Tian's sleeve. He gripped the sleeve so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"You're back?" Zhao Xiaopang's voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded down. "You... you motherfucker... you've been gone for so long without even sending a message! I thought you were dead! Shen Mo couldn't even say where you were! Chen Hao almost went down the mountain to look for you, but I stopped him!"
He gripped Long Tian's sleeve and rattled off a long string of words without pausing between sentences. Long Tian let him hold his sleeve, and only spoke when he caught his breath, "I'm back."
Zhao Xiaopang loosened his sleeve, took half a step back, and quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve. His gaze passed over Long Tian and landed on Yu Jin behind him, scanning him from head to toe. Yu Jin stood there quietly, looking back at Zhao Xiaopang, the edge of the dark gray bead inside his collar gleaming faintly in the shadows. After scrutinizing him, Zhao Xiaopang withdrew his gaze, his tone becoming calmer. "Who is this?"
"His name is Yu Jin. He's with me."
Zhao Xiaopang glanced at Yu Jin again, but didn't ask any more questions. He picked up a few pieces of broken porcelain from the ground and gathered them against the wall. Then he turned and shouted into the classroom, "Mr. Wang! Long Tian is back!" His voice had become clear and loud during his three years of schooling, and his shout startled all the children reciting their lessons in the courtyard, making them look up.
The half-open window on the second floor of the teaching hall was pushed open even wider. Mr. Wang stood behind the window, looking at the boy standing in the direction of the gate from a distance of an entire courtyard. His brass-rimmed glasses reflected a thin layer of light from the afternoon sun, obscuring his eyes, but his fingers, which were resting on the windowsill, tightened as if he were grasping something.
Long Tian looked up and nodded towards the second-floor window. Mr. Wang nodded as well, then closed the window. A moment later, he appeared at the entrance of the first floor of the teaching hall, carrying no lesson plan. He simply walked out with his hands behind his back, descended the steps of the corridor, and stood before Long Tian. He stopped about a step away from Long Tian Long Tian, his gaze lingering on him several times—from the breadth of his shoulders to the folds of his clothes at his chest, then to his hands hanging at his sides and the lines of his back. He looked for a long time before speaking, his tone the same as when he had spoken to Long Tian three years ago after the awakening ceremony. "You've grown taller."
Zhao Xiaopang stood to the side, his eyes still red, muttering, "I'm going to Chen Hao," before turning and running towards the dormitory, his footsteps kicking up dust in the corridor. Long Tian watched Zhao Xiaopang's chubby figure disappear around the corner of the corridor, a slight smile curving his lips.
Chen Hao arrived faster than expected. He strode in from the direction of the dormitory, a half-dry towel draped over his shoulder, as if he'd been called out while washing his face. He stopped in front of Long Tian, their eyes meeting briefly after a three-year gap. Chen Hao pulled the towel off his shoulder and casually draped it over the stone railing beside him, speaking in a normal tone, "Third Ring Road?"
Sixth Ring Road.
Chen Hao's gaze lingered on Long Tian's chest for a moment, then he picked up the cloth draped over the stone railing and put it back on his shoulder. "Let's go, let's talk in the cafeteria." He turned and walked towards the cafeteria, glancing at Yu Jin after a few steps, his gaze lingering for a moment before turning away without saying anything more.
The smell of cooking oil from lunch hadn't completely dissipated in the cafeteria, and several empty bowls lay on the long table, not yet cleared away. Zhao Xiaopang had already brought out three bowls of hot noodle soup from the kitchen, each topped with a poached egg and a few slices of braised meat, steaming hot as he placed them on the table. The four of them sat down around the long table by the window. It Yu Jin's first time sitting on this wooden bench. Steam, which he couldn't understand, dripped from the rim of the bowl beside him, but he picked up his chopsticks, took a bite of noodles, and slowly chewed.
Zhao Xiaopang shoveled bowl after bowl of noodles into his mouth across from him, occasionally looking up to ramble on about the past few months: Chen Hao had stayed here for two months waiting for news after his transfer was completed; Mr. Wang had kept the letter Long Tian left behind untouched at the bottom of the asparagus fern pot; the old locust tree at the town entrance had blossomed more flowers this year than in previous years, and the fallen white petals lay scattered on the ground unswept. He spoke at a moderate pace, as if he were slowly unpacking and airing out the words that had accumulated over the past few months.
Long Tian listened as he ate his noodles, finishing the last drop of soup in his bowl, which made a soft clinking sound as he placed it on the table. The afternoon sun cast a long, slanted shadow on the cafeteria's wooden floor, where dust motes drifted slowly. These motes, carried from the shadows to the light, were gently stirred by the breeze, like a long-forgotten story finally finding its proper container and being put back into it. Zhao Xiaopang stacked his empty bowls together, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, pushed his chair back, and stood up. His chubby figure, outlined in the afternoon light, formed a familiar, rounded silhouette, exactly the same as when he first patted Long Tian on the shoulder three years ago at the entrance to Class C's classroom. His voice, once rough and hoarse, had softened considerably, returning to its former tone, carrying the aroma of meat buns. "Chen Hao, you still have a mouthful of noodles in your bowl. Don't leave any. I'll go get that plate of pickled radishes from the kitchen."