Late spring at the age of seventeen.
When Gu Jianian left home, she only brought a few changes of clothes, her wallet, and a phone charging cable. The remaining space in her suitcase and backpack was filled with books.
Her parents drove her to the high-speed rail station and then hurriedly returned to their respective workplaces.
With her backpack on her back and a small suitcase in hand, she stood bewildered in the endless waiting hall.
Looking around, the hall was bustling with people sitting or standing, each one calmly engrossed in their own activities—playing with their phones, chatting with companions, eating, or napping. They were all seasoned travellers.
Sunlight poured in through the two-story tall floor-to-ceiling windows, casting her slender and slightly awkward shadow on the cold and bright tiled floor.
This was her first solo journey.
Gu Jianian took a deep breath, then took out her train ticket to double-check the waiting platform, train number, and departure time.
Thankfully, her complete concentration ensured that there were no mistakes.
The high-speed train slowly left the station, smoothly accelerating to an incredibly fast speed. The tall residential buildings outside the window rapidly receded like a movie rewinding.
Leaning against the sturdy seat cushion, she felt a sense of stability as if she had finally reached the shore after walking on thin ice. Gu Jianian exhaled a breath she had been holding for a long time and took out a novel from her bag.
“Miss, are you heading to college?”
Gu Jianian realized that she was being asked as she moved her eyes away from the book. The question came from the woman sitting next to her.
Before she could answer, the woman continued, “You must have just finished the college entrance exam this year. It’s only early July. Are you going for military training?”
A wave of concern followed, instantly turning Gu Jianian’s face red.
She hadn’t learned how to dodge or change the topic yet, so she could only lower her head and answer in embarrassment and docility, “I didn’t do well on the college entrance exam, so I’m not going to college. My parents want me to stay at my grandmother’s house for a while.”
The woman gave a meaningful “oh,” then fell silent for a while before patting her shoulder. “It’s okay, retaking the exam is also fine. Take a break and set out again!”
This time, Gu Jianian learned to stay silent, nodded with a smile, and buried her head back in her book.
She had no intention of retaking the exam.
No matter what the future held, she had no intention of going to college again. During the week when the college entrance exam results were released, her parents had pressured and enticed her incessantly, but she remained steadfast.
Until her grandmother’s phone call came.
“Don’t nag anymore. Come and spend the summer vacation with me. It’s cooler in the countryside.”
And that’s how this journey came about.
Seven hours later.
Gu Jianian sat in the front passenger seat of her second uncle’s pickup truck, gazing at the layers of bamboo-covered mountains outside the window.
As the wind swept through, the bamboo forest swayed like feathers standing upright. The sky was a translucent blue, and the slightly hot air carried the scents of mountains, forests, and bamboo leaves. Inhaling it felt like steam escaping from her pores.
The pickup truck continued along the winding road, with rolling bamboo-covered mountains all around. Between the mountains stretched endless green rice paddies, occasionally interrupted by small ponds, like crystals embedded in velvet.
A large green cow lay on the wetland by a pond, accompanied by several resting birds on its back during their journey.
Suddenly, Gu Jianian felt alive.
The vehicle came to a stop.
Her grandmother’s house was a two-story brick building, painted white and brown in the past, but now most of the paint had peeled off.
Her grandmother, standing straight with a cane in hand, awaited her beneath the lush osmanthus tree. In her memory, her hair was salt-and-pepper, but now it was completely white.
Gu Jianian jumped down from the high pickup truck and walked toward her, reaching out to move aside the osmanthus branches and revealing her first smile after receiving her college entrance exam results.
Everything that followed unfolded naturally and effortlessly.
No one asked her about her college entrance exam or her studies. No one inquired about her future plans. It seemed that she was simply returning home for a vacation, and it wasn’t that big of a deal.
Her second uncle helped her with her luggage and brought down a large watermelon from the pickup truck’s compartment, cooling it with cold well water.
Her grandmother and aunt led her to the second floor room.
The bed and wardrobe were neatly arranged, and inside the dark red wooden cabinet were many of her childhood clothes and photographs.
Gu Jianian touched these familiar pieces of furniture, and her childhood memories buried under exam papers and homework slowly surfaced—she had grown up in Yunmo Township until the age of seven before her parents brought her to Beilin for schooling.
After dinner, her second aunt placed a plate of grapes on the bamboo table and gently stroked her hair with a smile, “Tingting has lost quite a bit of weight but has grown taller and is really beautiful.”
Tingting is her nickname.
Gu Jianian popped a grape into her mouth, enjoying the cool, sour, and sweet taste.
Her grandmother was unpacking her luggage and pulled out seven or eight thick books, frowning, “Did your parents make you bring these? Those rascals.”
Gu Jianian quickly shook her head, “These aren’t books for school, they are books for reading, I brought them myself.”
In the dialect of Yunmo, “studying” usually refers to attending school, whereas “reading” refers to the act of reading.
Her parents indeed stuffed two textbooks into the suitcase, but she secretly took them out before leaving.
Her grandmother’s frown finally relaxed, and she helped arrange the books on the shelf with a smile, saying, “That’s right, Tingting has always loved reading since she was little. It’s the only time she’s less restless.”
Her aunt also laughed, “Yeah, I didn’t expect Tingting to be so calm now. When she was little, she was so hyperactive, always running instead of walking, we even suspected she had ADHD—that’s why your grandma named you Tingting, hoping you would pause a bit.”
Gu Jianian was amused by her words.
That night, Gu Jianian did not suffer from insomnia and slept till dawn, perhaps due to the long journey and the comforting weight of the heavy quilts.
*
The next day.
After lunch, she enjoyed the watermelon that her second uncle had chilled for a day. As the sun climbed higher, her grandmother took her under the grape trellis in the yard to make pastries, a novelty for Gu Jianian. At her home in Beilin, her mother never allowed her in the kitchen or to learn cooking, saying it would distract from her studies.
The gaps in the grape trellis let through the burning sunlight.
Gu Jianian clumsily kneaded the dough and pressed the moulds, sweating profusely.
Her grandmother placed the shaped pastry embryos on the baking tray, then taught her how to start a fire, not directly with wood, but using thoroughly dried pine branches and dead grass as kindling.
There was a technique to how the wood should be placed, not just stacked tightly over the flame but allowing space for the fire to breathe.
Her grandmother spoke slowly, but each word was to the point, and Gu Jianian followed her instructions, managing to start the fire in no time.
Her grandmother then instructed on the baking, while she operated.
The pastries were plum blossom crisps with raisins and dried plums, baked in an old-fashioned porcelain bowl kiln.
After half an hour, even before the crisps were done, the aroma had filled the yard. Many were baked and packed into over a dozen glass jars.
Gu Jianian took a warm crisp, hesitated, and took a bite. The initial crunch gave way to a soft texture, the greasy fragrance filled her mouth along with a rich sweetness.
She turned incredulously to her grandmother, “Did I bake these?”
Her grandmother laughed, “Silly girl, who else could have swapped them mid-way? Go on and deliver some to your great uncle, second uncle’s family, and also to Aunt Zhang next door, where you stayed as a child.”
Gu Jianian went upstairs to grab her backpack and set off with five or six boxes of plum blossom crisps. The rural roads, aside from a few main paved roads, were mostly dirt paths.
The soil in the humid southern summer was softer than cement, adding a sponginess to each step. She looked around, seeing only mountains and trees everywhere.
Visits to her great uncle and second uncle inevitably involved a lot of small talk, and neighbours from nearby would drop by, sharing stories of her childhood in Yunmo that she couldn’t remember. Consequently, she learned a lot about her own past from others.
Apparently, she had been quite the rascal, known among the neighbourhood kids as their leader, always leading the charge through the village. She couldn’t imagine it now, only smiling and occasionally chiming in while listening.
The feeling was strange.
In Beilin City, everyone lived in apartments within high-rise buildings, retreating behind closed doors once home, and often not knowing who their neighbours were for years—especially since many were renters, meaning neighbours frequently changed after a year or two.
*
Leaving her great uncle’s house, her aunt directed her to Aunt Zhang’s home.
“Turn left here, at the three-story building…” Standing at the entrance of a courtyard of a grey-white building, Gu Jianian hesitated, “This should be it, right?”
It was an old-style three-story western villa, different from the simple brick houses in the village, featuring European architectural elements.
Green ivy climbed the grey-brown granite walls. The arched wooden lattice windows were neatly arranged, with colourful enamel embedded at the top.
The garden was a chaotic mix of red cornel and white roses, along with many plants she couldn’t name, making it unclear whether they were intentionally planted or had sprouted from seeds carried by the wind.
The villa’s main door was shut tight, and the curtains drawn, but the iron gate of the yard was open.
Hesitant, Gu Jianian walked along a cobblestone path nearly concealed by vegetation to the stone steps, brushed aside the red cornel at the doorway, and knocked.
After a while, the door opened from the inside, releasing a chill that didn’t belong to summer and a faint, crisp tobacco scent.
The house was dark inside.
Against the stark contrast of light and darkness between the inside and outside of the door, the visual neurons seemed to adjust in slow motion. Gu Jianian finally managed to see the person standing in the dark doorway.
He was quite tall, wearing a grey shirt paired with black cotton lounge pants, both in a simple and loose style.
Gu Jianian’s gaze involuntarily moved upward, distinguishing a clear and defined jawline and a stubble in a dark shade, characteristics belonging to an adult male, at the point where light and shadow met.
“Good-looking” and “handsome” don’t seem to be enough to describe him.
The half-smoked cigarette between his lips glowed crimson, resembling a bonfire in the night, burning in circles within the darkness.
Then, unexpectedly, she collided with a pair of eyes hidden behind dishevelled hair, handsome yet desolate.
Gu Jianian unconsciously tightened the straps of her backpack.
The man’s gaze swept over her face. After a moment, he removed the cigarette that was mostly burned, pinching it between his fingers, and asked her, “What do you want?”
His tone was extremely languid, with a hint of impatience.
He is… Aunt Zhang’s son?
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