The winter in Shenzhen was still as cold as ever, a bone-chilling cold.
Chu Yu buried her face deep into her gray mesh scarf, wrapping herself up snugly from head to toe like a plump, puffy doll, and walked slowly down the broad, tree-lined avenue. The street was desolate and solitary; perhaps because of the cold weather, there were fewer vehicles, and people were reluctant to venture out. Occasionally, a couple could be seen huddled together on a bench by the lake. The branches of the ginkgo trees on both sides of the road were bare, having shed all their leaves back in autumn, making the already frigid winter appear even more desolate. The pavement, made of rectangular paving stones, was uneven; walking on it didn’t feel like much on its own, but she was also pulling a suitcase, and the rhythmic clacking sound was so loud it felt as though it might shatter her heart.
Her gaze was lowered, her long eyelashes hiding her expression from prying eyes and making it impossible for anyone to guess what she was thinking.
Her pace was unhurried and steady, appearing even more composed compared to the figure closely following just a short distance behind her.
Eight years. Indeed, a lot had changed.
Ci Wenjun’s gaze was burning and infatuated. In the depth of such winter, it was so scorching that it was impossible to ignore.
Yet the person being watched seemed completely indifferent, acting as if she had no idea that someone was following right behind her, her pace entirely unchanged.
It was as if Ci Wenjun were merely a matter of no importance.
At this thought, Ci Wenjun’s legs nearly turned to jelly, and she staggered. A tight constriction gripped her chest, and her breathing instantly lost its rhythm.
A matter of no importance?
Just someone who didn’t matter?
No!
How could she possibly be someone who didn’t matter?
A heart-wrenching pain welled up from the depths of her heart, sour and bitter. The familiar regret she had tasted for eight years enveloped her, welling up from the corners of her eyes.
Her bare fingers were chapped and red from the cold wind, her eyes shimmering with moisture, yet filled with a stubborn determination.
She followed closely behind Chu Yu step by step, maintaining a distance that was neither too close nor too far, just within the permissible range, doing her absolute best not to lose her.
Chu Yu probably had no idea that Ci Wenjun’s gaze was far, far bolder than Ci Wenjun herself.
Such cold weather and such cold wind could slow down even the most soaring train of thought.
Chu Yu never expected that she would run into Ci Wenjun again.
Ci Wenjun.
At the mere thought of this name, her footsteps paused for a fraction of a second, but it was only for a moment before she stepped forward firmly once again, like leaving a dark footprint upon pristine white snow.
They had run into each other again on Regent Street in London, a famous commercial street renowned for its high-quality British clothing stores and a cultural symbol of the city.
A fine drizzle was falling on the street that day. She was standing amidst the crowd, surrounded by a bustling stream of people coming and going.
Like a scene from an old, gray slide projector playing out in a movie, the person she had parted ways with eight years ago suddenly appeared right before her.
The first thing she noticed was the woman’s reddened eye rims and her slightly trembling hands.
Whenever this happened, Chu Yu often felt a sense of annoyance: why was her vision always so painfully acute when it came to Ci Wenjun, sharp enough to catch even the most subtle movements?
Ci Wenjun was wearing a warm-toned cashmere coat. Her originally pitch-black hair now carried a chestnut sheen with slightly curled ends, making her look much more mature, like an overripe, decaying peach, alluring and seductive. Even before getting close, one could seemingly catch the faint trace of a bewitching fragrance clinging to her, tempting ill-intentioned people to tear her apart and devour her whole.
Chu Yu instinctively frowned and took half a step back.
They say a qualified ex should act as though they are dead. Although the two of them had never officially been in a romantic relationship, they ultimately weren’t suited to appear in each other’s lives anymore.
Especially considering how things ended.
Amidst her thoughts, her movements inadvertently slowed by half a second. By the time she regained her focus, the other person had already crossed the crowd and was walking toward her.
If Chu Yu had been calm enough at that moment, she would certainly have noticed the hurried and eager footsteps of the other woman, brimming with excitement.
Unfortunately, she was far from calm and had no spare attention to give.
Seeing the other person walking straight toward her, she frowned and made a move to turn and walk away. She had simply been wandering around aimlessly and drifting without purpose anyway, so under the current circumstances, taking a different path was fine.
She certainly didn’t think the other person wanted to see her, especially given how things ended back then.
Memories are unreasonable, but Chu Yu herself was even more unreasonable than her memories.
She sternly scolded herself in her mind.
No! Don’t fall into the memory trap again, Chu Yu.
Frowning as if enduring some kind of torture, she dragged herself back, little by little, from the edge of the whirlpool of memories.
Yet reality is truly magical. Before she had taken more than a few steps, she felt a distinct pull at the hem of her coat.
Immediately following that was a voice accompanied by a faint cry.
“Xiao Yu.”
Time heals everything, everyone says that, and even Chu Yu herself had believed it.
Eight years had passed. But when the person she had been separated from for eight years spoke a title she hadn’t heard in eight years, just two simple syllables, it felt like a dislocation of time and space, giving the illusion of being caught in a spatial turbulence where past and present overlapped.
It was as if everything had returned to that restless midsummer filled with the endless chorus of cicadas.
The fine drizzle on Regent Street was both sentimental and gentle. She merely stole a brief glance at a corner of her memories, and it dragged her right back out of the past. The whole process didn’t take long, it seemed to happen within the span of a single breath or a blink, yet to Ci Wenjun, it felt as though an entire century had passed within that brief respiration.
Until she heard the other person’s calm voice say, “Let go first. We’re in public; it doesn’t look good.”
She was so gentle, so familiar, and yet so terribly estranged.
A voice in the depths of Ci Wenjun’s heart screamed: No, it shouldn’t be like this! This shouldn’t be her attitude!
And yet, in reality, she could only watch as Chu Yu reached out to her own fingers, which were clutching the hem of Chu Yu’s coat, and peeled them away one by one with an unyielding determination.
As for Ci Wenjun, she wasn’t even able to resist.
Chu Yu’s expression remained as bland as ever, so flat that Ci Wenjun couldn’t catch a single ripple of emotion on her face.
Her heart ached so much she could barely breathe, and she begged soundlessly in her heart: Don’t be like this. Don’t treat me like this.
Until she murmured in a whisper, “Xiao Yu, please.”
Hearing this, Chu Yu’s movements froze, her dark eyes dimming.
Seeing Chu Yu suddenly stop, Ci Wenjun held her breath in excitement, staring intently at Chu Yu with a burning gaze as a shred of expectation uncontrollably sprouted from the bottom of her heart.
She understood Chu Yu, just like right now.
She had read the hesitation hidden beneath Chu Yu’s actions.
However, the next second.
With her usual expression, Chu Yu let go of her hand. The warm touch had been soul-stirring, yet it left without a shred of lingering attachment.
It wasn’t until she lost that warmth that Ci Wenjun belatedly realized Chu Yu had not been successfully seduced after all.
Chu Yu’s expression remained calm and detached, as if the strangeness of a moment ago had merely been an illusion.
She didn’t even have time to ask her to stay.
Instead, she watched as the corners of Chu Yu’s mouth curved upward, her brows relaxing into a look that was both gentle and aloof.
There was no anger, no surprise, no joy, only indifference, endless indifference.
“What a coincidence. Long time no see.”
It was mere politeness.
Bitter taste flooded Ci Wenjun’s throat, but she forced her outward appearance to look as natural as possible.
She nodded slightly, forcing a smile to her lips.
“Yeah, what a coincidence. I didn’t know you came here too. Are you traveling?”
Realizing her response sounded rather dry, Ci Wenjun hastily offered an explanation before bombarding her with questions.
She hoped Chu Yu would reply, because that would allow her to continue the conversation more naturally and seamlessly, extending it so they could talk for hours, late into the night, until Chu Yu invited her to dinner and she could logically follow Chu Yu back home.
Home.
At this thought, those two words struck a heavy chord in Ci Wenjun’s heart.
Ever since she left Chu Yu, she had never had a home again.
Or perhaps Chu Yu could come home with her. She had plenty of money now; she could give Chu Yu a home, give her little Xiao Yu a home.
Ci Wenjun’s mind was a chaotic mess of unrealistic thoughts, secretly anticipating Chu Yu’s answer.
Yet Chu Yu answered with utter calm.
“Yeah. It’s getting late, so I’ll be heading back. You take care of yourself too.”
Chu Yu ended the conversation abruptly, one might even say bluntly. Finding a casual excuse, she turned around and walked away in a hurry, as if she hadn’t noticed Ci Wenjun’s crumbling smile.
Perhaps she had noticed, but that didn’t matter, did it?
Her back was resolute and merciless, just like back then, without a single trace of hesitation.
Ci Wenjun’s smile shattered. Chu Yu, her little Xiao Yu had rejected her. This thought pinned her firmly to the spot. She watched blankly as Chu Yu’s figure receded into the distance, lacking even the courage to step forward and ask her to stay once more.
Chu Yu’s attitude was silently explaining everything.
She hadn’t brought up the past, nor did she have any intention of reminiscing or talking at length.
Like the tide in the dead of night, she had silently pushed Ci Wenjun away onto the shore.
Bitterness filled her throat; she couldn’t speak, nor could she cry. She knew that everything was her own doing.
And yet.
This reunion was an accident, but in Ci Wenjun’s eyes, it was an even greater gift from the heavens. Eight years had passed. Ever since they parted ways, Chu Yu had moved out of the city where they first met, and every way of contacting her had been cancelled, deleted, and erased like a fleeting mirage, as if she had never existed at all. When Ci Wenjun finally turned back to look for her, it was as though Chu Yu had vanished from the face of the earth, completely untraceable.
From her initial feigned indifference to her later anxiety and remorse, up until the very second before she saw Chu Yu today, she had been consumed by endless regret.
For eight years, the soaring ambitions of the beginning had gradually faded away, replaced by days spent entirely in longing and remorse, enduring slow torture.
She had asked herself why on earth she had been so heartless back then in leaving Chu Yu behind, without leaving a single inch of leeway, to the point where she could no longer even trace her whereabouts now.
Was it all for that ridiculous, belated sense of pride?
Was she really in such a rush to mercilessly shatter Chu Yu into pieces without a moment’s hesitation?
Could they really never meet again?
She tossed and turned in agony, unable to sleep night after night.
Until today, on the street, amidst exotic scenery and a hazy fine drizzle, her wandering gaze suddenly locked onto that familiar, graceful figure.
A warm yellow lining paired with her eternal windbreaker, her slender, long legs encased in skinny jeans.
She was far too thin; even those skinny jeans still had gaps around her legs.
Even after eight years apart, she recognized her at a single glance.
Yet Chu Yu apparently hadn’t recognized her. But that was fine; she had changed a lot over the years, so it was only natural that Chu Yu didn’t recognize her.
The surprise that dropped out of nowhere struck her senseless, driving away all rational thought and leaving behind only the deepest obsession.
Overcome with emotion, she hurried forward, terrified that she might miss her the next second.
And then, she instinctively called out that name: Xiao Yu.
Even though the other person didn’t respond, and perhaps even thought she was crazy, she couldn’t care less anymore.
She stepped forward, brimming with joy.
Yet, reality dealt her the heaviest blow.
She knew, she had always known, that she was the one who wronged Chu Yu, that she was the one who hurt her. She knew.
And yet, she would make up for it. She would truly make up for it and do everything in her power to compensate Chu Yu.
But Chu Yu seemed to not want her anymore, refusing to give her a chance to make amends.
The rain in London grew heavier and heavier. The scuffle with Chu Yu earlier had attracted plenty of attention; some people stopped in their tracks, casting curious glances at Ci Wenjun, as if wondering what the follow-up to this dramatic scene involving the beautiful woman would be.
They didn’t have to wait long. Ci Wenjun stirred her frozen body, late November in London was truly freezing, but her warmth lay straight ahead.
She slowly moved her stiffened legs, a stubborn determination flashing in her eyes.
She knew.
She knew she had committed an unforgivable mistake.
However.
The mistake had already been made.
And the person she cherished had already been lost once before.
Everything had already happened.
She could only make amends, making up for it with everything she had.
Meeting like this was fate. No matter what, she had to catch her.
Hold onto her tightly.
Having figured this out, she once again quickened her pace to chase after that figure. Guided by her memory of the trail, she walked and searched along the way.
Fortunately, Chu Yu hadn’t gone very far.
The moment she caught sight of that gray figure once again, she bit her lower lip, her eyes shimmering with the watery joy of a lost treasure regained.
Yet the next second, as she watched Chu Yu smiling at another woman, the cord of reason snapped entirely. Without pausing to think further, her stride grew wider and wider until she broke into an unreserved run. The surrounding wind howled, and her heart pounded frantically against her ribs as if it were about to leap out of her chest. Disregarding the gazes of the onlookers and ignoring whatever Chu Yu was doing, only a single thought echoed in her mind:
Get close to her! Get close to her! Get close to her!
Make Chu Yu focus her gaze solely on her.
The instant their soft bodies collided, both of their souls involuntarily let out a sigh of comfort, like a jade pendant split apart for years that had finally been made whole once more.
In Pablo Neruda’s Sonnet of Love, there is a passage that reads:
In your embrace I hold everything of life,
The sand, the time, the trees of the rain.
Only today did Ci Wenjun truly begin to understand this poem with such profound depth.
Everything she had lost, and everything she was about to lose, was fully satisfied in the very second she embraced you.
“What are you doing?”
Reality didn’t give Ci Wenjun enough time to indulge in sentimentality; Chu Yu’s voice rang out right above her head.
Ci Wenjun’s action interrupted her conversation with the shopkeeper. Across the counter, a plump white woman with red hair and green eyes looked at them in utter astonishment, simply because the two of them currently looked far too intimate, resembling a pair of lovers.
However, she hadn’t known Chu Yu since yesterday; she was well aware that Chu Yu had no partner.
Her curious gaze fell upon Ci Wenjun, as if inspecting some novel creature.
Ci Wenjun buried her face tightly into the crook of Chu Yu’s neck and remained silent, breathing greedily as the air filled entirely with Chu Yu’s scent.
I love it so much.
Chu Yu’s voice failed to bring her back to her senses; instead, it only made her grip tighter, clinging like an octopus for dear life, as if Chu Yu might pry her apart and ruthlessly chase her away the next second.
Chu Yu let out a helpless sigh. She didn’t like to force things, and barring exceptional circumstances, she rarely resorted to strong-arm tactics.
Besides, they were out in public.
Chu Yu, who was gentle under normal circumstances, just like right now, saw Ci Wenjun acting shamelessly and playing deaf in her arms, so she simply stopped fighting it. Instead, she offered a soothing pat to Ci Wenjun’s back, signaling her not to hold on quite so tightly, knowing full well that no matter what she did right now, it wouldn’t elicit a positive reaction from this emotional woman.
She offered a slight, apologetic nod to the shopkeeper and clearly stated: pack two bags of candies just like before, and add an extra jar of chocolate spread.
After that, it was time to head home.
Ci Wenjun played dead the entire way back, remaining completely silent. Aside from refusing to let go of her embrace, everything else was fine.
It was just that this hugging posture looked rather bizarre no matter how one looked at it.
Holding Ci Wenjun’s hand, Chu Yu returned to her temporary little home in London.
Back home.
Click.
The door clicked shut.
The course of everything was bound to change.
After that night, she had originally thought Ci Wenjun wouldn’t come looking for her again. But from then on, right up until the day she returned to her home country, Ci Wenjun appeared before her as punctually as clockwork.
And now, at this very moment, watching Ci Wenjun follow her all the way, enter the residential complex, ride the elevator with her, and then dart inside with quick-eyed agility the second she unlocked the door, all the way to right now standing before her with a pretty face, pale skin, and a meek, submissive demeanor.
She looked utterly obedient.