54. Thank you for watching

The long bells and drums echoed, the stars shone brightly, the night was long, and dawn was just around the corner. This night, there were no stars, only a thin, increasingly dense snowfall. Perhaps it was an illusion, but I could almost hear the sound of snowflakes hitting the windowpane, a gentle rustle, a soothing white noise. The two seemed to have returned to primitive times, sheltering from the wind and snow in a warm cave, longing for nothing more than a safe, peaceful night, undisturbed by wild beasts. Nothing more was needed; anything more was merely a self-imposed shackle of greed.

At this moment, people will involuntarily want to say: Can we just keep going like this?

Forever doesn't exist, but "forever" can also collapse into a single moment. It doesn't represent promises, reality, or the arrogant or hopeless desire to possess another person completely. "Forever" can also simply represent a heartfelt gratitude, gratitude for a moment of complete faith in an increasingly desolate world.

So relaxed, Vivian slipped into a half-dream, half-awake state before she knew it, her entire body floating in a thick cloud, light and lazy. Only those who have trouble falling asleep understand the value of "falling asleep without realizing it." Most of the time, she had to force herself to clear her mind, but countless thoughts kept racing through it.

He shook her and saw that she couldn't even lift her eyelids, as if they were about to stick together: "Miss, you are not going to fall asleep like this, are you?"

"Did you drug me? I'm so sleepy. Let's go to sleep."

She staggered to her feet, rushed to the bathroom to wash up quickly, waved to him, and then rushed into the bedroom.

He leaned against the door, unsure of the light switch. With only a thin sliver of light filtering through from somewhere else, he felt a gloomy haze permeating the room. The curtains were exceptionally thick, blocking out any light. They were the same kind of gloomy curtains that insomniacs often wear; his own home had them too.

"No, you still want to sleep on the sofa? It's up to you."

"I can't sleep well like this. I'd rather sleep on the sofa."

She forced herself to open her eyes: "No way, so innocent?"

"If I were to take advantage of you in this state, I wouldn't be so vile. But sleeping here is bound to make you sleep poorly. Forget it."

"Okay, okay." She closed her eyes in peace, "Help me close the door."

"Are you still afraid of me? Do you want me to lock the door for you?"

"No. I'm afraid of the light." She was speaking weakly.

He shook his head, walked out and closed the door gently. Why is it so difficult?

She often woke up early now. It's said that difficulty falling asleep is a sign of anxiety, while waking up early can be a sign of depression. But Vivian felt a surge of joy lately. Most importantly, she'd let go of many of her worries, accepting both the good and the bad, and feeling a sense of relief she'd never experienced before. But she still woke up early, her mind clearing by four or five o'clock. She could force herself to take a nap, but waking up again only made her feel more tired.

That day was no different. She woke up early in the morning again and, as usual, went to the kitchen to drink some water. The cold water flowed down her throat, the icy sensation sinking all the way into her lungs, finally bringing her to full consciousness. Suddenly, everything that had happened the night before flashed through her mind like a movie.

It's no longer a dream.

She walked to the living room. The curtains there were not as blackout as the ones in the bedroom. Some faint morning light was already filtering in. Without turning on the lights, she leaned over to watch him breathe softly. At this moment, the tenderness in her heart was actually that she was happy that he slept so well that night.

She then went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. Coming back, seeing his calm face casting a shadow in the morning light, she couldn't help but touch his face gently, then pulled away the blanket covering him and snuggled into his arms.

He felt an arm wrapped around him, a cold hand resting on his waist. He seemed to be suddenly awakened, and subconsciously hugged the person in his arms tightly: "Who are you?"

"Stop pretending to be asleep." She was already very awake at this time.

His mouth tasted of fresh minty toothpaste.

"Who's so scheming as to wake up in the middle of the night to brush their teeth?" She had always thought that the scenes in movies and TV series where the protagonists would wake up in the morning and passionately kiss and make out could only happen on screen. In real life, no matter how handsome or beautiful someone was, if they had stale breath, they would be a disgrace.

I didn't expect this person to be so cunning. He had brushed his teeth and washed his face in advance just like her.

This cool, minty kiss was different from the tipsy kiss they had last night. It was long and slow, as if they had endless time ahead of them to fully enjoy.

Of course, she was not wearing the old-fashioned plaid pajamas like before. The house was naturally warm as spring in the northern winter, but the morning light seemed to have a cold temperature, which made her shiver all over.

At this moment, she couldn't help but feel lucky that she had been exercising regularly. Although she wasn't thin enough to show obvious abdominal muscles, at least the muscle lines were visible. Thinking of this, she even began to admire herself. But then she thought, isn't she an independent woman? Why does she care so much about being stared at?

People, once you think too much, it’s really hard to be happy.

Several thoughts flashed through his mind at once. Seeing her distracted, he pretended to be angry: "Why aren't you paying attention?"

He stroked her cheek with one hand, lingering on the side of her neck, applying gentle pressure. She felt a slight dizziness and couldn't help but hold his hand tighter. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, his breathing becoming heavier.

She couldn't help but whisper in his ear: "Don't you think morning sex is the best?"

He felt his blood rushing, and couldn't help but take one of her wrists and place it under her chin. The touch of the remaining stubble made her toes tense.

"I will kill you." She gritted her teeth, but her voice became very soft, not like an order, but more like a plea.

It was still a gray, overcast day, but outside the window, the light gradually grew brighter, and it seemed as if the light was different every minute. People who don't get up early don't realize that birds also have working hours, and at certain moments, they will suddenly burst into song, chirping just a few feet away.

The sound of the bird brings people down from their dream to reality.

She patted her side, and he lay down, letting her rest her head on his arm. She turned sideways and clung to him like a koala. "Get up, I'll take you somewhere."

"No. I don't want to go anywhere." At this moment, the vastness of the universe couldn't compare to this tiny sofa. I didn't want to leave this universe and wander aimlessly again.

"You don't even want to eat?"

"Not hungry."

"Dear, you'll definitely like that place." She said as she stood up and pulled up the blanket. He was completely exposed to the bright morning light. She tilted her head to admire it.

"You..." He laughed and cried, "Okay, turn around."

"Please, I've seen it all."

"It's okay to be naked. But don't you think the process of getting dressed is a bit vulgar?"

It seems to be true.

They arrived at Fahai Temple in the west of the city. It was a gloomy day, threatening snow, so there were few visitors. They seemed to be the only two people in the empty temple. She had booked a guided tour in advance, and while they waited, they sat across from the main hall. In front of them, to the left and right, two enormous pine trees towered into the clouds, their pale trunks and branches looking particularly desolate against the gray sky.

It's hard to imagine they've lasted thousands of years.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked curiously.

"Of course, it's to see something that would never be found in the ruins of international finance."

At the appointed time, the main hall was finally open to the public. Besides them, there was only an elderly couple among the tourists. The old man was wearing a huge magnifying glass and looked very professional.

The tour guide gave each of them a small flashlight.

Entering the hall, darkness enveloped us. Modern people rarely experience a moment of complete darkness. Even in the dead of night, light refracts from all directions, making pure darkness a difficult feat. Over time, perhaps the human retina has degenerated, losing the ability of our primitive ancestors to hunt in the dark.

They couldn't help but hold each other's hands tightly.

The guide flicked on a flashlight, scattering a brilliant beam. The relief-like murals, woven from gold dust, emerged from the vast darkness like a slow-motion movie. Nearly a thousand years later, the golden color had lost its vulgarity and ostentation, becoming a faded solemnity. Gods, Buddhas, ghosts, men, women, young and old, the majestic and ethereal face of the Water Moon Guanyin, were all bathed in this gentle golden halo.

They followed the guide, each carrying a flashlight. The gold powder and leaf shimmered brilliantly in the dim light, and the elderly couple marveled at the sight. Perhaps their hearing had faded, their voices were unusually loud, echoing for a long time in the empty hall. Yet, it wasn't obnoxious; instead, it felt like a uniquely warm and everyday experience.

They didn't stay in the dark, empty hall for long, but completely cut off from the outside world, time seemed to slow to a crawl. At that moment, she firmly believed that time wasn't a uniform, linear existence. The past and the future could appear simultaneously, and a single moment could become eternity.

This was so reminiscent of hers because she had recently been reading Ted Chiang, whose most famous work was "Story of Your Life," which was made into a movie called "Arrival." It tells a simple story and raises a simple proposition:

"If you already knew the story of your life, would you be willing to embrace this fate?"

She had no answer.

Suddenly emerging from the darkness, even the grayish-white sky seemed glaring, like an overexposed photograph. They paused briefly beneath the pine trees as crows cawing away. They were said to be ominous, but paired with this bleak sky, they evoked a uniquely Beijing winter feel.

The north wind blew over them, and they both gasped. He held her tightly and said, "Let's go home quickly."

The universe is vast and boundless, and "home," like "time," is a self-limiting concept. At this moment, perhaps only at this moment, they have a place they can call home.

"Thanks for today's arrangement," he asked. "I guess this place has a deeper meaning?"

"Actually, no." She really didn't. It was just that often when she saw a special scenery, someone would pop up in her mind, and she would think it would be nice if they were together at that moment.

This thought flashed through her mind when she first came here. Now that her wish has been fulfilled, she will give it to herself as a farewell gift.

He didn't know what she was thinking, but he just held her shoulders tighter in the dark carriage.

The movie in her mind had already reached its end, and on the screen were four large, highlighted words:

Thanks for watching.

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