Chapter 12
Before I could recall last night's dream, I absentmindedly wiped the glue residue off the creative glass cup, still suspicious of what the man who claimed to be my "childhood friend" had said.
Hmm, it's better to just reminisce about dreams.
The bookstore had floor-to-ceiling windows on all four walls, and he sat where I could see him easily, holding a copy of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," which looked to be the second volume. The bookstore served various drinks and desserts, so there was a caramel macchiato in front of him—I didn't want to know, but he said it to me: "I'll order a caramel macchiato next. Do you like it? It's been so many years; even my favorite childhood flavor must have changed."
Let's not even talk about whether things have changed or not; I have absolutely no memory of him. That's normal. "Childhood playmates"—not many people remember what their elementary school classmates looked like more than a decade later; they might even have to go back to their kindergarten classmates. But the problem is, I'm not the Qinghe he knows.
I've been indulging in my self-perceived identity for too long, feeling that this is the safest place, without considering what might happen if something unexpected happens.
The morning sunlight streamed scorching into the room. Rainy days are cold, but sunny days are anything but. The bright sun shone on the tiles, the reflected light making it hard for me to open my eyes.
It's always like this at nine or ten o'clock.
I slipped into the various bookshelves, idly tidying up the books that had been rearranged. I'd been here before, and it was easy to see that what were originally five unopened plastic-wrapped books were now four; it seemed this book was quite popular.
I felt a mix of emotions. I couldn't quite put my finger on why, but it just felt strange. Watching others break the rules without being involved was a strange experience, even if it was just through a book.
I was staring blankly in that direction, completely unaware that someone was approaching. By the time I noticed, the other person had been standing there for quite some time.
I assumed he was a reader I was blocking, so I quickly let him pass, even though there was a wide enough passage for him behind me. But he didn't move, and I assumed he was just another reader who needed guidance. Although he didn't seem like the type to be shy about asking, I shouldn't judge a book by its cover, so I took the initiative and asked him, "Hello, is there anything I can help you with?"
His eyes met mine, and I saw a deep, dark sea. He smiled at me and said, "Long time no see, Qinghe. So you work here?"
I was at a loss. For a moment, my brain almost shut down; I didn't know how to deal with the situation. Strangely, I completely believed what he said, and I knew he knew my past self, but I couldn't accept that person as me.
The Qinghe he knew wasn't here.
I looked at him without saying a word.
He wasn't surprised at all; the smile on his face didn't fade. He winked at me playfully, "No way, you really forgot me? We promised to be best friends for life—" He paused, his expression slightly saddened, but quickly continued, "You even said you liked me. That day we were watching TV together, and you saw a line in an animated film and said to me, 'Lianlian, I like you.' How old were you?" He exaggerated, "So young, your pronunciation was unclear, you kept saying 'nian' for ages, mixing up 'n' and 'l'."
His eyes were filled with tender longing, while my mind went blank.
...I don't know where the original owner of this body is.
...I don't even know what I look like; I just live as "Qinghe".
I'm about to be exposed.
“Alright.” He smiled, his tone light. “Too nervous to see an old friend? Let’s get to know each other again. My name is Gu Xinglian. Gu is the common surname in novels. Xing means to walk where the water ends. Lian means ripples. And you? Your name is Qinghe. I will never forget you.”
Just as I was about to continue his introduction, he added his own words.
"Okay, I won't disturb your work anymore." He pointed to a seat with a black briefcase on it. "I'm going to sit over there. Do you have any drink recommendations? Oh well, I always ask you casually, it's always been like this since I was a kid. Anyway, I'll wait for you to get off work. How about we do something together after get off work?"
He talked about everything on his own, not giving me a chance to say anything extra, and then left with a flourish. I watched him walk into the store, and he noticed me, turning back to wink at me before going inside.
"..." Standing there, I had nothing to say.
He looks like a student who has just graduated from university and entered the workforce, possessing both naivety and maturity. He has a lively and enthusiastic personality and can even remember friends from so long ago.
But I'm not the Qinghe who said "Lianlian, I like you." When he looks at me, is he just using my appearance to think of someone else? From his description, this is clearly the first time we've met since we grew up, so why is he so happy, as if he's gone back to his childhood?
I shook my head, trying to banish those thoughts.
My current task is to neatly arrange all the stationery and creative products, then pack up and prepare to leave work. I don't intend to look in his direction; I'm trying to slip away through the door.
"Qinghe!" He followed closely beside me. "I was so engrossed in my book that I almost forgot your closing time. Luckily, I snapped out of it two minutes early, otherwise you would have had to come looking for me."
He bought the book and had a good relationship with the bookstore owner, so as long as he didn't do anything out of line, he could stay in the bookstore until the minute before it was locked.
I:"……"
He looked me over cautiously and asked, "Are you angry? Did something upset you? Tell me if you have any problems, and I'll do anything to help you!"
He flashed that bright smile, revealing his white teeth. I wanted to push him away and tell him straight up that we didn't know each other. I ignored him and kept walking.
“Let’s go there,” he suddenly said, grabbing my wrist and ignoring my protests. “Don’t struggle. Look, you have nothing to do, and I have nothing to do either. Let’s go reminisce about our childhood.”
His smiling eyes were so gentle, more so than the hazy clouds in the night or the stars in the sky. I didn't even have time to meet the subtle gazes of those around me, and just kept my head down: "...Do whatever you want."
I thought, "Consider it paying off a debt. It'll also make him realize that I'm not the person he remembers."
"Qinghe, you're still as indulgent as ever." He still held my wrist tightly, his grip tightening as if he were imprisoning it. "When will you learn to just shake my hand off? Don't worry about me, just pretend I'm the person you hate the most... and reject me outright."
He seemed to be talking to himself, yet also genuinely conversing with me. I couldn't tell if it was a warning or a recollection; I could only sense that his sorrow was heavier than the pressure on my wrist.
I moved my arm slightly, and he immediately let go of it as if startled.
“You’re my friend,” I said awkwardly, trying to comfort him. “...I believe you wouldn’t hurt me.”
He laughed again, his laughter almost blinding him: "And I truly will never betray you. Hey, we're almost there, aren't you nervous?"
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