Chapter 38
Outside the window, the city of Fuzhou is bathed in the glow of streetlights.
Sang Sui rubbed his slightly swollen temples and finished recording the medical record of the last patient of the day.
Having been a doctor for several years, she has grown accustomed to the smell of disinfectant, the folding beds in the duty room, and the comings and goings of life here.
Her life was very regular, but sometimes it felt like something was missing.
"Dr. Sang, it's time to go home. Let's go together." Yang Ziqiao, from the same department, changed out of her white coat and came over with her bag.
She was Sang Sui's college classmate and is now one of the few friends he can get along with in the hospital.
The two walked out of the inpatient building, the early summer evening breeze carrying a hint of coolness.
Yang Ziqiao habitually took out a cigarette, but then, remembering that she was in the hospital premises, she reluctantly put it back.
She glanced at Sang Sui, who was walking quietly beside her, and couldn't help but bring up that old, familiar topic again.
"Seriously, Sui Sui, what are you really thinking?" Yang Ziqiao asked, her tone puzzled. "That senior colleague Chen we had dinner with last week, a key member of the neurosurgery team, has a bright future and is a nice guy. He clearly likes you a lot, but you turned him down several times. And last month, Dean Wang personally set you up with his nephew, a Stanford graduate—his family background, education, and looks are all top-notch. We met once, but nothing came of it. Do you know how many single young women in our hospital are eyeing these two perfect prospects? How come you... aren't you even a little bit tempted?"
As Sang Sui listened to his friend's barrage of questions, his gaze fell on the long shadow cast by the streetlights ahead.
She smiled softly, a smile tinged with weariness, but more so with a bewilderment that she herself couldn't quite define.
"Ziqiao, I know they are all good people. It's just that something just doesn't feel right."
"Feelings?" Yang Ziqiao raised an eyebrow. "Feelings are too abstract. Sang Sui, we're almost thirty, not teenage girls anymore. Let's be realistic, find someone suitable, someone we don't dislike, and settle down, isn't that better?"
“Of course it’s good, how could it not be good?” Sang Sui’s voice was very soft, as if she were speaking to Yang Ziqiao, or perhaps to herself, “It’s just…”
She paused for a long time until she reached her car in the parking lot, then opened the door and whispered, "I don't know what I'm waiting for, or what I'm holding on to. I just can't force myself."
Yang Ziqiao watched her get into the driver's seat, and finally just sighed: "Alright, be careful on the road, see you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow."
Sang started the car, but didn't drive away immediately. She sat in the driver's seat, looking at the neon-lit city outside the window, her friend's words still echoing in her ears.
Why not accept it? She had asked herself this question countless times.
Senior Brother Chen is gentle and polite, and the Dean's nephew is eloquent; they are both ideal partners in the conventional sense.
But when she tried to imagine spending her life with them, she felt a deep sense of resistance.
That weekend, perhaps influenced by Yang Ziqiao's words, or perhaps guided by some long-hidden force deep within her, Sang Sui inexplicably drove towards Rongcheng No. 1 Middle School.
After not seeing my alma mater for several years, it seems that not much has changed, except that the school gate has been repainted and looks a bit newer.
The huge camphor trees at the entrance are still lush and verdant, casting a cool shade on the ground.
The air was filled with the familiar scent of a youthful campus, a blend of the smells of grass, soil, and sunshine.
Guided by her memory, she walked to the teachers' office building and knocked on the door of Li Luojing, her homeroom teacher from her second year of high school.
"Please come in."
Pushing open the door, I saw Teacher Li wearing reading glasses, bent over her desk, grading something.
Several years have passed, and his temples have become noticeably grayer, but he still looks to be in good spirits.
"Teacher Li," Sang Sui called softly.
Teacher Li looked up, adjusted her glasses, and after a few seconds of recognition, a delighted smile immediately appeared on her face: "Sang Sui? It's Sang Sui, isn't it? Come in, come in and sit down."
Sang Sui sat down in the chair opposite the teacher. The office furnishings were almost unchanged, except that the photos of outstanding students on the wall had been changed batch after batch.
"It's been years since I've seen you. I heard you're a doctor now. That's great, that's wonderful!" Teacher Li seemed very happy and got up to pour her a glass of water. "Which hospital are you at? Are you busy?"
“It’s quite busy at the First Municipal Hospital,” Sang Sui replied with a smile as she took the water glass.
“It’s good to be busy, it’s fulfilling.” Teacher Li sat back down in her chair and looked at her with emotion. “Time flies so fast. It feels like just yesterday you were sitting in the classroom, arguing heatedly over a math problem. In the blink of an eye, you’ve all become pillars of society.”
Once Teacher Li started talking, she began to reminisce about her class of students.
"Many of your classmates from this year have come back to visit me, and they are all very outstanding. Song Shiyue was recommended for graduate studies at our university and seems to be staying on as a researcher now; he's really got academic potential. Cheng Xiao, that kid, I heard he's doing very well in Beijing and has started his own company? I could tell he was quick-witted back then. Zhao Yanqi is in Shanghai, and He Lili went back to her hometown to become a teacher... They're all doing quite well."
He talked on and on, and Sang Sui listened quietly. Those familiar names and their current fates outlined the traces of the passage of time.
“Oh, right,” Teacher Li said with a complex sigh, as if she had suddenly remembered something, “and Liang Fengshen and Ming Ying… Of your graduating class, they are probably the most famous now, one is a singer and the other has become an actress.”
Upon hearing this name, Sang Sui's fingers, which were holding the water glass, twitched almost imperceptibly, and her heart skipped a beat.
She lowered her eyelashes to conceal the emotions surging within her, and softly hummed in agreement.
“Yes, I never expected him to take that path in the end. He had such good grades back then, and he won awards in competitions. I thought he would definitely get into a top comprehensive university.” Teacher Li shook his head, seemingly a little regretful, but then smiled. “But everyone has their own ambitions. He is doing so well now, and he is also the pride of our school. His photo is still hanging in the outstanding alumni section in the lobby downstairs.”
After chatting for a while, Sang Sui, fearing that he would delay the teacher's work, got up to say goodbye.
Teacher Li escorted her to the office door and told her to come back and visit often.
After leaving the teachers' office building, Sang Sui did not leave the campus immediately.
She walked slowly along the familiar tree-lined path, all by herself.
Sunlight filtered through layers of leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground. On the playground, classes were having physical education lessons, the sounds of laughter and the thud of basketballs hitting the floor filling the air.
As she walked past the teaching building, she could almost hear the clamor of students pouring out of the classrooms after the bell rang;
She passed by the bulletin board, which used to be covered with various competition announcements and event notices. She had stopped here countless times, searching for that familiar name.
She even went around to the floor where the art class used to be, and at the end of the corridor, by the window, she could almost see the silhouette of that slender boy studying at his desk.
Countless almost forgotten moments come rushing back at this moment.
During the final exams that year, she almost fell while carrying a heavy box full of books at the corner of the stairs. He reached out to help her and whispered, "Shall I help you?" It was the first time they had been so close for such a long time. He helped her carry the box to Mingde Building, and she smelled the faint scent of laundry detergent on his school uniform. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of her chest.
That afternoon, the radio station suddenly played his a cappella rendition of "Lonely Thoughts." She was walking on the playground with Zhao Yanqi when the song came on. She froze on the spot, feeling as if everything around her had fallen silent, leaving only his clean yet slightly husky voice, each word striking her heart.
And then there was that bus during the second semester of her senior year of high school, when she mustered up the courage to sit next to him, handed him an earphone, and he finally took it.
They shared the same melody, neither of them spoke, only the street scene outside the car window kept receding.
At that moment, she was so close to him, close enough to feel his body temperature, yet so far away, as if separated by the silence of an entire youth.
Before she knew it, she had arrived at the lobby of the teaching building. Her gaze involuntarily fell upon the brand-new "Outstanding Alumni" honor wall.
Almost effortlessly, she found him among those photos of him in suits, looking accomplished.
In the photo, Liang Fengshen is wearing a well-tailored dark suit, and his white shirt is buttoned up meticulously.
Facing the camera, he wore a perfectly timed smile, a smile that was polite and composed, befitting his current status, yet also carrying a formulaic sense of distance.
The aloofness and detachment that once lingered in his eyes have been replaced by a restraint and sharpness that belong to an adult man.
The plaque below the photo simply lists his remarkable achievements as a singer and actor.
He truly stepped into the spotlight, reaching a height she could only look up to.
Sang Sui stood quietly in front of the wall of honor, looking up at it for a very long time.
Occasionally, students would pass by in the hall, glance at her curiously, and then hurry away.
The afternoon sun slanted in through the huge glass window, casting long shadows on the polished marble floor and blurring his handsome yet unfamiliar face in the photograph.
She recalled that during a library exchange event in high school, she happened to see the copy of "The Nightingale and the Rose" that he had donated. The bookmark had an owl drawn on it and the words "May all your wishes come true" written on it.
She once secretly changed her profile picture to a rose, thinking it was a tacit understanding that no one knew about.
Looking back now, that cautious joy was ultimately just a chaotic mess on her part.
Finally, she walked to the school's famous graffiti wall, which held the sentiments of countless generations of students.
Time flies, and the walls are now mottled and covered with layers of chalk and marker writing in different colors. New wishes cover old dreams, and fierce shouts bury youthful confessions.
She walked slowly along the wall, her gaze carefully sweeping over the words, some delicate, some hasty, some passionate, some melancholic, as if reading a series of silent epics of youth.
After searching for a long time, she finally saw the words in a corner, in an inconspicuous place.
The handwriting had faded badly, the white chalk marks almost blending into the mottled wall, but she still recognized it at a glance—it was her own handwriting.
In her second year of high school, after the grade-level pep rally, filled with unspeakable unrequited love and bittersweet feelings, she secretly wrote:
Liang Fengshen, I wish you all your wishes come true.
These seven short words carried the purest and most humble blessing that a sixteen-year-old girl could offer.
She crouched down, her gaze lingering on the words. Time seemed to rewind at that moment, and she saw herself with a ponytail, wearing a baggy school uniform, sneaking here after the noisy crowd had dispersed, writing those words with a heart full of trembling emotion and melancholy.
At that time, her greatest wish was simply for him to look at her one more time and remember her name.
Now, times have changed.
Has he achieved his goal? Judging from his current achievements, the answer seems to be yes. He has stepped onto a wider stage and gained the love and applause of countless people.
And what about herself?
She saw a small, discarded piece of white chalk in a crack at the base of the wall, left behind by some younger student.
She reached out and picked up the broken piece of chalk. The rough texture of the chalk pressed against her fingertips.
She gazed at the blessing from many years ago, as if conversing with her past self.
After a long while, she raised the hand holding the chalk and, below the sentence "Liang Fengshen, I wish you all your wishes come true," carefully and deliberately added a new line of writing:
—Sang Sui, I hope you will be happy too.
After finishing the last stroke, Sang Sui loosened his fingers, letting the half-pencil of chalk slip from his fingertips and gently fall to the base of the wall.
She stood up, patted the chalk dust off her hands, took one last deep look at the wall covered with the marks of her youth, then turned around and walked out step by step, resolutely, along the tree-lined path she had come from.
The afterglow of the setting sun cast a long shadow of hers, blending into the twilight of the campus.
This time, she didn't hesitate, nor did she look back.
(End of article)
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