The plastic wrapper gleamed in the checkout light, a tiny crease at the edge.
Feng Yulan stared at the crease and remembered that she had accidentally folded a package in the same place when she was tidying the shelves last week.
"No..." Before she could finish her refusal, Zhang Xuanhua turned around. The hood of his sweatshirt swayed gently with his movement, like a soft cloud.
"It's refreshing." His voice drifted from three meters away. "It works better than coffee."
Feng Yulan looked at the pack of chewing gum lying alone on the cash register. Through the plastic wrapper, she could see the pale purple particles inside, like tiny planets.
She reached out and touched it, and the wrapping paper made a rustling sound, which was particularly clear in the quiet supermarket.
When she looked up again, Zhang Xuanhua had already reached the supermarket entrance. Sunlight filtered in through the gaps in the automatic doors, casting his outline in gold.
His shadow was stretched out very long, extending all the way to her cashier counter, like a silent farewell.
A drawn-out shout came from across the street: "Zhang—Xuan—Hua—!" The tail tone swirled in the three o'clock afternoon sunlight, like a stone thrown into the air.
Feng Yulan saw Zhang Xuanhua's shoulders stiffen at first, then relax.
When he turned around, the hood of his sweatshirt formed a small tuft of wrinkles at his neck, and the sunlight danced in the shadow. He raised his right hand and waved, and the red rope on his wrist faded to a light pink in the sunlight.
"I'm leaving." He didn't look at her when he said this, his eyes fixed on a shelf behind her.
Feng Yulan followed his gaze and saw only rows of neatly arranged beverage bottles, shining brightly under the light.
"Yeah." She responded, her voice so soft that it was almost drowned out by the background music of the supermarket.
The piano piece was playing the chorus when the speaker on my right ear had poor contact and occasionally made a slight electric sound.
Zhang Xuanhua's hands rested on the handlebars of his bicycle, his knuckles turning slightly white from exertion. Feng Yulan noticed that a small patch of paint was missing from his bicycle bell, revealing the silver metal underneath, which shone brightly in the sunlight.
“Thank you…”
"Next time..." He interrupted her, his voice seemed to be blown away by the wind.
Feng Yulan watched him cross the street. His pace was faster than usual, and the soles of his sneakers scraped against the asphalt, making a soft, rustling sound. A sycamore leaf, caught in the wind, chased after him like a clumsy butterfly.
Across the street stood three boys. One of them, wearing a red jersey, was shaking a cup of milk tea toward Zhang Xuanhua. Condensation dripped from the plastic cup, gleaming like falling diamonds in the sunlight.
As Zhang Xuanhua took the milk tea, the man in the red jersey suddenly put his arm around his shoulders and said something, and several people laughed at the same time. The laughter came from across the road, fragmented by the sound of traffic.
Feng Yulan clutched her coat tightly around her shoulders. The cotton fabric grew damp in her palms, the scent of laundry detergent mingling with an indescribable aroma, like grass basking in the sun, or iron railings after rain.
Zhang Xuanhua glanced back before getting on his bike. The sun shone brightly on his face, and Feng Yulan couldn't see his expression clearly. She only saw him raise his milk tea cup and wave it in her direction.
The ice cubes at the bottom of the cup made a crisp sound, and she seemed to be able to hear it even from such a distance.
The red light began to flash, and Feng Yulan turned and headed for the employee passage. The sun behind her was still shining brightly, casting a glossy light on the asphalt road.
She counted her footsteps, one, two, three - on the fourth step, a car bell rang in the distance, like an unfinished period, hanging in the air at three o'clock in the afternoon, lingering for a long time.
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