Chapter Forty
The morning mist in Paris had not yet dissipated when Mo Wansheng boarded the train to Lyon.
The scenery outside the window changed rapidly, no longer the bustling city, but the countryside.
Mo Wansheng leaned against the window, took out the notebook Huo Yuzheng had given her from her bag, and started flipping through it carefully from the first page.
Huo Yuzheng didn't write about many places, but they were all corners he had visited.
After a two-hour journey, the train came to a stop.
Mo Wansheng came down and stretched out a big yawn.
She took out her phone and took a picture of the station.
He then sent it to Huo Yuzheng.
Guess where I am?
"I guess Mrs. Huo has arrived in Lyon."
Mo Wansheng teased, "Bingo! Mr. Huo is so clever!"
Huo Yuzheng: "I'm handling documents at the company."
Mo Wansheng pressed the voice button and said reproachfully, "I know! I know! Mr. Huo, you really don't need to report to me 24/7!"
"oh."
She first arrived at Notre-Dame de Fourvière, and took the cable car all the way up to the top of the mountain.
This church stands atop Lyon, sacred and inviolable.
Mo Wansheng walked into the church. Sunlight refracted through the stained glass windows and entered the room, enveloping everything in a dazzling display of colors.
She opened the notebook, checked the direction, and finally found a secluded seat to sit down quietly.
Huo Yuzheng had sketched the entire church on that page with hasty strokes, and she roughly found the right angle to guess where he had once sat.
She closed her eyes and took in everything around her.
There was absolute silence, except for the occasional rustling footsteps of passing tourists.
After a long while, she finally opened her eyes.
Her gaze fell on a line of small words in the blank space next to the sketch in the notebook. She hadn't paid much attention to it before, but now it was exceptionally clear in the light and shadow of the church.
That wasn't French; it was a Chinese sentence.
The handwriting is more solid than the painting itself, but it has become somewhat blurred over time.
"May there be others here in the future."
Mo Wansheng was stunned for a moment, her finger unconsciously touching the line of small characters.
She has already fulfilled this wish for him.
...
She got up and followed the signs to the church's viewing platform.
Standing on the vast platform, you can have a panoramic view of Lyon.
Everything is within sight.
Although it was winter, she was lucky; the weather was fine.
The sun in southern France was very generous today, and the fog was no longer obscuring our view as it was dispelled by the sun.
Mo Wansheng leaned against the railing, took out her phone, casually snapped a photo, and sent it to Huo Yuzheng.
"It's really beautiful."
Before Huo Yuzheng could reply, she made a video call.
She pointed the camera at herself and the entire city of Lyon.
"What's wrong?" Huo Yuzheng's face appeared on the phone screen, his gaze still focused on the documents beside him.
Mo Wansheng flashed a bright smile, revealing her pearly white teeth. "It's alright, look at me!"
Huo Yuzheng then turned all his attention to his phone.
The instant his gaze lingered on her, she quickly snapped a photo.
On the screen, there was the undisguised emotion in his deep eyes; off the screen, there was her bright and joyful smile, and the city of Lyon that belonged to their shared memories.
"Got it!" Mo Wansheng shouted mischievously, her voice clear and crisp.
"Mr. Huo looks as good looking at the scenery as he does when he's working."
Huo Yuzheng was stunned for a moment; at that moment, all he could see was her.
He mumbled, "Yes, it's very beautiful."
His wife, Mrs. Huo, is really beautiful.
Because she only had one day to stay in Lyon, Mo Wansheng had to take the train back to the center of Paris that evening.
Although she longed to spend the whole day on the viewing platform, witnessing the ancient city's sunset from morning till night.
In the end, she suppressed her lingering feelings and made her way to the Red Cross area.
Lyon’s Red Cross district stretches along the Crois-Rouse hill, with winding, undulating roads.
The intricate network of passageways runs through the interior of the building, connecting different streets.
Like a maze, every path leads to a surprise.
Mo Wansheng noticed a special mark Huo Yuzheng had made in the notebook.
"Pelican" Cafe.
She followed the directions he gave her in search of that hidden place.
Finally, she stopped in front of a relatively quiet passageway with a gentle slope.
There's a café in the corner ahead, with a dark green roof and an old wooden signboard carved with a long-legged pelican.
Mo Wansheng took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy walnut wood door.
The brass bell on her handle rang out with a clear sound as she arrived.
The shop owner was a kind old woman with gray hair who immediately welcomed the new customer in French.
Mo Wansheng responded politely in French, and then found a relatively secluded corner to sit down.
It's cold outside, but warm here.
The aroma of coffee wafting through the room was unforgettable.
Mo Wansheng ordered a cappuccino, and the old woman skillfully began operating the coffee machine.
The steam rolled through the air, making a reassuring hissing sound.
While waiting, Mo Wansheng relaxed and carefully looked around the room.
Her gaze involuntarily lingered on a wall next to the bar.
That was a wall that bore witness to countless stories.
It was covered with layers upon layers of postcards, from all corners of the world, written in different languages with different feelings and blessings.
They are like colorful puzzle pieces, together forming a picture full of the traveler's romance.
Some of the postcards have yellowed and curled at the edges, showing signs of age.
Others still have a fresh, glossy sheen from the ink.
Mo Wansheng approached the wall. Huo Yuzheng had mentioned this wall in the latest notes he added to his notebook.
He wrote in his notebook, "I left a postcard here before."
Driven by curiosity, she longed to find that postcard and see what he might have left behind or written there during his student days.
She began to search carefully.
My gaze swept past the enthusiastic Spanish greetings, skipped over the formal German blessings, and avoided the cute Japanese cartoon illustrations.
The boss had already prepared the coffee and brought the mug to where Mo Wansheng had been sitting.
She turned and walked towards Mo Wansheng, her face kind. "Are you very interested in this?"
Mo Wansheng replied in French, “Yes, because my husband came here before, and he told me that he left a postcard here. I’m curious to know what he wrote back then.”
The boss's eyes sparkled with surprise, and she clapped her hands lightly in front of her apron.
She exclaimed sincerely, "Wow! You two are so romantic!"
This straightforward and enthusiastic praise made Mo Wansheng's cheeks blush slightly.
She smiled sheepishly and focused all her attention back on the postcards.
She wanted to find a postcard that was old enough and most likely filled with Chinese characters.
As time ticked by, Mo Wansheng began to feel discouraged.
She even suspected that the postcard might have already been covered with something new or had been cleaned up.
Finally, her gaze settled on the lower right corner, a relatively dimly lit corner near the wooden window frame.
There was a clearly yellowed, fragile postcard, half of which was covered by some later cards.
It revealed half of the design, which was none other than Notre-Dame de Fourvière in winter.
She saw familiar Chinese characters.
Mo Wansheng's breath caught in her throat.
She reached out and carefully peeled away the several new cards covering it.
The entire postcard was finally presented to her without reservation.
Although the handwriting had faded slightly with age, she recognized it as Huo Yuzheng's handwriting from his youth, the same as the one in that notebook.
He was more youthful and untamed than he is now, yet just as powerful.
The postcard reads,
To my future wife:
No matter who you are, no matter where you are
When you see this card, please know that...
I've been waiting for you all along.
— Huo Yuzheng
On a leisurely afternoon
The date was five years ago.
Mo Wansheng froze on the spot. She was somewhat surprised that Huo Yuzheng, back in college, had also dreamed of having the most beautiful love.
Five years ago, Huo Yuzheng was studying in a foreign country.
But he is about to return to China to take over the family business.
That period was a time of relative freedom for him as "Huo Yuzheng".
Mo Wansheng didn't understand him. She thought that he was just as cold and hard-hearted as he was now during his university days.
They put all their energy into their studies and future plans, being so rational as to be almost unsatisfactory.
She was quite surprised when she received his notebook.
Now, seeing these romantic words, she is even more surprised.
It turns out that he would also wander around on a lazy afternoon and walk into a coffee shop.
Write down your fantasies about the future and your expectations for life.
Mo Wansheng's heart stirred, and she walked to the bar and asked the owner for a postcard.
The boss had a kind smile on her face, as if she had witnessed the most beautiful happiness.
Mo Wansheng walked back to her seat, picked up her pen, and wrote on the postcard:
“Mr. Huo, you’ve been waiting for me, and I’ve been waiting for you too.”
"——Mo Wansheng"
On a happy afternoon when my wish came true.
She wrote down today's date and walked back to the wall.
I found an empty spot and pasted the postcard next to Huo Yuzheng's.
One old and one new, one yellow and one white.
She is responding to him from five years ago here.
Mo Wansheng took a small step back, gazing at the two postcards side by side, a smile enveloping her entire being.
She picked up her phone and took a picture of the two postcards.
These five years will be captured in a photo album.
She did not send the photos to Huo Yuzheng immediately.
She wanted to keep it in her heart.
When the time was right, she told him in person.
The cappuccino tasted great, and the coffee was gone in no time.
Before leaving, Mo Wansheng took one last look at the wall, deeply imprinting this perfect moment in her heart.
Then he turned around, pushed open the door of the café, and disappeared into the gentle twilight of Lyon.
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