The painting of reunion
Luo Yan decided to go home on a clear morning after a snowfall.
The night before, she had a dream. Half of the dream showed Ren Qin standing under the locust tree in front of her house, holding up a steaming locust flower cake and calling her name. The other half showed Qi Sheng turning around in the wind and snow, the silver tennis racket in his hand gleaming coldly. When she woke up, her pillow was wet, and the snow outside the window made the room as bright as day. The snow in Su Yi had been falling for so long that a chill seeped into her bones, and suddenly she couldn't help but miss home.
She sent a message to the bookstore manager announcing her resignation, and he replied instantly, "Little girl, you're welcome to come back anytime." While packing, she found the dark gray scarf deep in the closet—a gift from Qi Sheng last winter, who said the bookstore's air conditioning was too strong and it was easy to catch a cold going in and out. Her fingertips traced the soft wool fibers, and she could remember the way his ears turned red when he handed it to her. After hesitating for three minutes, she folded it into a neat square and stuffed it into the bottom of her suitcase, placing a thick sweater on top of it.
When Ren Xiangzhou called, the bus had just left the station. "Why are you leaving all of a sudden?" His cousin's voice came through the receiver, with his usual calm and steady tone.
"I miss my mom." Luo Yan sniffed, looking at the snow scene flashing past the car window, the gray apartment building of the sports academy flashing by. "The snow in Su Yi is too heavy, it's suffocating."
"I'll ask your aunt to save some ribs for you." Ren Xiangzhou didn't ask any more questions. "Send me your location when you get to the station. Don't try to drag your suitcase."
After hanging up the phone, the bus just turned the corner where the bookstore was located. Luo Yan stared at the frost flowers that had formed on the glass door, remembering Qi Sheng there, head down, reading a book, the sunlight falling on his eyelashes like a layer of fine snow. Her heart twinged slightly, and she quickly turned her face away, looking at the swirling snowflakes outside the window.
The high-speed train ride home takes two hours. The snow outside the window gradually thinned, leaving only scattered patches of white on the field ridges. Her phone vibrated in her pocket; thinking it was Ren Xiangzhou, she took it out but saw a message from Zhang Qi: "I heard you went home. Did that guy surnamed Qi bully you?"
Luo Yan smiled at the screen and replied, "I miss my mom's sweet and sour pork ribs."
Zhang Qi sent a table-flipping emoji: "I'll beat him up when I get back!"
She shoved her phone back into her pocket and closed her eyes. But her mind kept replaying scenes—the warmth of Qi Sheng's fingertips as he took the hot water from the bookstore, his tense jawline when Su Yu questioned him, the desolation in his eyes when he said, "Don't contact me again." Like shards of glass, hidden deep in the snow, inconspicuous, but capable of drawing blood when stepped on.
As the train arrived at the station, dusk was spreading across the cobblestone streets of Lin'an. Ren Qin, wrapped in a camel-colored scarf, stood at the exit. Upon seeing her, her eyes welled up with tears, and she took her hand, stroking it repeatedly: "You've lost weight. Why are your hands so cold?"
"Mom, I'm not cold." Luo Yan smiled and hugged her. The familiar scent of soap on her body suddenly relaxed her tense mood, and her eyes welled up with tears.
Xiao Hei leaped onto the suitcase, its tail circling around her wrist. The sweet and sour pork ribs on the table were steaming, the amber sauce coating them – a taste she'd grown up with. Ren Qin shoved chopsticks into her hand: "Eat quickly, it won't taste good when it gets cold."
"Why did you suddenly come back?" Ren Qin asked casually as she served her soup. "Didn't you say you were going to work at the bookstore?"
Luo Yan mumbled through her rice, "I missed you." But the memory of Qi Sheng's last impact on her shoulder flashed through her mind. The impact was light, but it felt like it had drawn a chasm between her and Su Yi.
For the next few days, Luo Yan lived like a cat just waking from hibernation. She was woken up in the morning by the aroma of Ren Qin's fried eggs, and in the afternoon she would move a wicker chair to the balcony to bask in the sun, watching Xiao Hei chase the dappled sunlight. Occasionally, she would go winter fishing with Luo Zhongheng. Ren Qin never asked about Su Yi, but simply cooked her favorite dishes in different ways, as if she could fill the void in Luo Yan's heart little by little with food.
She rarely thought of Qi Sheng anymore. The sunshine in Lin'an was warm, carrying the scent of grass and trees, gradually melting away the chill in Su Yi's snowy ground. Only occasionally, when she was sorting through old things and came across half-finished program code, or when she saw a tennis match flashing in the sports news, her heart would still clench suddenly, as if she had been gently pricked by fine needles.
On the fifth day of the Lunar New Year, Luo Yan went to pay New Year's greetings to her high school teacher. When she passed by Lin'an No. 1 High School, she walked in as if by some strange twist of fate.
The school gate wasn't locked. The gatekeeper recognized her and asked with a smile, "Back from vacation?" She nodded and walked along the familiar tree-lined path. The playground was still the same; the red running track had faded, and the basketball net had a hole in it. The walls of the teaching building had been repainted, dazzlingly white, but it couldn't conceal the traces etched in her memory.
She walked to the window of Class 3, Grade 12 and looked inside. The desks and chairs were arranged neatly, and the words "100 days until the college entrance examination" were still written on the blackboard, exactly the same as when she left. Sunlight shone through the window, casting rectangular spots of light on the ground. In a daze, she seemed to see herself buried in her work, the candy that Pan Yue secretly slipped to her, and... Qi Sheng standing at the door.
My heart throbbed slightly, like I'd been stung by something.
She turned around, intending to leave, but bumped into an embrace carrying a drawing board. Art supplies scattered all over the floor, pencils rolling far away.
"I'm sorry!" Luo Yan quickly squatted down to pick it up, but when she looked up, she was stunned.
The other person was also picking up art supplies. Hearing her voice, they paused for a moment and slowly raised their head.
It's Song Tian.
He was a bit taller than in high school, his hair had grown longer and was tied back with a rubber band, revealing his smooth forehead. He wore thin-rimmed glasses and a beige sweater, exuding the carefree air of an art student.
"Luo Yan?" Song Tian recognized her too, a flash of surprise crossing his eyes, followed by a smile, tinged with uncertainty. "Is it really you? I was just painting the playground, and it felt like I was back in those years, when you always passed by here with your easel..."
“Song Tian…” Luo Yan looked at him, her heart skipped a beat. After graduating from high school, they lost contact, and there were very few posts about him on her social media—she deliberately ignored them, as if she were deliberately brushing away that vague feeling, along with the charcoal dust on her art supplies, into the past.
"What are you doing here?" Song Tian gathered his art supplies together and dusted them off. "Did you come back to see your teacher?"
"Yeah, I just went to the office." Luo Yan nodded, her gaze falling on his drawing board. "What about you? Are you here to paint?"
“Yes,” Song Tian held up his sketchbook, which showed a quick sketch of the playground. The lines were much more mature than in high school. “Our school had a field trip assignment, so we came back. Seeing this track reminded me of the art exhibition in our first year of high school. You were sketching when someone bumped into you, and I helped you up. You were clutching the sketchbook in your arms…”
Luo Yan lowered her eyes. She herself had almost forgotten those details, yet he remembered them so clearly. But shortly after the art exhibition in their first year of high school, things changed. She began to avoid him; if they met in the art studio, she would only nod; and when He Xiaoyou joked about them, she would abruptly interrupt. She couldn't explain the reason herself; perhaps she sensed the panic hidden in that boy's heart, or perhaps she foresaw that their paths would eventually diverge, and it was better to part ways sooner rather than later.
"You... got into the art academy?" She changed the subject, her tone deliberately calm.
“Yes, the oil painting department of the Academy of Fine Arts at University A.” Song Tian’s eyes shone like stars when he said this. “I didn’t waste the days I spent in the studio every day.”
“That’s good.” Luo Yan was genuinely happy for him and truly felt that it was “good”—he was walking the path he had chosen with an open and bright spirit.
"And you?" Song Tian asked. "I heard you went to Suzhou Normal University?"
"Yes, Computer Science."
"Impressive," Song Tian raised an eyebrow, a hint of familiarity reminiscent of his carefree days, before quickly regaining his composure. "Back in our second year of high school, we promised to study art together, but what happened to you later..."
"Something came up later, so I changed it." Luo Yan brushed it off casually, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the soda bottle.
Song Tian didn't press further, and pointed to the convenience store not far away: "Want to buy some drinks? My treat."
The school store was still open. The owner, a chubby auntie, greeted Song Tian with a smile: "Little Tian? It's been so long! I always saw you with a female classmate in high school, buying orange soda."
Song Tian's cheeks flushed slightly, and Luo Yan pursed her lips somewhat awkwardly. Song Tian bought two bottles of orange soda, handed one to Luo Yan, and muttered softly, "Auntie's memory is too good..."
The two sat on the bleachers of the playground, their feet dangling in mid-air, looking at the empty track. A soda bottle was popped open with a hiss, the sound of the bubbles bursting particularly clear in the quiet campus.
“Actually, during the second semester of my first year of high school, I went to the art studio to look for you a few times,” Song Tian suddenly said, his voice very soft, “but you were never there.”
Luo Yan tightened her grip on the soda, but didn't say anything.
"Later, He Xiaoyou said that you didn't really want to talk to me anymore." Song Tian turned to look at her, his glasses reflecting the light, making it impossible to see his eyes. "Was there something I did wrong?"
“No.” Luo Yan shook her head quickly, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside her—guilt, relief, and a touch of inexplicable melancholy. “Back then… I hadn’t thought things through.”
"Oh," Song Tian responded, then smiled, as if to dispel the awkwardness. "Have you thought it through now?"
Luo Yan looked at the lights of the teaching building in the distance, like stars scattered in the night. She softly hummed in agreement: "I guess so."
I've come to understand now that some closeness is instinctive, and so is some distance; I've come to understand that the heartbeats of youth are like lines in a quick sketch, clean yet fragile, unable to withstand too much hesitation and tug-of-war.
“I’m going back to school tomorrow,” Song Tian said. “The field research assignment is almost finished.”
"So fast?"
"Yeah, there's an art exhibition at school, I need to go back and prepare." He looked at Luo Yan, "What about you? When are you going back to Su Yi?"
"Let's wait a couple of days."
"Then... stay in touch?"
"good."
By the time I left the café, it was already dark. The lanterns on the old street were lit, their warm yellow light reflecting off the bluestone slabs, making them look like they were covered in gold.
"Let me take you home," Song Tian said.
"No need, my house is just ahead, very close." Luo Yan waved her hand.
"Alright then." Song Tian stood there, looking at her. "Take care of yourself when you get to Su Yi."
"The same to you."
Luo Yan turned and walked forward, taking a few steps before glancing back. Song Tian was still standing there, waving at her. The streetlights cast a long shadow of him, like a gentle silhouette.
Her heart was calm, like the surface of a lake after a breeze; though ripples remained, they were no longer turbulent. The awkwardness that hadn't been cleared up in the first year of high school, the unfinished journey of getting closer, all seemed to have been gently smoothed out by the evening breeze.
When she got home, Ren Qin was watching TV. Seeing her return, she asked, "Where have you been? It's so late."
"I ran into a high school classmate and we chatted for a while." Luo Yan walked over, sat down next to her, and rested her head on her shoulder.
"Is that the boy who draws?" Ren Qin said with a smile.
"Hmm." Luo Yan smiled. "You still remember."
“That’s good,” Ren Qin patted her hand. “Keep in touch, old friends are hard to find.”
Luo Yan nodded without speaking. She picked up her phone and opened Song Tian's WeChat Moments. The latest post was from today, a sketch of the playground, captioned: "Revisiting an old haunt, bumping into an old friend."
Moonlight streamed through the curtains and fell on Little Black, who was fast asleep.
On the high-speed train back to Suzhou, Luo Yan watched the scenery rushing past the window when her phone vibrated. It was a message from Song Tian: "Let me know when you arrive at school."
She replied with an "okay," paused her fingertip on the screen, and clicked on his Moments. In the comments section of the sketch of the playground, He Xiaoyou left a message: "Master painter Song, isn't someone missing from the painting?" Song Tian replied: "Yes, the figure who used to carry his easel by is missing."
Luo Yan locked her phone and looked out the window.
Life, like the warming weather in Su Yi, gradually brought a sense of comfort. She and Song Tian would chat occasionally on WeChat, and he would send her pictures of his new paintings, including a corner of an art studio, sketches of pedestrians on the street, and sometimes photos of the old streets of Lin'an, saying, "Passing by, I thought of you."
Luo Yan would reply with pictures of cherry blossoms in Su Yi, the view from the library window, and even complain about the difficult problems in her programming class. This connection was easy and natural, like a stream flowing over a rocky beach—no raging waves, but a continuous sound.
Before the May Day holiday, Song Tian suddenly sent me a message: "I have an art exhibition at the Suyi City Art Museum. Are you free this weekend?"
Luo Yan hesitated for a moment, then replied, "I'm free." On the day of the art exhibition, Song Tian, dressed in a simple white shirt, stood in front of his work. Sunlight streamed through the glass roof of the art museum, falling on him like a vivid portrait. When he saw Luo Yan, his eyes lit up, and he greeted her, "You've come."
"Your painting... is amazing." Luo Yan looked at the huge oil painting on the wall. The painting depicted a snowy night in the school campus, with a blurry female figure in the corner holding a drawing board. It was her in her first year of high school.
Song Tian's gaze fell on the painting, then turned back to look at her, his tone unusually serious: "This one is called 'Unfinished Sketch'." He paused, lowering his voice as if afraid of disturbing something, "Luo Yan, in my first year of high school, what I didn't finish wasn't just a portrait sketch."
Luo Yan's breath hitched, and she looked up at him. Song Tian's eyes were honest yet a little nervous, like the boy who used to secretly watch her in the art studio, but with a touch more of an adult's certainty.
"I've never forgotten." He said it softly, but it reached her ears clearly. "I didn't contact you afterward because I was afraid of bothering you, but I've always kept a place for you in my heart."
Luo Yan was stunned, her heart aching and tender. She thought of Qi Sheng, of his words, "Keep moving forward, don't stop," and of his retreating figure as he turned and walked into the wind and snow. That frozen past, she had tried, she had tried to get closer to it.
But some ice fields are destined to remain unmelted.
The Song Tian before her, like the spring sunshine, carrying the smell of turpentine from the art studio and a familiar feeling from her youth, reached out his hand to her.
She took a deep breath, as if making a decision she had been contemplating for a long time. Then, she looked at Song Tian, smiled gently, and nodded: "I understand."
Song Tian was stunned for a moment, then realized what was happening, and his eyes instantly lit up like candle flames. He carefully, as if afraid of breaking something, gently took her hand.
The warmth of her palm was comforting and reassuring. Luo Yan looked at herself reflected in Song Tian's eyes, clear and vivid.
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