Spring Passes
The morning mist, like a soft veil, clung to the outlines of the distant mountains. Suman rolled down the car window, letting in the air, a mixture of the scent of green grass and moist earth. She slowed down and drove along the winding country road, her eyes scanning the mottled old houses on either side and the occasional villagers peeking out.
This place called Yunshui Village is even more remote than she imagined. But it is this isolated and quiet place that attracted her to complete the photography series "Breathing on the Edge".
Landlord Aunt Li was already waiting under the old locust tree at the entrance of the village. She led Su Man to an old two-story house with peeling walls but a well-maintained small garden in front.
"This house is quiet, perfect for your creative endeavors." Aunt Li handed over the key, examining Su Man's camera equipment with curiosity. "Just let me know if you need anything. The village committee is a hundred meters east."
Su Man thanked him and began to carry the equipment back inside. As she was about to leave, she caught a glimpse of a figure passing by. The figure, wearing a plain long dress, appeared and disappeared in the mist, then vanished around the corner of the village road in an instant.
For the next few days, Su Man immersed herself in her work. She photographed elderly people working in the morning mist, cats napping under the eaves, and stone steps whose edges had been smoothed by time. And the figure in the long skirt would appear from time to time at the edge of her vision, quietly gazing at her, then quietly moving away when she tried to approach.
It was not until the morning of the fourth day when Suman was filming by the small river behind the village that she finally saw the man up close.
She squatted by the river, her slender fingers gently caressing the water. The hem of her long skirt was carefully pulled up, revealing a glimpse of her fair ankles. The morning light filtered through the mist, casting a soft glow around her. Su Man instinctively raised her camera, and the sound of the shutter startled her.
She turned around, and Su Man's breath hitched. It was an extremely delicate face, with fair skin, clear eyes, and long hair tied loosely behind her head, with a few strands of hair hanging down on her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, girl. Did I scare you?" Su Man put down the camera and spoke softly.
"I'm not a girl. I know you, you are the one who comes to take pictures." His voice was very soft, and he slowly stood up as he spoke.
"Sorry... My name is Suman, and I'm a photographer." She stretched out her hand, but she was silently complaining in her heart, ah, I actually recognized the wrong gender, how embarrassing.
He hesitated for a moment, then gently squeezed her fingertips: "Aning." Then he quickly let go of her hand, as if he was afraid of being touched.
"You look beautiful in this dress." Su Man said sincerely.
Aning's eyelashes fluttered. "Thank you," he whispered, his eyes fixed on the hem of his skirt. "Everyone in the village says I'm sick."
"I think it's beautiful." Su Man said with a smile.
From that day on, Aning stopped hiding. He would come to see Suman take photos, occasionally carefully proposing his own compositional ideas, his keen eyes surprising Suman. He told her which corners of the village held the most stories, and where the light was most beautiful at what time of day.
Su Man discovered that Aning had a natural sensitivity to beauty. He pointed to the mottled moss on the old wall and said it looked like a landscape painting, and pointed to the colorful sheets hung out to dry by the peasant woman and said they looked like a rainbow on the ground.
"You should learn photography." One day Suman stuffed her spare camera into his hands.
Aning's learning speed was astonishing. Within a few days, he had mastered the camera, capturing images imbued with unique perspectives and emotions. Suman, observing his work, felt a mixture of emotions—the joy of discovering a genius, yet also a pity for his being trapped in this small village.
Their relationship grew close unnoticed. Aning would bring home-roasted sweet potatoes, and Suman would tell him stories about the city. She learned that Aning's mother had died young, his father had been away from home for years, and he had grown up with his grandmother, dropping out of school after graduating from junior high school.
"After grandma left, I was all alone." Aning said softly, her fingers unconsciously twisting the folds of her skirt.
A month later, Suman's field trip was drawing to a close, and she realized she didn't want to leave Aning.
"Come back to the city with me." One evening, when they were sitting by the river watching the sunset, Su Man suddenly said.
Aning turned to look at her in shock.
"You can continue studying photography and see the world." Su Man held his hand. "I don't want to be separated from you either."
Aning's eyes moistened. "Is it okay?" he asked, his voice so soft it was almost blown away by the wind.
"Of course." Su Man said firmly.
The night before leaving Yunshui Village, Aning cut his long hair. He looked at himself in the mirror with short hair, and his fingers trembled slightly.
"Actually... you don't have to cut it if you don't want to." Su Man stood behind him and said softly.
Aning shook her head. "The city is different from the village. I don't want to cause you any trouble."
On the way back to the city, Aning changed into a simple men's outfit - a white shirt and black trousers. He sat stiffly in the passenger seat, looking at the scenery rapidly receding outside the window with a complicated look in his eyes.
Suman rented a new, more spacious apartment. In the early days, Aning felt like a young animal entering a new world, unfamiliar and intimidated by everything. Elevators, subways, neon lights—all these commonplace city things—he was at a loss.
But he was a quick learner. Suman taught him how to use various appliances, how to take public transportation, and how to order takeout. She enrolled him in photography classes and bought him many books. Aning was like a thirsty sponge, greedily absorbing all knowledge.
Only in the apartment, with the doors and windows closed, would Aning put on a skirt. At that moment, his tense nerves would truly relax.
"This is much more comfortable." He said softly, smoothing out the wrinkles on his skirt and turning lightly in the living room.
Su Man looked at him and smiled: "You look good in a skirt."
"Just for you to see." Aning's face flushed slightly.
Suman's studio colleagues soon learned of Aning's existence. Initially curious about this quiet young man from the countryside, they were soon captivated by his talent. Aning's photographs, imbued with a raw and pure beauty, have injected new vitality into the studio.
Suman likes him more and more. She knows that he has gender identity disorder, but she doesn't care about that. They love each other and she just wants to live with Aning forever.
Half a year later, Suman decided to take Aning to meet her family.
She chose an elegantly decorated restaurant and told her parents a week in advance that she would bring the person she liked to meet.
"My parents...are a bit traditional, but they're not bad people." Su Man comforted Aning on the way to the restaurant. He nodded, constantly adjusting his tie. He was wearing a white suit that Su Man had chosen especially for him, which made him look even more handsome and upright.
"Where is Aning from?" Father Su broke the silence and looked at the young man in front of him.
"Yunshui Village is in the northern mountainous area." Aning answered in a low voice.
"Oh? You're from the countryside." Mother Su's tone rose slightly. "What do your parents do?"
"My mother passed away and my father is working outside." Aning lowered his head.
Su Man held his hand under the table: "A Ning is very talented in photography and is now helping me in my studio."
"Can photography be used to make a living?" Father Su frowned. "Young people should still have a stable job."
The meal ended in a somewhat solemn atmosphere. On the way home, Su Man tried to comfort Aning: "They just need time to get to know you."
Aning looked at the neon lights flying by outside the window and said softly, "They don't like me."
"No, give me some time to convince them." Su Man said firmly.
However, in the following weeks, Suman's parents' opposition grew stronger. They didn't understand why their daughter wanted to be with a rural youth with "no roots and no prospects."
"He hasn't even been to college, how is he going to support the family in the future?" Su's mother asked on the phone.
"He is talented! Our studio's clients love his work!" Suman argued.
"What kind of serious job is that? Can you make a living just by playing with cameras? Manman, you're almost thirty, can you be a little more realistic?"
Su Man hung up the phone and rubbed her temples tiredly. Aning stood at the bedroom door, her eyes dim.
"I'm sorry to put you in a difficult position," he said.
Su Man walked over and hugged him: "Don't say that, I love you and you love me, that's enough."
The turning point came one Sunday afternoon. Su Man had gone out to deal with an urgent matter at the studio, leaving Aning home alone. He had just showered and, as usual, had changed into his favorite light blue dress. He was sitting on the living room floor, sorting through recent photos.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a key turning outside the door. Su's mother had taken the spare key from Su Man, saying it was for emergencies. Today, she had made some soup and wanted to bring it to her daughter to nourish her body.
The door opened and Su's mother walked in carrying a thermos bucket. Her eyes met Aning's, who looked up at the sound.
Time seemed to stand still.
Su's mother's gaze slid from Aning's face, to his skirt, and then to the photos scattered on the floor.
"You...what are you doing..." She spoke incoherently, and the thermos in her hand fell to the ground with a bang, spilling hot soup all over the floor.
Aning stood up hurriedly, her face turning pale. "Auntie, I..."
The door was slammed shut. Aning froze in place, the soup spilling onto the floor, like the despair spreading within him.
When Su Man returned home, she found Aning had changed back into men's clothes and was quietly wiping the floor. Before she could ask what happened, her mother called.
The voice on the other end of the phone was so sharp that even Aning, who was standing next to them, could hear it: "Manman! Go home immediately! You must break up with that pervert! He's wearing a woman's skirt! He's mentally unstable! If anyone knew, how would our family save face?"
Su Man's face gradually turned pale: "Mom, listen to me, this is not a big deal..."
"It's not a big deal? A man wearing a skirt is not a big deal? Have you been brainwashed by him? Break up with him immediately! Otherwise, I will no longer have you as my daughter!"
The call was hung up. Su Man turned to look at Aning, who had his head lowered, his fingers tightly gripping the rag, his knuckles white.
"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, "I shouldn't have..."
"No, I should be the one to apologize." Su Man hugged him, "My mother shouldn't have said that to you."
The days that followed were like a nightmare. Su's mother bombarded her with countless calls every day, her words becoming increasingly harsh.
"Stay away from him! He's a pervert! A shemale!"
Aning no longer wore skirts and even rarely spoke. She just sat by the window in a daze all day.
Su Man was heartbroken, but she could do nothing. Her relationship with her family reached a freezing point, and the most painful thing for her was watching the light in Aning's eyes gradually fade away.
One night, she hugged Aning and whispered, "Why don't we leave here and go to a place where no one knows us."
Aning shook her head: "You can't give up everything for me."
"I do." Su Man said firmly.
Aning didn't answer, but just hugged her tighter.
The next morning, Su Man woke up to find Aning gone. There was a letter on her pillow. With a bad feeling in her heart, she hurriedly opened the letter.
「Manman:
Thank you for showing me such a beautiful world, and thank you for loving the real me. - Aning
Su Man rushed out of the bedroom and found that the curtains in the living room were wide open, and the sunlight shone in blindingly.
Trembling, she walked towards the balcony and looked down.
A crowd had gathered downstairs, pointing and talking. Aning, wearing the same dress she'd worn when they'd first met, lay quietly on the cold concrete floor, seemingly asleep.
Later, the police confirmed that Aning committed suicide. In his suicide note, he detailed his mental illness and cleared Suman of all suspicion.
The funeral was simple, with only Suman and a few of her studio buddies in attendance. Suman's parents also came, standing in the distance with complicated expressions.
A month later, Suman held a photography exhibition titled "He." It featured Aning's work, as well as photos Suman had taken of her. The final photo showed Aning dancing in a skirt by the river, her back gilded by the sunlight, a beauty so stunning it moved people to tears.
On a misty morning, she returned to Yunshui Village. The old locust tree at the entrance of the village was still lush and green, as if nothing had changed.
Su Man stood in front of the old house where Aning once lived, gently stroking the mottled wall.
In the mist, she seemed to see the figure in the long skirt again, turning back and smiling at her in the morning light, her eyes as clear as before.
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