Chapter 58
We found a B&B by the river in the town.
White walls, black tiles, wooden window lattices, and a view of mist-shrouded mountains in the distance from the window. Natural and simple, it is far from the luxury and sophistication of star-rated hotels, but it has a warm and soothing feeling.
In the early morning, the mist has not yet dissipated, and the morning light is like a golden veil, penetrating the clouds and gently spreading on the winding river surface, breaking into countless jumping spots of light.
The land of Yunnan seems to always contain a vigorous vitality, and even the air is warm and gentle.
Being in it, the gloom and sorrow of the past few days seemed to be blown away little by little by the warm sun and mountain breeze, and my mood gradually calmed down.
Atobe became very busy.
He always found various reasons to drag me out of the B&B without any explanation.
The reasons are varied, sometimes it's "This cross-bridge rice noodle restaurant is ranked number one, missing it would be a loss", sometimes it's "I heard there's an ancient tea forest nearby, it's worth a visit", or even just "The sun is shining brightly today, perfect for a walk".
He was no longer the young master who could arrange everything with just a few clicks of his fingers, but was holding his phone clumsily and seriously, searching for various travel guides.
We went to Lijiang Ancient Town.
Small bridges flow, cobblestone paths smooth, and Sifang Street is bustling with people. The girls, dressed in traditional Chinese costumes, are enthusiastic and enthusiastic. One bold girl walks right up to Atobe and, smiling brightly, asks in accented Mandarin if she can take a photo.
Atobe's handsome face with deep contours is particularly eye-catching under the warm yellow lights of the ancient city, but it also brings "trouble".
He was obviously stunned for a moment, a rare embarrassment flashed across his eyes, and he subconsciously took a half step back, but his hand gripped my wrist even tighter. I looked at his rare embarrassed expression and couldn't help but smile.
Later, the wind from Erhai Lake blew on my cheeks, and flocks of seagulls circled, making crisp calls.
We stood at the bow, and Atobe imitated the others, throwing breadcrumbs into the air. Seagulls swooped down deftly, their wings flapping as the air brushed against the tips of his hair. He tilted his head to look at me, the sunlight falling into his eyes, creating a shimmering, fragmented light.
We then went to Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. Thick clouds obscured the legendary "sunlight shining on the golden mountain," preventing us from witnessing that breathtaking spectacle. But as we gazed side by side at the pure, impure sky, feeling the silent yet majestic majesty of the snow-capped mountains, a strange sense of peace spread within us. The air was crisp and refreshing, seemingly cleansing to the soul.
Traveling dispels the haze and time flows silently under your feet.
Without a housekeeper to arrange every detail, you have to figure everything out on your own.
The control that Atobe was so proud of occasionally failed him in the face of unfamiliar public transportation. Once, he vowed that he could catch the last bus, but in the end, we could only stand in the empty station, watching the taillights of the last bus disappear into the twilight, staring at each other in bewilderment.
His photography skills are... hard to describe.
The first photos they took of me either had half my body cut off, the background blurred, or they captured me with my eyes closed. Looking at those horrible "works" on my phone, I couldn't help laughing or crying.
"Atobe-kun," I pointed at my own blurry figure on the screen, "Is this... artistic?"
He stared at his phone screen, frowning, then at the perfectly composed photos on other people's cameras, looking thoughtful. Later I noticed that he would casually observe the young boys on the street taking pictures of their girlfriends, watching how they posed and found the angles.
A few days later, when he handed me his phone to show me a photo taken at the beach, in the picture, I was slightly leaning against the wind, my hair flying, and the lake and mountains in the distance served as the clear and gentle background.
"You've made great progress, photographer." I praised sincerely.
The corners of his lips curled up slightly, with a barely perceptible hint of pride: "My learning ability never disappoints."
Gradually, I changed from a passive follower to an active participant.
We lay together on the wooden table of the homestay to study the map, circled the places we wanted to go with a red pen; debated whether to try the legendary mushroom hotpot first, or check in at that popular photo spot; calculated the time, trying to arrange the itinerary more reasonably.
He searches for transportation, and I look for delicious food and hidden gems. We work together seamlessly, occasionally arguing, but oftentimes we share a tacit understanding of each other's smiles.
The trivial daily life of the journey, like a small stream, silently washes away the ravines of sadness and fills them with new and warm marks.
Time flies, and the journey eventually comes to an end.
On our last night, we sat in the courtyard of our guesthouse, looking up at the vast, starry sky of the Yunnan Plateau, as clear as water. The Milky Way stretched across the sky, and the stars hung low, seemingly within reach. The air was slightly cool, carrying the fragrance of grass and trees.
I looked at the brilliant starry sky, remained silent for a moment, and then spoke softly, "Atobe, your junior high school studies will end in March."
He turned his head to look at me, with stars in his eyes.
"My family has arranged further training for me... and there are also some businesses that need to be taken over." My voice was calm, stating a set future. "I will stay in China."
He listened quietly and did not respond immediately.
After a long while, a deep voice finally sounded: "The Atobe family... also needs a clearer structure."
He paused, his eyes deep, as if he was choosing his words, "I will go to England for a while. To... have complete control." What he didn't say was that this control also concerned the autonomy of his future marriage.
I nodded, fully understanding the heaviness and determination behind it.
"Thank you for this time..." I looked at him and said sincerely, "Thank you for staying with me."
"Not during this period." He corrected immediately, his tone firm.
He turned around and faced me. His eyes, which looked particularly deep under the starlight, locked my gaze firmly. The light in them was more determined than the stars.
"In the future. Always."
The night wind blows, bringing with it the scent of the mountains.
The seriousness and commitment in his eyes were like a stone thrown into the lake of my heart, creating ripples.
"There's a seven-hour time difference between China and England," I said, meeting his gaze. My voice was soft, with a hint of barely perceptible inquiry.
The long distance and the reversed day and night will be a huge test.
Atobe looked at me and suddenly smiled. That smile was like moonlight breaking through the clouds, carrying his usual, deep-rooted pride and confidence, as if no difficulty in the world could shake him in the slightest.
"Heh," he snorted, his tone filled with familiar, unquestionable confidence, "Fear has never been in my dictionary."
The starlight fell on his shoulders and also on the corners of my slightly raised lips.
"Okay." I heard my own voice, filled with relief and a hint of anticipation, "Then...see you in the future."
The night was gentle, the stars flowing silently. In the quiet courtyard, only the rustling of the mountain wind through the leaves seemed to bear witness to this promise that transcended time and space.
The day I returned to Japan was like pressing the accelerator.
The graduation exams concluded successfully, marking the end of my study abroad experience. Standing on the familiar campus, dressed in my crisp uniform for graduation photos, a strong sense of trance seized me.
It seems like I just stepped into this school yesterday, but now it’s time to say goodbye.
After the camera froze, Rie Tanaka suddenly rushed over and hugged me, tears instantly bursting out, and she cried without any image.
"Kiyama... wu... what should I do after you leave... there will be no one to have lunch with me..." Her tears wet a large area of my shoulder.
Not far away, the boys from the tennis club also gathered together.
Taketo Mukai, who rarely stopped jumping, had a look of reluctance in his eyes. Ryo Shishido awkwardly said, "Take care." Hou Chotaro smiled warmly and handed me a carefully prepared guestbook. Hiyoshi Wakaba, still wearing that cool expression, nodded and said, "Next time we meet, I hope to see your true skills."
Yuushi Oshitari stood a little behind, his eyes calm behind his glasses, with a hint of barely perceptible worry, his gaze wandering between me and Atobe.
I responded one by one, my eyes sweeping over the familiar and vivid faces. My heart seemed to be filled with something, heavy, yet warm.
It turns out that two years can accumulate so many fragments of memories.
Atobe stood slightly outside the crowd, his hands casually tucked into his trouser pockets, his attitude as calm and composed as ever.
The sunlight fell on his dazzling face, his eyes calmly watching the reluctant farewell scene before him, and there was even a faint curve at the corner of his mouth, which formed a subtle contrast with the worry between Oshitari's brows.
That certainty seemed to be a firm belief that the separation would only be temporary.
I comforted Rie, who was still sobbing, and looked across the crowd to meet Atobe's gaze, giving him a knowing smile. Then, I raised my voice, saying to everyone, and also to myself:
"The mountains are high and the road is long, but we will meet again someday. Take care, everyone."
The airport hall was empty and busy.
I completed the pet shipping procedures for Xiaokong, signed the name "Longyin" on the document, and ran my fingertips across the paper, feeling a sense of finality.
This little guy I picked up in Tokyo is now going home with me.
Atobe accompanied me all the way to the security checkpoint.
As the departure approached, the air seemed to thicken. Xiaokong, as if sensing something, pawed restlessly in the air box, emitting a low humming sound.
When Tomoya leaned over the box, the little guy stretched out his claws and eagerly scratched the gap. He even bit the leg of Tomoya's ironed trousers with his teeth through the cage net and refused to let go.
Atobe didn't try to break free. He knelt down on one knee, his slender fingers passing through the gaps in the cage, gently stroking Xiaokong's furry head with unprecedented patience.
"Be good," he said in a low but clear voice. He looked at me deeply through the cage net, then turned back to Xiaokong. "Mom will take good care of you."
He paused, and gently rubbed Xiaokong's moist nose with his fingertips, and said in a serious tone, "Xiaokong, you must take good care of your mother too."
The name came out of his mouth naturally, with an unquestionable intimacy and responsibility. My fingertips curled slightly, and my heart felt like it was being warmed by a current.
A voice urging boarding sounded over the PA system. I took a deep breath and took the tow rope for the flight case from him.
"Let's go." I said.
"Yeah." He stood up, his tall figure casting a shadow over me. Without further ado, he simply gazed at me deeply, a look like a promise, piercing the distance that was about to widen.
I pulled my suitcase, turned around and joined the crowd going through security without looking back.
Only after successfully passing security and standing at the entrance to the boarding bridge did I peer through the huge French windows into that direction. Sure enough, he was still there, his hands tucked into his windbreaker pockets, staring intently at me from a distance, through the throng of people.
The sunlight outlines his tall figure, like a silent lighthouse.
The plane's engines roared, and the fuselage, free from the constraints of gravity, soared into the sky. Outside the window, Tokyo's familiar buildings and winding rivers shrank rapidly, eventually being completely blocked out by thick clouds.
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.
Goodbye, Tokyo.
It is ten thousand meters above the ground, with a sea of clouds rolling.
He and I are both on our own tracks, running towards the unknown yet agreed upon future, which is long and arduous.
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