June Visitors
The June wind is heavy, carrying the sweltering green of plants and the city's heavy breathing, pressing down on the skin. Only the leaves of the old sycamore trees rustle and flutter in the gaps of light and shadow, like countless unspoken secrets.
Yunxi hugged the corrugated cardboard box, almost as tall as herself, like a plant transplanted to unfamiliar land, standing alone in the brief shade cast by the apartment door. The sharp edges of the box etched clear red marks on her arm, a heavy, almost tangible pain—the mark of her first encounter with this vast city. The name her mother repeatedly sketched on the other end of the phone—"Shixu," the son of a neighbor who "could take care of her"—was, to her, nothing more than a vague symbol, suspended outside of reality.
The break in consciousness happened in an instant. Without warning, the toe of her shoe kissed the slightly raised bump on the concrete step, and the world's center of gravity suddenly tilted. She clutched the box that carried a part of her soul—containing worn-out books and faded picture albums—and tumbled forward. Time stretched out; she closed her eyes, awaiting the anticipated, crisp sound of her beloved possession shattering into pieces.
However, no.
The anticipated shattering did not occur. A pair of hands suddenly intervened from her blind spot, catching the bottom of the box with an almost hovering stability. The force was incredibly precise, carrying a strange familiarity, as if his lifelong practice was solely for catching her as she fell.
She opened her eyes in surprise.
Backlit, the first thing that catches the eye is a pale white wrist, its bones sharply defined. On that wrist, a small, light brown mole, like an ink drop unintentionally dropped by the artist after a moment of contemplation in an ancient ink painting, determines the overall mood of the scene.
The location of this mole... has a vague, soul-stirring familiarity. It's as if it was a coordinate in some forgotten, faded old dream.
"Time sequence".
This name was no longer a dry symbol from her mother's mouth, but carried a weight of destiny, striking her instantly. She looked up and met a pair of deep, still eyes. The boy wore a simple white shirt, his figure as upright as a solitary bamboo, a few strands of black hair damp with sweat. His gaze was clear and calm, like a lake covered with a thin layer of ice, but beneath that ice, she clearly saw... an almost eerie focus that had known her a thousand times and had finally waited for her at this moment. Deep within that gaze, there surged a bottomless weariness she couldn't understand, and a near-desperate cherishing.
"careful."
His voice was clear, like the cool echo of jade striking each other.
“Thank you…” Yunxi lowered her head subconsciously. She was not used to being looked at like that. It was not like being appraised by a stranger she had just met, but more like an art restorer who had devoted his life to examining a lost and found priceless treasure in the dim light, holding his breath to check the unique crack that he had been unable to prevent despite his past efforts.
Which floor?
"Third floor."
"Um."
He said nothing more, silently following half a step to her side, maintaining a just-right, reassuring distance, yet unknowingly sharing most of the weight of the cardboard box with her. That posture seemed to be guarding some fragile boundary.
The stairwell was dimly lit, and the motion-activated lights, long neglected, were sluggish. Yunxi could clearly feel that calm gaze, like silent moonlight, constantly resting on her back. It wasn't like scrutiny, but more like confirmation, a careful examination of a personal possession finally returning home after a long journey. This made her back tingle slightly, and even her steps faltered.
Having finally reached the third floor, she stopped in front of room 301. She fumbled for her keys, the cold metal just touching her fingertips when the keys slipped to the floor with a sharp, unsettling sound.
"I'm sorry—" she hurriedly bent down.
The boy bent down before she could. He picked up the key, and the moment he handed it to her, his fingertips touched hers—his fingertips were cool to the touch, while hers were burning hot from the tension and effort she had put in.
The instant he touched her, Yunxi clearly heard a very soft, broken gasp escape from his throat. The sound was short and suppressed, like the shudder from the depths of a soul of a traveler who had trekked through an endless desert to the brink of death and finally touched the only drop of sweet rain with his chapped lips.
She quickly withdrew her hand, her voice barely audible: "Thank you..."
She opened the door, gently placing that heavy world in the entryway. Turning around, she found the boy still standing at the boundary between light and shadow outside the door. Light and shadow carved a clear line around him, as if he were standing on the threshold of two worlds.
"Thank you so much." Yunxi tried to make her smile appear natural and extended a polite invitation, "Would you like to come in and have a glass of water?"
"No need," he refused calmly, his gaze sweeping quickly across her face like a feather brushing across still water, leaving fleeting ripples, as if lingering for even a second longer would be a luxurious waste. "I live next door."
Yunxi was stunned.
"Shixu," he said, a fleeting, faint smile playing on his lips. The weight in that smile was far from the lightness one would expect from a young boy; it was more like a glimmer of light earned only after exhausting everything. "We'll be neighbors from now on."
It really was him. The absurd thought of a "chance encounter" that had been lurking in my mind, like a hidden reef underwater, now clearly surfaced.
Shi Xu didn't notice her lapse in composure. His gaze swept over her and the empty room behind her, and he said in a distant yet polite tone, "You just moved in, you must be very busy. I won't bother you any longer."
After saying that, he nodded slightly, turned around, and used his key to open the door to room 302.
"Click".
The door was gently closed, isolating all the subtle nuances and turbulence from the previous moment in another space.
Yunxi leaned against her doorframe, her hand tightly gripping the bunch of keys; the metal surface seemed to stubbornly retain the coolness of her fingertips. She gazed at the closed, dark door, and a thought, like a vine quietly sprouting in the night, silently coiled around her heart—
Now that the hunter has laid his trap, she, the prey who has been quietly targeted, might as well wait and see who will be the first to walk into whose carefully woven scheme.
This new neighbor was completely different from what she had imagined based on just a few words.
On the other side of the door.
As the door to room 301 completely shut out his view, his straight back finally gave way, and he leaned lightly against the cold door. All the composure, aloofness, and propriety he had deliberately maintained crumbled in that moment of solitude. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest with unprecedented force, the violent sound making his eardrums ache, as if trying to break free of the cage of his bones.
He raised his hand, his fingertips trembling uncontrollably—there, the touch of her skin on the back of his hand still lingered stubbornly, warm, real, and fragile. This incredibly familiar touch was no different from the beginning of the previous fifty reincarnations; each time, it was like a cruel tolling of a bell, foreshadowing a journey destined for destruction.
He succeeded... at least, he successfully initiated this forty-ninth opportunity, which is also the only one he knows of so far.
He pulled an old photograph from his pocket, its edges worn white and even somewhat soft from being constantly touched. In the photo, a little girl with lively pigtails laughed carefree, her eyes barely visible, bathed in faded sunlight. On the back of the photograph, countless neat and precise tally marks were written in extremely fine handwriting, the strokes deeply etched into the paper fibers—marks formed from countless drops of blood and tears. The last tally mark, missing its final stroke, hung there alone—the final boundary he had drawn for himself.
No one knows how many times he calculated the possible timelines of her appearance for this seemingly accidental "reunion," or how many times he mentally rehearsed the 49 known, bloody tragic endings that this simple opening might lead to. This time, he had no new strategies at his disposal; he simply approached her with the determination to perish together with fate.
"A gap in the clouds..."
He gazed at the eternally frozen, radiant smile in the photograph, silently uttering the name, his lips uncontrollably curving upwards. That smile held a mixture of almost frenzied elation at achieving his desires, and a touch of bittersweetness. A single, scalding tear finally broke free from its restraints, resolutely sliding down his cheek and striking the photograph, leaving a small, dark, damp patch beside the girl's bright smile.
He raised his head, his gaze seemingly piercing through the cold wall, looking towards the direction separated from 301 by only a wall. In those clear eyes, there was now no need to hide his obsession with the entire world, and a desperate gamble with everything at stake.
“This time…” His voice was as soft as a sigh, yet as heavy as a vow made with life as a sacrifice, “…either live together or die together.”
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