Under a ray of moonlight
The night was like rice paper soaked in water, spreading out layer by layer, swallowing up the daylight inch by inch. The streetlights lit up one after another, spreading warm yellow halos on the concrete ground, like spilled honey, thick and warm.
Yunxi stood there, watching the lost little girl, like a startled sparrow, rush into her mother's arms. The woman thanked her repeatedly, tears still clinging to the corners of her eyes. Yunxi simply shook her head gently, a soft smile curving her lips, and watched the mother and daughter walk away hand in hand, their figures gradually disappearing into the thick darkness of the alleyway.
The moment she turned around, she realized that Shi Xu was standing just a step behind her, as quiet as a night-blooming cereus.
He gazed at the empty alleyway in the distance, his gaze seemingly piercing through time, landing on some unknown corner. The streetlight cast a soft glow on his profile, outlining his usually aloof features with an unusual gentleness. Yet, in those usually calm and unwavering eyes, there was now a faint trace of melancholy, incongruous with his age.
The emotion was fleeting, like a dragonfly skimming the water, so fleeting that it seemed like a joke played by light and shadow.
"Have you been here all this time?" Yunxi asked softly, her voice breaking in the evening breeze.
Shi Xu slowly withdrew his gaze, and when he looked at her, his eyes had returned to their usual calm. "Just arrived." He paused, his voice as if veiled by the night, "Is the child alright?"
"Yes, we've found Mom."
The subtle feeling that had been temporarily overlooked due to the presence of outsiders now quietly flowed between the two of them again. Like a faint fragrance floating under the moonlight, it was elusive yet lingering.
The way back was still shrouded in silence.
A gentle evening breeze swept through the green belt, bringing the fresh scent of freshly soaked grass and earth, like the earth sighing softly in the night. A peephole in the clouds lowered its gaze, watching the two figures on the ground, their shadows stretched long by the streetlights. Sometimes they overlapped, sometimes they separated, like two fish swimming in the night, dancing a silent, synchronized dance.
She should have felt awkward. Walking side-by-side with a boy who was practically a stranger on a nighttime street, yet unable to exchange even a proper greeting. Strangely, however, the silence wasn't embarrassing. It was like a well-washed cotton garment, comfortably enveloping the path, carrying a reassuring quality.
"Thank you so much for today." She finally mustered the courage to speak, her voice unusually clear in the silence, "For what happened this afternoon, and just now."
Shi Xu turned his head at the sound. The lamplight cast a fine shadow beneath his thick eyelashes, softening his clear eyes. No, it wasn't softening, it was weariness. An indescribable exhaustion seeped from his very bones, quietly revealing itself in this moment of relaxation.
"It was nothing." His voice remained steady, devoid of much emotion, as if it were just a familiar, repetitive task. "Just moved in?"
"Yes, we just arrived this afternoon." Yunxi nodded, taking the opportunity to carefully observe him. He was very tall, and she had to tilt her head slightly to meet his gaze. "My mother was transferred for work, so we came from our hometown."
"Are you getting used to it?" It's less of a question and more of a statement that I've heard countless times over the years.
"It's...okay." She paused, then added honestly, "It's just a little unfamiliar."
She took a deep breath, as if to encourage herself, and looked at him solemnly: "My name is Yunxi. Yun as in cloud, Xi as in crevice."
After saying that, a hint of barely perceptible anticipation lingered in her heart. She wanted to know how this neighbor, who seemed indifferent to everything, would respond.
Shi Xu's gaze lingered on her face for two seconds, her clear eyes seeming to shimmer with moonlight under the lamplight. He gave a very faint smile, so quick it was almost an illusion. It wasn't a smile he'd just heard before; it was more like uttering a name etched deep within his soul, knowing the ending yet still clinging to this moment of tenderness.
"Time. Order." He gave his name, then naturally looked away, gazing at the road shrouded in night. "I live in 302."
"I know." A faint smile unconsciously curved Yunxi's lips. "My mother mentioned it. Please take care of me from now on, neighbor...brother."
The moment the word "brother" slipped out, she froze, her cheeks flushing slightly. How could she have called him that so unconsciously?
She clearly felt the person next to her pause almost imperceptibly.
Shi Xu glanced at her, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes, as if struck by a long-buried, painful memory, mixed with a hint of helpless indulgence. But he said nothing, simply turning his gaze back to the hazy night ahead, his voice calm: "If you need anything, you can knock."
His avoidance brought back the strange feeling in Yunxi's heart. She gave a soft "hmm" and said nothing more.
Silence descended once more, enveloping the two like a night fog. The apartment door was now in sight, warm yellow light shining through the glass door and casting a bright glow on the floor.
The sense of familiarity that had been lingering in his heart since the afternoon became even clearer under the catalysis of the quiet night—the location of the mole on his wrist, the occasional slightly deep tone at the end of his voice, and the silent presence of him walking beside him at this moment, all seemed like memories that had long been engraved in his bones, now being awakened little by little.
A strong intuition compelled her to speak.
"Time sequence." She stopped in her tracks, her voice not loud, but clear enough.
He turned around in response, his eyes questioning.
Yunxi raised her head, her gaze quietly falling on his face, with a cautious probing: "That mole on your wrist, I feel like I've seen it somewhere before. When we were little...did we see it together?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the air seemed to freeze for a moment.
The pace of time suddenly came to a halt.
He didn't answer immediately, nor did he reveal any discernible emotion. He simply stood there silently, the evening breeze ruffling the stray hairs on his forehead, the streetlights casting shifting shadows on his deep eyes, making them indistinct. Beneath that shadow, a turbulent undercurrent flowed. She asked again. In some long-forgotten cycle of reincarnation, she had asked the same question in the same place. And his selfish, affirmative answer that time ultimately led to an irreversible end. This juncture, this choice, was like a curse branded onto the trajectory of fate.
After what felt like an eternity, he slowly turned to face her. His gaze was calm, like a frozen lake, devoid of any ripples. But Yunxi keenly noticed—in the instant he turned, his fingers, hanging at his sides, curled almost imperceptibly. He used all his restraint to force the "yes" that almost escaped his lips back into his heart.
"Many people have similar moles," he began, his voice consistently calm and devoid of inflection, rational to the point of cruelty. "This is insufficient evidence for our understanding." He had to deny it. Any confirmation of the "past," in this new cycle, was marked as extremely dangerous.
He did not deny "knowing" her, but calmly refuted her "evidence".
Yunxi felt a pang of frustration, but she wasn't convinced. Meeting his scrutinizing gaze, her ears burning, her voice was firm: "The evidence is insufficient. But feelings don't lie. From the moment I saw you this afternoon, I've had this inexplicable sense of familiarity."
Shi Xu stared at her quietly for two seconds, his gaze deep, as if assessing the truth and weight of her words, and even more so, evaluating what kind of changes this deviation in "feeling" would bring.
Finally, he raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, a movement so subtle it was practically nonexistent, yet it instantly shattered the perfect mask of calm on his face, revealing a barely perceptible hint of the wariness and hesitation of a trapped beast discovering a crack in its cage.
He didn't answer her question. Instead, he turned to the side and pointed to a stone bench hidden in the shadows of a tree not far away, subtly changing the subject: "It's still early. Would you like to sit over there for a while? I can tell you the locations of the nearby supermarket and farmers' market." This was the safest approach he had repeatedly tested for the current situation. It satisfied his desire to be close to her while steering the conversation towards a safe and practical area.
Yunxi paused, then looked in the direction he was pointing. The stone bench stood quietly under the sycamore tree, shrouded in dappled shadows.
His avoidance was, in itself, a tacit admission. The doubts in her heart were not resolved; instead, they rippled like a pebble thrown into a still lake.
"Okay." She nodded.
The two walked to the stone bench and sat down, one after the other. The rich fragrance of night-blooming jasmine floated subtly in the air, like the scent secreted by the night. Shi Xu gave a brief introduction to the surrounding facilities, his tone as calm as if he were completing a task he knew by heart. A task he had revised countless times through countless failures, called the "Survival Guide," even though he knew that this guide had not yet led to ultimate perfection.
Yunxi listened quietly, her gaze occasionally drifting to the boy beside her. He sat upright, his profile sharp and clean, like a meticulously sculpted statue in the hazy moonlight. A statue riddled with tiny cracks inside, yet still struggling to hold on.
"I've definitely seen it before," she told herself with unprecedented certainty.
Although he denied it flawlessly, his subtle unusual reactions—the momentary pause, the curling of his fingers, the deliberate change of topic—all caught her eye. That sense of familiarity was not unfounded.
This seemingly aloof and distant new neighbor must be hiding a secret about her past. A secret he desperately tries to conceal, yet inadvertently reveals clues to.
The evening breeze gently lifted the stray hairs on her forehead, and the moonlight poured down like quicksilver, casting their shadows close together on the ground.
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