Some feelings, even if unspoken, will be conveyed by the wind.
“Maybe she figured it out.” Ah Yu’s voice was very soft, as if afraid of disturbing something. “We always thought we were hiding it very well.”
Zhong Hua suddenly stood up and turned to walk to the window. The snow outside had stopped sometime earlier, and the setting sun was sinking behind the snow-capped mountains, painting the sky a gentle orange-pink. With her back to Ah Yu, she asked in a muffled voice, "Is the sunset in Paris this beautiful too?"
Ah Yu clutched the plane ticket, his fingertips almost tearing the paper. He remembered Zhong Hua saying that she most wanted to go to Montmartre to photograph the sunset, saying that the evening glow there would cast long shadows, as if they could stretch all the way into the clouds. He also remembered after the truth-revealing press conference, she was lying in her hospital bed, the magazine on her bedside table open to the page about Paris, with the address of Montmartre marked in highlighter.
"Do you want to go?" he asked.
Zhong Hua didn't turn around, but simply gave a soft "hmm," the last syllable of which trembled slightly.
Ah Yu stood up and walked to her side. The snow-capped mountains outside the window gleamed with a cool light in the twilight, and the evening prayer bells of the distant temple tolled, each strike resonating in his heart. He handed her one of the plane tickets, the name printed on it being "Zhong Hua," with a line of small print written in pencil next to it: "I've checked the seat; it's a window seat."
Zhong Hua took the plane ticket, her fingertips touching the warmth of the paper, and suddenly smiled. She turned her head, her eyes filled with the light of the sunset: "And you? Aren't you going?"
Ah Yu held up her plane ticket and waved it: "Lin Wanqing said she's going to chase after the person whose phone's photo album is full of pictures."
Zhong Hua's face flushed instantly. She raised her hand to hit him, but he grabbed her wrist. His palm was warm, carrying the scent of a pine hearth. She struggled, but couldn't break free; instead, he pulled her even closer. The firewood in the hearth was burning brightly, and in the crackling sounds, she could almost hear the distant sound of the wind and snow receding.
“Then…” Zhong Hua’s voice was barely audible, “Remember to fully charge your phone.”
Ah Yu looked down at her; her eyelashes still had bits of garlic peel she hadn't wiped off, like tiny snowflakes. He couldn't help but laugh, reaching out to brush them off for her. As his fingertips brushed her cheek, she rubbed against him gently, like a cat being stroked.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “the memory has been cleared too.”
Night slowly fell, and the cabin light cast a warm yellow glow on the snow. Ah Yu tucked the two plane tickets into Zhong Hua's notebook, next to the red string. He suddenly remembered the note Lin Wanqing had sent him, "Go after the person who fills your phone's photo album"—it turns out that a true confidante doesn't want to occupy your life, but rather to see through your hesitation and push you in the direction you truly want.
The prayer wheels in the distance were still turning slowly, and the red ropes swayed gently in the wind. Ah Yu looked out the window at the deepening night, as if she could already see the sunset over Montmartre, and the first figure reflected in Zhong Hua's lens as he turned around with his camera in hand.
Some encounters are destined to cross mountains and seas.
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