Ah Yu stuffed a piece of cheese into her hand: "They probably had a fight in Paris, about whether to have snails or steak tonight."
“Or,” Zhong Hua said, carrying Nian An over, her daughter’s cheeks flushed red from the wind, “Zhong Hua stayed in the original city, working overtime until late every night, staring blankly at the empty office.”
The kite suddenly plummeted, and Nian'an grabbed Zhong Hua's arm in fright. He handed the string to his daughter and slowly reeled it in, holding her little hand. "Actually," Lin Wanqing said, gazing at the sheep in the distance, "no matter which path you take, the one you won't regret when you turn back is the right one."
The kite took flight again, this time flying much more steadily. Nian'an giggled, pointing at the shadows in the sky and shouting, "Daddy, Uncle, Auntie, the shadows are connected!"
The three of them looked up at the same time. The sky was as blue as a piece of transparent glass, and the shadows of the three kites chasing each other stretched out across the grass, truly resembling a beating heart. The wind blew from the depths of the grassland, carrying the scent of grass and sunshine, and bringing the sound of windmills turning in the distance to their ears.
Chapter 5: The Light at the Fork in the Road
In their Paris apartment, Ah Yu was helping Lin Wanqing organize materials for a charity project. A red circle marked the tenth anniversary of their meeting on the calendar on the wall.
“The children in this orphanage want you to teach them to draw,” Lin Wanqing said, pointing to a photo of children holding up paper covered with stars. “They say they’ve heard many stories about you.”
Ah Yu recalled that five years ago, when he was standing at a crossroads in his career, Lin Wanqing placed this photo of the orphanage on his desk: "When you were little, you always said that you wanted children who had never seen the starry sky to be able to draw stars."
At that moment, he gazed out the window at the Seine, where the lights of the cruise ships shattered into a golden hue on the water. A photo sent by Zhong Hua popped up on his phone; Nian'an was drawing with a paintbrush, depicting three crooked little figures on the paper, with the words "Dad, Uncle Yu, Aunt Wanqing" written next to them.
“Look,” Lin Wanqing leaned closer, her fingertips tracing across the screen, “no matter how many crossroads fate may present, the truly important people will always be connected in some way.”
At the same moment, Zhong Hua stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window in his office. The city lights resembled a spilled galaxy, and on his phone was a video sent by A Yu. Lin Wanqing was teaching children to draw at the orphanage. A Yu held up her camera, and the lens suddenly turned to look out the window—the lights of the Eiffel Tower were flashing, like fireworks suddenly bursting in the night sky.
He recalled what the convenience store owner had once said: "Fate is like a kite string; it looks far away, but it's always in your own hand."
Footsteps echoed down the corridor. The wife carried Nian'an as they walked over, while their daughter held up a drawing: "Daddy, the teacher said this is called a parallel universe. Look, we're all together here too!"
In the painting, three adults are holding the hand of a little girl, standing on a meadow full of flowers. In the distance, a windmill is turning, and the words on its leaves are clearly visible in the sunlight.
"All beautiful women are gifts from time; to be continued."
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