The wind and words on the grassland
As the car drove off the road, Su Nian'an was lying in her car seat in the back, counting the clouds. The three-year-old girl had just learned to use metaphors like "like" and "like a puppy," and at that moment she announced in her childish voice, "That cloud looks like the kite that Daddy flew."
Ah Yu glanced at her daughter in the rearview mirror. The wind ruffled her daughter's hair, revealing features just like Ah Yu's. Zhong Hua, in the passenger seat, was adjusting his camera. Hearing this, he smiled and turned around: "How about Dad flies you a kite bigger than a cloud later?"
"Okay!" Su Nian'an patted her chubby little hand on the car window, her knuckles warm from the sun.
In July, the grassland stretched out like a green sea, with distant windmills turning slowly, like toys left behind on the horizon. As Ah Yu parked the car and unbuckled her seatbelt, Zhong Hua, carrying his daughter, stepped into the ankle-deep grass. The wind swirled dandelions across her skirt, and Su Nian'an giggled, reaching for the tiny white parachutes, only to miss and fall into Zhong Hua's arms.
"Slow down." Ah Yu followed, carrying the kite. When her fingertips touched Zhong Hua's shoulder, they both remembered that rainy night five years ago. Under the warm light of the convenience store, the hot drink the owner handed them was still steaming. Zhong Hua suddenly said, "When Nian'an is a little older, let's bring her to the grasslands." At that time, Su Nian'an had just turned one year old and was happily chewing on the longevity lock with the words "Nian'an" engraved on it from her first birthday party.
"Daddy, the kite!" Su Nian'an's voice pulled the memories back to the present. Ah Yu squatted down and untied the kite spool. The moment the bamboo frame stretched open, the kite face printed with a sunflower pattern rustled in the wind. Zhong Hua took two steps back while holding his daughter, watching Ah Yu's back as she ran against the wind, and suddenly noticed a gray hair at his temple.
"Run faster!" she shouted. The wind carried her voice far, startling a few grasshoppers that had been resting on the blades of grass.
The kite rose shakily, the spool spinning faster and faster in Ah Yu's hands. Su Nian'an struggled to slide off Zhong Hua's arms, stumbling and grabbing the other end of the spool, oblivious to the grass clippings on her face. "It's flying!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands as the kite's tail swept over her head, kicking up a cloud of dandelion fluff.
As Zhong Hua sat on the picnic mat rummaging through her backpack, her fingertips brushed against a cardboard tube. It was her wedding photo album, which she had found while tidying up old things last week. She casually slipped it into her bag, intending to show it to A Yu. Tucked into the last page of the album was a yellowed sticky note, a gift from the convenience store owner. It had a crookedly drawn heart on it, and next to it was written, "March 17, 2019, a rainy night with guests." That day, when they were sheltering from the rain, the owner pointed to the security camera screen and laughed, "The three of you standing there, your shadows just happen to form a heart."
"What are you looking at?" Ah Yu walked over unnoticed. The spool of thread was being dragged on the ground by Su Nian'an, and the little girl was chasing a butterfly. He sat down next to Zhong Hua, his gaze falling on the photo album of the three of them—on their wedding day, they stood at the church entrance, and the photographer captured the sunset casting long shadows that overlapped to form a heart shape.
“Do you remember this?” Zhong Hua ran his fingertip across the sticky note. “The boss said it was the best wedding gift.”
Ah Yu's gaze shifted to the distant windmills. Those white windmills stood on the edge of the grassland, their blades adorned with small words drawn by children during last year's charity event. He suddenly remembered the email Lin Wanqing had sent; in the photo, she was standing on the African savanna, the windmills behind her bearing the word "Peace." "Wanqing said the winds there are very strong too," he said.
“Hmm,” Zhong Hua hugged his daughter. Su Nian’an was playing with a small windmill. The word “Nian’an” was crookedly carved on the plastic blades. It was Ah Yu who had painstakingly carved it on with a knife yesterday. “She said she would bring the children here to visit next month.”
The wind suddenly picked up, and a kite in the distance struggled and plummeted. Su Nian'an screamed and ran over, her small figure like a dancing yellow flower amidst the greenery. As Ah Yu got up to chase after her, Zhong Hua raised his camera and pressed the shutter—the moment the man bent down to catch his daughter, the wind blew their shadows over the distant windmill, and as the blades turned, the words "Peace" and "Nian'an" flickered in the sunlight.
"Mom, look!" Su Nian'an held up the little windmill and spun it around. The words on the blades were blurred by the wind. "The windmill is talking to the kite!"
As Zhong Hua watched the father and daughter walk away, he suddenly understood the meaning of Lin Wanqing's words. Last year, during a video call, Lin Wanqing pointed to the windmill behind her and smiled, "Look, the wind will blow longing to where it should go." At that time, she had just finished a public lecture, and the fine lines at the corners of her eyes were filled with the sunshine of the grassland.
As Ah Yu rewound the kite string, he noticed a dandelion fluff stuck to the spool. He remembered when he was twenty, on the university lawn, he had helped Zhong Hua fly a kite in the same way, while Lin Wanqing sat beside him turning the pages of a book, the wind rustling the pages. Back then, they always said the future was too far away, yet on countless afternoons like this, they hid their longing for each other in the wind.
"Dad, I'm hungry." Su Nian'an tugged at his clothes and shook him. Zhong Hua had already placed the sandwiches on the tablecloth. Sunlight filtered through the clouds and fell on the tablecloth, casting the three shadows into small, round balls, like stones warmed by the sun.
"Try this," Zhong Hua said, stuffing a slice of ham into her daughter's mouth. "It's made from cheese that Aunt Wanqing sent me."
Ah Yu took a bite of his sandwich, the creamy aroma of cheese mingling with the scent of sunshine. He looked at Zhong Hua and saw her staring intently at the distant windmill, a faint smile playing on her lips. As the wind picked up again, the distant windmill spun even faster, the blades bearing the words forming blurry bands of light in the wind, like someone had written a long letter in the sunlight.
After eating her fill, Su Nian'an started to feel sleepy and yawned while nestled in A Yu's arms. While Zhong Hua was packing up, he found A Yu's notebook lying in the grass. On the first page was a line of writing: "The wind will remember every direction." It was Lin Wanqing's graduation gift to him. Now, next to it was a line of smaller writing in Zhong Hua's handwriting: "So will we."
As the setting sun painted the grassland golden red, they prepared to return. Ah Yu put her sleeping daughter into the car and turned to see Zhong Hua packing the kite into his bag. The sunflower on the kite swayed gently in the wind, as if it were still growing towards the sun.
“Let’s go.” Zhong Hua took his hand, and as their fingertips touched, they both remembered that rainy day many years ago. Raindrops meandered on the glass of the convenience store, and the three of them huddled under the small eaves, listening to the sound of rain hitting the tin roof, thinking that time would stand still forever.
As the car drove away from the grassland, Su Nian'an smacked her lips in her sleep. In the rearview mirror, the windmills were still turning slowly, the writing on their blades edged in gold by the setting sun. Ah Yu suddenly whispered, "Let's bring Wanqing here to fly kites next year."
As Zhong Hua nodded, the wind blew in through the half-open car window, carrying the scent of fresh grass from the grassland. She seemed to see the wind from many years ago traveling through time, carrying the laughter of three young people to the grassland at this moment, mingling with Su Nian'an's murmurs and the sound of the windmill turning, brewing the gentlest echo in the vast天地 (heaven and earth).
The windmills in the distance are still turning, as if to say: Some friendships will never be blown away by the wind.
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