Future Expectations
The late autumn sunlight streamed obliquely through the French windows, casting diamond-shaped patches of light on the wooden floor. Lin Wanqing placed the last pot of ivy on the balcony railing, and when she turned around, she saw Ah Yu squatting in the center of the living room, drawing strange geometric shapes with chalk.
"Is this the layout of our future kitchen?" She walked over and kicked his slippers. The chalk lines were crooked and looked a bit like a child's doodle.
Ah Yu tilted her head back and laughed, a little white powder on the tip of her nose: "Isn't that professional? The left side is your coffee machine section, and the right side has space for my new bread machine." He reached out and wiped the fallen leaves from her hair. "Do you remember three years ago in Paris, you said that your future home must have a kitchen that can get sunshine?"
Lin Wanqing gazed at the gradually yellowing sycamore leaves outside the window and suddenly recalled that snowy morning. They were crammed into a small apartment in the Latin Quarter, sharing a mini stove to simmer mulled wine. Steam blurred the glass windows, and she drew a crooked house on the condensed water droplets. Back then, she always felt that the future was like a landscape shrouded in mist—she could see the outline, but couldn't grasp the details.
“I also said I wanted to get an orange cat.” She squatted down to look at the chalk drawing with him, her fingertips tracing the lines that represented a bookshelf. “The bookshelf should be floor-to-ceiling, filled with your favorite photography collections and my charity notes.”
Ah Yu suddenly got up and ran into the study, returning with a leather notebook in his hand. The cover was worn and frayed, an old item he had used for five years. He opened it to a page, and on the yellowed page was a newspaper clipping, a report about the Northern Lights in Iceland.
“Look at this.” He pointed to a photo in the newspaper. “When the charity project comes to an end next year, how about we go on a road trip around the island? We can rent a campervan and sleep in the wilderness where we can see the aurora at night.”
Lin Wanqing's fingertips traced the swaying green light in the photo, and she suddenly recalled her experience in Kenya last year. They followed local herders to track migrating wildebeest, and at night they lay on the grassland watching the Milky Way. Ah Yu said the aurora was even more magical than the Milky Way, like the sky was dancing. At that time, she was busy coordinating the distribution of supplies, and only smiled as she ruffled his hair, without mentioning that she had already added Iceland to her wish list.
“I’ve checked the travel guides.” Ah Yu’s voice was excited, like a teenager planning a trip. “November to March is the best time to see it. We can stay in a cabin by the glacier lake for a week and make coffee every morning to watch the floating ice.” He suddenly lowered his voice, “I also contacted a local organization that protects Arctic foxes and asked if I could volunteer for two weeks.”
Looking into his bright eyes, Lin Wanqing suddenly felt a lump in her throat. Over the years, he always said that she had made him understand that kindness can take a thousand forms. But only she knew that every time he distributed supplies in the refugee camp, he would secretly save an extra portion for the child huddled in the corner; every time he sorted donated clothes, he would always fold the thickest coat on top.
"How do you know everything?" She gently punched his shoulder, but he took her hand in return.
Ah Yu turned to a new page in his notebook, the pencil scratching on the paper. He drew a simple calendar, circling a few dates: "March to Iceland, June back to Paris for that women's forum, you promised to give the keynote speech. September... how about we go to Nagqu in September? To see your favorite deer."
Lin Wanqing suddenly remembered that when she was sorting through old things last week, she found his college diary. One page read: "Today I saw Wanqing looking at a picture book about Nara in the library. She pointed at the picture of a deer and laughed. Her eyes were brighter than the cherry blossoms in the picture book." At that time, they were just nodding acquaintances, but he had secretly recorded all her unintentional moments.
“It rains in Nara in September.” She took out a pen and drew an umbrella next to the circle of September. “But it’s okay, there are fewer people in the Deer Park on rainy days, so we can stroll around at our own pace.” She paused for a moment. “By the way, I’m going to bring my parents to stay with me for a while next year. My mom keeps talking about wanting to see that kitchen you mentioned that gets sun.”
Ah Yu suddenly stood up and paced back and forth in the living room. Sunlight streamed over him, as if gilding his features. "I've thought of something else," he said, his eyes sparkling as he turned around. "How about we plant a cherry tree in the yard? When it bears fruit, we can pick the fruit and make cherry jam, just like the Dutch guesthouse owner taught us."
Looking at his excited expression, Lin Wanqing suddenly felt that those once vague futures were becoming clear and tangible at this moment. Not some grand goal, but composed of these small promises: the aurora borealis in Iceland, the rain in Nara, the cherry blossom season, and the aroma of bread wafting from the kitchen.
That evening, they took pictures of the chalk drawings and saved them to their phones. While Ah Yu went to the kitchen to cook pasta, Lin Wanqing opened his notebook and wrote on a blank page: "The future is not some distant point, but every day we spend together."
A few more sycamore leaves fell outside the window, landing on the ivy leaves in the pot on the balcony. The laughter of children drifted from afar, mingling with the hum of the kitchen range hood, creating the most peaceful and comforting ambiance of everyday life.
Temperature in the plan
On the first weekend of December, they went to a building materials market on the outskirts of the city. Lin Wanqing was wearing Ah Yu's oversized down jacket, the cuffs bunched up on the back of her hands, making her look like a chubby penguin. She walked around the showroom with a measuring tape in hand, carefully comparing the colors of the cabinet doors.
"How about this off-white color?" she asked, pointing to a sample panel. "It looks clean against a light gray countertop."
Ah Yu, however, brought over a light oak-colored board and said, "Look at this texture, doesn't it look like the floor of the apartment we lived in in Paris?" He suddenly lowered his voice, "And it's dirt-resistant, since you always splatter oil when you cook."
Lin Wanqing reached out and pinched his arm, but couldn't help laughing as she turned away. She remembered when they first met, he was the kind of person who wouldn't even pick up a fallen soy sauce bottle, but now he could accurately tell you the water absorption rate of each type of tile. Change is never something that can be deliberately created, but rather something that happens gradually in the daily interactions, as people slowly become more like each other.
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