As Zhong Hua poured the third cup of cold coffee into the sink, her phone vibrated twice on the table. The screen lit up; it was a message from Su Rui: "That documentary we talked about last time, are you free to watch it together tonight?"
He stared at the word "together" for half a minute, his fingertip hovering above the input box, before finally turning off the screen. The office blinds weren't fully closed, and the golden edge of the setting sun slanted in, casting a long, narrow shadow on the filing cabinet, like an unhealed scar.
one
I first met Su Rui at an industry summit in March. She was wearing a beige suit, standing in front of the display board discussing data models with someone, her laughter as crisp as ice cubes hitting glass. Zhong Hua was originally looking for the printing room, but tripped over the documents that slipped from her hand at the corner.
"Sorry, sorry." As Su Rui bent down to pick up the documents, a few stray hairs fell behind her ear, brushing against the silver necklace at her collarbone. It was a ginkgo leaf pendant, very similar to the old bookmark in Zhong Hua's drawer—it was a gift from Ah Yu, which she found at a flea market when he graduated from university, saying, "When the ginkgo leaves fall to the ground, it's time to meet again."
"Zhong Hua?" Su Rui suddenly looked up, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "Director Zhong from Hongye?"
He then recognized her as the project manager from Xinrui Technology; he had seen her twice before in video conferences. "Manager Su." He reached out and took the half-cup of latte she handed him; the water droplets on the paper cup dampened his fingertips, making them feel a little cold.
During the free discussion that afternoon, Su Rui sat next to him. She would tilt her head slightly as she spoke, her eyelashes casting soft shadows beneath her eyes. Occasionally, when she mentioned a film by a lesser-known director, her eyes would light up dramatically. Zhong Hua discovered that they actually liked the same old movie, and even remembered clearly the indigo blue cheongsam worn by the female lead.
"You've actually seen that too?" Su Rui raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I thought nobody watched black and white films anymore."
“I watched it with my friends in college.” Zhong Hua took a sip of coffee, tasting a slightly bitter aftertaste on his tongue. He remembered that winter night when the dormitory lost power. Ah Yu pulled out an old laptop, and the screen light reflected the two of them with red noses from the cold. Lin Wanqing, wrapped in a blanket, complained beside him, “The male lead’s tie was crooked for a full three minutes.”
As the meeting ended, Su Rui handed over a business card with fine gold foil embossed along the edges. "Would you like to talk about movies sometime?" she asked, a shallow dimple appearing at the corner of her mouth as she smiled.
Zhong Hua stuffed the business card into his suit's inner pocket, his fingertips touching something hard inside—a plane ticket stub he'd found that morning while tidying up old things, from Paris, three years ago, which he'd never thrown away.
two
The rainy season arrived unexpectedly. While sheltering from the rain in a convenience store, Zhong Hua heard an argument coming from behind the freezer. A boy in a school uniform was arguing with the owner, saying that the bread he bought last week was expired.
"Young man, I've been running this shop for over ten years, and I never sell expired goods." The owner, a balding middle-aged man, pointed to the security camera on the wall. "Don't believe me? Check the footage."
The boy's face flushed red, and his fingers, gripping the bread bag, turned white. Zhong Hua suddenly remembered five years ago, on a similar rainy day, when Ah Yu rushed into the store with two cans of beer in her hand, her trouser legs dripping wet, excitedly shouting, "Zhong Hua! Wan Qing got the approval for the charity project!"
They used to always meet here, and the owner would give them an extra bag of fish balls, saying, "The three of you together are brighter than a neon light."
“I’ll buy this bread.” Zhong Hua walked over and scanned the code. The boy was stunned for a moment, and wanted to say something, but Zhong Hua pressed him back into his seat. “Next time, check the production date carefully.”
When the rain stopped, the owner handed over two cups of hot cocoa. "That kid just now, he looked just like your friend when he was young." He wiped the glass and suddenly sighed, "The one who always wore a white shirt, with such bright eyes."
Zhong Hua tightened his grip on the cup. "You still remember?"
“How could I not remember?” The shop owner pointed to an old photo in the corner of the wall, taken when the shop had just opened. “He always wrote at that table, and when he got tired of writing, he would stare blankly at the sycamore leaves outside the window. Once, when it was raining heavily, he ran out in the rain just to pick up a whole leaf.”
Zhong Hua looked out the window. The leaves of the sycamore trees were a vibrant green, and water droplets rolled down their veins like tears someone couldn't hold back. He took out his phone; Su Rui's message was still "Documentary resources found," followed by a cat rolling around emoji.
three
Su Rui asked him to meet her at the art museum. She wore an apricot-colored dress and stood in front of Monet's "Water Lilies," her silhouette blending into a hazy blue-purple hue.
“Look at this play of light and shadow.” She turned her head, her hair brushing against her cheek in the wind. “Doesn’t it look like a lake before a downpour?”
Zhong Hua followed her gaze, and the colors on the canvas flowed in the sunlight, momentarily making him think of the lake in Qinghai from years ago. The three of them had originally planned to go there for their graduation trip, and had prepared a thick stack of travel guides. Ah Yu had even bought a wide-brimmed hat, saying she wanted to take a "Western cowboy" style group photo. In the end, however, it became a permanent regret because Zhong Hua suddenly received an internship notice.
"What are you thinking about?" Su Rui handed her a bottle of mineral water.
"It's nothing." He unscrewed the bottle cap, and as the water flowed down his throat, he could hear his own heartbeat. "You seem to really like Impressionism?"
“My mother is an art teacher.” Su Rui looked at the painting, her fingertips lightly tracing the glass display case. “She always said that things that are blurry are closer to reality. Like memories, like… feelings.”
They stayed at the museum until closing time that day. As they walked out, the sunset painted the sky orange-red, and Su Rui's shadow stretched long, almost touching his shoes. She suddenly stopped: "Zhong Hua, don't you feel like we've known each other for a long time?"
He remembered that last week, while organizing his emails, he came across an email Ah Yu had sent three years ago. The attachment was a video of a street performer playing the violin in Paris. The camera shakily captured Lin Wanqing holding an ice cream cone and smiling, with a muffled male voice in the background shouting, "Ah Yu, slow down!" The email was sent at 3 AM, roughly 9 AM Beijing time. He was in an important meeting at the time and casually clicked "read."
This chapter is not finished yet. Please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
