San Francisco
When the plane arrived, the San Francisco sun was still relentless. The parking lot outside the airport was sweltering. Pan Qiu dragged her suitcase out and immediately spotted Lin Yue leaning against the car door.
He wore a gray T-shirt and jeans, with a blinding light shining from behind. He still looked familiar, but he was more robust than I remembered, his skin was darker, and his hair was shaved into a buzz cut. He looked neat and clean, with a touch more composure.
Panqiu used to think of him as a big, energetic dog, full of boundless energy and a slightly rough, endearing quality, which was hard to associate with "quiet." But now, she sensed a layer of calmness in him, honed by time.
He simply nodded slightly: "Long time no see." His eyes held a faint smile.
"Yes, it's been a long time," Pan Qiu replied, her voice sounding somewhat awkward in the unfamiliar air.
Lin Yue took the luggage and put it in the trunk, then opened the passenger door for her. Pan Qiu whispered "thank you" and got into the car. He casually handed her a Dunkin' Donuts paper bag and a cup of coffee, smiling, "Have something to eat first, you'll need your energy later."
Upon learning that Panqiu would be transiting through San Francisco, Lin Yue volunteered to be her tour guide for the day, repeatedly saying, "It's only polite to reciprocate," and that she wanted to repay Panqiu for her hospitality in Shanghai last summer. Panqiu, touched by this kindness, specially set aside almost the entire day. It was only 10 a.m., while her flight back home wasn't until 9 p.m.
As the car entered the highway, the San Francisco sky was a clear, azure blue, with white clouds like waves parted by the wind, stretching out across the horizon. The coastline stretched out in the distance, the sunlight making the water shimmer, and a few white sailboats dotted the bay like gently floating paper cranes. Further away, the red Golden Gate Bridge spanned between the sky and the sea, its lines as clear as a sketch in a painting.
There wasn't much conversation in the car, only the music from the radio playing. In this bright, clear scene, the lyrics suddenly began: "Thunder only happens when it's raining." With this kind of light, rain and thunder seemed completely out of place. Because of the stark contrast, the lyric sounded like a strange metaphor. The melody shifted, and another line appeared: "Players only love you when they're playing."
The sunlight illuminated the world so clearly, yet the song sang of ambiguity, worldliness, and vanity. It was like two completely divergent tracks accidentally intersecting beside her. Pan Qiu couldn't help but chuckle softly. Lin Yue, gripping the steering wheel, caught the smile on her lips out of the corner of his eye, but didn't press the matter, only saying lightly, "Let's go for a bike ride later. That's the best way to see the scenery—not too slow, not too fast, perfect for viewing the city and the sea."
Pan Qiu nodded slightly. Perhaps it was the lyrics from the song earlier, Lin Yue smiled and said, "The weather in San Francisco is quite capricious; it can change in an instant. Last time I was halfway through my ride, it suddenly started raining. Luckily, I had a raincoat with me, or I would have been soaked to the bone."
Pan Qiu turned to look at him: "And then what? What's San Francisco like after it got rained on?"
He said casually, "Like another city."
The car exited the highway and gradually merged into the city. Steep slopes stretched one after another, cable cars clanged past, and colorful Victorian houses lined up at street corners like scenes from a movie. Looking out the car window, Pan Qiu felt that the city had a lighthearted rhythm—both ancient and casual.
Soon, they arrived near Fisherman's Wharf. The air was filled with the salty smell of the sea and the aroma of fried food, and the laughter of tourists drifted from afar. The calls of sea lions were faint, as if floating over from the other side of the wharf.
Lin Yue parked the car, and the two walked together towards the rental shop. The shop wasn't big, with rows of road bikes and mountain bikes neatly lined up at the entrance. The clerk behind the counter looked up at them and said with a smile, "We have a couples discount today."
Pan Qiu paused for a moment, too lazy to explain. A thought suddenly flashed through her mind: this scene seemed somewhat familiar. Last year, on that day in Shanghai, they also received a similar "misunderstanding."
The clerk didn't say anything more, and skillfully registered the car and handed it to her. Lin Yue stood aside, not explaining anything, but simply bent down to adjust the seat height for her, saying naturally, "Try this height, it should be suitable."
Panqiu nodded, fastened her helmet, and everything was just right.
They first cycled along the coastal road, with the shimmering sea on their left and the occasional white sailboat gliding by. The sea breeze on their faces brought a sense of freedom and unbridled joy. For a moment, Pan Qiu almost forgot about the things that were bothering her, only feeling that her breathing and the rhythm of the pedals were in sync, and that she was being lifted forward by the wind.
Lin Yue didn't say much to her the whole way, perhaps because he didn't want to disturb her from enjoying the scenery. Most of the time, he rode steadily behind her. Only when they reached an intersection would he slightly accelerate ahead, briefly reminding her to "turn left" or "go straight," and then slow down again to bring her back into his field of vision.
The road gradually rose, the wheels rolling over the uphill stone path, passing through a small woodland and park along the way. Leaves rustled in the wind, sunlight danced among the trees, and occasionally a squirrel darted across the road, adding a touch of unexpected charm. The heart, yearning for autumn, beat faster with the ascent, yet this rugged stretch also brought it to life.
Finally, they arrived at the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge. The red bridge towers stood majestically amidst the alternating mist and sunlight, like an undeniable boundary. Once on the bridge, the wind suddenly intensified, whistling past their ears, instantly scattering their words. Panqiu could only grip the handlebars tightly, head bowed against the gusts of wind. Because sound was silenced, the scenery before her was all the more breathtaking: surging seawater below, the vast bay skyline in the distance, the bridge trembling slightly in the wind, like a magnificent silent symphony. She squinted in the wind, a strange emotion welling up inside her—grand, isolated, yet irresistible.
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