Heading North
When Qiu returned to the dormitory, it was already getting dark.
The yellow-glazed flowerpot by the window sat quietly, its glaze gleaming softly in the afterglow.
She bought it at a yard sale when she first came to the United States, and it had been sitting empty ever since—she had originally planned to plant something in it, but she never got around to it, and it just became a pretty decorative piece in the room.
When she placed the small succulent in the pot, her fingertips still felt slightly cool. The color of the soil and the glaze of the flowerpot matched surprisingly well, as if it were meant to be.
Looking at the small plant labeled "Please don't die," she suddenly had an indescribable feeling—it turned out that this flowerpot, which had been empty for so long, had been waiting for it all along; just like some blank spaces in her life, perhaps they were not meaningless.
She whispered to the plant, "Welcome home," and then pushed it to the window. Sunlight fell perfectly on the leaves, creating a delicate ring of light that was almost transparent.
Destiny.
Therefore, her story with Ethan is like a meeting of fates on two intersecting tracks—brief, yet inevitable; tender, yet unable to linger.
**
The scenery outside the car window flashed by like a movie slideshow.
Pan Qiu rested her elbow on the car window, half her face exposed to the wind. The sunlight was bright, and the wind carried the scent of summer, as intense as a harsh hand tousling her hair.
Ever since learning of Ethan's departure, Panqiu has been shrouded in an inexplicable sense of fate.
But she couldn't understand what it was between them—the aesthetics of regret, or a test of fate?
Perhaps this is how fate works—the beginnings of some things were written long ago, but she didn't know where she was headed then. Just like that yellow glazed flowerpot that had been empty for so long, perhaps it was waiting for this little succulent, and like her story with Ethan, from the first day they met, it was meant to teach her how to let go after "wanting but not getting." Perhaps this road trip was meant to make her finally understand certain things at some turn, some gust of wind, some afternoon.
Zhiwei suggested the trip in a lighthearted tone: she and Chongchong were planning to get married, so this was a pre-wedding bachelorette trip.
Panqiu did not hesitate; she needed a moment to clear her mind and let her thoughts wander freely on the road.
Yueyue, on the other hand, has always been carefree and unrestrained—the word "highway" sounds like it was tailor-made for her.
So, each with their own thoughts, the three girls headed north on this early summer morning.
**
The clouds were blown away by the wind, and the fields unfolded in layers, so green they were almost transparent. A horse-drawn carriage slowly drove past on the other side of the road, the wind carrying a faint scent of grass.
Yueyue opened the car window, and the wind rushed in, messing up her hair.
"There seems to be a small market ahead," Zhiwei said, looking at the navigation as she drove. "An Amish town."
Yueyue said she wanted to go downstairs to buy coffee, and Zhiwei pointed to a wooden sign on the street corner: "Amish Market".
The three of them stopped the car along the way and went to browse the market.
The stalls were neatly arranged in front of the wooden hut, and the air smelled of dried hay. The people selling honey, soap, and handmade quilts all wore headscarves and dark clothes.
The sunlight fell quietly on rows of rag dolls—the dolls wore floral dresses and aprons, but had no faces.
Panqiu picked one up and asked softly, "Why don't they paint their faces?"
The stall owner, an elderly woman with white hair, smiled and replied, "Because we believe all children are equal before God. If we don't draw them on, there will be no comparison, and no pride." After she finished speaking, she added, "Every doll has a soul; it doesn't need a face."
Her tone was calm, as if she were stating the weather.
Zhiwei picked out a blue dress and put it in the paper bag.
Yueyue was already calling them from the other side to go see the wooden windmill.
Looking at the row of faceless dolls, Panqiu suddenly felt that they were very quiet, as quiet as the entire town.
**
After browsing the market, they found a wooden restaurant at the edge of town. The sign outside read "Plain & Plenty Café."
Pushing open the door, the air was filled with the aroma of stew and toast. A checkered cloth covered the wooden table, and an embroidered plaque hung on the wall: "Bless this home and all who enter."
The waitress was a middle-aged blonde woman who spoke softly: "Sweet tea or root beer?"
Panqiu ordered a chicken pie, and Yueyue ordered coffee. After taking a sip, Yueyue frowned and said, "This is too bland."
Zhi smiled and took the cup from her: "This is the taste of Amish, without sugar."
Pan Qiu smiled but didn't say anything.
A horse-drawn carriage slowly passed by outside the window, its iron hooves clattering on the ground.
The pace was so slow it felt like the world was in a daze.
She felt this "slowness" was just right; the world should be a little slower like this. Her fingers traced the rim of the cup; the tea had already cooled slightly.
The glass window reflected the images of three people—Zhiwei's smile, Yueyue's brightness, and herself—that seemingly indifferent face.
A pang of pain shot through her heart for a moment, but it was quickly washed away by the lukewarm sweet tea. The aroma of stew mingled with the scent of bread; everything was peaceful, gentle, and slow. This was exactly the rhythm she needed right now.
**
They set off again, Yueyue gripping the steering wheel with a focused expression, a song she'd casually played playing in the car—upbeat, but a bit old-fashioned.
Zhiwei sat in the passenger seat, wearing sunglasses, leaning back with a relaxed expression. She occasionally turned to say a few words to Panqiu, her tone soft and relaxed, typical of someone traveling.
Pan Qiu leaned back in her seat, half her face pressed against the glass. A breeze blew in through the cracks, carrying the scent of grass and sunshine. The scenery outside the window was like a flowing painting—
Golden fields, sparse barns, birds circling low overhead. The sound of wheels rolling over the road continued in a persistent "hum," becoming a mesmerizing rhythm. She watched the scenery recede into the distance, trying to fill herself with these insignificant details, leaving no room for her thoughts to wander.
She knew that as soon as she stopped, that person's voice, his words, the letter, and the succulent would all return to her heart.
**
As evening fell, the horizon began to glow with an orange-red light.
As they drove over rolling hills, a vast expanse suddenly opened up before them—a lake shimmering with golden light under the setting sun, with a meadow stretching out beside it, where a dense crowd of people sat scattered about.
Some people were spreading out picnic blankets, some were tuning guitars around a campfire, and others were swaying gently to the melody playing from a distant stage, beer in hand and foot. The air was filled with the aroma of roasted corn and beer, mingled with the warmth of the evening breeze.
The stage lights came on one by one, and deep country music drifted in on the wind, carrying the lazy, blissful feeling unique to summer.
"Wow—this place is amazing!" Yueyue exclaimed first, already craning her neck to look at the stage.
Zhi smiled, took off her sunglasses, and turned to ask, "Would you like to stop for a while?"
As the car pulled up to the edge of the meadow, they exchanged a glance and laughed almost simultaneously. The engine stopped, and a gust of wind rushed in through the windows. The free, carefree, dreamlike air drew them closer. So, the three of them opened the car door, stepped onto the soft grass, and walked towards the crowd and the music.
Pan Qiu was dazzled by the sunset, but a long-lost sense of lightness suddenly rose in her heart—as if the wind along the way was telling her: Don't think about it for now, take a break, live in this moment first.
The breeze by the lake carried the scent of fresh grass, and the colors of the sunset were gradually swallowed up by the evening glow.
On the grass at the music festival, the crowd sat in a row, beer cans rolled around at their feet, and the lights shimmered into a soft golden light.
Panqiu, Zhiwei, and Yueyue sat side by side, all three of them having taken off their shoes. The grass was soft, and the sound of the wind mingled with the melodies of guitars and violins—the warm rhythm unique to country music, which almost made one feel that all worries could be slowly diluted by the air.
Pan Qiu leaned on her elbow, her gaze somewhat unfocused.
The stage lights suddenly changed, the melody shifted, and the familiar prelude arrived like an uninvited breeze, carrying the sound of ocean waves.
You're the coffee I need in the morning…
"You're my sunshine in the rain when it's pouring..." You are the sunshine I miss when the rain suddenly pours down.
Pan Qiu was stunned for a moment. At that moment, her blood almost froze.
Hearing those familiar words, she was instantly transported back to that weekend afternoon last semester. She and Ethan had just returned from the Korean supermarket, the music echoing in the car and the overly noisy silence between them—
Now, it's ringing again. Only one thought remains in her mind—God, just kill me already! I miss him so much, and you're just adding fuel to the fire. I'm furious!
The lyrics continue: "If you love me, won't you say something…"
The wind blew across the lake, ruffling her hair and almost bringing tears to her eyes.
Just then, a tall boy walked over at the urging of his friends. He had a shy smile and was holding a bottle of beer.
"Hi, can I buy you a drink?"
Yueyue looked up, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Excuse me," she said, her tone polite yet exuding confidence, "this is a girl's trip."
The boy paused for a moment, then smiled and raised his hand in a "God bless you" gesture before being half-pushed and half-pulled away by his friends.
Zhiwei looked at the group of backs and shook her head with a smile: "They really are recruiting people." Panqiu also smiled, but her smile was a little sour: "Really, they come with their own spotlight as soon as they appear."
Yueyue placed the beer can on the grass, and gently twirled it around the opening with her fingertip.
After a long pause, he casually remarked, "My first love when I was nineteen was in a band."
"I'm quite famous now, I guess they're still thinking about me."
She smiled, like a little fox.
Zhiwei snorted: "You really dare to think that way."
Yueyue shrugged: "Back then, if you loved someone, you loved them; if you didn't love them anymore, you just walked away."
One by one, the lights came on, the wind blew across the lake, and the music continued—"If life is a movie, then you're the best part…"
Looking at the stage in the distance, Panqiu suddenly felt that the lyrics were like a silent arrow, gently piercing her heart, leaving behind an indelible pain and tenderness.
**
They arrived at a small hotel in the darkness of night.
A small lamp hung on the wooden door, its dim yellow light flickering, as if waiting for a late traveler.
The room was small, with three beds side by side, and the sheets smelled of freshly washed soap.
Outside the window, you can hear the sound of the wind rustling through the treetops—it's the tranquility of deep summer, making even your breath feel soft.
Faded landscape photos hang on the wall, with mountains and clouds faintly visible.
Outside the window was an empty street, with gusts of wind sweeping by.
Zhiwei stared at the door for two seconds, then suddenly suggested, "How about... we use a chair to prop it up?"
Yueyue burst out laughing: "You've been watching too many horror movies."
Just in case.
So they pushed a chair over and gently placed it against the door.
Laughter filled the quiet room, a mixture of tension and relief.
**
The next morning, the sunlight was bright and clear, and the tension and worry of the previous night seemed unnecessary.
They set off again, the sky along the way vast and endless.
The further north you go, the grasslands are gradually replaced by vast vineyards.
Sunlight falls on the vines, reflecting a soft, bright light. The air is filled with a faint fruity fragrance, and the wind blowing across the ridges carries a sweet scent that makes one feel slightly intoxicated.
“There’s a winery up ahead,” Yueyue said. “They offer wine tastings. Want to go?” The three of them exchanged glances and nodded in unison.
The winery is built at the foot of the mountain, with wooden barrels neatly stacked under the eaves. The table under the parasol shines in the sunlight, and a waiter brings several glasses of wine of different colors—pale gold, rose red, and deep purple, like a row of liquid sunsets.
Pan Qiu first took a small sip, then drank faster and faster. The wine slid down her throat, carrying a slight warmth and a dull sweetness. Her cheeks began to flush, and her eyes brightened.
Yueyue rested her chin on her hand and looked at her with interest, a sly smile on her face: "The first time I met you, you were drowning your sorrows in alcohol. It's only been a few days, and you're already using alcohol to hurt your feelings again. Others who are pursuing a PhD are suffering from mental strain, but you're suffering from heartache, liver damage, and lung damage."
Zhiwei laughed and gave her a push: "You're so mean, didn't you see she's practically evaporated?"
Pan Qiu tilted her head, her smile more relaxed than usual: "Is it that obvious?"
“It’s too obvious.” Yueyue raised an eyebrow. “Your eyes are full of worry.”
Pan Qiu laughed along with them, raising her glass: "Okay, I admit it."
At that moment, her smile was genuine.
It was the composure that comes with a slight buzz—not that she didn't care anymore, but that she could finally admit: she did care, she cared a lot. Ethan leaving without saying goodbye was too hurtful!
The wind suddenly turned cool. They looked up, and the sky had changed color—layers of clouds piled up, like ink that had been overturned. It was like a scene in fast-forward.
The fruity scent in the air was suppressed and became stuffy. Then, the rain began to fall.
At first it was just a few scattered drops, but soon it became a downpour.
Raindrops pounded on the grape leaves, making a dense "patter" sound. The fields, the sky, and the roads were all swallowed up by this sudden sound of water.
The wind whipped up the rain, lashing against their bodies and faces; the chaotic force felt as if the world had been wiped out in an instant.
They ran to the porch of the winery to take shelter from the rain.
Yueyue, still holding up the half-empty glass of wine, shouted loudly, "Whatever—cheers even if the sky falls!"
Zhi smiled and reached out to catch the rain, her palm feeling cool.
Panqiu leaned against the door, the damp wind brushing against her skin.
As she watched the rain—the kind that came down relentlessly and without warning—she suddenly understood that some emotions are probably like this: they arrive with overwhelming force, but leave behind only silence.
She didn't know how much time had passed, and just when she thought the day probably wouldn't clear up,
The rain suddenly stopped again.
The rain stopped as if someone had turned off the rain. Suddenly, all sound ceased, and the world became eerily quiet.
Moisture rises from the fields, making the air cloyingly sweet.
The gaps in the clouds were gradually torn open by the light.
A rainbow appeared—so large it almost spanned the entire vineyard.
The colors were so intense, so close it felt like you could reach out and touch them. In that instant, Panqiu felt as if the world had frozen in time.
Zhiwei said softly, "It's so beautiful."
Yueyue raised her phone to take a picture and exclaimed half-jokingly, "It was worth it, this trip."
Panqiu didn't say anything. She simply raised her hand and took a picture of the rainbow.
The lens captures light, wind, grapevines, and her own reflection.
She stared at the photo for a few seconds.
Then, open that dialog box that has been archived and hasn't been touched in a long time.
The photo was sent out without a single word, and a small checkmark lit up.
She thought, maybe I won't receive it—the owner is probably busy traveling the world.
She closed her phone. A breeze blew by, and the rainbow still hung in the sky, so vibrant it was almost unreal.
Pan Qiu thought to herself: Some people are like rainbows—they amaze you; it's already lucky to have seen and remembered them, how can you expect them to stay?
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