Chapter Thirty
The next day.
The curtains in Tan Yuze's house weren't fully drawn, and a very thin ray of light, as if cut by a knife, fell directly onto Xu Li's eyelids. She frowned, first smelling a faint scent of citrus and cedar, before remembering that this wasn't her bedroom.
When she woke up in the morning, it was already nine o'clock. She had slept in Tan Yuze's room last night, while Tan Yuze had gone to sleep on the sofa. She woke up earlier than him.
Xu Lihua confirmed two things in three seconds:
First, he was covered with a thin, dark gray quilt, with a small "TYZ" embroidered on the corner, which was a custom-made quilt by Tan Yuze.
Secondly, his T-shirt and jeans were intact, and he hadn't even taken off his socks;
She quietly lifted the blanket.
She took out her phone and just opened it when she saw several messages from her mother:
"Ah Li, where did you go?"
"Ali, reply to your mother when you see this message."
"Ah Li, be careful! Are you sleeping at your classmate's house? I'll close the door now, come back tomorrow morning."
She didn't make a fuss and replied, "Mom, I'm at a classmate's house. I'll be fine. I'm sleeping at a classmate's house, so don't worry."
Xu Li looked out the window and saw a thin layer of snow, which seemed to disappear as soon as she stepped out.
It rarely snows here, so seeing such a snowfall is amazing.
The room's main color scheme is cool gray and natural wood, much like the impression Tan Yuze gives: clean, restrained, and leaving room for maneuver.
There was only one book on the bedside table, "The Architecture of Happiness," with a bookmark tucked in about a third of the way down. Xu Li closed the book, her fingertip lingering on the fabric cover for half a second, gave a sly smile, and then pushed open the door to leave.
The living room was brighter than the bedroom. The sofa faced the floor-to-ceiling window, and Tan Yuze was curled up on one side, with a thin blanket draped over him, half of which had slipped to the floor.
He rested his head on the armrest, the morning light outlining a fuzzy edge to his profile. On the coffee table lay an empty glass, a few unmelted ice cubes at the bottom, and next to it was a strip of opened cold medicine.
Xu Li squatted down and pulled the blanket back up. Her fingertips accidentally brushed against Tan Yuze's earlobe, and the other person made a soft "hmm" in his dream, like a cat.
Xu Li held her breath, making sure she wasn't awake, before slowly sitting down on the carpet, leaning back against the sofa.
Her phone lit up again; it was her mother: "[Bring half a pound of your favorite osmanthus-flavored glutinous rice lotus root when you come back, from the shop at the end of the alley.]" Xu Li replied with an "okay," and couldn't help but turn around.
From this angle, you can see Tan Yuze's eyelashes casting a row of fine shadows on his cheeks. He has no moles on his face and usually hides them behind his gold-rimmed glasses, but at this moment he is completely unguarded.
Xu Li recalled that it wasn't actually that late last night. Around 11 p.m., Tan Yuze came to her room and kissed her. Tan Yuze said, "Why don't you not go back?" So she really didn't go back.
Memories are like sketches soaked in rain, the edges blurred, leaving only a few clear lines: When Tan Yuze handed him clean pajamas, he said in a low voice, "New, never worn."
When he came out of the shower, Tan Yuze was turning the living room light to its dimmest setting, saying, "I'm afraid of the light." Later, he was so sleepy that his eyelids were drooping, and he only remembered Tan Yuze saying, "Good night, don't be afraid."
What was she afraid of? Xu Li herself didn't know. Perhaps she was afraid of the darkness of the night, or perhaps she was afraid of something quietly growing in her heart that she dared not expose.
When Tan Yuze woke up, he first smelled a faint fragrance of osmanthus. He opened his eyes and saw Xu Li sitting cross-legged on the carpet, with a takeout box in front of her. The lid was open, and inside were neatly arranged pale pink glutinous rice lotus roots, with a layer of glistening honey brushed on the surface.
"Awake?" Xu Li didn't turn around, her voice tinged with laughter. "My mom told me to eat this, but I thought you might not have had breakfast yet, so I'll open one box first."
Tan Yuze sat up, the blanket slipping down to his waist. His hair was a little messy from sleeping, the collar of his T-shirt was askew, and a fresh, light red mark was visible below his collarbone—it was from being scalded by the showerhead last night, which Xu Li had later applied medicine to.
At this moment, that touch of red in the morning light resembled a tiny stamp, imprinted on the skin, inexplicably ambiguous. "What time is it?"
Tan Yuze's voice was hoarse. "It's almost ten o'clock." Xu Li handed him the takeout box. "Eat something first, then I'll make you some medicine." Tan Yuze didn't take it, but instead reached out and touched Xu Li's fingertips; they were very cold.
He frowned: "How long have you been sitting on the ground?" "Not long."
Xu Li laughed, "I'm afraid of disturbing you." Tan Yuze sighed, wrapped the blanket around Xu Li's shoulders, and went to the kitchen to boil water, walking barefoot on the carpet.
His back was tall, with straight shoulders. His pajama pants were dark gray, with the cuffs bunched up at his ankles, like randomly dropped ink.
As Xu Li watched, he suddenly remembered what the conductor had said: "The pipa strings should not be too prominent; they should be like water, supporting others." At that moment, he felt that Tan Yuze was like water, supporting him silently.
While the water was boiling, Tan Yuze leaned against the counter, bending down to remove the medicine blister pack. The aluminum foil made a soft, rustling sound, like snowflakes.
Xu Li walked over and held the glutinous rice lotus root to his mouth: "Eat the sweet one first, then the bitter one." Tan Yuze took a small bite from his hand, and the osmanthus sugar stuck to the corner of his lips.
Xu Li gently wiped it off with his thumb, the movement as natural as if he had done it a thousand times. He froze after wiping it off, his fingertips hovering in mid-air, unable to move forward or backward. Tan Yuze looked up at him, his eyes as deep as a lake just washed by rain.
“Xu Li.” His voice was still hoarse, but inexplicably solemn. “Last night I said ‘Don’t be afraid,’ do you remember?” Xu Li nodded. “I’m not afraid.”
Tan Yuze smiled, a little bitterly, "I'm afraid you'll regret it." Xu Li didn't say anything, but took the medicine from his hand, put it in the cup, and waited for the bubbles to rise and then slowly disappear.
Then he raised his glass, took a small sip himself to make sure it wasn't too hot, and then handed it to Tan Yuze: "I'll try the bitter one first, you can finish the rest."
Tan Yuze looked at him, and the gray-blue in his eyes gradually brightened, like sunlight breaking through the clouds. He took the cup, drank it all in one gulp, wrinkled his nose from the bitterness, but smiled: "I'll listen to you from now on."
After taking his medicine, Tan Yuze went to take a shower. The sound of water through the door sounded like a distant tide. Xu Li repackaged the glutinous rice lotus root and tidied up the living room.
An open sheet of music appeared on the coffee table, with the third measure circled in pencil and the words "Xu Li, a little lighter here, like breathing" written next to it. The handwriting was sharp, yet gentle in every stroke. Xu Li ran her fingertip over the words, when she suddenly heard the bathroom door open.
Tan Yuze emerged, his hair dripping wet, a small patch of his T-shirt collar splashed with moisture. Holding a towel, he gestured with his chin towards Xu Li: "Help me."
Xu Li took the towel, stood on the sofa, and gestured for Tan Yuze to bend down. Her movements were very gentle, as if she were wiping a fragile piece of porcelain. When she reached the back of Tan Yuze's neck, he suddenly said, "Want to come somewhere with me this afternoon?"
"where?"
"My maternal grandmother's old house."
Tan Yuze said in a low voice, "The house is going to be demolished, and I want to take some photos. Can you... play the violin for me? Just one song, his favorite." Xu Li agreed.
The hand under the towel slid down to Tan Yuze's neck, pausing at the fingertips as if checking his pulse. Both fell silent, the only sound the dripping of water droplets, like a heartbeat.
The sky cleared when they went out, and wisps of clouds reflected on the ground. Tan Yuze drove, the window slightly ajar, the wind carrying the scent of damp grass. Xu Li sat in the passenger seat, clutching her violin case, her fingertips tapping unconsciously on the latch.
The old house was in the west of the city, in a narrow alley that cars couldn't pass through. They got out of the car and walked; Tan Yuze carried his camera, and Xu Li carried her violin. On the way, they met an old lady selling gardenias. Tan Yuze bought two bunches, hanging one on Xu Li's violin case and carrying the other himself.
The white flowers bloomed profusely, their edges slightly curled, like snow that refused to fall. The old house was a two-story brick building, with ivy creeping up the corners of the walls to the window frames. The door hinges creaked open, and sunlight poured in, dust dancing in the beams of light.
An old piano sat in the living room, its lid half-open, several black and white keys missing, like a toothless smiling face. Tan Yuze took photos, while Xu Li stood in the center of the living room, the piano resting on her shoulder, and asked, "Which piece?"
“Dreamy, Schumann.” Xu Li paused for a moment—it was a piece she had played during her art college entrance exam, when Tan Yuze was one of the judges.
She took a deep breath, nocked the bow, and as the first note came out, it was as if an invisible hand had gently turned open the valve of memory. 7. The sound of the piano echoed in the empty house, like a transparent river. Tan Yuze put down his camera, walked to the piano, and pressed a low C with his index finger, which resonated with Xu Li's G string, producing a buzzing sound, like heartbeats aligning.
He looked up at Xu Li, his eyes sparkling. The piece ended, its lingering melody echoing in the air. Xu Li lowered his bow and suddenly heard Tan Yuze say, "That year after you finished playing, I wrote on the grading sheet, 'The tone is like the mist of early spring.' Later, you went to the affiliated high school, and I was transferred away from Beijing. I thought I would never hear it again."
Xu Li smiled: "So it was you." Tan Yuze also smiled: "So it was you." The two looked at each other across an old piano. Sunlight streamed in through the dilapidated window, casting long shadows that overlapped at the ends, like an embrace that should have been completed many years ago.
On the way back, Xu Li received a voice message from her mother: "I left you a box of glutinous rice lotus root. Xiao Tan likes it too, right? Tell him to come over for dinner tonight."
Xu Li relayed the message, and Tan Yuze's grip on the steering wheel tightened: "Really?" "My mom's sweet and sour pork ribs are even better than glutinous rice lotus root." Xu Li turned her head, "Shall we go?"
Tan Yuze nodded, the tips of his ears turning slightly red. Xu Li reached out and gently touched the red spot with her fingertips, as if checking its temperature. Tan Yuze didn't flinch, but whispered, "Xu Li, I get carsick, don't tease me."
Xu Li laughed, withdrew her hand, and quietly tucked the gardenia behind Tan Yuze's ear. The white flower against his black hair looked like a star fallen in the night.
Dinner was lively. Mrs. Xu, wearing an apron, handed Tan Yuze a glass of chilled plum juice: "Little Tan, this will cool you down!" Mr. Xu peeked out from the kitchen, spatula in hand: "Little Tan, do you know how to peel garlic?"
Tan Yuze immediately rolled up his sleeves and went inside, his back straight and tall, like a young poplar tree. Xu Li leaned against the kitchen door frame watching, and suddenly remembered practicing the piano as a child. Her mother would do the same thing, cooking while shouting, "Raise your elbows! In tune!"
At that moment, Tan Yuze stood next to his mother, peeling garlic with his head down, his ear tips still covered in flour, like they had been kissed by snow. At the dinner table, Xu's mother kept putting food on Tan Yuze's plate.
"You're too thin, you need to eat more." Mr. Xu raised his glass: "Xiao Tan, come often in the future and play chess with your uncle." Tan Yuze agreed to everything, his glass filled with plum juice, but he drank it with the solemnity of wine.
After dinner, Xu Li escorted Tan Yuze downstairs. The night breeze carried the scent of osmanthus, and the streetlights cast their shadows into thin sheets. Tan Yuze suddenly turned around: "Xu Li, I..." Xu Li didn't let him finish, tiptoed and kissed the corner of his mouth, a kiss that tasted both sweet and sour, like sweet and sour pork ribs and sour plum juice.
A fleeting touch, like the wind skimming across a lake. "I know," Xu Li said, "take it slow."
Tan Yuze's taillights disappeared at the alley entrance, and Xu Li went upstairs. Xu's mother was washing dishes in the kitchen, humming the tune of "Dreamy Melody." Xu Li leaned against the door frame and suddenly said, "Mom, I played that tune on the old street today."
Without looking up, Xu's mother said, "Yes, your dad used to pull me along there when he was courting me." Xu Li was stunned. "Really?" Xu's mother laughed. "Why would I lie to you? The old house is going to be demolished, but the memories won't. You young people, don't be afraid."
Xu Li didn't say anything, but walked over and hugged her mother from behind. The sound of water gurgling was like a warm river, connecting the past, present, and future.
At 11 p.m., Xu Li received a message from Tan Yuze: "[Arrived home, the garlic smell is still there.]"
The accompanying picture shows a cat perched on a piano, curiously pressing a C note. Xu Li replied: [My mom said she'll teach you how to wrap zongzi (sticky rice dumplings) next time.]
After thinking for a moment, I added: "Goodnight, don't be afraid." The phone screen went dark and then lit up again.
Tan Yuze replied with a voice message, very short, only two seconds long—it was the first four notes of Schumann's "Träumerei," whistled, a little off-key, but adorably earnest.
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