Extra 4
The sea in Sanya is like a piece of glass shattered by the sunlight, sparkling with countless dazzling spots of light.
Xu Li stood on the hotel balcony, squinting at the bay in the distance, its blue so intense it seemed unreal. She wore a white tank top, her shoulders slightly red from the sun, as if she had been accidentally kissed by the light. Tan Yuze walked up behind her and pressed a can of iced cola against the back of her neck. She flinched, turned around to glare at him, but couldn't help laughing.
"What time is it?" she asked.
"It's not important." He opened the can of cola and handed it to her. "I have no plans today."
They stayed at a small guesthouse by Yalong Bay. The exterior was coral pink, and a row of bougainvillea, fiery red, grew in front of the door. The owner was a woman from Northeast China with a strong accent. She cooked seafood porridge for them in the morning; the shrimp were freshly caught in the early morning and were sweet to the point of being fishy.
At noon, they rented a small electric scooter and headed south along the coastline. The wind blew Xu Li's hair into a mess, and she had to hold onto Tan Yuze's clothes with one hand and hold down her straw hat with the other.
Tan Yuze rode slowly, as if deliberately slowing down time. They passed a wild beach with coarse sand and almost no one around. They abandoned their bikes and ran barefoot down the beach.
Waves surged up in layers, like someone repeatedly pulling a giant white line beyond the horizon. Xu Li rolled up her trouser legs to her thighs, stood in the water, and suddenly bent down, scooped up a handful of water, and splashed it at Tan Yuze.
He was slow to dodge, and a large patch of his chest was soaked with sweat; his shirt clung to his skin, revealing the shape of his collarbone. He wasn't annoyed, he just smiled, a smile that made two shallow creases appear at the corners of his eyes.
“You’re like a cat with its fur standing on end,” he said.
“You’re like a dried-out salted fish,” she retorted.
In the evening, they went to the First Market to eat seafood. They picked out a blue crab, two mantis shrimps, and a plate of shaved ice. Tan Yuze scooped out the crab roe and put it in her bowl. She ate it with her mouth full of oil and a scallion stuck to the tip of her nose.
He reached out to wipe it away, but she instinctively dodged backward, bumping into the back of the plastic chair with a loud "thud." They both froze, then burst out laughing, drawing the attention of passengers at nearby tables.
On the way back to the guesthouse at night, a vast expanse of sunset glowed on the horizon, like someone had spilled a palette of colors. Xu Li suddenly stopped and tugged at his sleeve.
“Sigh,” she said softly, “if we ever have a fight in the future, let’s think back to today.”
Tan Yuze didn't say anything, but simply reached out and pulled her into his arms. His chin rested on the top of her head, and his breath carried the sweet scent of coconut.
“We won’t argue,” he said softly, as if telling a secret.
The sound of the tide came from afar, one surge after another, as if stamping this statement.
---
One day, Tan Yuze came across a video where a girl was angry and a boy was just laughing. In the end, the girl jumped into the boy's arms, and the boy said, "I don't even know how to argue. What am I going to do?" It was so sweet that Tan Yuze wanted to try it out after seeing this.
That evening, the two had a minor argument. Xu Li said that Tan Yuze was just like in that video, only smiling and not saying anything. As a result, Xu Li slapped him.
Tan Yuze's head was buzzing, and Xu Li went out to find Jiang Qianhuan.
Later, Tan Yuze told Zhou Chen and Xie Sibai about it.
"Ugh, this is so annoying."
"What's wrong?" Zhou Chen asked him.
After listening, Xie Sibai chuckled and said, "You got it again?" Tan Yuze said, "In the end, he slapped me and said, 'How dare you laugh!'"
Zhou Chen and Xie Sibai burst into laughter, "Hahahahahahahahaha."
The next day they planned to go diving at Wuzhizhou Island, but when Xu Li woke up, she found Tan Yuze squatting by the bed, drawing a crooked little fish on the mirror with her lipstick.
"I'm not going diving today," he said. "I checked, there's a waterfall on the back mountain, but nobody's there."
Xu Li stared at the fish and suddenly realized that Sanya was so big that they didn't need to go anywhere else.
The waterfall on the back mountain was even harder to find than Tan Yuze had imagined.
The navigation signal dropped in the dense forest, and they could only climb up a ditch carved out by the rain. Xu Li's canvas shoes slipped, and every step felt like stepping on a buttered stone.
Tan Yuze walked ahead, using a broken branch as a cane, occasionally turning back to pull her along. Her palms were sweaty, and when their hands touched, they snapped apart with a "snap," like two pieces of melted candy.
"Are you sure you didn't bring me here to commit suicide?" Xu Li gasped for breath, her hair sticking to her neck like a piece of seaweed soaked in the sea.
“Dying for love is so cliché.” Tan Yuze handed her a tree branch to hold onto. “We have to live on, and we also want to take a photo under the waterfall that can be used as a funeral photo… no, a photo that can be used as a marriage registration photo.”
Xu Li paused for a moment, a smile playing on her lips, but didn't reply.
After climbing for another twenty minutes, the sound of water suddenly burst from the leaves, like someone smashing a whole pane of glass on a rock. They pushed aside the last clump of ferns, and the waterfall lay before them—not high, but wide, a white ribbon leaping down from the ten-meter-wide rock face, crashing into a pool of emerald green.
The pool's edge is covered with volcanic rocks, rounded by the water, shiny black, like sugar cubes licked by time.
There was no one around; only the wind and water seemed to be vying for the microphone.
Tan Yuze threw his backpack on the dry ground and started taking off his T-shirt. Xu Li exclaimed "Hey!" and subconsciously turned around, only to hear him laugh: "What are you afraid of? Even monkeys are too embarrassed to come here."
She turned around and saw that he had already jumped into the pool, splashing water and creating a rainbow. Sunlight filtered down from the top of the waterfall, falling on his wet shoulders, as if gilding him with a layer of shattered silver.
"Get down!" he called to her. "The water temperature is just right, like cola kissed by the sun."
Xu Li hesitated for two seconds and began to untie her shoelaces. She was wearing a dark green one-piece swimsuit, which he had stuffed into her backpack before she left, saying, "Just in case you need it." And now it had come in handy.
She stepped into the water, her feet sinking into the slippery moss, which made her hiss and gasp for breath. Tan Yuze swam over, reached out and supported her lower back, and with a gentle push, she floated up.
The waterfall was so loud they could only shout to communicate. Even shouting couldn't get them heard, so they simply stopped talking. Xu Li floated on her back, seeing the sky refracted by the mist into a blurry rainbow, like someone had spilled a bucket of milk on the heavens. Suddenly, she reached out and pulled Tan Yuze down with her, and the two of them floated together like two frogs swimming on their backs.
After an unknown amount of time, the sun slid a step further west, and the water began to cool. They climbed ashore and lay on the sun-baked volcanic rocks, letting their body heat slowly return to their bones. Tiny water droplets clung to Xu Li's eyelashes; with each blink, one would fall.
Tan Yuze turned to the side and caught one of the stars with his fingertips, as if catching a star that might evaporate at any moment.
"Sigh," his voice was so low it was almost drowned out by the sound of the water, "If we ever really argue in the future, just close your eyes and think about this moment—"
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
“I want…” he paused, “I want a stone to iron out both of us, like ironing two wrinkled shirts.”
Xu Li laughed out loud, her chest heaving, and the volcanic rock swayed gently. She reached out to touch his face, her fingertips tinged with moss, leaving a green fingerprint on his cheek, like a battle crest painted on a hunter.
“Then you must remember,” she said, “remember what I look like now—”
Before she could finish speaking, Tan Yuze suddenly rolled over and pinned her down, sealing the rest of her words with a kiss. The waterfall was still roaring, and the wind rustled the leaves, like countless spectators applauding.
Their lips were cool, but quickly became hot, like two pieces of volcanic rock melted by the sun, stuck together and inseparable.
I don't know who started shivering first—maybe the water evaporated, taking away their body heat; or maybe it was some kind of premonition, like a dark cloud quietly gathering in the distance.
They stopped, forehead to forehead, their breaths mingling, like two fish washed ashore on the same reef by the waves.
"Let's go," Xu Li said softly. "If we don't leave now, it'll start to rain."
They got dressed and walked down the ditch they had come from. Just as they reached the foot of the mountain, the first drop of rain hit Xu Li's nose, like a bullet that had been warned beforehand. Immediately afterward, the rain poured down, engulfing the entire rainforest in a spinning washing machine.
They had no umbrellas, so they had to run. Tan Yuze slung his backpack over his chest, unzipped it, and let Xu Li crawl inside—it was only big enough to fit her head, with the rest of her body sticking out, like a hermit crab with its shell upside down.
They stumbled and staggered toward the road, their laughter shattered by the rain, but it couldn't extinguish it.
As we approached the guesthouse, the rain suddenly stopped, as if someone had turned the tap off completely. The setting sun peeked through the clouds, shining on the wet asphalt road and creating a layer of milky white mist.
Their shadows were stretched long and stuck together, like a freshly washed, still dripping bed sheet.
The shopkeeper, fanning himself with a palm leaf fan at the door, saw them and exclaimed, "Hey, are you two going to the waterfall or to undergo tribulation?"
Tan Yuze didn't answer, but instead looked down at Xu Li and said, "Go take a shower, then change into something dry. I'll take you to see something."
"What?"
"Keep it a secret for now."
Half an hour later, it was completely dark. Xu Li was wearing his loose white shirt, the cuffs rolled up three times, the hem covering his thighs. Tan Yuze led her around to the roof of the guesthouse—there, surprisingly, was a small astronomical telescope, belonging to the owner's son, who was doing his summer homework of photographing the moon.
They huddled in front of the eyepiece, heads bumping together as they adjusted the focus, like two little sparrows scrambling for food. In the lens, the moon looked frighteningly large, its cratered surface like it had been pinched by fingernails. Xu Li exclaimed "Huh?" and pointed to the edge: "What's that? It looks like a path."
“It’s the Tranquil Sea where Apollo landed,” Tan Yuze’s voice whispered in her ear. “The first time humans left their footprints there.”
Xu Li didn't speak, but gently rested her head on his shoulder. The night wind carried the fishy smell of rain, blowing strands of her wet hair that clung to his neck like seaweed.
"Tan Yuze," she suddenly spoke, her voice so soft it was as if she were afraid to disturb the moon, "If we get separated in the future—"
“No, it won’t happen.” He interrupted her, his tone so certain it was almost domineering. “If we really get separated, I’ll go to the moon and erase that footprint, so you won’t be able to find your way back and will have to come to me.”
Xu Li laughed out loud, her nose stinging with tears. She reached out and hugged him, her nails digging into the wet shirt on his back, as if she wanted to stab those words into his flesh as well.
Downstairs, the owner turned off the courtyard lights, leaving only the telescope reflecting a cold, silvery glow in the moonlight. In the distance, the sound of the tides punctually arrived, like a postmark being stamped on the night.
They didn't know if they would argue when they woke up tomorrow; they didn't know if their return flight would be delayed. But at this moment, the moon was silently gliding across the crosshairs of the telescope, like a reassuring pill that had been pre-calibrated—
Enough for them to close their eyes and, in any argument they have in the future, return to this rooftop washed by rain and baked by the moon; return to two shirts ironed flat by volcanic rock, pressed tightly together, wrinkled, yet inseparable.
On the 28th day of the twelfth lunar month, the flight from Sanya to Jiangbei was delayed by two hours.
Tan Yuze unfolded his down jacket at the boarding gate, like shaking out a flattened sheep. Xu Li hunched her shoulders and squeezed inside, only her eyes showing. The moment the plane broke through the clouds, she suddenly remembered that just a week ago they were soaking in the emerald pool under the waterfall, but now it was as if someone had pressed the "season switch button," and winter had arrived in an instant.
When we arrived at the airport, both sets of parents were already standing side by side at the arrival gate, their four faces lined up in a row, looking just like a pre-taken family photo standee.
Mrs. Xu rushed over first, hugged her daughter tightly, muttering "You've gotten so tanned," but holding her even tighter. Mr. Tan took the suitcase, patted his son's shoulder, and then took his granddaughter from Tan Yuze's arms, his voice as crisp as the clinking of two pieces of frozen wood.
On the highway back to the city, snow began to fall. Xu Li leaned against the car window, watching the snowflakes being sliced into white streaks by the headlights, like countless shooting stars flying in opposite directions. Tan Yuze reached out and took her hand; his palm was dry and warm—the unique temperature of a northern winter, just taken off from the radiator.
On the morning of New Year's Eve, the two families arranged to meet at a photo studio in the old town. The storefront was inconspicuous, and the signboard was still in the neon style of the 1980s. It was said that the owner had taken wedding photos for Xu Li's grandparents.
Pushing open the door, a strong smell of old camera cases mixed with mothballs hit me, as if time had been folded directly into a photo album.
The dressing room only had two incandescent lights. Xu's mother took out her own sponge from her bag, insisting on "covering up her future son-in-law's dark circles."
Mrs. Tan pressed Xu Li down in a chair and used a ten-year-old eyebrow pencil to carefully draw the tail of her eyebrows, saying softly, "Don't move, I'm going to draw you 'ingot eyebrows' to bring you good fortune next year." Xu Li looked up and saw her two mothers in the mirror, one bent over and the other on tiptoe, as if they were completing some kind of handover ceremony.
When filming officially began, the boss pushed an old-fashioned landline camera to the center of the room, covered it with a black cloth, and used a brass bell for the countdown. "Ding—" The first sound, all six people straightened their backs, lifting their spines two centimeters off the chair backs; the second sound, Tan Yuze quietly squeezed Xu Li's elbow; the third sound, the shutter clicked like a crack being chiseled in the ice.
The photos were developed immediately after being taken. During the three minutes of waiting, no one spoke; only the dripping of chemicals could be heard from the darkroom.
As the photographic paper slowly rises from the developing tank, the image gradually emerges—the background is a hand-painted spring garden, so realistically faked.
In the front row, two fathers sat upright, each with a matching plaid blanket on their laps, as if they had agreed to cosplay as British gentlemen.
In the back row, Mrs. Xu and Mrs. Tan were smiling so hard that their eyes looked like four chrysanthemums blooming at the corners of their eyes.
Right in the middle, Xu Li was half-encircled in Tan Yuze's arms. Her lips weren't fully upturned, but a drop of light landed on her eyelashes, as if it was about to fall in the next second.
Tan Yuze's chin gently touched her temple—at that angle, the shallow scar on his right cheek, scratched by a tree branch, was perfectly hidden in the shadow.
When the shopkeeper handed over the original film, all six parents reached out at the same time, their six fingers striking the edge of the photographic paper with a soft "click," like another shutter sound.
Finally, Mr. Tan coughed and said, "Wash another large one, frame it, and hang it on the wall." Mr. Xu added, "It should be the natural wood color, with plum blossoms carved on the frame for a festive touch."
It was already dark when we went out, and the snow was thick. Two mothers walked ahead, wearing matching red wool coats, their footprints forming a row; two fathers pulled a cart full of New Year's goods, the wheels crunching through the snow like a rhythm for New Year's Eve.
Xu Li and Tan Yuze were at the back. She suddenly tiptoed and stuffed a neatly folded note into the lining of his scarf.
"What?"
"I just got it from the photo studio counter. The date is written on the back." Her breath drifted past his ear. "We can look at it when we argue later—"
Tan Yuze didn't take out a notepad; he simply reached out and pulled up the hood of her down jacket, the fur trim instantly framing her like a little bear mask. He bent down and kissed her cool earlobe through the fur, his voice mingling with the snow:
"No need to wait for an argument. Next year, the year after, and the year after that... let's take another picture, capturing the wrinkles, the gray hairs, until even the artificial flowers in the background fade—"
Ahead, the two fathers turned around simultaneously and shouted to them, "Hurry up, kids! Let's go home and put up the Spring Festival couplets—"
In the snow, six sets of footprints meander along the same road, like a newly written "福" (Fu, meaning good fortune) character. The first stroke is already firmly in place, and the remaining horizontal, vertical, and diagonal strokes are left for the long years to slowly fill in.
End of article
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