Liu Mengran woke up screaming.
Her fingers gripped the bedsheet tightly, her knuckles white, and cold sweat soaked the back of her pajamas. Outside the window, the shrill, piercing chirping of cicadas in July overlapped with the cicada chirping of that summer in her dream.
A dream. It's that same dream again.
The memory of being ten years old was like a dull knife, repeatedly dissecting her in her dreams. Liu Mengran exhaled tremblingly, looking around—this was her apartment in Kyoto, the beige curtains billowing in the morning breeze, sunlight drawing diamond-shaped spots of light on the floor. Not that dark, damp basement in Jiang City, not that moldy little bed.
"It's just a dream..." she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse as if it had been sanded.
The scene from her dream remains vivid: her mother's gentle smile, her father's broad hands, and then sudden darkness. She was pushed into an unfamiliar car, her parents receding further and further away through the window until they disappeared into the rain. The clanging sound of the iron gate of the Jiang City Orphanage closing still echoes in her ears.
Liu Mengran walked barefoot into the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, but it couldn't wash away the images in her memory. The girl in the mirror had overly calm eyes, a gift bestowed upon her by ten years of solitude.
Knowing that it was the first day of school, she quickly started washing up.
She dried her face and looked at herself in the mirror. Two years ago, a man claiming to be her brother—Liu Xiaoran—appeared in her dilapidated little house and told her that she was the long-lost eldest daughter of the Liu family. There was no welcoming ceremony, no family gathering, only Liu Xiaoran's indifferent eyes and the words, "Come home with me."
The Liu family. A prominent family in Kyoto, yet they remained tight-lipped about her. Her grandfather and eldest uncle only said that her parents had been killed by enemies, but never revealed any details. She was like a lost item that had been found. From then on, Liu Mengran moved out of the Liu family home and lived alone in an apartment arranged by her grandfather. No matter what she asked for, her grandfather would grant her request, but the entire family remained silent about her parents.
Liu Mengran changed into a white cotton-linen long dress, her favorite color, so clean it seemed to conceal all her unpleasant past. She mechanically organized the documents needed for registration, but her fingers stopped when she touched her student ID.
In the photo on her ID, her smile was just right, but it didn't reach her eyes. Just like her situation in the Liu family, on the surface she was a noble young lady, but in reality, no one was willing to tell her anything about herself.
Liu Mengran stuffed the documents into her bag and took one last look at herself in the mirror.
The abandoned little girl in her dream seemed to still be looking at her in the mirror, her eyes filled with the fear and questions she had long since learned to hide. Liu Mengran closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, only the elegant and composed eldest daughter of the Liu family remained in the mirror.
She picked up her bag and stepped out of the room. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the corridor, bathing her in its glow, making her white dress almost transparent. For a fleeting moment, Liu Mengran felt as if she were melting into this light, as if she had never existed.
Liu Mengran hailed a taxi and sat in the back seat, her serene profile reflected in the car window. No one knew that this seemingly perfect morning had begun with a nightmare of forgetting and betrayal.
The car drove towards Kyoto University, towards her nominally new life. But the question about that summer when she was ten years old still lingered in her heart like thorns—why were they abandoned? Why did they bring her back? Were her parents really dead?
In front of the Economics Department building at Kyoto University, Liu Mengran packed her application materials into her bag and let out a soft breath. The September sun was still intense, making her squint slightly. She could still hear a few boys whispering behind her.
"Is that a freshman? She's so beautiful..."
"I heard her name is Liu Mengran, and it's a nice name..."
She quickened her pace imperceptibly, her long white dress swaying gently in the breeze. These gazes and whispers had followed her since junior high, like a transparent cocoon separating her from the outside world. Habit doesn't equal liking; she had simply learned to ignore them.
(Is this the only thing my parents left me?)
The thought had barely crossed her mind when Liu Mengran shook her head self-deprecatingly. She shouldn't complain. Since returning to the Liu family, everyone had fulfilled her every request, except for news of her parents, of course. Her status as the eldest daughter of the Liu family had given her a life of luxury and the best education. Only occasionally, like after that dream this morning, the image of that abandoned little girl would still surface in her heart, questioning the world with timid eyes.
As she turned the corner of the teaching building, a commotion suddenly arose ahead. A group of students had formed a semicircle, and someone in the middle seemed to be performing something. Liu Mengran intended to walk around them, but her gaze inadvertently pierced through the gaps in the crowd and met a pair of eyes.
Time seemed to stand still.
It was a tall boy with slightly messy black hair, walking towards them with a girl who was just as beautiful as herself. When their eyes met, he suddenly stopped, scattering the playing cards in his hand on the ground. His eyes—Liu Mengran had never seen such eyes before—were not amazed, nor did they hold desire, but rather a joy that was almost painful, as if someone who had trekked through the desert for years had finally found an oasis.
(Does he know me?)
Liu Mengran subconsciously touched her face. No, it wasn't like looking at a stranger, but rather like looking at... a lost treasure that had been found again.
What's even stranger is that she doesn't dislike the gaze. On the contrary, a strange sense of familiarity rises from the bottom of her heart, like hearing a long-forgotten lullaby. Her heart suddenly races, and her palms sweat slightly.
"Han Feng! What are you daydreaming about!" The lively girl stomped her foot and pouted, then followed the boy's gaze and spotted Liu Mengran.
The boy named Han Feng didn't react; he just kept staring at her. Liu Mengran should leave, her reason told her. But her feet seemed rooted to the spot, and only when the girl angrily pulled Han Feng's arm away did that gaze finally break.
The crowd dispersed, but Liu Mengran remained standing there, a strange, dull ache in her chest. She was certain she had never seen that boy before, but why...?
"Hey, do you need any help?" a senior student kindly asked.
"No, thank you." Liu Mengran forced a smile and compelled herself to move.
On her way back to the dormitory, the boy's gaze kept replaying in her mind. That joy of finding something she had lost, that deep and restrained tenderness... why did it feel like an invisible hand was gripping her heart?
(Han Feng...)
She silently repeated the name in her heart, a strange sweetness rising on the tip of her tongue. This was absurd; she hadn't even spoken to him.
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