Extra: Huo Beiyan & Qin Jiaojiao (1)
Huo Beiyan first met Qin Jiaojiao when he was fourteen years old.
At the dinner party hosted by the Qin family.
The wine glasses were clinking and the ladies were in fine clothes.
Adults’ social gatherings are always so boring.
He quietly left the table, walked through the brightly lit corridor, and entered the quiet garden at the back.
The moonlight fell silently like cold silver gauze.
In the garden, carefully trimmed rose bushes cast heavy shadows in the night, and the air was filled with the sweet fragrance of tuberose.
The faint sound of music in the distance was broken up by the night wind and sent over, making the silence here even more apparent.
Huo Beiyan strolled aimlessly along the cobblestone path, enjoying the rare quietness.
Suddenly, the whimpering sound of a kitten came into my ears.
The voice was intermittent and suppressed, as if afraid of disturbing anyone.
He paused and looked in the direction of the sound.
His gaze penetrated the shadows of several low-growing tuberoses and fell on a dark corner in the deepest part of the garden, which was blocked by a tall rose bush.
There, a small figure was curled up.
Wearing a pink puffy princess dress, she looks like an abandoned little rose.
His eyes fell on the girl's furry hair, looking at her small figure trembling slightly because of crying.
I don’t know how long it took, but perhaps because she felt the silent gaze, the girl suddenly stopped crying.
She slowly raised her head.
The moonlight just happened to shine through the gaps between the branches and leaves, pouring gently into her face like a spotlight.
Huo Beiyan's breathing paused.
It was an extremely delicate little face.
Her skin was as white as fine porcelain, glowing softly in the moonlight.
Her big round eyes were now soaked with tears, like two black grapes washed in water, wet, and her eyelashes were long and thick, with tears hanging on them.
Her small nose was red from crying, and her pink lips were slightly pouting, with traces of tears still on them.
Although her face was full of grievance, she was still very cute.
Their eyes met.
The air seemed to freeze.
The girl's big tearful eyes clearly reflected Huo Beiyan's figure.
Huo Beiyan opened his mouth, hesitating whether to say something.
The girl stared straight at the person in front of her.
After a while, a soft, sweet voice with a tearful tone sounded without warning: "You... are so beautiful."
After he finished speaking, it seemed as if his emotions surged again, and tears instantly welled up in his eyes.
She no longer looked at Huo Beiyan, quickly lowered her head again, and started crying again.
This was the first time Huo Beiyan met such a person.
While crying, I still have to praise people for their good looks.
He took a step forward and reached out to touch the furry head.
But he retracted his hand halfway through.
"Hey, stop crying." He spoke, his voice was the mellow and clear voice unique to teenagers.
"Why do you care? She's so good-looking, but you're so nosy." A muffled voice with a crying tone sounded.
Huo Beiyan was about to speak.
A shout came from not far away: "Qin Jiaojiao!"
The girl who was squatting and crying miserably immediately stood up and wiped her tears with the back of her hand: "She's not dead, she's here."
After saying that, he ran towards the direction of the sound.
Huo Beiyan stood where he was, his eyes following the pink figure that disappeared behind the rose bushes until the sound of footsteps faded away completely.
The garden fell into silence again, leaving only the fragrance of tuberose.
His fingertips twisted unconsciously, as if he still had the urge to touch the hairy top of his head.
I can clearly recall the girl's words in a heavy crying voice, "You are so beautiful", and the slightly spoiled "What do you care"
Huo Beiyan suddenly laughed.
He repeated it in a low voice, his voice clearly audible in the silent garden: "Qin Jiaojiao..."
This name, with a strange feeling, gently falls into my heart.
After that night, the name "Qin Jiaojiao" was like a duck taking to the water, creating ripples in Huo Beiyan's calm young heart.
He began to pay attention to the news about her involuntarily.
Until you know which school she attends and her approximate schedule.
Occasionally, he would ask the driver to take a detour and park the car in an inconspicuous corner near her school.
The car window was lowered a crack.
His eyes passed through the crowd and accurately captured the figure in school uniform.
He saw her walking out of the school gate arm in arm with her friend. They were talking about something, laughing and rolling on the ground, with their ponytails swinging happily behind their heads.
The sunlight shone on her face, so bright that it was a little dazzling. She looked like a completely different person compared to the crying girl that night.
Huo Beiyan tapped his fingertips lightly on his knees, his eyes following her intently.
He didn't try to get closer.
At that age, Huo Beiyan was extraordinarily calm and restrained.
Well, he came close.
But she seemed to have completely forgotten herself, and the look in her eyes when she looked at herself was filled with confusion and wariness.
"Let me tell you, don't think you can act recklessly just because you have a handsome face. I've seen so many handsome faces..."
The boy's pride stopped him from trying to get closer.
Later, he started to have people take photos of Qin Jiaojiao regularly.
The photos were handed to him, each one recording her unintentional joys, sorrows, anger and happiness.
The side profile of someone smiling with squinting eyes in the sun, the way they stretch lazily during break exercises, the way they bite into their milk tea straw on the way home from school, even the occasional frown...
These photos became Huo Beiyan's secret collection.
Sometimes he felt like a pervert, like a ghost hiding in the dark.
Every time when I am alone after finishing my busy schoolwork or family affairs, I take out those photos and look through them one by one.
Huo Beiyan didn't know why. She was obviously not the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and she had never spoken more than ten sentences.
But I was obsessed with it, and bit by bit, I used these photos to piece together the image of Qin Jiaojiao in my mind.
Later, he set up a darkroom in the villa where he lived alone.
Not to develop the photos, but to store these images of her.
On the wall, a huge cork board was carefully arranged.
It was covered with photos of Qin Jiaojiao.
From her youth to her graceful young lady, her growth is recorded silently in chronological order.
The fingertips of the photos are connected by thin lines, and the date and location of the photo are occasionally marked next to them.
This place became the most private corner of his inner world.
He often sat there alone, under the light, quietly looking at the girl on the wall, as if traveling through time and space to accompany her through the years in which he had not participated.
This silent attention, like aged wine, ferments quietly over time and becomes more mellow.
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