Chapter 62
In the coffee shop.
Chen Yuan's fingers tapped on the table, a rhythmic sound that betrayed his uncontrollable impatience. His brows furrowed, shock threatening to overflow from his eyes, his pupils throbbing with anxiety.
"So you're saying that you were actually from decades ago?" He paused, the corners of his mouth twitching uncontrollably, his Adam's apple rolling up and down, and it took him a long time to ask this question.
Yang Ye lowered her eyes and looked at the cup of coffee beside her. She suddenly laughed softly, with a hint of self-deprecation in her voice, "Yeah."
"How have you managed to live this long, and still look the same?" Chen Yuan's voice rose a few notches, and he leaned forward, his stomach hitting the table. He stared at Yang Ye in disbelief, his hands gripping the edge of the table so tightly that the backs of his hands turned white from the strain.
Yang Ye took a sip of coffee, the cold liquid passed through her throat, and a bitter taste spread from the tip of her tongue to her entire mouth. She couldn't tell whether it was the bitterness of the coffee itself, or the indescribable sourness in her heart.
"I want to know this question too," Yang Ye said, rubbing the handle of his coffee cup with his fingertips. "In the 14th year of the Republic of China, there was a riot in Beijing, and I was shot through the left side of my chest."
She raised her hand and gently pressed on her left breast. Through her clothes, the scar that had long since healed to the flesh seemed to begin to ache again. "I was in a coma for seven whole days. I don't know what happened during those seven days. I only know that I survived the riot. Later, when the war broke out, your grandfather sent me to Tianjin. He wanted me to take a ship to the United States. This was also Xue Shangyang's idea. I don't know how much effort he put in, or how many connections he had to use, to get that ticket to leave. I got on the ship, but I got off again before it left. Later, I read in the newspaper that not long after I left, the ferry was bombed by the Japanese army."
She paused, her eyes blank, as if she had lost focus in an instant. "After that, I followed the refugees from Tianjin to Hebei, and then to Chongqing. I walked and hid all the way. If you ask me to think about what happened in those years now, I probably can't imagine it. I just remember one morning when I was washing my face by the river, I saw my own reflection in the river, and I was scared at that time."
The coffee shop's air conditioning and heating were cranked up high, but Chen Yuan suddenly shivered as he sat there. A chill ran down his spine from his back to the top of his head. He couldn't help but shiver again. When he lowered his head and rubbed his arms, he found that his skin was already covered with goose bumps.
"After the war, I consulted a doctor, who told me that, given my current health, I should only be 27. He advised me to relax, saying it might be due to excessive stress, but I knew I was almost 60." Yang Ye smiled softly, but her smile was more painful than crying. She raised her eyes, and there was a weariness in them that didn't belong to this era, as if she had witnessed the vicissitudes of life but was powerless to do anything about it.
"I know this sounds like a fairy tale, but it really happened to me. Maybe God wants to play a joke on me, and I don't have the power to change it."
Chen Yuan turned his gaze to Li Cheng, who was sitting next to Yang Ye. He hadn't said much the entire time. He had just been listening to Yang Ye quietly. But when he met Chen Yuan's gaze, he nodded seriously, echoing Yang Ye's words, "Although it sounds outrageous, it's true."
His brain suddenly shut down. Pausing in thought, Chen Yuan gripped the edge of the table, gritted his teeth, and frowned. He simply couldn't convince himself that there was someone in this world who could live to be over a hundred and still look like he was in his twenties.
"This, how is this possible?" He sounded as if he was asking someone else, or trying to convince himself, his tone full of struggle.
"Is your grandfather called Chen Mingyuan?" Yang Ye asked.
Chen Yuan was suddenly startled. He looked at Yang Ye in surprise, "How did you know?"
"Is there a black mole on his eye?" Yang Ye asked again.
Chen Yuan felt dizzy. He loosened his grip on the edge of the table and leaned back in his chair. His lips trembled uncontrollably, his throat tightened, and it took him a while to find his voice. "This is ridiculous!"
"It's ridiculous, but there's nothing I can do about it," Yang Ye said softly, her tone so relaxed as if she had heard this from somewhere else and it didn't really happen to her.
"Even if I have great abilities, I can eat, drink, jump and dance like a normal person." Looking at the hustle and bustle of the street outside the window, she pretended to be relaxed, with a sense of relief that she had let go. But Xiao Xiao looked carefully and found that the smile did not really appear in her eyes.
Xiao Xiao frowned. She looked at Yang Ye's smiling face, but also saw the weariness in her eyes. Hearing her talk about the past, something in her heart tugged at her, and her eyes darkened. She reached out and touched Yang Ye's hand, which was resting on his knee under the table. Her hand was cold, and her palm was sticky and sticky, as if covered in sweat.
Yang Ye turned around and smiled at her without saying anything.
"You're truly amazing!" Chen Yuan twitched his lips, a smile still tinged with doubt. His gaze, scrutinizing her, seemed to be weighing the truth of her words. But when he saw Li Cheng's determined expression, without the slightest hesitation, his eyes were filled with nothing but certainty.
Chen Yuan swallowed his saliva and said, "Since Professor Li said so, I will believe it for the time being."
After a moment of struggle and silence, he raised his hand and pointed at the worn leather bag on the table. "Inside is the division commander's diary, some old photos, and his former military badge. Oh, and this..."
He pulled out a letter from his pocket that wasn't in a cowhide bag. Chen Yuan lowered his voice and said, "Before he left, my grandfather said we had to hand it over to you personally. We could throw away anything except this one. He'd guarded it his entire life, and now it's finally here."
Her hand trembled slightly when she touched the letter given by Chen Yuan. The seal was still tight, but the four corners were curled up. The pen writing on the envelope was a little blurred, but Yang Ye recognized it as Xue Shangyang's handwriting at a glance.
"Thank you." She lowered her head and nodded lightly several times. "Thank you."
Chen Yuan's phone rang. He saw the incoming call and said, "I have something else to do. Please take your time."
The three of them were the only ones left in the coffee shop. Li Cheng and Xiao Xiao exchanged a glance, each seeing anxiety in the other's eyes. Xiao Xiao looked over at Yang Ye, her head lowered, clutching the letter tightly. Her thumb rubbed back and forth over the letter, her eyes fixed on the words on the envelope. She stared at it for a long time, but still couldn't find the courage to open it.
"Zhou Yiheng just went out. I think he is in a bad mood," Xiao Xiao said. She was paying attention to Yang Ye's performance.
Li Cheng frowned, "Where's his phone? Did you call him?"
"I called three times but couldn't get through. I guess the battery is out." Xiao Xiao saw Yang Ye, "It's getting dark soon. We have to go find him."
Yang Ye held the letter in his hand, looked up and said, "You guys go."
"What about you?" Li Cheng saw that her arms were still shaking.
"I'm fine," she put the letter on the table, "You guys go, I'll wait here for you to come back."
"Call me if you need anything." Li Cheng stood up, and Xiao Xiao followed suit. He grabbed the scarf that had fallen across the back of his chair and quickly walked out of the coffee shop.
Yang Ye sat in her seat, looking at the letter on the table.
"You left me nothing when you left, and now you're here"
"So many years have passed in a flash, Xue Shangyang," she murmured to herself as she looked at the letter.
Finally, she gathered up enough strength and prepared herself mentally to open the letter.
The dry letter, its edges as brittle as a sycamore leaf drained of moisture by the wind, held the letter with extreme caution, fearing that a little more force would shatter the only thought she had finally grasped after decades.
Zhou Yi stared at his phone screen, which had gone completely black. The light in the sky gradually faded, and a sense of emptiness, a sense of being abandoned by the world, suddenly overwhelmed him. He propped himself up on his knees and stood up from the stairs. His feet were stiff from the cold, and the ground felt numb and unsteady. He had no strength left.
He stood at the intersection, looking at the unfamiliar alley and hearing the bustling sounds within. Where could he go? Back to the hotel? But how should he go? Should he go forward or back? But where should he go forward, and how should he go back?
He was aimless and acted entirely on instinct.
The cold wind blew against his face, making his already dry, tight skin feel like it was being scraped by a razor blade. The wooden sign for the small shop in the doorway of the old house next door had been polished to a shine: "Shoe Repair and Key Duplication." The owner bent over, carrying some things inside. On the metal cabinet next to him sat an old-fashioned antenna radio, and the clear voice of a man carried through the wind into his ears.
"It's said that during the Republic of China, in the city of Beiping..."
The loud male voice and the story on the radio made his head hurt.
He walked through alleyways that looked similar, yet were completely unfamiliar to him. It was strange; he was so unfamiliar with the place, yet his feet seemed drawn by something. It led him through alley after alley, through one opening after another, until darkness finally settled, the blackness gradually covering the sky, and the alleyway streetlights lit up one by one. Light from the nearby courtyards filtered through the dim windows, casting a grid-like pattern on the ground.
Looking up, Zhou Yiheng realized he was standing in front of a dilapidated courtyard. The red paint on the door had peeled off, revealing the worn, dark wood beneath. The doorknob was wrapped in a heavy iron chain. Inside, the old locust tree, its bare branches climbing over the wall, slanted crookedly towards the gray sky.
A strong sense of familiarity suddenly rushed over him, as if something had hit his heart. Zhou Yiheng didn't think much before reaching out to push the closed gate, his movement carrying an instinctive reaction that he himself hadn't even noticed.
But the only response he received was the clanking of the iron chain on the door.
The sound of the chain reminded him of what he had just done. He stood at the door, seeing it was closed. With his hand against the door panel, he slowly sat down in front of it. His back rested against the cold door, and his breath condensed into a cloud of white mist before his eyes, which was quickly blown away by the cold wind.
The aroma of cooking wafted from somewhere, mixed with vague voices and the sounds of gunfire and artillery fire from a spy war TV show.
Footsteps were heard in the alley again, coming closer and closer.
Realizing someone was standing in front of him, Zhou Yiheng looked up and what caught his eyes was Yang Ye's all-too-familiar face.
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