Chapter 83: About "Us" at Their Best
Spring slowly unfolds in Geneva amidst continuous drizzle.
Song Zhiyi sat at the interpreter's desk in a conference room at the United Nations European Headquarters, wearing headphones and intently watching the delegate speaking. Her fingers danced lightly across the shorthand keyboard, simultaneously translating the French speech into precise Chinese, her voice transmitted smoothly through the simultaneous interpretation equipment.
This was a multilateral consultation on cross-border water resource management, a sensitive issue with significant differences in the positions of the parties involved. After three hours of intense discussion, the meeting took a short break.
Song Zhiyi took off her headphones, gently rubbed her temples, picked up the thermos beside her, and took a sip of water—it contained black tea prepared by Huo Yanli, and the temperature was just right. The warmth emanating from the cup eased her slightly tense nerves a little.
“Song, your translation of the section on the watershed compensation mechanism was very accurate, especially the transformation of the concept of ‘ecosystem service payment’—it was handled so cleverly,” Marie, a senior translator from France sitting next to her, murmured in admiration in French.
“Thank you, Mary. The definition of this concept is inherently ambiguous; I was just trying to convey the speaker’s original meaning.” Song Zhiyi responded fluently in French, her tone humble.
“Your sensitivity to language is always admirable.” Mary smiled, then suddenly remembered something and pointed to the simple leather watch strap on Song Zhiyi’s wrist, “A new watch? It suits you very well.”
Song Zhiyi glanced down at it. It wasn't an expensive brand, but the design was simple and elegant, and it kept accurate time. Huo Yanli had given it to her along with the package before she left, saying only, "It's for work; a punctual watch might be useful."
"Thank you," she replied, without offering any further explanation.
“By the way,” Mary leaned closer and winked, “I ran into Xiao Liu from the business department in the hallway the other day. He seemed to have a crush on you and asked me privately if you were single. How about I let you know if you’re ‘already taken’?” Mary was outgoing and had worked with Song Zhiyi a few times; they admired each other and spoke casually.
Song Zhiyi paused, her hand holding the thermos cup still. In the past, she would probably have politely but distantly replied, "No need, thank you," or simply denied it. But at this moment, almost immediately, the warm yellow light in the Beijing study and the focused profile of the person beneath it waiting for a message flashed into her mind.
She looked up at Mary and replied clearly and calmly in Chinese, "Thank you for your kindness, but no need. I'm married."
"Married?" Mary's eyes widened slightly, then she smiled. "Wow! I can't believe it! Your husband must be very outstanding to have won your heart." She used the word "husband," a word full of respect and intimacy.
Song Zhiyi pursed her lips slightly, a very faint, almost imperceptible smile flitting across her lips: "Yes, he... is very good."
She didn't elaborate, but the simple word "very good" from her lips spoke volumes. Mary, being a wise woman, didn't press further, but simply smiled and patted her hand: "That's wonderful. Best wishes to you both."
The meeting resumed. Song Zhiyi put her headphones back on and returned to her work. But during a break in the presentation, she subconsciously glanced at her watch again. The dial was simple, the hour and minute hands ticking rhythmically. She suddenly realized that it must be late at night in Beijing. Was he asleep? Or was he working late again in his study?
The thought flashed through my mind and was quickly suppressed by the intensive translation tasks that followed. But that fleeting thought, like a pebble thrown into a still lake, created subtle yet lasting ripples.
---
After a long day's work, I often returned to my temporary apartment as night fell. Geneva's nights are quiet and humid, filled with the fragrance of unknown flowers.
Song Zhiyi usually checks emails for a while first, then prepares a simple dinner. Meals for one are always simple, but she tries to eat healthily. Tonight, she cooked oatmeal porridge with a small vegetable salad. While eating, she habitually picked up her phone.
Huo Yanli sent a message a few hours ago, a photo of several home-style dishes on the dining table in the Huo family's old house, including a plate of stir-fried pea shoots, bright green and tender. The caption read: "The pea shoots Wang Sao bought today are very tender; I remember you said you liked them. It's a pity you can't have any."
It was a very ordinary sharing, even carrying a childish sense of "showing off".
Looking at the plate of vibrant green bean sprouts, Song Zhiyi could almost smell their fresh aroma. Her fingertips twitched slightly as she replied, "They look very fresh. My supermarket doesn't have a wide variety of vegetables; I bought broccoli and mushrooms today."
Almost the instant she sent the message, the screen at the top of her phone displayed "The other party is typing...". He always did this, as if he had pinned her chat window to the top, always able to respond immediately.
"Broccoli and mushrooms are good too, they're good for vitamins and fiber. Remember to cook them thoroughly," he replied quickly, then asked, "How did the meeting go today? You said yesterday that it was entering a crucial phase."
Song Zhiyi scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal porridge and ate it slowly, typing with her other hand: "Yes, substantial progress was made today. All parties have basically reached an agreement on the core terms, and the follow-up will mainly involve technical consultations and text refinement."
She sent it and looked at the line. It was a pure work report. She paused, then added, "Although it's tiring, seeing the results makes it all worthwhile."
After sending that message, she looked at the screen and felt a strange, slightly open feeling. It was no longer a cold, impersonal statement of results, but a sharing of personal feelings.
Huo Yanli's reply came a little while later, seemingly as he carefully considered his words:
"I'm proud of you. But don't push yourself too hard; your health comes first. Achievements are important, but your health is even more important."
Then came another message: "If you're tired, get some rest. If you can't sleep, I can read you something boring to help you fall asleep, like company financial reports?"
The last sentence, clearly a joke, was his clumsy yet sincere attempt to get closer to her world.
Looking at the phrase "reading company financial reports helps you sleep," Song Zhiyi imagined Huo Yanli solemnly reciting dry data, and couldn't help but slightly curve the corners of her lips into a smile. This subtle change in expression, unseen by anyone in her quiet apartment where she was all alone, was undeniably real.
She replied, "I don't need the financial report. However, I passed by the lakeside park today and saw that the cherry blossoms were in full bloom; it was beautiful."
She attached a photo: In the twilight, dense cherry blossoms covered the branches, like clouds and rosy clouds, the petals glowing softly under the streetlights, and a layer of light pink and white fell on the ground.
This time, Huo Yanli didn't reply immediately. Song Zhiyi put down her phone and continued eating her dinner. The oatmeal porridge had cooled slightly, but a warm feeling lingered in a corner of her heart. Sharing beautiful things, it turned out, could make the beauty itself even clearer.
A few minutes later, the phone vibrated.
"Beautiful. Like you." Just four words, but they made Song Zhiyi pause slightly in her hand holding the spoon.
She stared at those four words, a barely perceptible warmth rising in her ears. Unsure how to respond to such directness, she ultimately locked the screen and focused her attention back on dinner. But the phrase "like you" drifted like a delicate petal, landing quietly in the center of her heart, floating there silently.
---
On the weekend, Song Zhiyi had a rare half-day of free time. Instead of catching up on sleep in her apartment, she took her leather notebook and went to a bench by Lake Geneva.
The lake and mountains were picturesque, and swans swam leisurely. She opened her notebook, which contained a series of notes on work, observations, and occasional snippets of life. Her handwriting was neat and legible.
She turned to a new page, her pen hovering. Not far away, an elderly couple with gray hair walked slowly by, supporting each other. The old man occasionally looked down and said something to his wife, while the old woman wore a quiet smile on her face.
Song Zhiyi looked at them, then lowered her head and wrote on the paper:
Spring is in full bloom. The cherry blossoms by the lake have begun to fall, their petals drifting on the water's surface and being gently parted by swans. Today I saw an elderly couple strolling hand in hand. Time seemed to move slowly and gently over them.
She paused here. In the past, she would have ended there. But now, after a moment's hesitation, she added another line:
"Huo Yanli said that the magnolias in Beijing are almost finished blooming, but the roses are about to open. His photography skills have improved."
She closed her notebook, leaned back on the bench, closed her eyes, and felt the warmth of the spring sunshine on her eyelids. The wind carried the scent of the lake and the faint fragrance of flowers.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She took it out and saw a photo sent by Huo Yanli: a small, vibrant potted green ivy had appeared on the windowsill of their Beijing office. The caption read: "Added some greenery; it's more pleasing to the eye. Assistant Li said it's easy to care for and doesn't require much attention."
Looking at the potted green ivy, Song Zhiyi could almost see him glancing at it during a break from his busy work, perhaps remembering how she had reminded him to take a break. She replied, "Pothos prefers shade, so don't expose it to too much direct sunlight. Water it only occasionally."
After thinking for a moment, she added, "I sat by the lake for a while today; it was very quiet. You should relax too."
After sending the message, she put her phone aside and looked back at the shimmering lake.
When she first naturally uttered the title "my husband" among her colleagues, a strange flutter of emotion swept through her heart.
In moments of urgent paperwork and immense pressure, she would subconsciously glance at the perfectly timed watch he had given her.
In the weary yet fulfilling late nights of making progress, I think of sharing these complex feelings with him.
When I see spring flowers in full bloom or the sunset over a lake, I naturally take a picture and send it to that distant chat window.
These changes are subtle and quiet, like spring in Geneva, silently permeating every inch of air and every leaf under the continuous drizzle and occasional sunshine.
She remains Song Zhiyi, with a heart that embraces the vast landscape and a shoulder that bears the responsibility for her family and country. Her journey has not changed, and her ideals remain as fervent as ever.
However, on this long road that she once decided to walk alone, she began to get used to the gentle gaze that always followed her from behind; and she also began to be willing to cast her shadow gently in the direction of that gaze in moments of weariness or joy.
Not too far, not too close. Just the right distance.
Just like the snow-capped mountain peaks on the opposite shore of the lake, which are always illuminated by the sun, she sits on this side of the lake, peacefully enjoying the tranquility under the same sky.
They are independent, yet they coexist.
This is perhaps the best version of "us" that she could imagine.
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