Chapter 125 Mountains and Rivers as Witness
The three-year, seven-month, and twenty-three-day secondment period has finally come to an end.
Song Zhiyi declined the UN's proposal to become a permanent employee or be transferred to another senior position, insisting on adhering to the original agreement and ending her special term deep in the heart of the conflict. The tension needed to ease; her mind and heart, filled with war, negotiations, and countless emergencies, needed a moment to breathe, reflect, and find direction for the next chapter. The organization understandingly approved her month-long leave.
For the past month, she didn't choose any scenic vacation destinations. Instead, she bought a flexible round-the-world ticket and embarked on a solitary, silent journey of "tracing the source" and "saying goodbye."
She first flew to Africa, to the place where her parents had sacrificed their lives. Years had passed since the war ended, and the city had been rebuilt, but the deep bullet marks embedded in the walls of some old neighborhoods still silently told the story of the past. Guided by old photographs, she found the site of the makeshift hospital from years ago. Now it was a newly built community park, with lush green grass, children playing, and mothers chatting. She sat quietly on a bench in the corner for a long time, gazing at this peaceful scene, until the setting sun melted the sky into a golden-red hue. No tears fell; she simply stared silently, as if she could see through time, seeing her parents' busy figures moving about, and the deepest longing in their eyes for this land.
Next, she traveled to a high point near the Sino-Indian border, the place where her grandfather had served as a border guard in the self-defense counterattack war when he was young. It remained a high-altitude, treacherous border region, but a limited memorial passage had been opened. Standing on the viewing platform, gazing at the distant, silent mountain ranges and the faint outline of border posts, she let the biting mountain wind whip her short hair. When her grandfather returned from here, was he filled with painful reflection on the war, or with a more resilient yearning for peace on the frontier? She couldn't know, but she knew that standing here today, the very blood flowing in her veins was that unwavering commitment to the peace and security of her homeland.
She also returned to a small town in northern Syria, where she had participated in urgent humanitarian aid coordination during her initial secondment. The town was still devastated, and reconstruction was slow, but the people's eyes no longer held only despair. She bumped into a local doctor she had helped years before; the doctor barely recognized her until she gave him her name in fluent Arabic. The doctor excitedly grasped her hand, telling her that the clinic had been rebuilt and the children had the opportunity to go to school. "Although it's still difficult," he said, "we're alive, and there's still hope." At that moment, Song Zhiyi felt that all the more than a thousand days and nights of running around, the anxiety, and the countless times she had been pushed to her limits had been worthwhile.
She traversed the wastelands of South Sudan, the dense forests of the Democratic Republic of Congo, and the villages of eastern Ukraine… every place she had visited, worked through the night, worried herself sick, and even nearly lost her life for. She saw the scars still deep, but also the tenacious resilience of life; she saw the ruins not yet cleared, but also new hope stubbornly sprouting from the cracks in the ruins.
At the end of the final leg of her journey, she returned to Beijing. She didn't inform anyone, including the Huo family. She needed some time alone to complete the final and most important leg of this trip.
One afternoon, she changed into a simple black dress, held a bunch of fresh white chrysanthemums, and went alone to the revolutionary cemetery on the outskirts of Beijing.
My parents rest here in peace. Their tombstones stand side by side, solemn and dignified. In the photograph, their faces are forever frozen in a moment of youth and resilience.
She gently and solemnly placed white chrysanthemums at the graves of her two closest relatives. Then, she stood quietly for a long time in the open space between her parents' tombstones.
There was no lengthy confession, no suppressed sobs. She simply gazed at the faces of her loved ones on the tombstone, as if engaging in a silent dialogue that transcended time and space.
After a long while, she took a soft breath, her voice low but clearly audible in the silent cemetery:
"Dad, Mom."
"The road ahead is long, and I am still walking."
Seven short words, yet carrying immense weight. They encapsulate her entire life since her parents' passing and foreshadow her future direction. She walked the path they left unfinished, witnessed the changes they never saw, and inherited the responsibility and loneliness deeply ingrained in her blood. She has not stopped, and she will not stop in the future.
As soon as he finished speaking, he heard familiar, deliberately light footsteps behind him, rustling softly on the fallen leaves.
Song Zhiyi didn't turn around immediately. In this most private and somber moment of her life, if he were to find her here, it wouldn't seem... surprising. A profound understanding had long been forged over time.
She slowly turned around.
Huo Yanli stood a few steps away. He was also dressed in dark clothes, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands—simple yellow and white chrysanthemums. More than three years had made his temperament more composed, and his brows showed the tranquility that comes with experience in the world. Only his gaze toward her remained deep and focused, just as it had been every time they reunited after crossing mountains and seas.
The two stood a few steps apart, gazing at each other silently for a moment. A silent understanding flowed through the chilly air of the cemetery.
"Ji Yun said you're back," Huo Yanli said first, his voice low, as if afraid of disturbing the peace of the place. Ji Yun's information was always well-informed.
"Mm." Song Zhiyi nodded, not pressing him on how he had found this place so precisely. Some things are better left unsaid.
Huo Yanli stepped forward and respectfully placed the bouquet of flowers he was holding in front of her parents' graves, alongside the white chrysanthemums she had offered. Then, he took a half step back and stood beside her, silently gazing at the two tombstones together.
After a long silence, Huo Yanli asked softly, "How long will you rest this time?"
“One month.” Song Zhiyi’s gaze remained fixed on the tombstone. “One week left.”
"And then?" he asked, his tone casual, like a friendly chat.
Song Zhiyi finally turned her head to look at him. Sunlight danced in her eyes, reflecting a clear and unambiguous answer: "There's a newly created position to coordinate the intersection of global climate change and conflict prevention. The Secretary-General's office consulted me about my interest."
Huo Yanli nodded slightly. It is an international consensus that the climate crisis exacerbates resource competition and triggers or intensifies conflict. This position, situated at the intersection of environment, politics, and humanitarianism, is undoubtedly another arduous battlefield.
"Another tough battle," he commented, his tone devoid of worry, only calm acceptance.
"Mm." Song Zhiyi responded softly, then turned back to look at her parents' photos again, a very faint, almost gentle smile appearing on her lips. "But someone has to go."
Another long silence followed.
As the sun begins to set, it paints the horizon with a warm orange-red hue and bathes the solemn cemetery in a soft golden glow.
"Let's go," Song Zhiyi said.
The two walked side by side along the cemetery path. Reaching the parking lot, Huo Yanli naturally opened the passenger door and looked at her.
Song Zhiyi sat down without hesitation.
The car smoothly drove away from the cemetery and merged into the traffic heading back to the city. The scenery outside the window gradually changed from the tranquility of the countryside to the bustling city. Familiar street scenes flashed by; Beijing had changed a lot, but its essence remained the same.
The car was quiet, with only soothing music playing softly.
As Song Zhiyi gazed out the window at the receding city lights and shadows, at the familiar and unfamiliar streets and pedestrians, a complex and indescribable emotion welled up within her. This journey of "tracing the source" felt like a thorough spiritual reflection and reorganization. She saw clearly where she had come from and confirmed her future direction. And the person beside her, silent and unassuming, seemed to connect the beginning and end of her journey, like a quiet yet profound underground river.
The car slowly came to a stop at a red light. Looking at the bustling crowds and flashing neon lights at the intersection ahead, Song Zhiyi suddenly spoke softly, breaking the silence in the car:
"Huo Yanli."
"Hmm?" Huo Yanli gripped the steering wheel, looked ahead, and responded in a deep voice.
Song Zhiyi continued to look out the window, her voice soft yet clear, like a chess piece finally settled:
"The ten-year agreement has not yet been reached."
Huo Yanli's grip on the steering wheel tightened almost imperceptibly, his knuckles turning slightly white. His Adam's apple bobbed, but he maintained a steady voice:
"I know."
Then, he heard her next words. Her voice was still soft and gentle, yet it carried the power to shatter all his defenses and reshape his entire world, falling softly as she spoke:
"But perhaps... we don't have to wait until that day."
"squeak--!"
The tires screeched against the ground with a short, piercing sound! Huo Yanli slammed on the brakes almost instinctively! The car came to an abrupt halt at the intersection just before the green light turned on, drawing a string of disgruntled honks from the cars behind.
He abruptly turned his head to look at Song Zhiyi in the passenger seat. His deep eyes were now churning with disbelief, shock, elation, confusion, and a cautious vulnerability, as if afraid it was a hallucination. His breathing was erratic, his chest heaving, as he stared directly at her, as if trying to discern the true weight of those words from her calm expression.
Song Zhiyi felt a little uncomfortable under his intense reaction and almost scalding gaze, but the faint smile on her face deepened subtly. She turned her head slightly, avoiding his direct gaze, and looked at the traffic light ahead, which had already turned green. She gently reminded him, her tone carrying a rare, almost reproachful gentleness:
"Watch where you're going."
Huo Yanli seemed to be suddenly awakened by those words, snapping back to reality. He took a deep breath, forced himself to turn around, gripped the steering wheel tightly again, and pressed the accelerator. The car restarted and merged into the traffic, but the slight abruptness at the start betrayed that his inner state was far from calm.
For the rest of the journey, no one spoke again. But the air in the carriage had completely changed. A silent, immense surge of emotion and warmth welled up and spread in the stillness. The invisible wall that had stood between them for years, built by ideals, responsibilities, risks, and the passage of time, seemed to have been quietly breached by that single, casual remark.
Light shone in.
Huo Yanli stared intently at the road ahead, his jawline taut, yet the corners of his mouth couldn't help but gradually curve upwards, eventually forming a genuine and incredibly relaxed smile. That smile contained the bittersweet relief of finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel after a long wait, the immense joy of regaining what was lost, and boundless anticipation and certainty for a future that was now so different.
Song Zhiyi continued gazing out the window, the dazzling lights of the city flashing across her clear eyes. Her face remained expressionless, but the slightly curled fingers at her sides and the slightly quickened heartbeat clearly reflected the turmoil within her.
She didn't know if this decision was absolutely right, nor how many unknown storms lay ahead. But she knew that after traveling thousands of miles, witnessing the turmoil of the world, and thoroughly sorting out her heart at the grave of her loved one, she was willing to give each other a possibility that "didn't have to wait until that day."
It's not about seeking reliance, nor about fulfilling worldly expectations of perfection.
It was because he was Huo Yanli. He was the one who truly understood her ambition for the country and chose to become her "comrade-in-arms" in his own way, silently protecting and steadfastly accompanying her through the long years.
Perhaps, the true meaning of "mountains and rivers as witnesses" is neither a heavy betrothal gift nor a magnificent vow.
Instead, after each of us has gone our separate ways, experiencing the vicissitudes of life, we look back from the depths of time and find that the other person is still quietly waiting on the road we came from. And we, having weathered countless storms, are finally willing to slow down for him, and for that profound understanding and unwavering waiting, so that the two once parallel and increasingly distant paths can reconnect and move forward together.
The car drove smoothly through the streets of Beijing on an autumn night, heading towards a future that had already been quietly rewritten.
The mountains and rivers are silent, and time passes without a sound.
But some changes have already taken root in my heart, as clear as inscriptions carved on time.
(End of text)
This concludes the main story; this ending was predetermined from the beginning. Further content will be covered in the epilogue. That's all for the main story.
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