That initial glimpse of her in the crowd was perhaps due to her unique charm that caught her eye.
The boss and director didn't stay long. After seeing them off, Song Jianan was about to take her leave as well, but Fang Yanyan gestured for her to stay. She was a little surprised, "Is there anything else?"
"I haven't answered the question I asked you earlier." Fang Yan'an's smile vanished, and his deep black eyes stared straight at her.
She paused, frowned slightly, and stammered, "I..."
I don't know how to explain my original intention. Back in high school, I was always insecure and always kept my head down in crowds. I was just holding my breath and simply wanted to stand taller and stand out more, just so that one day he would notice me.
Fang Yanyan then spoke up, "Why am I, a foreign language major, interning at a newspaper, and wanting to pursue a master's degree in journalism?"
She shook her head. Su Li, who was standing behind her, looked at her with great interest. "Sister Jia Nan, do you remember a year ago when Zhang Yanping, a senior reporter from Xinhua News Agency, came to your school to give a lecture? I secretly sneaked in to listen. It was just out of curiosity, but it changed my choice."
How could she forget that report, that lecture organized by the college, that short, long-haired Zhang Yanping, that only female reporter who rode with Wang Shunyou across the winding cliffs, that person who watched the video recording the funeral of Guo Xiuming, the former secretary of the Huijiagou Village Party Branch, until late at night, and cried until late at night? In her, she felt a kind of emotion for the first time, the emotion of being interviewed, and also a sense of professional sanctity and emotion.
She nodded gently. "I remember it very clearly."
"That day when I went back, I quickly read through 'Why the Soma Flower Is So Red' and 'The General Did Not Go Far Away,' and tears streamed down my face. I kept thinking, if one day I had the opportunity to stand in that position, what would I do? Before, I chose this major just to follow the crowd. That day, I began to examine myself and think about what I really wanted and what I wanted to do. I thought about it for a long time, and the answer was that I wanted to be a journalist, a journalist who could move myself and the world."
"But, Fang Yanyan, many times, reporters are not what you imagine them to be."
“Yes, I understand. Just like on my first day at the newspaper, many people were gossiping about my background because the newspaper made it clear that they weren't hiring anyone, not even interns. I was really upset then, but I wanted to prove myself with my actions.” Fang Yan spoke quickly, his shoulders trembling slightly, clearly struggling. “I know I had too idealistic expectations of being a journalist. Reality is cruel, after all. But this is my goal. How can a person live without any hope? What I'm doing today, and what I've always done, is all in pursuit of my ideal journalist's life—only what you experience can be real, only what's real can be written, and only what moves you can move your readers.”
He breathed softly, his eyes fixed firmly on Song Jianan and Su Li standing behind her, until Su Li spoke, "Fang Yanyan, I understand what you mean. I'll help you with Su Jin."
Fang Yan smiled reassuringly, but seemed a little tired. "Sister Jia Nan, why did you become a reporter?"
She smiled and said softly, "I used to be very timid and insecure. Look, now I can stand here and conduct a live interview. I can produce a report about an interview with a hero in an hour. Does that count as a reason?"
"So you..." A cold voice suddenly came from behind, but stopped her in time. Song Jianan turned to look at him, and Su Li calmly explained, "It's nothing, I'm sorry."
The afternoon sun slanted through the glass, its bright light almost blinding. Their eyes met, and Song Jianan's complex emotions were hard to describe. It was the first time she had looked at Su Li so openly, as if she wanted to make up for all the lost time. But her heart slowly calmed down, and Song Jianan said earnestly, "I personally mentored Fang Yanyan in the social section. He is really hardworking. I have never seen anyone work three consecutive night shifts on the hotline without complaining about being tired. I have never seen anyone argue with me over a single sentence. I have never seen anyone risk their life to cover the news. He works very hard, and he will definitely become an outstanding reporter in the future."
"I know," Su Li said calmly, a fleeting gentleness crossing his cool and aloof eyes. For a moment, Song Jianan thought she was seeing things, and her heart stirred with a touch of bittersweetness.
Fang Yanyan yawned loudly, and his eyelids drooped. Song Jianan quickly said, "Fang Yanyan, you should rest. I'll come see you again tomorrow."
Fang Yanyan shrank further under the covers, turned to the side and muttered, "The medicine is taking effect, I can't hold on any longer. Sister Jianan, come see me early tomorrow, and bring me the day's newspaper if you can. Brother, I won't keep you any longer, my sister is counting on you."
Song Jianan glanced at Su Li, who gently closed the window, turned up the air conditioner temperature, placed the remote control to Fang Yanyan's left, bent down to give him a few instructions, and then stood up and said to Song Jianan, "Song Jianan, let's go."
His tone was incredibly casual and gentle, as if he were a long-time friend, as if he had spoken to her like this a long time ago—"Student, come up on stage."
At that time, he didn't know her name, but she wrote his name in her heart a hundred times every day.
Now he knows, and knows even more than she imagined. He calls her Song Jianan, a name he has waited ten years for, casual, familiar, and warm.
She gently closed the door and followed behind him, a distance of twenty centimeters, a span of ten years.
Finally, the moment arrived, so close, and those three words appeared—"Song Jianan".
Laughter and tears are both in vain; in an instant, enlightenment dawns, and all is realized.
It turns out, love had already come and gone.
Author's Note:
Transitional chapter, actually, uh, I can't write about passionate lovemaking, um, for my fingers
Su Li and Song Jianan have both been gone for so many years, yet neither knows if the other has changed. Speaking of Song Jianan's feelings for Su Li, they've always been unstable, a mixture of reality and her own imagination.
From now on, she will live in reality.
"Time's Edge" by Sheng Li, Chapter 26 — Jinjiang Original Website [Works Library]
There was not a word spoken the whole way, and the atmosphere was eerily silent. As they walked out of the snow-white inpatient department, they were greeted by golden sunlight. It was this sunlight that shone on Su Li's face, making his originally pale face appear even more vivid.
Where should she say goodbye to him? Song Jianan pondered, slowing her pace. The distance between the two shadows beneath her feet gradually lengthened. As if sensing the growing distance between them, the man in front suddenly stopped and turned around to ask, "What's wrong?"
“Uh—” Song Jianan seemed a little lost. “Well, I’ll go back to the newspaper office first. There are some things to take care of.”
"Hmm." Feng replied casually, his eyes hiding a smile, but Song Jianan didn't notice at all. Her eyes blinked nervously, like a child who had made a mistake, and her hands even clenched into fists, her fingertips fidgeting and pinching her palms. "I'll go back to the newspaper."
"Hmm. It's the same plain and simple answer."
What is "gratitude"? Song Jianan suddenly realized that she really couldn't bring herself to say it in front of Su Li. Before she could express herself more clearly, the man in front of her answered calmly, "I know, I'll send you back to the newspaper."
Should she instinctively take a step back, wave her hand and say no, flag down a taxi and leave this suffocating place? But inexplicably, she felt the air in her throat slowly drift out, turning into a submissive syllable, "Okay," as it reached her ear.
Whether reason betrayed emotion or feeling dominated reason, she couldn't say for sure.
Each step he took felt like a dream, the winter sun shining brightly, like the time that had flowed away in his youthful years. The breeze and sunlight ruffled his hair, just like the boy who used to look up at the sky alone with his head held high.
Suddenly, I felt grateful for the kindness of time, both for Su Li and for her.
He was driving a white BMW. Song Jianan had seen this type of car quite often when she was working in the entertainment industry. It was low-key and steady, much like Su Li's personality. Suddenly, she remembered a night long ago when she met Fang Yanyan in the food street, and it was also this car.
If she had paid more attention back then, would she have met him sooner, or fallen into an unforgivable state of self-blame sooner? In fact, the vast distance between them was nothing more than a series of knots she herself had tied.
This stalemate is no one's fault but one's own.
She tilted her head back slightly, her shoulders slumping. Su Li's car was very clean and had a faint scent of jasmine. She wondered which hidden compartment was emitting that fragrance.
Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced over. He was focused on driving. Song Jianan felt that they had nothing to talk about, so she turned her gaze to the scenery outside the window, looking at the plane trees, pedestrians, and vehicles.
My mind was racing, and for a moment, I really felt like I was dreaming.
The BMW slowly pulled up in front of the newspaper building. Song Jianan habitually pursed her lips and lowered her eyes. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." The words were simple, but the attitude was polite yet distant. He turned to look at Song Jianan and then said, "Fang Yanyan might need your help for a while."
She withdrew her hand from the car door, her eyes filled with confusion. "Huh?"
"It might not be so easy to persuade Fang Yanyan's cousin, who is also my sister. The most feasible solution is to have Fang Yanyan temporarily switch sections. I think if he were on the same section as you, he might not object too much, and..." He paused, "I would feel much more at ease if you took him with you."
Song Jianan smiled and nodded slightly, "Yes, no problem." Then she opened the car door, "If there's nothing else, I'll be going now. Thank you for driving me."
She had barely touched the ground when a voice called her back, "Song Jianan, I have another favor to ask."
Turning her head again with a puzzled look, she met Su Li's calm eyes. "While Fang Yanyan is in the hospital, could you please visit him more often?"
It turned out to be just a small request. Song Jianan smiled and said, "Okay, I'll definitely go when I have time. It's really no trouble at all."
After Song Jianan had walked away, the BMW made a neat turn, exited the newspaper building's courtyard, and was about to drive onto the elevated road on Haining Middle Road when it swerved and parked steadily on the temporary parking lane by the roadside.
Su Li walked out and came to a small newsstand on the street. Various magazines and newspapers were spread out on the table. The newsstand owner greeted him, "Young man, what are you looking for? Do you want the evening paper or the express paper?"
"Metropolitan Evening News." He took out his wallet, then thought for a moment, "Uncle, do you have any leftover Metropolitan Evening News here?"
"What do you mean leftovers? You mean the ones from a few days ago?" The newsstand owner was very helpful. "Let me find them for you. Just wait a moment. This City Evening News is the best-selling newspaper with the largest circulation. It's basically sold out every day. Hey, what a coincidence, there are still a few left."
"Thank you so much. I'll take today's too. How much is it in total?"
The old man at the newsstand chuckled, "I'll give you the newspaper from a few days ago for free. I see you don't buy newspapers often, so it'll only cost you one yuan."
"Wang Luobin's son reveals that two memorial halls will be completed next year—his father loved the west and Guilin."
The page was huge, filled with dense text, and the second name reported by the reporter was Song Jianan. He slightly curled the corners of his mouth, then flipped to the entertainment section of the newspaper from a few days ago, carefully looking for Song Jianan's name. Sure enough, regardless of the size of the page, there was news about her almost every day.
Fang Yanyan had never mentioned her name, nor had he ever asked about her work at the newspaper. He had no habit of reading such newspapers, and he never imagined that it would be so easy to see her name and know where she was.
He casually tossed the newspaper onto the passenger seat, took out his phone, and dialed a number. "Xiao Zhang, help me find all the articles in the City Evening News with the byline Song Jianan. Yeah, just contact the person in charge there directly, don't tell anyone else."
The afternoon sun slanted through the dappled shadows of the trees, casting halos of light on the newspaper. He rolled down the car window, gently closed his eyes, and let the winter wind blow in freely.
Along with a thick stack of newspapers, half-suspended on the chair, rustling softly, his heart was filled with a strange sense of unease.
When so many years of illusion and ethereal mystery become reality before he is ready to uncover the truth, no one can predict whether their unexpected encounter after ten years of missed connections will be good or bad.
In reality, they had no idea what she looked like or what he was like.
Time and distance have obscured the true cruelty; once revealed, it is unpredictable.
Song Jianan arrived at the newspaper office and hadn't even settled in when the phone rang. She answered it and heard a very cold female voice, "Is this Ms. Song Jianan from the City Evening News?"
She answered, "It's me. How can I help you?"
"I'm Yin Yi, the public relations manager of Fangcheng Advertising, the organizer of CHANEL's new product launch in China. I'm calling to confirm if you can attend CHANEL's new product launch in Beijing on January 3rd?"
“Okay.” Song Jianan casually flipped through the calendar on the table. January 4th was marked with “Minor Cold” in small red letters. She thought to herself, “Good heavens, if I go to Beijing at this time, I’ll be frozen solid.”
After confirming the time and place, as well as the general schedule, Song Jianan hung up the phone, jotted down a note, then took out a pack of biscuits from the drawer, boiled some water, and pondered how to report to the director, as well as book plane tickets and arrange hotels.
What a frustrating thing—just as she finished her report and was about to leave, she was stopped. "Xiao Song, you've heard that we're transferring an intern from the social section to our office, right?"
"Su Li's efficiency is really too high," she thought to herself, and quickly replied, "Yes, I know."
"The higher-ups want you to mentor him. I think that although you haven't been with our entertainment section for long, your work performance has been excellent, and I'm very confident in you. I'd like to ask for your opinion. Please feel free to tell me if you have any difficulties."
"I don't think there are any difficulties," Song Jianan replied earnestly. "Director, what I really want to ask is, do we need to book two tickets for the flight to Beijing on January 4th?"
"I'd better go ask about it."
A message came shortly after: "Take one ticket for now. We'll have to wait for the hospital's notification for Fang Yanyan. If she can be discharged, we'll go with her."
Song Jianan was somewhat disappointed, staring blankly at the computer screen in a daze, when her phone rang. She picked it up and saw that it was an unfamiliar number, but it looked very familiar. Without thinking much, she answered it, and a familiar voice rang in her ears, "It's me."