Hu Ni wants to send Xiao Yan's ashes back to Chongqing. Xiao Yan once said that only in Chongqing did she feel like she had roots, and Chongqing was her favorite city.
She didn't even ask for leave. With only two days off on Saturday and Sunday, she didn't want to stay in that city any longer.
I bought round-trip tickets, then wandered aimlessly through the bustling streets. Life is full of uncertainties; a beautiful life can end so abruptly. What else can we truly control?
Curled up on the sofa, I looked through the photos Xiaoyan had left behind. Most of the photos were taken in bright sunlight, and Xiaoyan smiled radiantly under the sun, a smile that was charming, bright, and full of allure. The sunlight in the color photos seemed fresh, yet it had become old because of Xiaoyan's departure, suddenly aged.
The sound of the door lock turning was heard, but Hu Ni remained lazily leaning against the sofa, motionless. From then on, Xiao Yan only existed in these photos.
"Hu Ni!"
Hu Ni looked up and saw Qiu Ping, dressed in a neat suit, carrying his laptop.
"Not working overtime today?"
"I was supposed to work overtime, but I wanted to see you sooner, so I brought it home to work on."
Qiu Ping sat down next to Hu Ni, and Hu Ni wearily threw herself into Qiu Ping's arms: "I'm sorry, Qiu Ping, I always make you worry."
“I would be happy if you needed me,” Qiu Ping said, stroking Hu Ni’s hair.
Hu Ni hugged Qiu Ping's neck tightly, burying her face in Qiu Ping's shoulder, feeling the familiar, comforting yet intoxicating scent.
Looking at the photos scattered on the sofa, Qiu Ping asked, "When are we leaving?"
"tomorrow."
What time is your flight?
"10:40."
"I'll go with you."
“No need!” Hu Ni refused. There were too many painful memories there, and she didn’t want Qiu Ping to go there.
Qiu Ping insisted on going with her, but Hu Ni insisted on refusing. In the end, Qiu Ping won.
When they arrived at the airport exit, there were no family members or anyone to pick them up.
Hu Ni held Xiao Yan's urn tightly in her arms; the small box was where Xiao Yan was hidden.
The air was filled with the familiar yet bittersweet sounds of authentic Chongqing dialect. I never imagined I'd be back after all these years, especially not in this way.
As the airport bus drew closer to the city, Hu Ni tightly wrung her fingers, her eyes fixed on the scenery outside the window. The unbearable past vividly replayed itself, those cold and hard memories.
Qiu Ping grasped her stiff hand. "Relax a little, Hu Ni."
But she also wanted to forget all of that, yet it had indeed existed, like ashes after time had burned away, scattered everywhere, flying freely in yesterday's old sunlight, covering the sky and the earth.
The changes in Chongqing's urban area are significant. Finding Xiaoyan's home was quite an ordeal; the surrounding houses had all changed. Hu Ni and Qiu Ping had to find it by house number. Xiaoyan's home was now in a mixed-use commercial and residential building.
She rang the doorbell, and heard rustling sounds from inside. Suddenly, Hu Ni remembered Xiao Yan from years ago—Xiao Yan in a red tank top and denim shorts that revealed half her buttocks, her face so fresh it wasn't a speck of dust. Just as Hu Ni was desperately trying to hold back the tears welling up in her eyes, the door abruptly opened. Inside stood an elderly woman with gray hair, her gaze vacant, her expression somber. Looking at the urn in Hu Ni's arms, the muscles in her face suddenly twitched. She slowly reached out, took the urn, buried her face in it, and began to sob silently.
"Come in." Xiao Yan's father appeared behind his wife without her noticing. His hair was already gray, and his expression was equally somber. Hu Ni, however, didn't know that their hair had turned gray overnight.
The rustling sounds outside startled the old man lying inside; the sounds were intermittent and unclear, old and covered in dust.
"Mom, it's not Xiaoyan who's back. It's Xiaoyan's classmate who came to play with her. It's not Xiaoyan."
The dusty, old voice began to speak again, but it was impossible to understand what she was saying.
"Grandma doesn't know?" Hu Ni asked.
"I dare not tell her."
Hu Ni took out each of Xiao Yan's belongings from her bag, one by one. Xiao Yan's mother, her back now hunched, stroked each item carefully, silently weeping over those keepsakes that still carried her daughter's scent. Xiao Yan's father stood behind his wife, his trembling, bearded chin shaking, tears welling in his eyes. Suddenly, the house seemed shrouded in dust, becoming old and worn.
The slightly ajar door opened, letting in a beam of sunlight. Standing in this beam was a tall, imposing man, his features blurred by the light. His gaze was fixed on the box in Xiaoyan's mother's hand, then he searched the faces of the group for answers. He walked in, staring at the small box, and asked, "Is Xiaoyan back?"
Hu Ni was at a loss for words.
The once sunny boy has grown up, wearing rough clothes, with messy hair, a shaved chin, and a painful flame burning in his eyes.
Hu Ni recalled Xiao Yan's joking remark: If one day you really suffer a terrible setback, then go back to Xiao Gang, if he still says he's waiting for you then.
Xiaoyan is not coming back, but perhaps she will return in this way.
Xiao Yan's father said in a hoarse voice, "Don't tell anyone else."
The man's face twitched, then he stubbornly turned around and strode out.
"Xiaogang!" Hu Ni called out to him, taking out the decorative ring that Xiaogang had given to Xiaoyan from her bag. On that hot summer afternoon, in Hu Ni's room, the air was filled with the sweet smell of watermelon, along with the sweltering heat and the ambiguous scent of sweat...
The man turned his head slightly, stubbornly staring at the ring with a rose on it in Hu Ni's hand, his face streaked with tears. He didn't take the ring, turned back, and quickly disappeared into the sunlight streaming through the doorway. On Hu Ni's fingertip, the bright red rose on the ring shimmered with a dazzling, cold light.
From the inner room came intermittent, dusty, old sounds, mixed with coughs. Hu Ni peered through the half-open door. The room, with the curtains drawn, was dimly lit; time seemed to stand still in that room. On the relatively new bed, there was a small bulge. The old, dusty sounds were coming from there.
The butterfly shattered (Part 11)
gold
Wandering the streets for a long time, Hu Ni still couldn't shake off the oppressive feeling of Xiao Yan's parents' newly decorated and luxuriously furnished house. The image of the former Xiao Yan, the fresh, pretty, and somewhat naive Xiao Yan, filled Hu Ni's entire being.
"Is there any fun place we can go?" Qiu Ping tried to appear relaxed so that Hu Ni could also feel at ease.
“…I’m really not a good guide,” Hu Ni said apologetically. Having lived in Chongqing for two years, she still felt unfamiliar with the city. “I’ll take you to see where I used to work.”
"good!"
When I finally found the old shopping mall in Jiefangbei, it was almost unrecognizable. Jiefangbei had become such a grand and bustling place.
"This place wasn't very pretty before; it's been renovated," Hu Ni said with some disappointment. Entering the lobby, the old lobby was nothing compared to what she saw now. Behind the main service desk stood two stunningly beautiful women, their skin as white as jade. Chongqing was a city teeming with beauties. Looking at those two women, time seemed to rewind to the past—those youthful days when she didn't know how to cherish things, Xiao Yan's every word laced with profanity, her innocent, unpretentious giggles, Xiao Gang waiting for her on his bicycle at the door after get off work…those poor yet youthful years. Hu Ni realized she was reminiscing and sighing. Her nostalgia wasn't because she was old, but because so much joy and sorrow remained in her memory, old stories fluttering in the faded sunlight.
They also went to the place that Hu Ni had rented years ago. Fortunately, it hadn't been demolished yet, but the surrounding area was already being demolished, with a large-scale construction project underway.
Stepping into the alley, a different world unfolds. Because it's winter, people aren't out enjoying the cool air, but women are still busily cooking over fires on their stoves. Along the roadside, shoe repair shops and barbershops remain, business slow but steady. Under the large banyan tree, an elderly man plays the violin and sings Sichuan opera excerpts. Seniors who have already eaten dinner bring out their tape recorders, red sashes tied around their waists, or fans in hand, preparing to dance to old-fashioned disco in the small open space. From a short distance away, the voice of an elderly woman from the neighborhood committee calls out: "Close the doors and windows, be careful of fire and theft..." Here, time stands still, the air is soothing it's almost still.
"You used to live here?"
“Yes, the rent here is cheap, and it’s close to my workplace.” Hu Ni pointed to the small building whose red door had been repainted: “It’s over there, the window on the second floor.”
Which door?
"The one with a corner of curtain."
The two of them looked at the small, dark window and fell silent.
The red door creaked open, and the landlord's plump youngest daughter-in-law came out carrying a child of a few years old, followed closely by her thin husband, who kept saying, "You damned old hag! How are you supposed to take care of a child! The baby has such a high fever!"
"You little bastard, I don't even see a single person all day, and I'm here taking care of your kids all day, what more do you want!"
The elderly couple followed closely behind, hurrying after them.
"Oh dear, I told you to go, but you insisted. Even with just a little fever, the whole family is in turmoil." The son didn't want his elderly mother to go out. The family walked past Hu Ni and Qiu Ping, arguing and bickering, and then left.
"Aunt Zhang, Uncle Zhang, where are you going? The whole family has come out." An old woman cooking at the door greeted the family.
"Aunt Li, my grandson has caught a cold and has a slight fever. We need to take him to the hospital to get him checked out."
Is it serious?
"It's not serious, just a slight fever. Go see a doctor as soon as possible, don't delay. You can't let your child's illness go untreated."
"That's right, kids these days are so spoiled."
Hu Ni and Qiu Ping exchanged a smile, then slowly turned and left. In this alley where time seemed to stand still, their hearts were filled with extraordinary peace.
Winter in Chongqing is already quite cold. Hu Ni was wearing a black coat and a black and white checkered scarf around her neck, which she had just bought at the mall. Even so, the cold wind still managed to seep into her clothes.
"Are you cold?" Hu Ni asked Qiu Ping, who was wearing a winter coat that revealed a black sweater underneath.
"I'm not cold. Are you cold? Your hands are still icy," Qiu Ping said, holding Hu Ni's hand.
"It's not cold, it's just that I haven't experienced a winter like this in a long time." Looking at the drastically changed streets, time seemed to have turned back. In fact, all day today, Hu Ni had been wavering between the present and the past. That lonely and desolate New Year's Eve, those desperate phone calls that never went through. Hu Ni held Qiu Ping's hand tightly. Now everything was alright, she felt secure and safe.
Among the numerous billboards, one caught Hu Ni's attention. It boldly proclaimed: "XX Interior Design Company, primarily designed by the Fine Arts Department of XX University." Suddenly, Xiao Wen's image surfaced more clearly in her mind, accompanied by intense pain.
“I used to study at this university,” Hu Ni said, pointing to the billboard.
"Should we go take a look? We still have plenty of time to go back to the hotel."
"I don't want to go, there's nothing to see... How about I take you to eat Chongqing snacks instead? They're really delicious. When I leave Chongqing, the snacks are what I miss the most."
At a food stall on the food street, Hu Ni and Qiu Ping ordered a table full of food: hot and sour noodles, dan dan noodles, steamed corn buns, and skewers served hot. The food street was especially lively at night. Most of the people passing by, regardless of age or gender, were carrying a bowl of hot and sour noodles or cold noodles, or corn on the cob and skewers, eating as they walked.
Qiu Ping is afraid of spicy food. He repeatedly emphasized that there should be less chili in the food he ordered, but he was still burned by the spiciness. He sighed and gave up the hot and sour noodles in front of him, and picked up a small steamed bun with his chopsticks to eat.
"Young man, can't handle spicy food? Hot and sour noodles don't taste good without some chili." The slender proprietress, wearing an apron and holding a soup ladle, said with a smile, "How about I make you another bowl, without any chili?"
"No need, thank you, that's enough," Qiu Ping replied with a smile.
"Will eating these things fill you up?" Hu Ni asked.
"Of course! When you work overtime, you can eat all sorts of things. Sometimes you eat bread, sometimes instant noodles, and sometimes you order takeout. People like us are the easiest to satisfy."
Hu Ni stopped talking, feeling a pang of heartache, and lowered her head to eat.
The table was full of food, but the price was surprisingly cheap.
"It's too cheap." Qiu Ping remarked after paying, "It's too much work to do this."
Hu Ni smiled. In the past, eating like this was such a luxury for her.
The Liberation Monument becomes even more lively at night, with colorful lights and fragrant clothes. Many people linger on the pedestrian street, passing the time.
In the hotel, Qiu Ping was already fast asleep. Hu Ni gently propped herself up from his arms, lifted the white sheet, and quietly got out of bed. The television flickered with a single, dim light, accompanied by the static of electricity.
I walked to the window, drew back the curtains, and outside lay the picturesque night view of the mountain city, and the still bustling, sleepless metropolis. This city, perhaps, I'll never have the chance to return to again. The ignorant, youthful, and heartbreakingly naive days; the emotions and bodies unintentionally hurt… and the simple, childish, adorable, vulgar, elegant, and mature romances—all have drifted away with the ashes of time, scattered across this city, a world both real and unreal. A sudden wave of sorrow washed over me.
The Lost Child (Part 1)
gold
The Spring Festival is approaching amidst a mix of anxiety and excitement. Qiu Ping said his parents have already decorated the house and are waiting for them to return.
Lianqing has been out of work for a while. Sometimes she works as a print model, shooting advertisements or promotional photos. She is waiting to start working again after the Spring Festival. For now, she is just taking a break.
In almost all her spare time, Hu Ni wandered around various shopping malls, unable to decide what gifts to buy for Qiu Ping's parents, as well as her uncle and aunt, who were also going back to Shanghai this year.
Before the Spring Festival travel rush even began, Lianqing and Fang Hongyu excitedly packed their bags and headed home. At their age, they were happy wherever they went; any pleasant change made them joyful. Hu Ni envied this about them, very much so.
After finishing their last day of work of the year, Hu Ni and Qiu Ping carried their bags and boarded the plane home. Suddenly, they felt a sense of homecoming, to that cold village, dry and cold without snow. The fields were desolate and barren. Yet, in their hearts, there was such warmth and familiarity. They realized that was their true home, a home even in a place without loved ones.
Outside the window, only white clouds stretched as far as the eye could see; nothing else could be seen. Qiu Ping, dressed in a sweater and coarse cloth trousers, was reading a newspaper. A steaming cup of coffee sat on the small table beside him—this was her man. Hu Ni felt a surge of sweetness welling up inside her. She took a sip of the coconut milk on her small table and slowly flipped through a geography magazine. No matter where the plane took them, she was at peace, happy. Because Qiu Ping was by her side. Suddenly, a song by Qi Yu came to mind: "...Sitting face to face in the carriage, in your eyes, the reflection of a frightened girl, the train keeps moving forward, I don't want to get off, no matter where it takes me, my station is beside you, right beside you, it's me, beside you!..."
The plane landed on the edge of the city. After exiting the airport, they boarded a car, heading away from the bustling city. Looking out the window, the scenery became increasingly familiar: bare, green trees gone, only the withered stumps of last season's crops remaining on the barren land on either side. The car occasionally overtook passing horse-drawn carriages with their bells, the same sound as the carriage Hu Ni had ridden in with her uncle years ago. Through the fogged-up window, Hu Ni watched the increasingly familiar scenery draw closer…
That mountaintop, and the boy standing atop it...