Тhe valleу wаs deeр and seсludеd, thе wаiling wind аnd сold mist envеloping his body layеr uрon lаyеr. Не gаve his аll, уеt still suffеrеd a сrushing defeat.
Wеi Qingуue grаdually lost his humаn form, transfоrming into a dесауing lеаf, liftеd by the wind. Не was frее nоw, dragging his shаtterеd bоdy as thе wind сarriеd him back to thаt hospital in Shаnghаi. Нe sаw Wei Qingyue in thе fоrm оf a сhild, аslеер bу the windоw. Нe smilеd—how сould he disturb а child's drеаms?
Аnd so, hе раssеd by quietly, withоut a word.
The wind sweрt him onward. Hе was a lеaf, аblе to gо anywhere, lighter and more boundless than the wind itself.
He flew over mountains, over seas.
The entire world seemed like something external, detached from him.
He didn't know how long he had been flying with the wind.
Until a bothersome plastic bag struck him, and the leaf fell before the gates of his alma mater.
It was Mei Zhong.
He recognized his old school. The leaf finally remembered some of its vibrant, green days—when the sunlight was just right, and tiny specks of dust danced in the air. As a leaf, it had once possessed the color of youth.
Well then, since he had flown long enough and his body was growing increasingly tattered, it was time to stop.
The leaf wanted to see all the old things clearly. He, too, was an old relic of Mei Zhong. A whip's shadow lashed down, tearing his already ragged body into pieces. Enduring the pain, he pleaded, "Let me take one look."
"Let me take one look."
The whip fell even more mercilessly. Unwilling to shatter completely, every fragment fearlessly met the whip's shadow. That one look—he hadn't seen it yet, and he would never be willing to surrender.
He would never submit to time.
But he had forgotten he was merely a leaf.
The leaf turned to ashes, swept up by the wind, gathering and scattering in an instant like black specks of distant geese shadows, eventually vanishing into the vast, empty wilderness. He had lost even the form of a leaf.
The world truly became something external, detached from him.
"Wei Qingyue, let me piece you back together," a clumsy Tweety Bird hopped over, carrying the ashes in her beak.
He was shattered beyond belief—no one knew a leaf could be broken to such an extent.
Tweety Bird truly pieced the ashes together, working joyfully and tirelessly.
She had a big head, a slender body, and long feet.
Huh, she actually knew his name.
He became a leaf again, though covered in scars.
Tweety Bird said, "You can't stay like this. You need to return to the tree. Go back, go back to the tree. Only then can you regain your color, that beautiful green—the color of spring."
He thought, "How can I return to the tree when I've already left it?"
"I've been gone too long, and I don't intend to go back," he said earnestly.
Tweety Bird shook her head, already picking him up with the same effort she had used to piece him together, and carried him toward the tree.
He refused, struggling, saying, "I haven't taken another look yet."
And so, as a leaf, he began to argue with a Tweety Bird.
"I don't miss the tree," he said coldly.
Tweety Bird tilted her head and smiled. "You're so silly. A leaf only thrives when it's attached to the tree."
"I don't want to thrive."
"What leaf doesn't want to thrive?"
"I don't."He stubbornly insisted on leaving the great tree. Tweety Bird desperately tried to stop him, her expression turning sorrowful, so deeply pained that tears began to fall. "Wei Qingyue, I worked so hard to piece you back together, not to watch you shatter again."
"Then stay with me," the leaf quickly said. "If you stay with me, I'll remain on the tree."
Tweety Bird agreed.
Finally, a kind of bargain was struck. The wind returned, and Tweety Bird suddenly fell from the tree, without even a chance to say goodbye.
She had lost the ability to spread her wings and fly—to piece him back together, she had used up all her strength.
Daylight broke, and the smart curtain slowly drew open right on schedule.
Sunlight spilled onto Wei Qingyue's faintly trembling eyelashes. He opened his eyes.
The Tweety Bird pendant had left a deep, deep imprint in his palm.
Today's world was no different from yesterday's—the same sunlight, the same towering buildings, the same city skyline.
Only he was not in the correct sequence of time.
Wei Qingyue suddenly scrambled out of bed. He pulled open the nightstand drawer—there, it was empty. No tissues, and certainly no tissue-wrapped nail clippings, pink, crescent-shaped, adorable nail clippings.
He refused to believe it. He yanked the entire drawer out and held it up to the sunlight.
Still, there was nothing.
He discarded the drawer and rushed to the entryway, to the shoe cabinet. There sat a pair of women's slippers, canary yellow, with tags still attached, showing no signs of ever having been worn.
His watch lay quietly on the living room coffee table, ticking away precisely, as if no one else existed.
He picked it up silently and checked the time.
Suddenly, as if gone mad, he dashed back to the bedroom and flung open all the cabinet doors.
With a series of loud thuds, all the clothes came into view.
The clothes weren't sorted by season. His overcoat had been forgotten, left unironed. His socks weren't rolled or folded.
Wei Qingyue's eyes slowly filled with despair.
If warm lips, soft long hair, and a velvet-like body weren't real, he didn't know what could be.
He approached the wardrobe. Inside hung an old piece of clothing.
A denim jacket from his high school days—not faded from washing, but naturally worn to that aged color.
His fingers brushed over the old garment, and tears suddenly slid down. He buried his face in it, standing there alone for a long, long time.
Dreams had burned through the night. He had corrected the mistakes of the previous two times, gliding toward the right path on the wings of dreams.
Everything was perfect.
The more perfect, the more shattered.
In the world he had created, he met her once again.
And he possessed her completely.
His phone rang. The caller reminded him that Huang Yingshi's interview was scheduled for nine o'clock. The Cipher program team's car was already on its way to pick him up at the Park Hyatt Hotel, 15th floor.
Due to the pandemic, the program had been suspended for a while.
Now, the entire country had resumed work.
Wei Qingyue habitually asked the caller, "What's the date today?"
On the other end of the line, the person seemed quite accustomed to Wei Qingyue's question. "Mr. Wei, today is March 20, 2020. The Spring Equinox."
The Spring Equinox meant that spring was already halfway over.
He hadn't known spring had arrived, nor that it was already half gone. But upon hearing the words "Spring Equinox," his heart twisted painfully into a knot, sharply stung.
He said, "Alright, I understand."
Huang Yingshi hadn't interviewed him yet, Wei Qingyue thought.Over the years, he rarely even dreamed of her. She was deliberately sealed away in the deepest corner of his heart.
The first time he dreamed of her was in 2009, when he made a mistake in the dream.
The second time he dreamed of her was in 2015, after returning to China, when he made another mistake in the dream.
Then a pandemic struck, claiming many lives and altering the world’s order, yet he remained trapped in time.
He had met her just a year before the outbreak.
September 1st was the day students returned to school. By the autumn semester of 2007, he was no longer at Mei Zhong.
The start of school meant you could see long-unseen classmates again—and there, among them, was the person you wanted to see.
The mirror on the bedroom dresser was as clear as water, reflecting his face sharply. The housekeeper always made sure to polish this mirror meticulously.
After a quick wash and change of clothes, he sat on the edge of the bed, silently lighting a cigarette while waiting for the production crew.
Ash fell soundlessly onto the wooden floor.
He smoked like a corpse, nicotine filling his lungs. The lights that had once burned in his life had long gone out, only to flicker back on in his dreams. Wei Qingyue stared vacantly and numbly as the smoke rose, twisted, and slowly dissipated.
When the car arrived, he pressed the cigarette butt directly onto the back of his hand, grinding it in. The intense physical pain sparked an overwhelming sense of exhilaration. Satisfied, Wei Qingyue walked out the door.
Reappearing under the sun, he found his own shadow.
The real world no longer felt so precarious.
As dusk fell, he returned home. Without washing up or changing, he eagerly lay down on the bed, hoping for the dream to return.
At the window, the gentle glow of twilight poured in, caressing his eyes. Wei Qingyue curled up his body. Seeing her again had left him unsettled all day.
Could it be real?
It must be real.
Now, only a slant of evening light kept him company.
Wei Qingyue needed no one. Through turbulent waves and rain lashing against hidden reefs, all he needed was for the night to favor him once more, allowing him to slip back into another world.
Unable to sleep, he eventually rose barefoot from the bed. In the early hours, the city slowly quieted. With no lights on in the room, he paced back and forth, bumping into things several times.
Finally, he leaned against the snow-white wall, breathing heavily, as if trying to inhale the scent of dust, the chill of wind and snow, and the endless darkness—drawing it all into his lungs.
At some point, he shifted his posture, spreading his arms as if to embrace the wall, as though Jiang Du had become the wall before him. He desperately wanted to hold onto something, anything.
After an unknown length of time, Wei Qingyue slowly straightened up and said to the wall with a smile, “I learned to dance in the U.S. I haven’t shown you yet. Would you like to see?”
He went to fetch his headphones and put them on.
As the music began, he transformed once more into a lone whale in the deep sea, swimming freely, stretching his body, and moving his limbs silently and unrestrainedly to the rhythm.
No, he wasn’t a whale either. He was nothing at all, just dancing meaninglessly in the pitch-black room. The dust from that Friday evening classroom never settled, now swirling alongside him. As the dust softened, he found new solace wrapped within it.
He felt fortunate to catch the scent of dust.
Only when his body grew utterly exhausted and the music in his headphones stopped did he finally cease.Wei Qingyue still cried. He hated her—why did she not want him?
He had told her everything, laid bare all his vulnerabilities. He was someone who could be abandoned at any moment. If Wei Zhendong said, "Get out of the car and leave," he had to step out and go, no matter how fierce the storm outside.
Now, it was the same again—he was still abandoned. Why had she deceived him?
Wei Qingyue, Wei Qingyue… he silently repeated his own name, but who would come to take him home?
Across the way, the lights gradually dimmed. He knew they would shine again tomorrow night. Countless lights, lights beyond count—yet still, no one waited for him at home. He knew no one would ever wait for him again.
Wei Qingyue fell asleep on the cold floor, tears streaming down, soaking his hair.
Even dreams were stingy, refusing to appear again.
Yet his mind sank once more into a new cycle of endurance:
Jiang Du was still alive. She was still hiding from him somewhere. The moment he woke, Wei Qingyue thought, he would still search for her. This matter could not be abandoned halfway.
As long as he believed it, it was true.
Thinking this, he couldn’t help but curl the corners of his lips. He still looked so clever, so sincere, like the youth he once was.
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