Chapter 125 — Which Path to Choose

Years later in Beijing, with a significant reduction in migrant workers, walking the streets brought a palpable sense of emptiness and solitude that seemed to press upon one’s very being.

Yishu grasped Xu Shixi’s hand more tightly.

In truth, those who had vanished were never truly part of their lives. Thus, their coming and going stirred little sorrow.

Xu Shixi felt the sudden increase in her grip and turned to glance at her. For some inexplicable reason, an indistinct sensation took root deep within his heart.

Compared to the desolation of Fengtai District, Dongcheng and Xicheng districts seemed perpetually bustling, never once at rest throughout the year. Tourists flocked from all corners of the globe like a raging flood, and the crowds at the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square were endlessly surging.

They deliberately took the earliest subway to Tiananmen Square to witness the flag-raising ceremony. Arriving at six in the morning, after passing through layers of security checks and ID scans, the scene before them was breathtaking—the vast square was packed to the brim, leaving no room to stand.

Yishu squeezed through the narrow gaps in the crowd, with Xu Shixi close behind, safeguarding her passage.

Around seven-thirty, as the dawn cast its first rays from the east, a row of soldiers emerged in perfect formation from Tiananmen. The bustling crowd gradually quieted, captivated by the clear, resonant sound of military boots striking the ground.

Yishu stood on tiptoe, straining to see, but in the end, she only caught a glimpse of the flag as it reached the summit of the pole.

The Forbidden City then took on the task of accommodating the visitors after the ceremony. On the open space before the Hall of Supreme Harmony, the crowd scattered yet gathered, gathered yet scattered, each group occupying its own corner. She wondered if such a spectacle would have appeared during the Ming or Qing dynasty, had one been transported back in time.

They walked along the central axis, passing through the Imperial Garden, turning towards the Palace of Eternal Spring and the Palace of Blissful Longevity, passing Cining Palace, Shoukang Palace, and returning to the edge of the Golden Water Bridge. Beneath the bridge, the shallow water was frozen solid, concealing the flow of time.

It felt like an ice age.

After visiting the Treasure Gallery and Clock Museum, they strolled through the various grand halls, ascended the city tower, and gazed upon the splendor and melancholy of the Forbidden City.

Exiting through the Shenwu Gate, crossing a street, they found themselves facing Jingshan Park. With the sun setting in the west, climbing the Wanchun Pavilion offered a perfect view of the Forbidden City bathed in a golden, gentle light.

Yishu was exhausted; a mild ache had settled in her left knee, and the dry, cold air had left her throat raw and scratchy.

Xu Shixi noticed her discomfort and offered to carry her. Yet, being in such a public place, they could easily become part of the scenery themselves.

If only they were walking along a deserted street, with her leaning on his back, listening to his heartbeat, breathing in his scent—that would be an indescribably sweet moment.

As darkness deepened inexorably, and seeing her weariness, Xu Shixi changed their plans and headed to Qianmen Street. After turning into Dashilan, they entered a roast duck restaurant called Four Seasons Minfu.

Watching the chef’s skillful carving, Yishu imagined the flavor would be superb. To her surprise, the duck skin, soaked in grease, proved too rich, even with sugar and cucumber strips to cut through the fat. Instead, the complimentary plate of sugar tangerines offered an unexpectedly delightful taste.

Perhaps what is widely praised is not always worth trying—maybe she was simply one of the few who felt this way.

The same applied to Nanluogu Lane, Yandaixiejie, and Shichahai—now overrun by tourists and shops resembling the wholesale markets of Yiwu.

Yet Beihai Park stirred a childhood memory of the song “Let Us Paddle Together,” learned from a music textbook. The film “Flowers of the Motherland” had been shot there.

The lake reflected the beautiful White Dagoba, surrounded by green trees and red walls. Unfortunately, the lake was frozen, denying them the pleasure of drifting gently in a boat with a cool breeze on their faces.

A certain regret, perhaps the beginning of what was to come.

Who could say?

Standing on the Seventeen-Arch Bridge, Yishu gazed quietly at Kunming Lake and the multicolored glazed Pagoda of Many Treasures atop the distant hill. The cold air seemed to saturate the scene, evoking an indescribable emptiness.

Behind her, Xu Shixi captured every moment, freezing them into eternal images.

Xiangshan Park lacked the fiery red maples of autumn, presenting only desolation and barrenness. The desolation of Biyun Temple stood in stark contrast to the bustling incense offerings at Tanzhe Temple and Yonghe Temple.

Tsinghua and Peking University, architecturally ordinary, were distinguished solely by their prestigious reputations, making them unique landmarks.

The relatively intact Temple of Heaven and the ravaged ruins of the Old Summer Palace told different yet intertwined historical tales.

The grand Waterworks, which Yishu had longed to see since childhood, stood forlornly amid cracked stones, cordoned off by a metal fence.

During their stay in Beijing, Yishu and Xu Shixi traveled by subway to all the famous sites.

Sometimes, she pondered that as a Chinese, one should visit the capital at least once in a lifetime.

Perhaps it was a sentimental urge.

Her knee pain worsened, causing her to limp awkwardly. Xu Shixi suggested resting a few days before finishing their sightseeing, but she stubbornly refused.

After the seventh day of the lunar new year, she had to return to work at Kaisheng. It was already the fourth day; time would wait for no one.

On the fifth day, they visited their last destination—the Badaling section of the Great Wall. They took a bus from Deshengmen directly to the site, then climbed the mountain on foot. Groups ascended and descended in waves.

Throughout the hike, Yishu felt as if someone was secretly following them from the shadows. Whenever she turned, there was no one.

In fact, this sensation had persisted for five days.

“Why are you in Beijing too?” Xu Shixi finally spotted Tang Chao hiding nearby.

Tang Chao removed his mask. “Naturally, I came looking for someone, and thought I'd do some sightseeing along the way.”

Yishu also removed her mask, her hair tousled by the wind as she stood exposed atop the mountain. “Have you been following us all this time?”

“You’re just realizing that?” Tang Chao’s features scrunched together. “Should I say I’m smart, or are you just slow?”

“Tang Chao, I want you to know that Yishu and I like and need each other. You’re young—why cling so desperately to someone who doesn’t belong to you?” Xu Shixi smoothed back his disheveled hair.

“Since I met Yishu, I have no way out. She is my only escape. If I can’t be with her, I have nowhere to turn.” Tang Chao rubbed his eyes, dark circles revealing his exhaustion. “Shixi, you have no way out either. My sister is planning to marry Qiao Siming.”

“How could that be…” Xu Shixi was taken aback.

“Nothing’s impossible. My old man has long intended to arrange a marriage between the Tang family and Shengqiao Company,” Tang Chao spoke nonchalantly, as if recounting a matter unrelated to himself.

Yishu looked at him. The words they had exchanged since meeting formed a neat procession, passing by her side one by one. So now, there was no need to repeat them.

It seemed everyone had found their place and their home.

Yan Lu and Lu Xugao, after a long separation, still cared deeply for each other. Perhaps moved by emotion, or resigned to fate, there was no need to seek a reason. Ultimately, what was left to argue about when they ended up together?

The relationship between Su Yihui and Cheng Shuguang, once condemned by all, had finally, through persistent endurance, earned the chance to build a life. The sweetness or bitterness, joy or sorrow, of their future would be theirs alone to face.

Yan Lu told Yishu that at a wedding banquet in Guangzhou, Li Nanzhi had attended, accompanied by a refined, steady middle-aged man. During the conversation, she called him “Zhuohua.”

If one runs around a circular track, the finish line is the starting point. They all met their destined one at the outset, but once the first step is taken, the entire journey must be completed.

Yishu wanted to tell Tang Chao that she and Xu Shixi had finished their journey, while he remained halfway. His destined one waited for him at both the start and the end. Now was not the time to switch tracks in the middle—missing that chance meant losing a lifetime.

At the foot of the mountain, artificial flowers adorned a stone monument, brightening the bleak winter of Beijing.

Yishu looked at him again and again. So many words she wished to say remained unspoken. How she longed for the flowers to voice her heart.

If flowers could speak, what would be their first words?

Would they choose silence, or pour out all their language?

The pale sky was gently suffused with warmth, shrouded in poetic haze, adorned in myriad hues.

From then on:

One person, one city, one journey;

Became:

Two people, one love, one life.

Some entanglements are destined for two, neither allowing one to leave midway, nor others to intrude at will.

Do you believe in destiny?

Or perhaps their hearts have never truly parted?

Some say that countless glances in past lives are exchanged for a single brush past in this one.

Then he and she must have long since taken residence in each other’s eyes and hearts.

Intertwined.

Unyielding until death.

There lies the beginning, and the end.

There, she and he, he and she…

To others, it may be but a transient phase in life. But for Su Yishu and the others, it is the place where half a lifetime of emotions was spent.

The heavens do not age, nor does love fade.