Chapter Seven – Drawing Closer, Bit by Bit

Lately, tranquility had eluded the village where Yishu lived. Most of the elderly, retired and idle, usually whiled away their days gathering for tea and conversation. The young, for the most part, had ventured to Beijing, Shanghai, or Guangzhou. Yun City, perched between first- and second-tier status, struggled to hold on to those brisk-footed dreamers.

April’s weather was gentle and warm, with the scent of sunlight drifting in the air.

Aunt Wang next door was preparing to move. In fact, most of the nearby elderly living alone, those over sixty, had begun to busy themselves with the same endeavor.

These days, Yishu was so preoccupied with work that she scarcely had time to think about relocating. She supposed there was still time—perhaps things might change?

“Aunt Wang, have you found a place to stay?” Yishu happened to run into the moving preparations as she took out the trash.

“Yes, I haven’t seen you around lately, so I didn’t get a chance to tell you,” Aunt Wang paused to set down a chair and wiped sweat from her brow with her sleeve. “It’s that young man you saw at the village committee last time—he really understands us old folks. He knows we don’t like living alone, so he found a building in the southern part of Yun City for us, so we can all live together and look after each other.” She scratched her head. “I can’t recall his name, but the environment’s nice. There’s even a senior center not far away.”

“That sounds wonderful. This way, you all won’t be separated and can see each other every day.”

So, he was so considerate. She’d always thought real estate developers cared only for profit and never considered the residents’ feelings. Perhaps her words to him that day had some effect—or maybe he was simply a warm, thoughtful person.

Yishu could not analyze it deeply.

Since the end of the New Year, the village had not been so lively. Nearly every household was preparing to move—a migration that, from initial reluctance to final acceptance, took less than a month. Was it that people’s hearts changed too quickly, or too slowly?

The slanting sunlight from the southeast scattered in broken patches across the stone path. Guided by time, Yishu’s footsteps traced the sunlit motes as she walked forward slowly.

Soon, all this would become the past.

It would not be long now.

Perhaps only a dozen days, maybe less.

“Be careful with that! Don’t break anything,” Old Sun waved his hand at the moving crew, the flesh on his face knotted in worry. “These are antiques, you can’t possibly afford to pay for them if you break them!”

Truthfully, the most valuable thing in his house was the vase enshrined in the living room, rumored to be from the Qianlong era of the Qing Dynasty. The rest—be it furniture or collectibles—were imitations picked up from roadside stalls.

Yishu saw even the most stubborn and quick-tempered man in the village, Old Sun, had been persuaded. It seemed the matter was settled.

“It’s you?”

Yishu turned and paused.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you.” Xu Shixi’s lips curved in a gentle smile.

It hadn’t truly been that long, but this simple “It’s been a while” filled Yishu unexpectedly with warmth. Perhaps it was an illusion brought on by the sun. No, she quickly denied that. The warmth felt real, seeping into her heart like the shimmering river beside her.

She gazed at Xu Shixi, standing against the light, his whole being glowing as if both distant and near.

Inside, she felt lost.

At work, she could chat fluently with online clients, but now, awkward and tongue-tied, she grew self-conscious. After all, online, there was time to compose a response, no chance of nerves from meeting someone’s eyes, and even mistakes could be retracted.

Yishu rubbed her hands together, nervous from head to toe. “Have you been busy helping everyone find a place to live?”

“Yes.” Xu Shixi nodded twice with a particular rhythm.

After that rainy night, he had finally come to an understanding. The elderly wanted little—only warmth and liveliness; the young cared little for sentimentality, only comfort. So, he scoured the ten-mile radius around the village for a suitable place for the villagers. In Yun City’s east and center, skyscrapers, office towers, and grand malls dominated. The north, an industrial zone, was slowly spreading west. Only the south retained buildings both old-fashioned and artistic, a haven for those seeking beauty in quiet away from the city’s noise.

The villagers’ new home lay at the very southern edge of Yun City. It had once been a small elementary school, with only a three-story teaching building. Years ago, the government merged it with the town’s primary school, and the site had since lain abandoned. Demolition and redevelopment were planned, but for some reason, these were postponed. Upon hearing this, Xu Shixi had worked hard to persuade the local authorities to lease it for three years.

The school grounds were beautiful, a dozen or so dawn redwoods leaning against the wall, their leafy canopies casting deep shade, rising several meters higher than the building itself. On the second floor, one could reach out and touch the branches. Yishu stared at the photos Xu Shixi handed her, lost in thought.

It was tranquil, a gentle beauty—time seemed to slow, each whisper of wind visible.

On her way back from the market, Yishu saw Shixi emerging from the shop under the bridge, carrying a bowl of something.

Is he having that for lunch?

It made sense. Aside from a couple of breakfast shops near the market, the village had no restaurants. The nearest eatery was in the town five or six kilometers away. She could hardly picture a refined city youth like him cooking in a kitchen.

“Do you have hot water at home?” Shixi asked, holding his instant noodles.

“Yes…” Yishu replied awkwardly, “Is this your lunch?”

He gave a wry smile. “This is all there is. I’ll make do.”

“Don’t you cook?” Yishu realized she was asking too many questions, one after another, afraid of being a bother.

“I live alone; my parents are in Beijing.” He fiddled with the noodle cup. “I eat whatever’s around—I’m not picky.”

“You…” Yishu seemed to choke on her words, her tone faltering. “Don’t you… have a girlfriend?”

Xu Shixi smiled, a hint of ambiguity in his eyes. “If I said I didn’t, would you believe me?”

Do I believe him?

Do I believe…?

Why does he ask if I believe?

Is it a hint, or just a turn of phrase?

I believe you don’t.

Or, perhaps, I hope you don’t. In that brief instant, Yishu’s heart debated endlessly.

She lifted her groceries. “I was about to cook. If you don’t mind,” she bit her lip, “why not join me?”

She set aside her worries from that rainy night, taking a step forward in the story, opening the first page of a new chapter. The words tumbled out without forethought.

Xu Shixi did not refuse, agreeing readily.

For people their age, shyness had long been worn away by the bitterness of life. All their predictions now seemed to unfold with calm acceptance.

As Xu Shixi stepped into Su Yishu’s home, something flickered across his face—a subtle emotion born of old memories.

The plantain in the corner of the yard grew greener in the sun.

The yard was so small that two or three steps brought one to the inner room.

Yishu invited Shixi to sit, then poured a glass of plain water from the kettle on the table. There was no coffee, no tea, no juice in her house; she didn’t care for such drinks, and neither did Yihui.

The tiny refrigerator in the kitchen was unusually full—thanks to Aunt Wang, who had brought over whatever she couldn’t take with her when she moved.

“Need any help?” Shixi asked, poking his head into the kitchen.

“No need.” Yishu brushed the water from her forehead with her hand. “You just sit. I can manage.”

Shixi withdrew, taking the opportunity to glance around the house.

How to describe it? Aside from a chipped table and a sofa newly draped in velvet, there was little furniture, yet everything was neat and orderly. On the wall, a lighter square marked where a family portrait had hung, taken down many years before.

Yishu knew the sorrow that crossed Yihui’s face each time he saw that photo. He had been young, and his feelings could be soothed by outward remedies. As he grew, he grew less able to express his heart, but she understood his struggle—he was not a good actor, unable to mask his emotions.

Yishu handed Shixi a bowl of tomato and egg noodles, her hungry stomach making her senses keen.

“It smells wonderful,” he said, lifting a generous forkful. “You’re a great cook.”

Yishu smiled shyly. “It’s the only dish I’m good at…”

Indeed, it was the only one. At most, she could stir-fry some greens or steam an egg. For her, cooking more dishes seemed pointless if there was no one to enjoy them.

“Oh, right,” Shixi set down his chopsticks, “have you found a place to live?”

Yishu paused, chewing her noodles. “I’m still looking. I plan to rent a place near my office, so commuting will be easier.”

“What about your things here?” He gestured with his eyes.

She was stumped—she hadn’t thought about that. Only just now, seeing neighbors moving en masse, did she realize. There wasn’t much worth keeping, but she hated to part with things that held years of memories.

The velvet slipcover on the sofa was the last thing her mother made before she died. The pale yellow fabric, washed for five or six years, was fading in places.

Yellow was her mother’s favorite color—neither as garish as red or orange, nor as cold as blue or green. It was a color balanced between warm and cool; everything just right.

Head lowered, Yishu murmured, “I’m still looking. I’ll keep looking.”

Perhaps she would rent an extra room.

“I have an empty storage unit,” Shixi’s eyes glinted. “No point letting it go to waste. If you want, you can move your things there.”

“You live there?” Yishu asked.

“No, it’s in Yunbei. I live downtown.” He took a sip of water. “My first year at Xunxunyuan, I was assigned to sales for six months, covering that area. I had a hunch it would develop, so I used my house savings to buy the unit.”

Yishu genuinely admired his foresight. “Didn’t you rent it out?”

“Full leases were too expensive, so I divided it into four areas.” Shixi spoke with enthusiasm. “The warehouse is shaped like a triangle and a rectangle. Only the triangle area is left—it’s small, not much use, so it’s been empty.”

Perhaps that was for the best—no need to seek two places. She saw no reason to refuse his offer. At worst, it was just a place for her things; she herself needn’t overthink it.

It was still early. She agreed vaguely, trusting he wouldn’t go back on his word.

That afternoon, Qiao Siming sent a message: there seemed to be trouble with the resettlement in southern Yun City. Shixi took his leave of Yishu and hurried off.