When Chen Qingwu returned inside, she found Liao Shuman and Meng Fuyuan had already opened up in conversation.

Probably sitting in awkward silence was too uncomfortable, so who knows who started the topic.

Liao Shuman was saying: “I don’t have much experience buying houses, and besides, the market in East City is different from South City. Just don’t buy somewhere too remote—there’s no appreciation potential.”

Chen Qingwu immediately understood upon hearing this—Meng Fuyuan had told Liao Shuman that the two of them were planning to buy a house.

Meng Fuyuan nodded in agreement.

Liao Shuman continued: “But you two have been together such a short time and are already planning to buy a house?”

Chen Qingwu silently thought to herself: Not only that, we also almost went to get our marriage certificate.

Meng Fuyuan said: “We’ve just started looking. If we see one Qingwu is satisfied with, we’ll plan to settle on it.”

Liao Shuman glanced at Chen Qingwu, her expression somewhere between a smile and not, as if saying: Then why are you even asking me?

Liao Shuman said: “You two make your own decision.”

She raised her hand to rub her brow. “When are you going back to East City? Tomorrow?”

Chen Qingwu nodded.

Liao Shuman then said: “Then Qingwu, have Auntie prepare the guest room. If anything’s missing, you go help buy it. I’m a bit tired, going upstairs to lie down.”

Meng Fuyuan said: “I’ve already booked a hotel, Auntie. Please go rest, don’t worry about it.”

Liao Shuman was too lazy for courtesies. “Fine then, do as you please.”

Only Chen Qingwu and Meng Fuyuan remained in the living room.

Meng Fuyuan stood up and moved to sit beside Chen Qingwu, his knee bumping hers. He turned to look at her. “I heard a certain someone cried today?”

“…Why does my mom tell you everything?”

Meng Fuyuan laughed. “Auntie said she found it quite rare and very surprising.”

“Actually, I used to really feel that crying was useless. But today I don’t know why I couldn’t hold it back at all.”

Perhaps being brave enough to face wounds directly is the true beginning of healing.

In the past, she was too accustomed to keeping peace with her parents through forbearance. Over time, it seemed as if those grievances truly didn’t exist.

But grievances are grievances—if they can’t be expressed outwardly, they can only cause self-harm.

Her father’s negation of her starting from the fundamental level of gender was her deepest pain.

In the past, she always avoided discussing it, because this particular negation was the one thing she was powerless to change.

She knew deeply that this change was brought about by Meng Fuyuan.

From when he said “You make ceramics, why would he give you glass?” she learned to face this fact squarely: glass is glass, ceramics are ceramics—even when categorized together, you cannot call a deer a horse.

It was still early, and they had no other plans, so they said, why not go see a movie together?

That cinema in the city center had been open since Chen Qingwu was in elementary school. After numerous renovations and equipment upgrades, it finally acquired its first IMAX screen a few years ago.

Growing up, Chen Qingwu had watched countless movies there. As soon as she stepped into the lobby, she could almost smell that scent of air conditioning mixed with popcorn.

While collecting tickets, Chen Qingwu said, “You used to often bring Qiran and me to watch movies, remember?”

Meng Fuyuan said: “Actually, I wanted to watch them. I was too lazy to entertain you two—anyway, one bucket of popcorn could keep you occupied for two hours.”

Chen Qingwu laughed: “Why are you telling me the truth! When I was little, I thought Yuan-gege was so nice, always treating us to movies.”

She thought of something and suddenly said: “No wonder back then you didn’t buy three seats together—you were afraid we’d disturb you.”

“Congratulations, you’ve finally discovered it.” Meng Fuyuan said with a smile.

After collecting the tickets, they bought a bucket of popcorn and two colas. After waiting briefly, it was time to enter the theater.

It was an art film with only one showing that day. In the entire small theater, there were only five people total.

Chen Qingwu and Meng Fuyuan sat alone in the two center seats of the seventh row.

Eating popcorn and chatting, they waited for the movie to start.

“What’s your favorite movie?” Chen Qingwu asked Meng Fuyuan.

“One you happen to have seen—that one by François Truffaut.”

“‘The 400 Blows’?”

Meng Fuyuan nodded. He looked at Chen Qingwu. “Is your favorite movie still ‘Big Fish’?”

“…You even know that?”

“Once you and Qiran were writing weekly journals together in the restaurant. I overheard.”

“With your powers of observation and memory, it’s a shame you didn’t become a spy.” Chen Qingwu said with a laugh.

The movie started soon.

An art film, and in black and white at that. The camera shook somewhat, like the murmurs of a drunk person.

Chen Qingwu suddenly remembered—during the National Day holiday in fifth grade, the film Meng Fuyuan brought them to see was also a black and white art film. So much time had passed, she couldn’t remember which one it was.

Qiran fell asleep within five minutes of the opening. She watched attentively, but being young at the time, she couldn’t understand the plot at all—she only felt the shaky camera made her want to vomit.

She kept turning around to look at Meng Fuyuan sitting behind them, three rows back.

In the darkness, the teenager’s silhouette was only outlined when the screen lit up. He was so silent, yet so lonely, as if he had already entered the world of the film.

She stared, entranced, and thus forgot to get up and sit in the empty seat beside him to ask him to explain the plot a little.

That moment’s Meng Fuyuan—she couldn’t bear to disturb him.

She remembered it so clearly because it was perhaps the loneliest figure she had ever seen.

Looking back now, that was precisely the year he learned about his parents’ past, and also the year he gave up his directing aspirations.

From then on, each movie was a farewell.

Looking back, he was already standing on this bank of the river, with no possibility of ever wading across to reach the other shore.

Chen Qingwu’s movements of chewing popcorn became gentler.

Meng Fuyuan noticed, turned toward her, and asked in an extremely low voice: “What’s wrong?”

“I was thinking of the scene from your second year of high school, that National Day when you brought us to see a movie. I don’t know why, but I feel a bit sad.” Chen Qingwu’s voice was equally low, audible only to each other.

Meng Fuyuan then lowered his head and said softly: “So, no matter what, please persist in your passion. Qingwu, what I couldn’t do—help me realize it.”

Chen Qingwu nodded. When she looked at the screen again, her eyes were already somewhat blurred beyond her control.

Excluding that noisy superhero movie from last time, Chen Qingwu felt that when Meng Fuyuan watched any serious, excellent work, he brought a certain reverence to it.

This film was well-made. She became absorbed in it too, completely focused. The hour and a half seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

When the end credits appeared, Chen Qingwu realized the popcorn bucket beside her had barely been touched.

Just as she was about to stand up, she heard Meng Fuyuan speak.

“Qingwu.”

“Mm?”

“Do you know why I like coming to this cinema to watch movies?”

Chen Qingwu shook her head.

Meng Fuyuan reached out. His warm palm pressed against the nape of her neck. In a deep voice he said: “Because they wait until after the end credits to turn on the lights…”

The last word fell together with Meng Fuyuan’s kiss.

Their breaths tangled in the darkness. They kissed for the duration of one song.

The two left the cinema and walked on foot toward the hotel.

In the spring night, flowers and trees spread luxuriantly. From time to time, faded blossoms fell down and hit the ground. Perhaps flowers were spring’s popcorn.

“I heard from Qiran that Uncle Meng recently lost a large sum of money on an investment.”

Meng Fuyuan made a sound of acknowledgment. “Qingwu, I know what you want to say.”

Chen Qingwu slowed her pace and looked at Meng Fuyuan. “I hope you won’t think I’m overflowing with sympathy. I just know your personality very well. If you don’t help, you’ll be unable to sleep or eat in peace.”

Meng Fuyuan was silent.

Chen Qingwu stopped, turned to face Meng Fuyuan, reached out, grasped his hand in hers, looked up at him. “Consider it also for me. Uncle and Auntie truly were good to me. I can’t deny the past because of their current attitude. With the two families severed, you having a home but unable to return—I can’t say I bear no responsibility. The way adults take responsibility is to do their best to have a clear conscience. Don’t you agree?”

Meng Fuyuan was moved.

He lowered his head, took her hand, and touched it to his cheek. “I’ll listen to you in everything.”

Gentleness itself is a kind of original sin.

But it didn’t matter—he knew she would bear it together with him.