Zhou Wan had never imagined she would one day see Lu Xixiao’s tears.
He shouldn’t have been crying.
He was supposed to be forever unrestrained and carefree, always striding forward. How could someone as proud as him cry alone in front of everyone, amid all that laughter and joy?
She didn’t even dare to think too deeply about whether those tears had anything to do with her.
She could accept Lu Xixiao hating her, resenting her, never forgiving her – but she could never accept Lu Xixiao crying because of her.
Zhou Wan couldn’t even bring herself to watch it a second time, quickly locking her phone screen.
…
Soon after, Lu Xixiao returned, and the wedding banquet ended.
He held Zhou Wan’s hand as they said goodbye to Jiang Fan before taking the elevator down. He’d been drinking so obviously couldn’t drive, so they called for a designated driver.
Zhou Wan stood beside him, squeezing his hand back as she said softly, “When we get back, I want to learn how to drive.”
Lu Xixiao, cigarette between his lips, lowered his gaze: “Why the sudden interest in driving?”
“Sometimes work requires unexpected field assignments,” Zhou Wan said. “Plus, if you drink in the future, I can come pick you up.”
Lu Xixiao smiled: “Sure.”
Zhou Wan tilted her head up to study him.
His face wasn’t red at all, his expression normal, only his eyes showed some languor, like an ink painting washing into a blur.
“Lu Xixiao, are you drunk?”
“A bit.”
If he was admitting to being somewhat drunk, he must have had too much.
“I thought you couldn’t get drunk.”
He laughed softly: “Drinking too fast makes it easy to get drunk.”
Soon the designated driver arrived, and they sat side by side in the back seat. The car radio’s mechanical female voice, carrying a slight static, announced they’d received a message from a listener who had broken up with her boyfriend of five years today. The boyfriend listened to this channel every day, and she wanted to dedicate “Later” to him.
Zhou Wan’s eyelashes trembled.
Lu Xixiao’s car stereo had much better sound quality than the noisy KTV recording from seven years ago.
She turned to look at him.
The window was half-down, the wind tousling his hair.
Silent emotions hung in the spring evening breeze as if traversing seven years, and she saw once again that vulnerable, crying Lu Xixiao.
She had thought too little of herself, never imagining she could hurt Lu Xixiao so deeply.
…
Back home.
The drinking had been too fast today, and the alcohol was still surging up through his chest and throat. Lu Xixiao frowned slightly, feeling unwell.
He’d drunk too much in his youth, and then those years abroad with irregular eating habits had left his stomach occasionally painful.
Beyond the discomfort, even his thoughts felt distant.
All these years, every time he got drunk he would think of Zhou Wan, every single time, like a conditioned reflex.
This house held a unique meaning for them.
They had lived here together for a time, like a shelter from wind and rain, sharing unspoken, obscure secrets.
Lu Xixiao suddenly thought of many things.
“Zhou Wan,” he called softly in the unlit room.
Zhou Wan looked up; in the darkness, only his pupils were bright.
“Mm?”
He stared at her steadily for a full minute, as if only now confirming that Zhou Wan was really by his side. Finally reassured, he pulled his lips into a faint smile: “Nothing.”
His eyes reflected too many complex emotions and unspoken thoughts.
Zhou Wan reached out to turn on the light, told him to shower first, and then went to the kitchen.
They hadn’t been back for so long that the refrigerator was empty, so she found a box of kumquat lemon tea in the wall cabinet. Zhou Wan boiled some water and added the tea packet.
By the time the water boiled, Lu Xixiao had just finished showering.
Zhou Wan poured a cup, added some cold water to cool it, and walked into Lu Xixiao’s room.
Lu Xixiao truly looked drunk, half-leaning against the headboard in the dark room, lit only by light spilling from the bathroom. His hair was still wet, not yet dried.
“Lu Xixiao, drink this.”
“What is it?”
“Kumquat lemon tea helps with the alcohol.”
The temperature was just right, and he drank it all. Zhou Wan took out a hair dryer and sat on the edge of the bed to help dry his hair.
When Lu Xixiao was drunk, you really couldn’t tell from the surface, but right now he was unusually docile, head lowered, completely quiet, letting her dry his hair.
After Zhou Wan had dried his hair completely, she put away the hair dryer and said softly, “Good night, Lu Xixiao.”
Just as she stood to leave, he suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Zhou Wan nearly fell, catching herself with a hand on his chest as she half-fell onto the bed.
“Zhou Wan, don’t go.”
His voice was deep and magnetic, very rough, very hoarse, carrying a pleading tone completely different from his usual voice.
Zhou Wan froze for a moment.
“Don’t leave again.”
Drunk, he frowned with his eyes closed, lying back on the bed, just tightly gripping Zhou Wan’s wrist, speaking as if in a dream.
“I won’t leave,” Zhou Wan gripped his hand back. “Lu Xixiao, I won’t leave.”
She held his hand tightly, wanting to give him a sense of security, but he seemed completely unaware, lost in memories of the past.
“Zhou Wan, if you just come back, I’ll forgive everything.”
“…”
The corners of his eyes gradually reddened, unwilling and hurt: “But why won’t you just love me…”
“…”
Zhou Wan’s eyelashes trembled rapidly, her throat contracting as she stared at the Lu Xixiao before her now.
A bitter taste rose in her throat that she couldn’t suppress, so she could only lower her head and sniff, saying softly, “I’m sorry, Lu Xixiao.”
She didn’t want to see Lu Xixiao like this at all.
All of this was her fault, and all the consequences and pain should have been hers to bear.
“I thought that after I lied about not loving you, you would completely give up on me,” Zhou Wan lay gently against his neck, whispering, “I just didn’t want to see you continue hurting.”
They were too young back then.
Overestimating themselves, and underestimating each other.
She had heard all those descriptions of young love, how many people described youthful romance as an exceptionally real beautiful dream.
You think you’ll never wake up from the dream, just like you think you’ll love that girl forever and never change.
But once you wake up the dream vanishes, just like in the end that girl was just a fleeting glimpse of your life’s path.
She stood in the dream, thinking herself awake.
She tore herself from the dream, giving up all reluctance and struggle.
Decisively, resolutely, ruthlessly cutting off all connections with Lu Xixiao.
She thought that without her, her young man would be free of all ties and constraints, would stride forward boldly, would hold his head high, would be full of vigor, would climb step by step, unrestrained, wild, and willful.
“Lu Xixiao.”
Zhou Wan looked at him, asking softly, “How have you been all these years?”
She thought again of that tear in the video.
That tear seemed to fall on her heart, scattering in the mist, never to dissolve away.
Lu Xixiao’s fingers threaded through her hair, holding her in his arms. He didn’t answer Zhou Wan’s question, perhaps not having heard it.
“Did you not have a good time?”
In the dark room, Zhou Wan spoke quietly to him, as if telling secrets known to no one.
“Me too. When I first left Pingchuan, I missed you every day and was tired every day, but I didn’t dare think about you, afraid that if I thought too much I would selfishly throw everything aside and come back to see you.”
You were the person who was best to me, after only Dad and Grandmother.
In my whole life, there have been so few people who were truly good to me.
How I wished you could walk freely and openly down a bright path, living the best and happiest life in this world.
Lu Xixiao was drunk and couldn’t hear what Zhou Wan was saying now. Seeing old friends at the wedding banquet today and hearing “Later” on the car radio hadn’t reminded Lu Xixiao of that post-exam gathering; his thoughts had just unconsciously all rushed to that period.
He kept repeating over and over his pleas for her not to leave, his questions about why she didn’t love him.
So Zhou Wan patiently repeated again and again that she wouldn’t leave, acknowledging her true feelings.
Her hand remained firmly clasped in his.
So even someone like Lu Xixiao could feel insecure sometimes.
After who knows how long, Lu Xixiao finally drifted off to sleep, his breathing becoming steady. Zhou Wan tucked his hand under the blanket and, worried he might wake up thirsty in the night, got up to fill a thermos with warm water and place it by the bed.
“Good night,” she said softly, “Xiao.”
She bent down slightly, intending to tuck in his blanket, and in the movement, her fingertips caught his shirt collar.
In the dim light, she glimpsed something from the corner of her eye.
Zhou Wan’s fingers froze, her breath catching—
She’d thought it was the knife wound from seven years ago when Lu Xixiao had stood in front of her.
Her index finger trembled as she pushed his collar aside, and through the weak light, she saw the tattoo on his collarbone.
It was in his handwriting, bold strokes, the characters like the man himself.
The character “Zhou” flows smoothly, and the final stroke of “Wan” is drawn long.
Written in flesh and blood:
—Zhou Wan.
Just two characters, her name.
He had carved her name over his heart.
Below it was a grotesque scar. After all these years, the scar hadn’t faded, crossing his pale skin, shockingly stark.
It was evidence of her crime, and also his medal of honor.
Zhou Wan stared at it for a long time.
The tattoo and the scar.
She felt herself falling endlessly.
Something was pulling her down, dropping her into a deeper, darker abyss, but when she reached the bottom, something soft and warm caught her, as pinpoints of sunlight pierced through the thick fog and darkness.
She suddenly clenched her fists tight, her breathing becoming uneven.
“Lu Xixiao… you can’t be like this…”
Her heart was racing chaotically, filled with an unbelievable bitterness and sourness.
At this moment, she finally realized how wrong she had been. She had gone in circles, doing so many things thinking she knew best, only to find it was all like a joke.
She had seen Lu Xixiao’s previous girlfriends before, each one bright and confident, beautiful and graceful.
But she wasn’t that kind of girl.
She was insecure, sensitive, and awkward.
She hated this version of herself.
She didn’t even love herself, so how could she believe—
That dazzling, bold young man would truly fall in love with her.
To the extent of carving her into his flesh and blood, bleeding for her.
The next morning.
Zhou Wan woke up and, considering Lu Xixiao might have an upset stomach when he woke, went out to buy congee. When she returned, he had just gotten up and was coming out of his bedroom.
Zhou Wan’s movements paused as she looked at him: “Headache?”
His voice was hoarse, thick with congestion: “It’s fine.”
“I bought congee, eat some first to warm your stomach, it should make you feel better.”
“Mm.”
Lu Xixiao sat at the dining table, picked up the spoon, and took a sip. The warm, light vegetable congee did indeed make him feel much better.
Zhou Wan sat across from him, raising her eyes to his collar area. He had rebuttoned that button, hiding the scar and tattoo.
“Lu Xixiao,” she said softly.
“Mm?”
“These years, have you been well?”
Lu Xixiao’s hand holding the spoon paused slightly as he looked up, then gave a light laugh: “Pretty good.”
Zhou Wan pressed her lips together. At this moment she couldn’t manage even a hint of pretense, asking directly: “The tattoo on your body, when did you get it?”
Lu Xixiao froze for a moment.
Last night he had been half-drunk, half-asleep, and waking up felt like a blackout, his memories fragmented. He had no idea when Zhou Wan had seen it.
“Second year of high school,” Lu Xixiao said. “March 25th, your birthday.”
Zhou Wan’s heart skipped a beat.
Something else heavy dropped down inside her.
“On my birthday…”
Zhou Wan’s voice trembled, “Why did you never tell me?”
Lu Xixiao pulled at the corner of his mouth: “It was meant to be your birthday gift, but when I saw you that day I got too embarrassed to say anything. It felt too deliberate, and I figured you’d see it eventually anyway.”
The tattoo was just below his collarbone.
Not very far down.
It should have been visible in shirts with lower necklines.
Zhou Wan suddenly understood – Lu Xixiao got the tattoo in early spring’s chill, and she had left him at the end of May.
And now, they had reunited in early winter, and spring was just arriving again.
They had never welcomed high summer together.
If she had left later than when Pingchuan’s weather turned hot and everyone switched to short sleeves, would she have seen Lu Xixiao’s tattoo?
But now seven long years had passed.
Between them, it seemed there were always these missed connections.
“Lu Xixiao,” she lowered her head.
His voice was deep and gentle: “Mm.”
“I feel like I’m always in your debt, with no way to repay you.”
“Wan Wan, do you remember what I said to you on your 17th birthday?”
Zhou Wan froze for a moment.
Those memories from seven years ago that should have been blurry suddenly became clear.
Lu Xixiao holding the cake, the room dim except for the warm candlelight.
He spoke in the darkness, his voice level and calm, yet heavy and determined.
“Zhou Wan, happy 17th birthday.”
“We still have our future ahead of us, nothing is set in stone yet, and everything can still be changed.”
“So it’s alright, Zhou Wan. Everyone experiences loss, feels pain, cries tears, breaks down, but all of this will pass.”
“And I will light the candles, and stay with you until we reach the brightly lit path.”
…
That brave, forthright, wild young man appeared before her eyes again across time and space.
“Lu Xixiao.”
“Mm.”
“On my graduation day, I saw this quote online that said ‘If only we could have welcomed the blazing summer together.’ At that time I felt such regret that we never got to experience summer together.”
Lu Xixiao’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“I’m sorry, I was too cowardly, I was the one who gave up on you first.”
Zhou Wan said, “If I had been a little braver then, a little more determined, and believed in your feelings a little more, perhaps I wouldn’t have hurt you like that.”
“I was always so self-righteous, thinking that was what was best for you, but I never truly believed in you, never truly tried to see our relationship from your perspective.”
Lu Xixiao didn’t speak.
From age 17 until now, he had only ever loved Zhou Wan.
Of course, over these years he had felt wronged and resentful too. These emotions suddenly welling up now made his throat tight with an overwhelming sense of grievance.
Zhou Wan kept her eyes lowered, saying softly: “I don’t know what to say or do to make you forgive me, to make it up to you…”
“Wan Wan.”
Lu Xixiao interrupted her, speaking low and earnestly, “You don’t need to say or do anything, just stay by my side from now on.”
Zhou Wan looked up, a tear falling.
She always felt such shame before Lu Xixiao.
He was open and sincere, brave in both love and hate.
He so easily forgave her grave sins, asking only that she stay by his side from now on.
But he was Lu Xixiao.
That Lu Xixiao who wore a halo, that Lu Xixiao who was admired by so many girls in their youth. He had been wronged, and betrayed, yet he still forgave her so easily.
Zhou Wan sniffled, trying hard to steady her voice.
“Lu Xixiao.”
“Mm.”
She gathered her courage and raised her eyes to meet his, looking at her reflection in his pupils, looking at the Zhou Wan of the past, facing her past obsessions and darkness.
“Let’s get to know each other again.”
Zhou Wan looked into his eyes, speaking slowly and sincerely, each word measured, extremely serious: “Hello, I’m Zhou Wan – the ‘wan’ from ‘drawing a bow curved like the full moon.'”
Let’s start over again.
Lu Xixiao.