Qiu Xing knew nothing about all this. He was busy with his own life, occasionally transferring money to Lin Yiran while contacting her less and less frequently.

He wasn’t clear how much he had given Lin Yiran over the years. His account never had much in it; he was still a penniless man.

Lin Yiran accepted his money without refusal, even directly putting most of it into term deposits. Last month, Lin Weizhen transferred the final fifty thousand yuan he owed, and Lin Yiran replied with a “received,” then set his chat to do not disturb.

The debt Qiu Xing had paid for her had already been reclaimed from Lin Weizhen with interest. For the past two years, she had been like a creditor, occasionally sending Lin Weizhen messages asking: “When will you repay the money?”

Lin Weizhen had partnered with someone to open a writing school and seemed to be making some money. Regardless of where the money came from, Lin Yiran had gotten it all back.

Qiu Xing knew nothing about this. The recovered money was all with Lin Yiran, and she hadn’t told him.

[Qiu Xing.]

Lin Yiran stayed in the study room until it closed, returning very late. The moon that night hung in the sky like an egg yolk, truly beautiful.

Lin Yiran stood on the small path and looked up for a while, feeling very peaceful inside.

She hadn’t seen Qiu Xing for a while, but she often did this—suddenly think of Qiu Xing due to completely unrelated things. Or like now, when she felt joyful and relaxed, she would want to call Qiu Xing.

But not knowing what Qiu Xing was doing, she only sent him a message.

Qiu Xing: [What are you doing?]

Lin Yiran took a photo of the moon and sent it to him: [Look how beautiful it is.]

Qiu Xing: [What time is it, and you’re not back yet?]

Lin Yiran continued walking, smiling as she lowered her head to reply: [I miss you.]

Qiu Xing didn’t respond to this message, and Lin Yiran knew he wouldn’t. She didn’t need a reply from Qiu Xing. She was mature enough now, no longer that panicky young girl, able to recognize and face her inner feelings.

She knew what she wanted and also understood what kind of person Qiu Xing was.

When Lin Yiran came out of school two days later and saw Qiu Xing on the phone across from the school gate—tall, handsome, mature Qiu Xing—Lin Yiran wasn’t even surprised.

She stopped in her tracks and looked at him from across the traffic flow, smiling. How wonderful Qiu Xing was—

This is my Qiu Xing, Lin Yiran thought.

Qiu Xing had squeezed out this one day and would leave the next day.

Throughout the day, he kept receiving phone calls; he was truly busy.

During this period, Qiu Xing had grown thinner from being so busy. Lin Yiran felt it when she hugged his waist.

Her palms were damp with sweat, a thin layer of moisture on her forehead, the corners of her eyes reddened, her hair scattered messily on the bedsheet. Her eyes held Qiu Xing like water as she raised her hand to caress his face, her fingertips brushing the end of his eyebrow.

Qiu Xing lowered his head to kiss her, the muscles on his neck and shoulders beautifully defined as he bent down. Lin Yiran kept her eyes open, watching Qiu Xing’s closed eyes as he kissed her with such seriousness.

Qiu Xing was not a naive person. His circumstances had long since stripped away the cheerfulness of his childhood.

At nineteen, he was suddenly hit by misfortune, prematurely ending his wild and carefree boyhood, burdened with debt and the future of himself and his mother. At twenty-two, he shouldered another responsibility. He had pushed it away several times, directly or indirectly, but on one chaotic night, he set aside his reason and became intimate and inseparable from a girl. This caused him to take on hundreds of thousands more in debt, and a life he needed to be responsible for.

Qiu Xing was both cautious and flexible. His mind was always full of many things—how to repay debts, how to make money. These matters meant his eyes lacked the light of youth. Lin Yiran always remembered Qiu Xing’s numb face when she first got into his car. Now Qiu Xing was more animated than he was then, but overall, he remained profound and calm. What he had experienced couldn’t be erased, just as he could never return to his childhood.

But occasionally, in some inadvertent moments, he would show a simplicity and purity not usually seen in him, like a young boy.

Like at Aunt Fang’s home, when Lin Yiran woke up before him, and was looking at the new flowers Aunt Fang had grown on the balcony. Qiu Xing woke up, shirtless, first calling “Mom,” then looking for “Lin Xiaozhou,” poking his head into the bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom, searching in confusion.

Or like how after every intimate moment, Qiu Xing would hold Lin Yiran tightly for a while, burying his face in the side of her neck, or kissing her face back and forth.

Or like at this moment, when he closed his eyes to kiss Lin Yiran, it was without other components, beyond desire. His brow and eyes showed a pure seriousness and sincerity, allowing one to see at a glance that his kiss came from the heart.

Lin Yiran stroked the back of his neck and head at that moment, feeling her heart was both very full and very light.

In that instant, she made a decision.

After Qiu Xing left this time, Lin Yiran did something significant.

The money Qiu Xing had given her that she had never touched, the money she had reclaimed from Lin Weizhen, the money she had earned herself, plus the money her mother had left her—Lin Yiran spent almost all of it in the following half month.

The money she had originally planned to return to Qiu Xing intact someday, to prove their relationship wasn’t truly just a transaction, was spent by her without hesitation.

She bought a house.

The original owner was a friend of her teacher, who had planned to retire and live in this comfortable city but had a change of plans and went abroad with his daughter, offering a price slightly below market value.

The teacher said Lin Yiran had a firm mind, acting on her thoughts immediately and decisively.

Lin Yiran just smiled, not telling anyone the reason.

With the little money left, Lin Yiran ordered a pair of rings.

She never wore jewelry, so she had no preference and chose a set based on her aesthetic judgment.

The salesperson asked with a smile: “Are you choosing wedding rings?”

Lin Yiran nodded and said calmly: “Yes, wedding rings.”

The protagonist of Lin Yiran’s recently completed short story “A Village” was a very elderly man. He stubbornly lived alone in an old house for twenty years, finally dying in a village where he was the only inhabitant.

He refused to leave that place. When he became too old to walk, he still longed for his wife, Jin Hua, whom he had loved since his youth.

The small river at the foot of the back mountain carried away the falling leaves but not his walking stick.

No one lived in the village anymore. For hundreds of years, it had witnessed shooting stars chasing the moon, the cycle of life and death, and finally concluded along with an eighty-year love story.

In the afterword, she wrote such a passage: If they say the essence of any relationship is exchange, I think that’s too absolute. I believe there are still pure emotions in this world, beyond exchange. Things that I can trust for a lifetime, like a mother’s love, and rootless love. Love cannot build a dreamlike greenhouse; I’m only captivated by the heavy life it creates. When I see it, I want to build a house for it, to contain it inside.

*

On the day the rings arrived, Lin Yiran went to pick them up, then headed to the station to take the high-speed train directly to find Qiu Xing.

She had something to do the next afternoon, so she could only stay for one night before leaving.

She hadn’t contacted Qiu Xing before coming. If she had, he wouldn’t have let her come; he would only have told her to wait and found time to visit her instead.

Lin Yiran didn’t want to wait, nor did she want to trouble him. She just felt compelled to come over, to say a few simple words.

Qiu Xing’s fleet was coming in successively for regular maintenance. When Lin Yiran arrived, Qiu Xing’s hands were completely black, wearing work clothes, with several wrenches of different sizes in his side pocket, talking to a driver.

The two wolves in the cage barked at her excitedly. Lin Yiran went over to pet them, then walked in by herself.

Xiao Zhang saw her and greeted her warmly, telling her Qiu Xing was in the yard and offering to help find him.

“No need, I’ll go myself,” Lin Yiran said with a smile.

Dozens of vehicles were parked in the yard. Lin Yiran walked through row by row looking for Qiu Xing.

Qiu Xing was standing between two vehicles with two drivers. Hearing someone approaching from behind, he turned to look. What was initially a casual glance turned into bewilderment when he saw it was her.

“What are you doing here?” Qiu Xing asked in surprise.

Lin Yiran smiled, walked over with her bag, and said: “Looking for you.”

“It’s dirty,” Qiu Xing pointed at the vehicle beside her, indicating she shouldn’t brush against it. “Something up?”

Lin Yiran said: “Yes.”

With people around, Qiu Xing didn’t ask what it was, only saying: “Go wait for me over there.”

Lin Yiran nodded and obediently walked away.

Lin Yiran hadn’t been here for a while. Qiu Xing’s bed still had the thick winter comforter. She removed the duvet cover, pillowcases, and sheets, put them in the washing machine, and found a summer blanket to air out in the sun.

As always, Qiu Xing didn’t notice these things. When he was alone, he lived quite roughly.

By the time Qiu Xing came over, Lin Yiran had tidied everything up and was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him.

“What’s the matter?” Qiu Xing asked as he walked to the bathroom to wash his hands.

Lin Yiran followed him, saying: “Wash your hands first.”

Qiu Xing’s hands needed several washes. Lin Yiran followed him into the bathroom, first standing at the doorway, then moving to sit on the washing machine.

Today, Qiu Xing had forgotten to wear gloves when he first reached in, so he ended up working bare-handed. He lathered up with hand soap for a long time. Lin Yiran sat there, hands propped on the edge, her calves swinging back and forth.

“You’ll damage your hands washing like that,” Lin Yiran said.

Qiu Xing said: “Didn’t wear gloves.”

He was washing roughly, scrubbing hard. Lin Yiran jumped down and went over to wash his hands for him.

She squeezed hand soap onto her hands to create lather, held Qiu Xing’s hands, and gently scrubbed them. But hands stained with machine oil couldn’t be completely cleaned in one day; they would remain dirty.

Lin Yiran took a towel to dry his hands. Qiu Xing asked again: “What did you come to see me about?”

Lin Yiran said: “Just something, that’s all.”

Her unhurried manner suggested it wasn’t anything urgent. Qiu Xing wasn’t too worried and didn’t ask further.

Qiu Xing took a shower and changed clothes. Lin Yiran waited for him outside.

When Qiu Xing came out, Lin Yiran waved to him, saying: “Come here.”

Qiu Xing walked over while drying his hair: “Tell me.”

Lin Yiran took out a cream-colored velvet box from her bag and extended her arm to hand it to him.

Qiu Xing didn’t take it: “What is this?”

Lin Yiran said: “Open it and you’ll know, won’t you?”

She pushed it toward Qiu Xing again, but Qiu Xing raised his hand to dodge, still not taking it.

Lin Yiran didn’t bother with him anymore and opened it herself. Inside was a pair of rings.

“Qiu Xing.”

Lin Yiran was wearing a dress, her hair smoothly draped over her shoulders, her face without makeup. With her gentle temperament, she stood beautifully across from Qiu Xing, a clean, faint fragrance about her.

She looked intently at Qiu Xing and said: “As long as you put this on my finger, I will marry you.”