Chapter 40: Qingyi

The scissors were very sharp.

In the silver-white half-length mirror, every detail of Yu Zhu’s current appearance was reflected.

He sat quietly in the wheelchair, the gleaming scissors slicing through the hair at the back of his shoulders. Strands of long, black hair fell to the floor, revealing his naturally thin facial contours and diminishing the delicate softness that had been artificially added to his appearance.

“Snip snip…”

The scissors cut with wide, decisive motions, but Yu Zhu could hear nothing of the sharp snips. He only quietly watched himself in the mirror.

The thick hair around his ears gradually became shorter and thinner, the jet-black short hair lying naturally on his forehead, though one slightly long strand occasionally popped up stubbornly even after being smoothed down.

Finally, the stylist combed through the soft, fluffy short hair, put away the scissors, and turned to Venerable Suhua, who was waiting nearby. “All done.”

“Alright, thank you for your hard work.” She looked toward the door, where the maid entered with proper poise to escort the stylist away.

The short hair in the mirror felt somewhat familiar.

Yu Zhu’s consciousness wandered through scattered, chaotic memories.

A strand of sunlight fell across him, and he momentarily spaced out.

He was almost forgetting.

This was how he had looked four years ago.

Back in Mingyue Middle School, he had worn the same neat, short hair, passed notes in class, watched the orange-red clouds burning outside the evening self-study windows, ran across the basketball court drenched in sweat at sunset, and had even had someone loudly confess in front of the teaching building…

But four years ago now felt like such a distant memory, almost as if it wasn’t even his own.

Yu Zhu smiled faintly; the expression in the mirror remained unchanged.

“Xihe.”

Venerable Suhua’s hand rested on the push handle of the wheelchair. She slowly turned, leaning slightly over him to look up at his face.

His black short hair lay soft and neat. His eyes were clear and bright, long eyelashes casting faint shadows in the light. He blinked slightly, and it was as if a butterfly fluttered and quietly fell into the pool of spring in her heart.

Venerable Suhua vaguely glimpsed the boy in the photograph—the radiant youth like a sunflower, brimming with vitality.

But now, his expression was calm and still, lacking the brilliant warmth of youth, cold as snow atop a desolate mountain.

The long hair grown in darkness could be cut by scissors.

Those things lost in the flood of time, though, would never return.

“Xihe, are you tired?” Venerable Suhua unconsciously squeezed his hand. “Let’s go back and rest.”

——————

Late March.

The temperature in the imperial capital gradually warmed. Spring breezes blew from the south, scattering the city’s lingering cold and melancholy snow.

At the villa estate, warm sunlight poured down, trees lining the roads sprouted fresh green leaves, sunlight filtered through blossoming branches, butterflies danced, and shadows flickered in the light.

A few pale pink Someiyoshino cherry blossoms were placed on the study desk. The half-open window let in a cool, pleasant breeze.

Venerable Suhua put down her report and, through the sunlight, looked toward Yu Zhu nearby.

He wore a soft white sweater, layered with a black-and-white knit vest, a light gray scarf covering his jaw. Sunlight fell upon him, the gentle breeze stirring his clothes. His delicate, fair face glowed softly like jade—still and beautiful.

Yu Zhu’s cool fingertips turned the final page. The Little Prince had finished his journey.

[“You know, the road is long. I cannot carry this body; it is too heavy.”

I remained silent.

“But this is like peeling off old bark. Old bark—there is nothing sorrowful about it.”]

A shadow fell before him. The book on Yu Zhu’s lap was closed.

The breeze brushed Venerable Suhua’s hair on her shoulders. She took the book. “Stop here, Xihe. Don’t read any further. The cherry blossoms in the estate have bloomed; let’s go see them.”

On the paper, only a single stroke had been written. Yu Zhu already caught sight of the blooming cherry trees in the distance, piled like clouds of pink and white.

The short green leaves were lush, and the blossoms clustered densely on the branches. The wind blew through the treetops, scattering pale white petals across the sky.

Venerable Suhua noticed his gaze, and the pen suspended over the paper suddenly froze.

“Xihe… can you… hear me?”

When he couldn’t hear, all his reactions were slow—waiting patiently for her to finish each word, slowly thinking, and then slowly giving her a response.

Yu Zhu shifted his gaze to her.

The wind gently brushed past her ears, leaves rustling, the humidifier in the study running quietly.

Within this short distance, his breathing grew heavier.

“Xihe, you can… hear me now, right?”

Her voice was somewhat cold, unmodulated, like the first cold meltwater of a frozen river. Yet she kept her tone low, inexplicably warm.

The restrained excitement in his eyes, his longing, was equally fiery.

Yu Zhu nodded lightly.

Venerable Suhua’s lips trembled. She could hardly contain herself as she leaned forward, hugging him over and over, whispering her voice repeatedly, softly calling only her own name.

“Xihe…”

“Xihe.”

That brief, fleeting glance spanned her past and future. She had seldom been afraid of anything, yet she feared altering his natural course.

Afraid that because of her, everything might end prematurely. Afraid he might not see, afraid he might not hear.

Fortunately, fate was not so cruel to him.

“Knock knock.”

Someone knocked at the study door.

Venerable Suhua stood. “Come in.”

“Miss.” The maid entered first and gave a polite bow. “You have a call from Qingchuan Sanatorium.”

“Understood. I’ll call personally later.” Thinking of her mother, Venerable Suhua’s tone turned cold. Then she said, “It’s been a while since Jingliang came; have him come up shortly.”

“Yes, Miss.”

The maid closed the door.

Venerable Suhua turned, sunlight filling the room, the air fragrant and pleasant.

Yu Zhu had already fallen asleep in the gentle spring breeze.

——————

After Zhang Jingliang said a reluctant goodbye to his wife and drove away, his phone pinged with a message from Venerable Suhua.

“Xihe is asleep. Come at 4 PM. I hope you haven’t left yet.”

Zhang Jingliang: “……”

He glanced at the current time: 13:35.

Looking at her avatar, he half-raised his middle finger, then put it back down.

Driving slowly, stopping here and there, buying several things for his wife, he finally arrived at the Tianxing Villa Estate at 15:40.

Upon entering, he saw Venerable Suhua seated on the sofa across from him, smiling brightly.

Not the usual rehearsed smile, but one radiant from her eyes all the way to her lips.

“Miss, you’re in a good mood. Something happened?” Zhang Jingliang picked up the tea poured by the maid.

“What happened?” Venerable Suhua tossed the question back.

“Cough… cough… how is Xihe now? Cough… never mind, I’ll drink this water and go see for myself.”

Venerable Suhua said, “He can hear now.”

“Congratulations, Miss. You no longer have to constantly worry about this.”

“Yes. Jingliang, do you think Xihe would like…”

“Cough, uh, Miss, I’ll go up to check on him first. This can’t be explained in a sentence or two; we can discuss later. My wife is still waiting at home.”

A dangerous question.

No matter what he said, the Miss would not be satisfied.

Seeing this, Zhang Jingliang quickly put down the tea cup and hurried upstairs with his luggage.

Venerable Suhua’s smile deepened as she followed.

Standing outside the door, she thought about how the flowers in the estate were still sparse. Last time, Fu Jingxian said the peach blossoms on Yuyuan Mountain had fully bloomed; now, perhaps they bloomed even more. Should she take Xihe to see them in a few days? Would it still be too cold?

“Considering the recovery between the two doesn’t conflict…” Zhang Jingliang emerged from the room, speaking to the maid behind him. “His muscles are recovering; we still need to control the extent. Not recommended…”

“Not recommended?” Venerable Suhua asked in the corridor.

Zhang Jingliang waved at the maid. “Go ahead for now; I’ll come find you later.” The maid bowed and left quickly.

He walked to Venerable Suhua. “Still the same old problems. Consider his muscle recovery, consider his almost non-functional stomach… every visit it’s the same. Well, this time there’s a new issue.”

Venerable Suhua paused. “New issue?”

“His airway was burned by smoke from the fire scene before, so he couldn’t speak. But I just checked; it has partially recovered. He still can’t speak fluently, but he can do basic talking.”

“So after the check, he can answer my questions by speaking, not writing?”

Zhang Jingliang continued, “Miss, I mentioned before, but you still seem to have forgotten to get a psychologist for him.”

Venerable Suhua froze, wanting to say something, but not a word came out.

“Never mind,” Zhang Jingliang sighed, taking a business card from his bag. “I met a psychology PhD last month at a medical lecture. People say she’s reputable, but for safety, you should try her first before deciding.”

He placed the card in her palm.

“No more,” Zhang Jingliang yawned. “It’s late. I’ll go hand over the remaining matters to Xiao Kui and then head home.”

“Yes, no seeing off.”

“Hmm.” Zhang Jingliang adjusted his glasses and followed the maid downstairs.

The corridor on the second floor was bathed in silver-white light, illuminating the card in Venerable Suhua’s hand.

The material was fine-grain Dutch white cardstock, simple and elegant, ink-brush lines drawn minimally, with two lines of black calligraphy in the center.

Xia Qingyi.