Shu thought he was being silent, that these thoughts were buried deep within his heart, only troubling himself.
But in reality, Kiana heard everything.
Just like before, Shu had unintentionally and quite clearly spilled his thoughts in another form. He was completely oblivious to it, and even... felt a refreshing, soul-deep sense of relief because of it.
"So... you've always believed that such beauty exists in this world... right?" Kiana asked softly.
Shu abruptly looked up, his eyes hollow and numb as he stared at her.
His smile was as rigid and warm as always; his demeanor never changed regardless of his state of mind.
But as the mist clouding the windows to his soul quietly receded, Kiana saw a winding, profound depth.
Believe that beauty exists in this world...?
Shu felt this was a very easy question to answer.
If he were cynical, he could easily launch into a tirade against the dark side of human nature: war, deception, jealousy, greed... any of these could be brought up with irrefutable facts.
If his thoughts and behavior were more normal, he could take the middle ground, saying he believed such beauty existed and that people shouldn't define the world with a single, narrow perspective...
This question was truly very easy to answer. And Shu knew clearly that no matter which answer he gave, Kiana wouldn't find it strange.
He opened his mouth, the anticipated answer right on the tip of his tongue.
But...
His train of thought took a sudden, tiny detour on the otherwise smooth road.
These answers are what Kiana wants...
But are they really MY answers?
"I..." He tried to speak, his voice bitter.
But he suddenly looked up and, in that white-haired girl, found the courage he had lost for so long.
Just this once... just this once.
I want to speak the 'Truth'.
...
If the "bitterness" was too hard to speak, then he would sing it.
"Of course I believe that such beauty exists in this world..." Shu smiled. It was a smile of release, a smile of tragic bitterness.
Kiana sat up straight, perking her ears up with exceptional seriousness.
She would be Shu's perfect audience, just as Shu had once been for them.
"I believe... there will be a magnificent sea of flowers in this world... a place where migratory birds can always return to build their nests. I have always firmly believed that such a sea of flowers exists in this world.
"But I haven't seen that sea of flowers. This world seems to only have biting winds mixed with snow, meant to be swallowed by people until they rot from the inside out.
"In a world like this... could there truly be such a pure sea of flowers?"
Shu's hazy gaze drifted into the distance, piercing through all obstacles, staring into an empty void.
He seemed to be gazing at the sea of flowers he believed in, but—
He clearly didn't even know where that sea of flowers was, or in what direction. He was just helplessly staring ahead, like a devout believer pushing a dilapidated idol and offering a self-righteous prayer.
Do gods really exist?
Do prayers really work?
Is he truly devout?
These questions interrogated his gaze and scorched his true heart.
And so, he closed his eyes, gently placed a hand over his heart, and began to ask himself.
Why do you... believe in the existence of that sea of flowers?
"I have seen a flower before," was Shu's answer.
He said, "I have seen a flower. Even in this freezing, bitter winter, that flower didn't rot; it bloomed proudly."
If the world unfolding before my eyes is entirely ugly, then I wouldn't even be able to imagine what a flower looks like—but I have seen a flower. I have truly seen a flower.
They say: Love is nothing but a hormonal scam, and all deep affection will eventually succumb to time and the loss of novelty.
But in this world, there truly is someone who will clumsily wipe away your tears, turning the heartbeat of long years into a habitual tenderness.
Dying for love is not an ancient myth.
They say: Kindness is just a hypocritical mask, and every outstretched hand has a hidden price tag.
But in this world, there truly are strangers who will tilt their umbrellas toward you in a torrential downpour, who will quietly pick up a fallen bicycle when no one is watching.
Before Lei Feng became a spirit, he truly existed as a human being.
They say: Dreams are the babbling of children, and the adult world only has room for compromise and calculation.
But in this world, there truly are people who spend their entire lives chasing an invisible light, stubbornly building castles upon ruins.
And the world you currently reside in is the canvas left behind by those idealists.
They say: Companionship will eventually end, and all encounters are just practice for parting.
But in this world, there truly will be someone who understands your silence and catches all your broken sighs in the dead of night.
Bo Ya still met Zhong Ziqi.
They speak of the cruelty and cold-bloodedness of reality—flowers only exist in fairy tale picture books, and such striking colors do not exist in this world.
But Shu had seen a flower.
He truly had. Even though it was just one fragile, insignificant wildflower after another, and perhaps they grew deformed, seemingly devoid of vitality.
But they existed so authentically, indisputably.
Like a gold prospector, Shu carefully collected these tiny flowers, turning them into fragmented puzzle pieces, trying to piece together that sea of flowers.
But those pieces were too small, and that sea of flowers was too vast. These fragmented pieces of beauty couldn't even form a single corner of that sea.
It wasn't even clear if they could connect to each other.
"But so what?"
Shu suddenly smiled, a somewhat willful smile.
A stubborn child tightly gripped the only candy in his hand. The colorful candy wrapper looked like poison, triggering the panic of adults.
"A flower doesn't bloom to prove anything, nor to move anyone. It just blooms there."
"This is all the evidence I have... Just this little bit. It's not enough to convince anyone; sometimes, even I find it laughable.
"With just these few fragments, what right do I have to believe there's an entire picture behind them?
"What if there is no sea of flowers at all? What if those fragments are just coincidences, illusions, meaningless scraps tossed to me by this world?"
Silence.
Kiana didn't refute Shu's self-doubt. She quietly waited for Shu to give his own answer.
Sure enough, Shu smiled again.
This time, his smile was a little bitter, like a cup of tea that had gone cold, the bitterness settling at the bottom of the cup.
"But I still believe it."
"...I can't bear to let it go."
"'You should care more about the present, value what's in front of you.' 'Those ethereal things aren't worth it; spending your whole life for a place you can't see or touch isn't worth it.'"
"But—
"But to me, nothing is more important than that sea of flowers."
"I have already seen its fragments. Just a little bit... a little bit is enough.
"I know it existed, even if only in my imagination—I can't pretend it's not important."
"Even if you can't reach it in your entire life?" Kiana gently confirmed.
"Even if I can't reach it in my entire life."
Shu lowered his eyes, his eyelashes trembling slightly.
As long as these fragments were here, he could continue to imagine that magnificent sea of flowers, a place he had never reached, but which all the fragments pointed toward—a place where migratory birds would return.
Those bitter feelings, he couldn't speak them aloud.
So he sang.
He sang the fragments into a melody, sang his wounds into a rhythm, and sang his unprovable faith into a song everyone could hear.
When he sang, he wasn't trying to prove anything to anyone.
He was merely repeating to himself:
I have seen it.
I remember.
I believe.
Even if this belief itself was a part of the bitterness.
But so what?
Life is bitter like a song, and brilliant like a song.
The bitter part was that he could only hold the fragments and imagine the whole.
The brilliant part was that his hand, clutching those fragments, had never let go.
...
"Because you enjoy its brilliance"
"Because you endure its decay"
"You say don't love, yet you can't bear to part"
"And so life is bitter like a song"
"Do you want to see the sea of flowers bloom?"
"Do you want to see the swallows return?"
"If they never come back"
"Then for whom should I exist?"
The human voice originates from vibration; therefore, music and songs are merely another language of humanity.
And compared to direct language, which relies entirely on one's own thought organization to construct, poetic expression—which merely requires making "choices"—seems simpler.
The world is a short-answer question; every word of the answer is written by oneself, and the answer sheet of life is far too long, spanning years, months, and days.
People can use a million words to describe their joy, ten million words to tell of their sorrow, an entire day to display their anger, and a lifetime to express their forgiveness.
But that is truly far, far too long. And sometimes, an emotion is but a fleeting moment; it doesn't support a person using such a lengthy passage to express themselves.
Therefore, throughout history, poets, singers, writers, sages, and saints... countless people have condensed their entire lives into a few lines of poetry, a few songs, a few melodies...
They passed down a message to future generations, to others who lacked the ability to express all their emotions in a short amount of time—
"Short-answer questions are still too hard, aren't they?"
They gently stroked the heads of children, whispering softly to comfort them.
They said.
"It's okay. In this world, you can also answer multiple-choice questions."
So, if it's hard to pour out your emotions, let's try singing them.
The flowers are right there; the fragments of the sea of flowers are right there.
Shu reached out, caught the fallen blossoms from the branches, and pieced them together little by little.
What was missing, he made up for with his imagination.
"Because you enjoy its brilliance"
"Because you endure its decay"
"You say don't chase, yet you can't bear to part"
"And so life is bitter like a song"
"In this vast galaxy, what are you?"
"In her gentle eyes, what are you?"
"Falling with a flash of light, yet you can't bear to part"
"And so life is brilliant like a song"
"You must see the flowers bloom"
"You must wait for the swallows to return"
"Thinking they will all come back"
"You swear to exist for these things unto death"
"You must see the flowers bloom"
"You must wait for the swallows to return"
"Thinking they will all come back"
"You swear to exist for these things unto death"
—
Kiana made no sound.
How could the song Shu had chosen not be exactly what she wanted to say as well?
She merely sat quietly beside Shu, like a tree rooted in the wind, blocking out all the noise, leaving Shu with only a silent place to dock.
The span of a song is still too short; the final note inevitably arrives.
Shu stopped singing. He hadn't realized that he had just sung all those thoughts out loud.
Those sentences that should have rotted at the bottom of his heart, the bitterness he thought he could never speak of, just flowed from between his lips and teeth.
He didn't even know that the dammed-up river had already flowed past.
He only felt that the heavy stone pressing on his chest for so long had gotten a little lighter.
A long-absent, soul-deep sense of relief seeped from his bones, making him want to stretch and let out an ungraceful, relaxed yawn.
Watching his completely oblivious appearance, the corners of Kiana's mouth curved up slightly.
This guy, even pouring his heart out happens unconsciously.
He had pulled his heart out to air it, then casually stuffed it back in, thinking he had hidden it perfectly well.
But she wouldn't point it out.
Some things, once pointed out, shatter.
Just like those fragments—the reason they could be pieced together into the shape of a sea of flowers was precisely because they hadn't been interrogated by too much realistic logic.
"So," her voice was very soft, soft enough to coax someone to sleep, "you have always believed, right?"
She was making a statement.
Shu looked up and opened his mouth.
He thought he was going to say something, but in the end, he said nothing.
Because he suddenly realized that the relieving lightness from just now—it wasn't an end.
It was a beginning.
Starting from now.
He had more words stuck in his throat, more bitterness waiting to be brewed into songs, but right now, he needed to catch his breath first.
Kiana saw through his silence.
"No rush. I'm not going anywhere." She helplessly patted Shu's warm cheek, then smiled softly, like a flower that didn't belong to this mortal world.
In front of the empty puzzle board, Shu helplessly stared at the puzzle piece in his hand.
To see the whole picture from a single spot—this was, after all, just Shu's wishful thinking.
This world is so complex; a tiny deviation can lead to a completely different ending.
Our predecessors have indeed prepared countless multiple-choice options for those who have nowhere else to turn, but among these options... there doesn't seem to be a path suitable for a "genius."
Everyone is unique, and those pre-planned routes always have a few stops you don't like.
Just like the path Shu was pursuing now—no one had truly reached the end to see that sea of flowers, let alone left behind even a half-understood guide for him.
He could only rely on the fragments he had collected, fumbling his way forward alone.
And just like how Shu's first sight in the mall was the dilapidation, Shu cared too much about those flowers. Therefore, in his eyes, any rot was just another reason he had to chase after the sea of flowers.
There were no "predecessors" left on Shu's path.
He only had himself.
But... things were different now.
Beside the bewildered Shu, a hand gently reached out and softly tapped a brand-new fragment onto the blank space.
Shu turned his head and looked at the person who had planted the flower.
So it was you...
Kiana.