The cemetery lay in the northern suburbs, and it took the taxi half an hour to reach it.
Mingzhuo paid the fare and stepped out, tapping her white cane twice on the ground to locate the curb-side tactile paving. She set off in the direction she remembered.
The cane tapped rhythmically against the pavement.
Tap, tap, tap.
From afar, Mingzhuo recognized a familiar voice.
"Is that Xiao Zhuo?"
Mingzhuo quickened her pace slightly and called out, "Uncle, it's me."
Before she had taken a few steps, the cemetery caretaker rushed to her side.
They had met before, and the man knew the way well. He offered his arm for Mingzhuo to take, guiding her into the cemetery.
"I saw you here just last week. Why come again today? Something upset you?"
Mingzhuo shook her head.
"I met someone I've always wanted to see. I'm so happy, I wanted to share it with Mom."
The man smiled warmly, repeating twice, "That's good."
Mingzhuo's mother's grave lay in the cemetery's center. After escorting her there, the man turned and left.
The late autumn wind howled through the silent, gray-white cemetery, adding to the desolation.
Mingzhu felt her way slowly, finding a spot to sit down and resting her cane nearby.
"Mom," she murmured softly, "I saw him today."
Unexpectedly.
Too much time had passed since that accident, and the memory of that youthful, impetuous voice had grown distorted through repeated recollection.
Mingzhuo felt that even if they met again, she probably wouldn't recognize his voice.
But then, in the café today.
When that deep voice sounded beside her ear, without any hesitation or doubt, Mingzhuo knew it was him.
The mole on his palm was merely the final confirmation.
The imprint he left on her world ran deeper than she'd ever imagined.
Autumn winds rustled through the birch trees.
Mingzhu listened intently, then after a moment, her almond eyes curved into a smile. "Mom, are you happy for me too?"
"From the very beginning, I knew he didn't want to come."
After losing sight, other senses sharpen.
Shang Chi claimed he was a heavy smoker.
Yet his scent was clean and crisp, devoid of the bitter, greasy residue of long-term nicotine immersion.
He feared outright rejection upon meeting would embarrass the girl, so he chose a roundabout approach.
Mingzhu understood perfectly well, yet she pretended ignorance, not pointing it out, instead following his lead to talk about herself.
She drew her legs up, wrapped her arms around her knees, rested her chin on them, letting the wind carry her voice away, making it sound loose and scattered.
"Knowing he's doing well is enough."
"I'm doing well too, you know."
-
The business van slid into the garage.
Shang Chi stepped out of the back seat and immediately spotted He Yin leisurely brewing tea in the front garden.
The spout of the kettle puffed out wispy white mist, refracting tiny glints of light in the sunlight.
It was a picture of serene tranquility.
Shang Chi felt a headache coming on and walked over with a cold expression.
He Yin didn't even look up, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Finished so quickly?"
Shang Chi pulled out a wicker chair and sat down. "Are you starting to play dictator now?"
He Yin shot him a glare.
"If I were truly dictatorial, would I have let you go on a blind date? I'd have forced you two to get married right then and there!"
Shang Chi gave a faint, dismissive snort.
He stared at the small teapot bubbling on the stove, his tone seemingly casual and unconcerned.
"Why didn't you tell me about this beforehand? Weren't you afraid I'd offend her?"
He Yin raised an eyebrow at him. "Tell you what?"
Shang Chi shifted his posture and frowned. "Her eyes..."
"Do you look down on the visually impaired?"
Shang Chi: "...Ms. He, please don't twist my words or label me unfairly."
He Yin lifted the teapot, poured a cup of floral tea into a glass cup, and pushed it toward Shang Chi.
Only then did she speak slowly, "Xiao Zhuo became completely blind due to an illness she developed later in life. I like her gentle and thoughtful nature, which is why I wanted you to meet her."
"As for being blind," He Yin sneered, "to put it bluntly, plenty of people have eyes but refuse to use them—or use them for the wrong things. They're worse off than those who can't see at all."
"Enough. You came back so quickly, I already know the answer. Since you don't want to talk about it, I'll ask Xiao Zhuo during class another day if she wants to call me godmother."
He Yin said cheerfully, "Just consider today a meet-and-greet with your little sister."
"..."
Shang Chi's expression remained impassive. He lifted the glass teacup and drained the pale red floral tea in one gulp before rising. "I'm going to rest. No need to call me for dinner."
He pushed the wicker chair back into place and turned to leave, then suddenly paused and asked, "Are you still taking classes together?"
He Yin nodded cheerfully. "Yes, yoga class."
"I have another session next week. Want to come pick up Mom?"
Shang Chi scoffed. "Guess what our driver gets paid for?"
Amidst He Yin's grumbling, Shang Chi turned and walked away.
As he climbed the stairs inside, his thoughts drifted absently.
So thin.
She should eat more. Why bother with yoga classes?
-
By the time Ming Zhuo left the cemetery, night had fallen.
Over the afternoon, her WeChat had accumulated numerous messages from Qi Kejing.
Guided by the mechanical voice of the assistive mode, Ming Zhuo opened the app to hail a ride, setting the destination for Qi Kejing's yoga studio.
All the students from the previous class had already left.
Qikejing, having received the message, waited by the roadside early and greeted Mingzhu, who was chilled to the bone by the wind.
"Ming Xiaozhu!" Qikejing grabbed Mingzhu's cold fingertips, warming them with the heat of her palm, nearly losing her temper. "You, you, you! Your health is already fragile, yet you didn't bundle up properly before going out. What if you get sick?"
Ming Zhu, feeling guilty, blinked innocently and softened her tone. "I did wear more. This skirt is thick—feel it if you don't believe me. I just didn't expect the temperature to drop so suddenly in the evening."
She tilted her head, pressing her slightly chilled cheek against Qi Kejing's neck and nuzzling it playfully.
Her voice was muffled and low.
"Jingjing, I'm sorry for worrying you."
Whenever Mingzhe acted like this, Qi Kejing was utterly helpless. She could only scowl and mutter a few more words before dragging her into the studio.
The food was still warm when taken out of the insulated box.
Qi Kejing served Mingzhe while chatting.
"...My mom just called to say she's safe. She's at the hot spring sanatorium now. They have professional caregivers there, and Dad's keeping her company. She'll stay for a while to see how it goes."
Qi Kejing added optimistically, "Maybe it'll actually help her health."
Mingzhu nodded. "It definitely will."
Qi Kejing's mother was none other than Mingzhu's guqin teacher, Qi Lan.
Ever since Qi Kejing lost her sight due to a congenital disease, her father remarried, and she began living independently, Qi Lan—who had started as merely her guqin teacher—had treated her with the care and affection of a biological daughter.
Even more so because of her illness, he paid extra attention.
This secretly made Qi Kejing, whose sensitive teenage mind was already prone to jealousy, feel resentful.
Not wanting to interfere with the bond between teacher and daughter, Mingzhu insisted on boarding at Jincheng Special Academy after enrollment, spending most weekends at home.
As Qi Kejing grew up, she felt both guilt and pity for her gentle, submissive younger sister, doting on her constantly. Their bond only deepened over time.
After graduation, Qi Kejing opened her own yoga studio, becoming her own boss.
With little to occupy her at home, Mingzhu would occasionally drop by to assist her.
Over the past two years, Ming Lan's health had deteriorated, making her prone to worry. Concerned about Mingzhu's future, she often subtly probed her thoughts on relationships.
Mingzhu had no particular thoughts on the matter.
She neither anticipated nor resisted the idea of romance or marriage.
Ultimately, not wanting to cause her teacher anxiety, she agreed for the first time when Aunt He, a yoga student, suggested a blind date.
And that's how she encountered someone she never thought she'd see again.
Thinking this, Mingzhuo bit the edge of a potato strip, her lips curving into an involuntary smile.
She ate slowly and deliberately, taking small bites, while Qi Kejing had already finished her meal in a flash.
"Speaking of which," Qi Kejing shifted her gaze to observe Mingzhuo's composed posture as she ate, curiosity prompting her inquiry, "When exactly is your blind date with Sister He's son? I've been swamped lately, but I recall it's sometime soon, right?"
Mingzhuo: "..."
Mingzhuo: "Today."
Qi Kejing: "Oh, today—wait, what? Today?!"
Qi Kejing shot upright. "And? How did it go?"
"You came back so late and didn't reply all afternoon—did you go on a date?"
Ming Zhe gripped her chopsticks, poking the bottom of her bowl. "No."
"He wasn't here willingly. Once we got honest, we just parted ways."
Qi Kejing slumped back down, muttering, "What kind of person is that? If he didn't want to come, he should've said so upfront! Telling her after she showed up—isn't that just wasting our little Zhu Zhu's time?!"
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She shot upright, her eyes blazing.
"Xiaozhu, I know plenty of other eligible bachelors. They're all better than the guy you met today. Want to set up another date?"
Mingzhu couldn't help but smile at Qi Kejing's enthusiastic tone, as if she were about to pull out her phone and start searching for potential matches right then and there.
"No, thank you."
Mingzhu shook her head, her voice calm and gentle.
"I think being alone is just fine."