The city lights stretched endlessly, burning like constellations that had fallen to earth.Li Wei watched them from the backseat of the car as it crossed the bridge, the dark river below glinting with reflections. The hum of traffic, the smell of asphalt after rain, the faint sound of a siren in the distance — they were all things he used to find comforting.But now, they only reminded him of how far he was from the soft rustle of the fields and the girl who had smiled under falling petals.
At home, everything was exactly as he'd left it — the tidy apartment, the faint scent of detergent, the low buzz of the refrigerator. But somehow it all felt smaller.He dropped his bag by the couch and walked to the balcony. The sky above the city was a dull orange haze. Somewhere out there, beyond the concrete horizon, the stars were hidden — maybe shining clearly over that village road where he last saw her.
He could almost hear her voice again, the small, firm scolding that carried a smile at the edge."You're such a troublemaker."He smiled faintly. "Yeah, I guess I am."
Downstairs, the usual chaos of evening unfolded — horns blaring, someone shouting for a taxi, kids laughing as they kicked a ball near the streetlight. The city was alive, breathing and impatient, and yet… to him, it all sounded too loud.
In the village, the days moved like drifting clouds — slow, soft, sometimes bright, sometimes heavy.Lin Yue sat on the porch with her injured foot stretched out, a cup of ginger tea warming her palms. The air smelled of fresh soil and marigolds. Beyond the fence, the road was empty, only the wind brushing against it.
Every morning since he left, she caught herself looking down that road — half expecting to see the flash of his red jacket or hear his teasing voice echoing through the trees. But only the breeze answered, carrying the distant hum of cicadas and the smell of ripe mangoes.
Her mother called from inside, "Yue'er! Don't stare at the road again. He's not coming back tomorrow."Lin Yue quickly turned away. "I'm not! Just… watching the sky.""Mm-hm," her mother replied knowingly.
She looked back at the road once more. The petals that had once fallen when they'd walked together were gone now, swept away by the wind. But in her mind, they still floated around them — gold and red and glowing in the dusk.
Back in the city, Li Wei fell into the rhythm of routine — school, friends, homework, sleep.He laughed, he joked, he teased his sister again. But sometimes, in between those moments, his smile faltered.
During lunch, someone brought sweets. Laddus. He stared at them for a long second before taking one. The taste was off — too sweet, too dry. He swallowed and chuckled under his breath."You ruined laddus for me, you know that?" he murmured, remembering her grin.
That night, he couldn't sleep. He pulled out the small crinkled wrapper he'd saved — from the laddu she gave him on that last day. It still smelled faintly sweet, like ghee and flowers. He ran his thumb over it, then tucked it carefully back into his drawer.
The wind howled faintly outside, brushing against the balcony door. It felt different from the warm, earthy breeze of the village. This wind was cold, sharp, impatient — like the city itself.He sighed, whispering to it, "Carry this to her, will you? Tell her I'm… fine."
In the village, winter crept in. The fields turned silver at dawn, mist curling over the canals. Lin Yue wrapped herself in a wool shawl and watched her breath fog in the air.
She still helped her mother make sweets for the market, rolling laddus while the radio played old songs. Each time the smell filled the room, something tugged in her chest.Her mother smiled as she worked. "You're getting better at this."Lin Yue nodded absently, her fingers sticky with syrup. "I had a good… teacher."
"Who?" her mother asked.She smiled faintly. "No one. Just… someone who loved sweets too much."
That night, she took one of the warm laddus, wrapped it in paper, and placed it in her drawer beside the old letter wrappers. She didn't know why. Maybe to balance the silence that had settled in her heart.
Outside, the wind blew again, brushing against the window like a whisper. It carried with it the smell of distant fields and cold stars — and maybe, if she imagined hard enough, a faint echo of laughter.
Months passed.Spring came to both places — one wrapped in glass and neon, the other in wildflowers and soft rain.
Li Wei had grown taller; his hair had gotten longer. The city noise became part of him again, though sometimes he still paused at odd moments — like when he saw a girl with braided hair cross the street, or when the school's courtyard filled with fallen petals after a storm.
He had exams now, basketball practice, late-night study sessions with friends. But when the wind blew through the open window, bringing the faint smell of rain and flowers, he would look up and smile faintly, as if someone had called his name.
At dinner one night, his mother mentioned, "Oh, Li Wei, Lin Yue's mother sent some pickles. You remember her, right?"
He froze for a second, the spoon halfway to his mouth. "Yeah. Of course."His mother smiled. "Such a sweet girl. Said her foot healed completely now.""That's… good," he said, trying not to sound too quick.
His sister grinned mischievously. "You miss her, don't you?""Eat your food," he said, smirking but unable to hide the warmth in his ears.
Later that night, he stood by his window again. The city lights flickered below — cars, buildings, screens, all restless. Yet, somehow, they felt distant.He leaned against the glass and whispered, "Are you watching the same stars tonight?"
Far away, Lin Yue was watching the stars.The sky above the village stretched wide and deep, a thousand times brighter than the one above the city. Fireflies flickered near the pond, and frogs croaked lazily in the reeds. She hugged her knees to her chest, looking up at the Milky Way spilling across the night like powdered sugar.
She whispered softly, "Are you still awake in your noisy city?"The wind brushed her hair gently, as if answering yes.
Her days were full — helping with the shop, studying, laughing with friends — but her mind often wandered. Sometimes she'd see a stranger on the road and her heart would jump, only to fall again when it wasn't him.
Still, as time flowed, her memories began to soften around the edges — like ink washed by rain. She could no longer recall exactly what he wore that last day or what song the wind carried through the trees. But the feeling — the warmth of his hand when he carried her home, the laughter echoing in the hall — that remained.
The months turned warmer.In the city, Li Wei's days blurred together — alarm clocks, lessons, late nights, glowing screens. He began to forget small things: the way her voice tilted upward when she argued, the smell of the rain-soaked road, the tiny scar near her wrist.
Yet sometimes, when the evening wind blew from the south, carrying the faint scent of soil and flowers, he'd stop walking and close his eyes. For a moment, he could almost hear her calling his name again, soft and bright, before the city swallowed it whole.
And in the village, Lin Yue would sometimes wake before dawn and sit by her window. The horizon would still be dark, but she'd feel that same wind — restless, carrying whispers from somewhere far away.
The world kept moving.The school year ended. New classes began.Their lives stretched forward in different directions — like two rivers once joined, now winding away toward different seas.
Neither of them realized how many days had passed since they'd last thought of each other deeply.Sometimes the memories came back like dreams — blurred laughter, golden petals, a warm back beneath her hands, or a smile across a hall filled with moonlight.Other times, they didn't come at all.
It wasn't that they forgot on purpose.It was just that life kept happening — louder, faster, fuller.The sound of the city drowned out the quiet hum of the village, and the rhythm of the fields faded beneath the calls of daily chores.
And yet, somewhere in the spaces between those busy days — in the hush before sleep, or the pause between heartbeats — something remained.Not a name, not a face, but a faint echo carried by the wind.
If you listened closely, you might hear it —a boy in the city, laughing softly at a memory he can't quite place,and a girl in the village, smiling for no reason as the wind brushes past her cheek.
Two hearts moving forward,two stories still waiting to find their way back.
But still Li wei has a lingering feeling in his heart to speak with that girl and couldn't help but to know about her.