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墨書 Inktalez
No matter whether in the past at home or later abroad, An Shaojie had gotten used to waking up early.
In the past, when he was in Liu Family Village, waking up early was for the purpose of getting a head start on farm work. Now, he woke up early without knowing what to do; there was nothing to occupy him. Yet, he couldn't change his habit, so after waking up, he simply walked in a certain direction unconsciously.
Although the weather still carried a hint of chill, spring had already arrived. In the countryside and mountains, everywhere revealed vibrant life. The small grass by the roadside peeked out, green and gently trembling in the cool breeze. The water in the shallow ditch flowed slowly, a deep green. A few willows on both banks had sprouted new buds, light green and barely noticeable unless one looked closely.
An Shaojie wasn't thinking about anything in particular; it seemed he was bored counting the number of slightly larger plants by the roadside, a habit he had developed in childhood.
As a child, he didn't have friends to play with and wasn't used to walking with his head held high, as he disliked looking at the people passing by him. He also didn't like greeting them but didn't want others to think he was walking with his head down out of shame. He hadn't done anything embarrassing that warranted looking down; he simply didn't want to see the passersby. So he focused on counting the small grass by the roadside, one by one. This way, he gave off the impression that he wasn't intentionally ignoring people or refusing to greet others; he was just preoccupied with something else and didn't notice them.
Originally a bad habit, he later found that this habit brought him many benefits.
One benefit was that it helped him concentrate his attention and thoughts. Throughout elementary school, middle school, high school, and university, even after arriving abroad, he often used his walking time to think about unresolved problems and challenges, saving him a lot of time.
Another advantage was that it cultivated his ability to think without being disturbed by external factors. No matter how lively the environment around him was or how many people passed by, it felt as if nothing existed but him and his thoughts.
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he recalled her once lightly saying to him, "When you walk, others could carry you away and you wouldn't even know."
She said this during their closest times together; he indulged her then, so she felt bold enough to bring up his most embarrassing moments and situations.
Unlike other boyfriends who might retort sharply or engage in playful banter with her before getting into some lighthearted tussle or sweetly indulging her after she finished speaking, An Shaojie's expression remained neutral as he continued reading his book. He didn’t stop her from occasionally bubbling over with remarks about him that broke the silence of the room.
His neutrality and lack of interruption were already a form of indulgence for him. At that moment, Qinglan wasn’t afraid of him; she would keep talking regardless of whether he was listening.
But she believed he must be listening; otherwise, why would there be a faint smile occasionally appearing at the corners of his mouth?
That faint smile was encouragement and affection for her, allowing her at that moment to be willful, mischievous, and reckless.
Indeed, that gentle smile on his face back then was just like the slight smile now tugging at his lips—warm and gentle.
Yes, it was her. She had said, "When you walk, others can carry you away without you even knowing."
A smile appeared on his face once again.
This smile suddenly lifted his spirits, and he abruptly raised his head, still wearing the smile from before.
He felt he should hold his head high and walk confidently. Yes, why should he walk with his head down?
His head was only slightly raised, his eyes had yet to find a focal point, his gaze had not settled on anything in particular, and his vision had not adjusted to the best angle. The confident and sweet smile from just moments ago froze on his face.
This scene felt so familiar, as if time had returned to that misty morning when he was six years old.
It was the same slight chill, the same drizzling rain, and the same early spring in February when the cold had not yet retreated.
Before him stood that mountain, with a winding path at its foot and damp grass. From the morning mist, a mother and daughter were walking toward him.
However, time had layered youthful impressions over it; the young heart made time feel particularly vibrant and youthful. The mother and daughter were no longer the same as those from years ago.
The mother was young—so young that she caught the eye.
Not all youth is striking; some are too immature, some too superficial, some too impatient, and some too easily lost in their own youth.
But she was not like that. With her youthful fair face, dark hair, and upright figure, she exuded an air of maturity and composure that belied her youth.
With each step she took, she moved steadily and calmly. A gentle breeze lifted the fine strands of hair from her forehead and temples. She lightly tucked her hair behind her ear, appearing serene and composed. She held the little girl under her arm, smiling softly as she spoke to her. Her eyes showed no hint of distraction; they were focused entirely on the little girl's face.
The little girl was delicate and lovely, unlike the village girls. Nestled in her mother's embrace, her small face beamed with a smile; her lips curled up, her nose wrinkled cutely, her large eyes squinted with joy as she tilted her head to look at her mother.
An Shaojie stood rooted to the spot, staring blankly at the mother and daughter approaching him.
This situation shouldn't be like this!
An Shaojie clearly remembers that back then, a little girl in his arms stopped in her tracks upon seeing him, standing by the roadside, staring at him as he walked towards her. He did not look at her and calmly walked past her.
Now, however, he stands there, staring at her while she does not look at him and calmly walks past him.
He stands by the roadside, watching her, but her gaze does not fall on him at all. He opens his mouth, wanting to call out to her or say something. In any case, he feels she should notice him.
Suddenly disappearing from her world six years ago, after six years of not seeing each other—did it have no impact on her at all?
Has she forgotten him?
Standing by the roadside, he tries hard to recall that night six years ago when he suddenly left, but he cannot switch his memory to that night. What is going on? Has he also suddenly forgotten?
No, that’s not right.
Everything is still fresh in his memory as if it were yesterday. Clearly, for the past six years, every night abroad, whenever he closed his eyes or let his mind wander for just a moment, fragments of memories would instantly switch back to that night. He repeatedly reminisced from that night onward until he traced back to playing in Liu Family Village during elementary school, where she stood by the roadside watching him walk past without even glancing at her.
All those memories have been recalled countless times; they should all be clear.
Yet at this moment, An Shaojie cannot switch back to six years ago.
His memory has failed him; it has frozen; it has become rigid.
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