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墨書 Inktalez
Everyone called her Miss Bai.
In this world, it seemed she had only encountered three types of people: those who were respectful and did not want to offend her, those who wore flattering smiles and sought favors from her, and finally, a group of self-proclaimed "talents" who looked down on her.
Her life was devoid of excitement; one could say that boredom was a way of life, just as some people passionately embraced the world and lived it to the fullest—Bai Xuan despised the world but made an effort to survive.
Life resembled a grand performance; she would be an extra in anyone's show, and anyone could be an extra in hers. In this play, there was no fixed protagonist; tomorrow's lead could be anyone—him, her, or it.
Arrogance was an innate personality trait. Bai Xuan possessed a pair of lofty eyes from birth, as dark and glossy as obsidian, devoid of warmth. She lived too much like a main character.
Fate cycled through the mundane, and life remained consistently so; even the so-called surprises felt lackluster.
Every day she ate nearly the same meals, attended by a group of service staff whose height and appearance were strikingly similar. They all wore identical uniforms and provided standardized services. “Hello, room service.” They would knock three times before asking if they could come in—sometimes she didn’t want to see anyone and would get up to answer the door herself; other times, when Bai Xuan was truly too lazy to move, she would let them in to place the items on the coffee table.
When in a good mood, she might leave a tip of two or three hundred; when feeling down, it would only be twenty or thirty.
These were all routines.
The service industry was indeed fascinating, with its chaotic angles and countless individuals. Each guest was unique, while the servers were best kept uniform—rational, enthusiastic yet indifferent.
One day, a newcomer delivered her meal; his name was quite interesting—Wu Guan. Who would have such a name? Wu Guan, Wu Guan—could someone truly be unrelated to everything? Moreover, he wasn’t from the delivery department; he wore a pure white suit from the lobby bar. Bai Xuan enjoyed capturing moments of amusement at any time; in fact, most of the time she was dreadfully bored. She had an assistant for work and money for living expenses, but she liked to create an illusion of busyness, especially when facing Wu Guan. She deliberately crafted a certain elite persona that fit stereotypes. She enjoyed teasing someone like Wu Guan.
What kind of person was Wu Guan…?
He seemed awkward while handling things, looking out of place; fortunately, he didn’t need to fit in. He should be someone with his own life, and his state of living was destined to have nothing to do with work—much like her.
Were they the same kind of person?
Bai Xuan didn’t know what she was doing; driven by an inexplicable impulse, she recklessly approached this young server. She struck up a conversation with him using clumsy invitation phrases but unexpectedly succeeded.
She wasn’t sure about her feelings. Especially since he kept mispronouncing her name—she was Bai Xuan; how did it become “A Li”?
They shared many meals together; could that be considered dating?
Too many details were unclear. Bai Xuan remembered once they went to see an exhibition together—Ocean Adventure was its name. The part about the ocean featured endless corals and educational displays about marine life that might only excite children. What truly piqued her interest were the less prominent mythological illusions from the Classic of Mountains and Seas—the Wen Yao Fish with its adorable bouncing form topped with a large seal, and the Nine-Colored Illusion Deer that shimmered with colors while flying around—creating dreamlike mirages of sea dragons and soaring Kun across distant skies.
All beautiful lights flickered like dreams and bubbles; however, her gaze couldn’t settle on any focal point. They existed in completely different worlds with entirely different perspectives, while the future stemmed from each person's past.
Miss Bai planned to leave Jinghai; this thought surged uncontrollably within her.
Since everything was just as it is. From future to past, everything could be foreseen now. What meaning remained? Why ask a stranger for the meaning of life that had eluded her for thirty-two years? The exquisite wastefulness and meaningless consumption—where were the “aged yet exquisite universe” described by poets or the “flower-filled world” sung in songs?
At thirty-three years old, for someone weary of living yet bored with life, it was a particularly miraculous number in the cycle of years.
Today is her thirty-third birthday. Unlike before, Bai Xuan has decided to spend it alone. She seems a bit weary; has turning a year older drained her energy as well? It doesn't matter. Wu Guan. It should have nothing to do with the world, because she despises it, yet she is only interested in certain things and people. Ironically!
The apple-green satin shirt clings softly to her skin, enveloping her needs and desires. Gray pearls adorn her neck, resembling a string of dewdrops waiting to be picked. The shirt always appears oversized on Bai Xuan, giving off a cool, breezy vibe.
A deep blue velvet throw drapes over the sofa like a cascading waterfall. Her gaze instantly leaps beyond the universe and time, witnessing a brilliant annihilation.
Ji Xia and Yan Dong
Ji Xia feels a bit dazed, recalling that within the week before leaving, seven or eight friends had invited her out for dinner. She had always thought of herself as lonely in this place, like a duck that could only swim but not fly. It wasn't until yesterday's final dinner that she truly remembered the name of the lamb skewer shop they used to frequent long ago. They had gone there twice for team-building events.
Sun Xinming was passionately discussing his grand ambitions, and occasionally Ji Xia envied his ability to weave every story so eloquently. Meanwhile, the perpetually contemplative Wu Guan quietly listened in the corner, downing 500 milliliters of draft beer. Two other guys hadn’t shown up; one was in Hengtong and the other in Tianhe, both taking high-speed trains that wouldn’t make it in time for a warm meal.
Fantastic.
“Have you finished writing your story about Jinghai? I want to see it.” Yan Dong’s long-awaited video call came through, separated by distant moonlight, flowing rivers, and two rows of streetlights. He was huffing and shedding tears while eagerly asking about her progress.
“Finished?”
“I asked you first! Why are you asking me? It’s not like I went to Jinghai.” Yan Dong wanted to roll his eyes but refrained, closing his eyes tightly for three seconds instead to express his disbelief.
She had finished…
Yes, she felt she had.
When in Jinghai, everyone’s eyes and hearts were filled with only one thing: Jinghai. Jinghai was vast, yet in their minds, it was merely two words. For them at this moment—young and passionate—Jinghai meant so much; it was almost equivalent to a brave journey of stargazing. The familiar shopping center had opened a new exhibition; these comrades who shared meals together were both strangers and intimate partners. Would they still remember this Ji Xia and Yan Dong five years from now? No, ten years from now?
Everyone loves green trees and blue skies.
Growing up is like an essential process of photosynthesis; even before fully exploring the universe, one still possesses enduring resilience and hope.
“I bought you a new set of spring couplets! The guy who wrote last year’s did even better this year. The phrase is ‘Wishing you great luck in the New Year and peace throughout the year under the shining star.’ How does that sound?” Yan Dong was excited; she had a peculiar obsession with the cycle of old and new. The thought of her friend Ji Xia returning made her even more thrilled.
“Wishing you all the best! Happy New Year, Yan Dong.”
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