FQ chapter 62

He stayed at the Bai house a little longer, and with the distance, by the time he got home it was already past midnight.

But Luan Ye still couldn’t sleep.

Maybe because of that day’s talk with Bai Jin, his emotions were stirred again, in ways he couldn’t quite put into words.

After tossing and turning in bed for more than two hours, he sighed, feeling like he was about to turn into an immortal.

The leftover pills from earlier in the year were still in the drawer by the bed—one pill and he’d be out in twenty minutes, like falling into a coma.

He thought about it, but didn’t move. After a while, he reached for his phone from the nightstand.

The time zone hadn’t been changed yet; it showed evening in China. Smoothly, he tapped open the chat window and double-tapped Fan Qing’s avatar.

The auto-reply had been updated again: Say it, I’m listening.

Luan Ye double-tapped again before typing: [Busy?]

Fan Qing had just walked out of the cafeteria with two dormmates.

Since they’d just met in the dorm, they usually went to meals together. That night three of them had rice noodles, pretty good, and on the way back they brought some extra for the “left-behinds” in the dorm.

When he saw Luan Ye’s message, Fan Qing froze mid-step. The two in front turned back at him.

“I’ll make a call.” Fan Qing shook his phone, speaking quickly. “You guys go ahead.”

“What call you can’t take while walking?” The two laughed, teasing: “Girlfriend?”

“Go on back.”

Fan Qing smiled, neither confirming nor denying, and pointed at the noodles in their hands: “If you wait any longer, you’ll faint from hunger in the dorm.”

As soon as they walked a few steps away, he called Luan Ye.

Luan Ye picked up immediately, laughing as he asked: “Eaten yet?”

“Just finished, heading back to the dorm.” Fan Qing’s tone was bright. “Rice noodles—felt pretty much like rice vermicelli.”

“Army training’s about to start, right?” Luan Ye asked.

“Tomorrow. Tonight’s class meeting we still have to collect the uniforms.” The road outside the cafeteria was noisy, so Fan Qing walked to a quieter spot while answering. “Fourteen days.”

“In this weather? Training?” Luan Ye chuckled. “Drink lots of water, don’t get heatstroke.”

“Got it.” After answering, Fan Qing asked, “Why aren’t you asleep? It’s almost three a.m there.”

“Quick math,” Luan Ye said.

“I set two time zones.” Choosing a quiet corner, Fan Qing lifted the phone closer. “Can’t sleep?”

“A bit.”

Hearing Fan Qing’s voice made Luan Ye feel calmer. He rubbed his brows.

“I went to see Aunt Bai today… Tomorrow I’ll visit the cemetery.”

He’d originally planned to go straight from Aunt Bai’s, but it got too late… and after their talk, he’d been inexplicably unsettled.

Fan Qing just murmured in acknowledgment, quietly listening.

“I told her I’m going back home.” Luan Ye paused a few seconds. “She didn’t blame me.”

And because she hadn’t blamed him, it felt like something heavy pressed harder on his chest.

“She’s always been in poor health. I said I’d come visit her every year… She said not to. Told me not to come back.” Luan Ye closed his eyes halfway. “Told me not to come again.”

“Does it hurt?” Fan Qing asked softly.

“Mm.” Luan Ye admitted.

“I don’t think it’s because she doesn’t want to see you, that she told you not to,” Fan Qing said.

“I know.” Luan Ye smiled faintly. “That’s exactly why it hurts.”

It wasn’t blame—she was letting him go, telling him to look forward.

And that was what stung.

“I feel like everyone else is still stuck in the past, and I’m the one who forgot first…”

“You didn’t forget.” Fan Qing interrupted him.

“Leaving doesn’t mean forgetting. It’s been so many years—you didn’t lose your memory.” He paused briefly.

“You’re just… free now.”

Luan Ye was speechless.

“Like when you take photos in the mountains,” Fan Qing continued. “Flowers, trees. The moment you press the shutter is when you think they look their best. But after you leave, they don’t freeze like in the photo—no one can demand they stay the same.”

“Summer they bloom, autumn they bear fruit, winter all the leaves fall, and come spring, new buds grow.”

“You’re the same,” Fan Qing said.

On the other end, Luan Ye was silent. Only after a long time did Fan Qing hear him laugh quietly.

“I really…” His voice was husky. “I really miss you.”

The sudden turn made Fan Qing let out an instinctive “Huh?”

“I miss you so much,” Luan Ye said.

This time Fan Qing quickly responded: “Me too.”

“Hang up now, don’t you still have the class meeting?” Luan Ye laughed. “I should sleep too.”

“Will you be able to?”

“Hearing your voice, I think I can.”

Fan Qing chuckled for a while before speaking again: “When I went up the mountain before, I liked recording the sounds there. At school, if I couldn’t sleep, I’d listen to them.”

He was back in the dorm now, quieter around him. His voice came softly through the phone: “Want to try?”

“White noise, huh.” Luan Ye said. “Okay.”

Soon Fan Qing sent over a few audio files, some over thirty minutes, some more than an hour.

Luan Ye picked one and turned the volume up.

It was the sound of rain in the mountains—slightly heavy, with distant thunder rolling closer. Rain on treetops, crisp and steady, pattering comfortably.

He didn’t know why Fan Qing had recorded them, but in that moment, it truly relaxed him.

He closed his eyes and almost felt the scent of rain-soaked pines and moss in the mountains.

And the clean, natural scent that seemed to cling to Fan Qing.

It really was soothing. All the accumulated exhaustion from the past days finally broke through. By the time Luan Ye woke the next morning, daylight was already pouring in.

The weather was a bit overcast when he left, and on the way he bought a bouquet—tulips, Bai Mingcheng’s favorite.

He placed the flowers down and looked at the photo on the gravestone.

It was from Bai Mingcheng’s high school graduation, eighteen years old. His smile bright, carefree, frozen in that instant.

On the way there, Luan Ye had thought long about what to say. But standing there, he said nothing at all, just stayed for a long time—until the clouds parted, sunlight falling on the photo.

Luan Ye tapped it twice, then let his hand fall.

“I’m leaving, Bai Mingcheng.” His voice was low, but steady.

In the photo, Bai Mingcheng was smiling at him.

“Goodbye,” Luan Ye said.

…..

Coming out of the cemetery, he glanced at the time, planning to cross the street to hail a cab on the other side.

Not too early, not too late—by the time he got home, the sky shouldn’t be dark yet…

Luan Ye crossed the intersection. A car honked from the opposite side. He looked up, paused.

A few seconds later, he walked forward.

The window rolled down, revealing Bai Mingchuan’s calm, expressionless face at the driver’s seat.

“Long time no see,” Bai Mingchuan said.