LMMY chapter 69

At the end of the stone path stood a tall banyan tree, struck by lightning. Half of it had withered, while the other half still thrived, its lush green leaves shining under the night sky.

Beneath the tree was a small snack shop. The wooden sign didn’t even have the shop’s name. Inside, behind a slightly yellowed glass counter, there were a few unsold pastries, the most traditional kind—nothing delicate or colorful, just simple and enticing by their fragrance.

“Is anyone here?” Li Xuan knocked on the counter.

“Wait a moment.” After a while, the door to the kitchen opened with a creak, and an elderly man, with his white hair, walked out, untying his apron. “Want some snacks? We’re about to close… Come back tomorrow morning, we open at eight, and there’ll be freshly baked ones.”

“I made a reservation this afternoon,” Li Xuan gave the number.

“Oh… right, I remember.” The elderly man realized, his voice trailing, “I’ve been waiting for you.” He bent down and retrieved a thick leather notebook from under the counter.

“Li, right?… I thought you weren’t coming.” He put on his reading glasses and scanned the pages, then looked up and smiled kindly. “You can sit first. It’s ready, I’ll go get it.”

To the left of the counter, there was indigo-dyed floral cloth hanging. A few steps up led to a small loft that could only fit two small wooden tables.

The night breeze rustled the wind chimes, making delicate sounds. The warm yellow light spilled onto the ceramic vases with sunflowers and red African daisies, which reflected the light in sparkling drops of water.

“We’re a bit late with the flowers, the town’s flower shop only had this many.” They sat at the wooden table, and Li Xuan explained softly.

The bouquet wasn’t extravagant, but the flowers were full, as though they were about to spill out of the vase. In the light, their overlapping shadows filled half of the table. Sheng Min gently touched a petal, and a water droplet rolled down to his fingertip. He smiled, both satisfied and helpless. “How do you remember everything so well?”

“I don’t know, I just do,” Li Xuan said casually.

Sheng Min laughed, looking around. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had osmanthus candy.”

“Then you can try and see if it tastes the same.”

“How did you find this place?” Sheng Min looked at him. “Must have been troublesome, I didn’t even know it moved here.”

“It’s not troublesome,” Li Xuan shook his head. “Your request isn’t too much, it’s not troublesome at all.”

Sheng Min bit his lip, a rare teasing glint in his gaze, though his eyes were soft. “Is it easy to buy tickets for the play?”

Li Xuan shrugged. “It’s not more expensive than a computer.”

Sheng Min, caught off guard, fell silent. After a while, he pursed his lips and murmured, “That’s not how you compare things.”

“Right.” Li Xuan lowered his eyes, repeating, “That’s not how you compare things.”

Footsteps came from outside the curtain, the wooden stairs creaked. The elderly man came up with a tray.

At the top was a dish of osmanthus candy, crystal clear, and beneath it were various pastries, from peach blossom crisps to green rice cakes. There were too many types, and the elderly man, struggling with the weight, handed the dish over to Li Xuan, who placed each item on the table.

“I don’t have many of each kind, it’s too late, the snacks aren’t easy to digest,” the old man said with a hint of regret. “They’ve been out for a while, so they don’t taste as fresh as when they were just made.”

Sheng Min casually picked up a piece of mung bean ice cake and took a bite. It had plum bits inside. He said softly, “It’s still very delicious.”

The old man smiled and, looking at Sheng Min, suddenly said, “Young man, you look somewhat familiar.”

Hearing this, Li Xuan’s brow furrowed slightly. Sheng Min smiled gently and replied, “When your shop was on Binjiang Road, I used to buy your osmanthus candy quite often.”

“Oh, no wonder you look familiar.” The old man nodded repeatedly, sighing, “It’s been many years. The rent went up, and we couldn’t afford it… It’s better to go back home. After so many years in the city, I’m not used to it. As you get older, you just want to return…”

He rambled on for a while, and Sheng Min patiently listened the whole time. After a long while, the old man snapped back to his senses. “Ah, look at me, getting old and talking too much… You all eat. Just close the door when you leave. I’m going to bed.”

“We came too late, sorry to bother you,” Li Xuan said, handing the tray back to him.

“It’s nothing…” The old man waved his hand and walked up the stairs.

When they turned around, Sheng Min had already eaten half a piece of osmanthus candy.

“How is it?” Li Xuan couldn’t help but smile.

“It tastes just the same as before.” Sheng Min cheerfully put the remaining half into his mouth and pushed the plate towards him. “I know you don’t like sweets, but would you like to try?”

Li Xuan obediently took a piece. He couldn’t really tell any difference between this shop’s candy and others, and it was still too sweet for him. He picked up his tea and took a sip.

“Is it good?”

The tea was jasmine green tea, probably of average quality. It was a bit bitter at first, and mixed with the lingering sweetness in his mouth, it felt even more cloying. But looking at Sheng Min’s expectant expression, he nodded seriously. “Mm.”

By the time they went downstairs, the shop’s main lights were off, leaving only a faint night light for illumination. On the counter, there were two bottles of simple-packaged osmanthus rice wine, with a sheet of rice paper underneath, marked as a gift for them to try.

The night had grown deeper and quieter, and the whole town seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep. As they turned the corner, Sheng Min looked back. The shadow of the banyan tree had completely covered the small courtyard, leaving only the faint scent of osmanthus in the air.

They walked slowly along the small road, carrying the wine, like two drifting souls dependent on each other, neither mentioning returning, as if staying in this town meant they didn’t have to think about the future, not having to contemplate separation.

After winding around a few corners, they reached the riverbank. Across the river, a row of stilted houses cast shadows of varying depths on the water. They sat side by side on the riverbank, the evening breeze gently blowing away the remaining heat of summer. On the stone steps connecting to the river, there was a laundry beater left behind by someone, and a few reed boats swayed gently. Without any ferrymen, they were just decorations in the quiet night.

There was no conversation. They sat in silence by the river. Sheng Min opened the lid and sipped the rice wine slowly, and the dewy air dampened their clothes. After a while, he spoke softly, “It’s really nice right now.”

“What?” Li Xuan didn’t catch it clearly.

“Right now.” Sheng Min stretched lazily, repeating with a gentle smile, “It’s better than the play tonight.”

“Why?” His voice was full of teasing, and Li Xuan couldn’t help but ask.

Sheng Min thought seriously for a moment, his fingers rubbing the water droplets on the bottle. “Too many people.”

It was too many people. Li Xuan thought. Sheng Min didn’t like crowded places, even though he often found himself surrounded by them.

He felt frustrated with his own lack of caution, and started to seriously think about the possibility of renting the entire venue next time. Suddenly, he heard Sheng Min continue the sentence he had left unfinished earlier: “It’s nice to be alone with you for a while.”

The soft words were like thunder, and all his previous thoughts disappeared. His mind went blank for a long while, before he turned his head, only to see Sheng Min looking at him.

The osmanthus rice wine was already half gone, and they stared at each other for a long time. Then, Sheng Min suddenly smiled, his palm resting on the cool stone slab, inching closer. The faint scent of rice wine spread, like countless threads wrapping around Li Xuan.

“I’ve been really happy today,” he whispered into Li Xuan’s ear slowly, like sharing a secret. “But today is my birthday. I can make a wish, and indulge a little, right? …Besides, it was you who came back to find me. I want to be even happier. Is that too much?”

He must have been a little drunk. Li Xuan hadn’t realized his tolerance was so low and regretted bringing the wine. But was he really regretting it? Maybe not entirely.

Sheng Min slowly moved away from his ear, looking at him and smiling. He got even closer, his thick, black lashes brushing against Li Xuan’s cheek. There were no stars in the sky tonight; all the starlight was in Sheng Min’s eyes.

Li Xuan gave up thinking at that moment, letting his heart go, focusing solely on Sheng Min’s gaze. The world seemed to fade away, and all he could see was his reflection in Sheng Min’s eyes. The distance between them was intimate, their breaths tangled, and for a moment, Li Xuan thought he was going to get a kiss. But it didn’t happen. Sheng Min’s smile deepened, and after a while, he simply rested his head gently on Li Xuan’s shoulder, sighing softly, “Let me lean on you for a while.”

It was hard to tell whether Li Xuan felt relieved or disappointed. He quietly exhaled and adjusted his position, making Sheng Min more comfortable.

He looked down at the swirl of hair on Sheng Min’s head, holding back the urge to touch his soft hair. The wind rustled his white clothes, which billowed behind him like pure white wings. Sheng Min’s delicate ankle dangled lightly in the air. Li Xuan thought once more of the recurring dream.

Sheng Min really was like a bird, he thought. A legendary bird with no feet, flying over endless mountains and seas, with only one chance to land in its life. Could he be the place where it can safely land? Would it be a good place to rest?

No one could answer him.

Only the moon hung at the edge of the blue velvet-like sky, its light bright and pure. But the moon did not speak, silently witnessing everything and embracing all.

Time seemed to stand still, as if a crystal-clear amber had fallen from the sky, freezing everything in eternal time. It wasn’t until the distant sound of a bell echoed from the mountain, signaling that twelve o’clock had passed.

Sheng Min, who had been quietly resting against Li Xuan, finally moved. He turned his head and buried it in Li Xuan’s shoulder, inhaling the refreshing, clean scent once again.

Is it still the same shampoo as before? He really wanted to ask him.

“Li Xuan,” he called his name.

“Mm?” Li Xuan responded softly.

Sheng Min smiled silently, his face buried in Li Xuan’s neck as he took a deep breath, letting the scent sink into his lungs. But what he said next was different: “Let’s not meet again in the future.”