The weather in the mountains is unpredictable. In the afternoon, there was a heavy rain that drenched the forest, leaving everything a washed-clean green. But towards evening, the sun came out, leaning against the far side of the mountain, casting slanting rays across the slopes.
Shen Jianqing’s injuries were much better, and life seemed to gradually settle into a routine. The scar on his face remained a permanent mark, a constant reminder of everything Shen Jianqing was willing to do for me.
The forest outside the stilt house was quiet, with not even a bird’s chirp. I wondered how Shen Jianqing had endured such long years of solitude.
I stood on the veranda for a moment, then suddenly heard faint, hoarse wails drifting from the forest. I stopped, holding my breath to listen.
“Wuwuwu… Kunu… wuwuwu!”
Someone was really crying! I looked towards the source of the sound, but everything seemed hidden behind the dense trees; I couldn’t even see a shadow.
The evening breeze blew, making the tree shadows sway. In another setting, this scene would undoubtedly have an eerie, terrifying quality. But I didn’t believe in ghosts or spirits and couldn’t help but feel a surge of curiosity.
The voice was hoarse and low, it was a man’s voice. What could have happened to make a man wail like that in the woods? I moved my foot, instinctively glancing back at Shen Jianqing’s room. He should be resting quietly inside now, perhaps already asleep.
Thinking this, I cautiously stepped towards the forest.
The cleansing heavy rain had made the forest air very clean, and the soil was soft and loose, leaving small imprints with each step. Endless fallen leaves carpeted the ground, a scene of desolation.
The deeper I walked into the forest, the louder the wailing became. The profound despair and sorrow within it were fully conveyed to me through the sound. Who could be so distraught?
I continued forward, looking around. I broke off a branch that was blocking my view, and suddenly, the area opened up. A dark gray figure was sitting beneath a huge, ancient tree, his head buried in his hands, weeping sorrowfully.
His face was completely hidden, leaving only the dark crown of his head visible to me, so I couldn’t tell who it was. His back rose and fell with his heartbroken sobs.
Such a tall man, yet hiding in the forest and wailing, he must have encountered some great difficulty. I thought it best not to go any further; otherwise, he would surely be embarrassed if he saw me.
As I was thinking this, I took a soft, slow step backward, but unexpectedly, my foot landed on a broken branch, which snapped with a crisp, loud sound.
“Crack!”
This was truly awkward.
The crying ahead immediately stopped, and the man looked up, his eyes tear-filled.
It was Ah Song!
His face was covered in tears and snot, his eyes so swollen and red he could barely open them, only squinting into slits. He had been crying for so long that he couldn’t calm down immediately, his chest continuously heaving with sobs.
How could he be here, crying like such a mess? But then, he was currently as innocent as a child, so crying like this was probably normal for him.
“Meng Ou…” Ah Song mumbled with difficulty, still sniffling.
I stepped forward and asked, “What’s wrong? You, why are you crying here?”
Ah Song tilted his head, his clear eyes filled with confusion. He couldn’t understand what I was saying, and I couldn’t understand him either.
Ah Song scrutinized me, tilting his head, his thick brows tightly furrowed, as if deep in thought or distress. Could he be remembering something?
But after a long moment, the contemplation in Ah Song’s eyes faded, replaced by pure innocence. He slumped to the ground, his cheeks streaked with tears, gesturing at me while mumbling things I couldn’t understand.
“Did you lose something?” I hesitated, asking subconsciously even though I knew he wouldn’t understand.
Ah Song anxiously slapped the ground, tears welling up in his eyes again. He crawled on the ground, searching inch by inch. His face was filled with panic and despair; he wouldn’t let go of a single patch of the ground.
He must have lost something to be so worried.
Seeing how pitiful he looked, my heart ached. After all, Ah Song had betrayed Miao Village to save my companions and ended up in this state.
Our arrival had also disrupted their originally peaceful and normal lives. I had always felt guilty towards Lu Qi and Ah Song, so if I could help now, that would naturally be great.
Thinking of this, I also squatted down and began searching inch by inch in the forest with Ah Song.
However, I couldn’t understand what he was saying, nor did I know what he had lost, so I could only rely on intuition and guesswork. Several times, I touched things that looked quite interesting and asked him, but he would just glance at them and turn his head away.
What could it be?
The sun gradually set, and the light in the forest dimmed. The temperature also dropped with the change in light, and the forest became eerily cold.
If we couldn’t find it soon, we’d have to give up. There were no lights here; we wouldn’t be able to see anything at night, not even our own hands, let alone find something.
I knelt on the ground, searching for a long time until my back ached. But Ah Song was still searching tirelessly.
“Let’s look again tomorrow. It’s dark, you should go home,” I said, pounding my aching back, speaking to Ah Song, who was still searching. I tried to help him up.
But Ah Song stubbornly pushed away my outstretched hand, not even raising his head. I sighed helplessly, planning to find Uncle Lu Qi and have him take Ah Song back.
I had only walked two steps when my foot suddenly hit something. It felt completely different from the soft ground.
I lifted my foot and saw a square object hidden beneath a few fallen leaves.
That is…
I furrowed my brows, my gaze fixed on it.
It was a plastic card with a white and blue background. At the top of the card, “Yancheng University” was written in clerical script, and below the words was a red-backed ID photo.
In the photo, a bright-eyed, white-toothed girl smiled radiantly at me, her eyes slightly downturned, looking very innocent. That familiar face was so striking; no wonder Qiu Lu always said she was the belle of the history department.
Next to the photo were two lines of text: one read “History Department,” and the other “Wen Lingyu.”
This was Wen Lingyu’s student ID card!
When we first enrolled, the school customized such a student ID card for every student. When we set off back then, we all brought our student ID cards with us to easily prove our identity.
Suddenly seeing this object that I was so familiar with, a mix of emotions churned within me.
My hands began to tremble uncontrollably, and I suddenly felt the true meaning of “like a lifetime ago.”
Those things I was so familiar with, those things I once didn’t cherish, suddenly appeared before my eyes in such an unexpected way. It was as if those years had passed long ago.
“Jie Ke Meng!”
While I was still in a daze, the student ID card was suddenly snatched from my hand. I watched as Ah Song joyfully clutched the thin card, his tears and snot still wet on his face, yet his expression had transformed into one of pure delight.
“Ah—Jie Ke Meng!” Ah Song exclaimed, wiping the dust off the card with his sleeve, so carefully, as if he held the most precious thing in the world.
Perhaps, to him, it truly was the most precious thing in the world.
Wen Lingyu was gone, and he had changed, forgetting his past, his parents, and even himself. Yet, he still cherished Wen Lingyu’s belongings as if they were the most precious treasures in the world, guarding them carefully.
I watched his dazed expression and felt immense sympathy for him. He didn’t even know her name. The girl he liked so much, the girl he admired so deeply—her name was unknown to him.
“Her name is Wen Lingyu.” I stepped closer to him and whispered.
When Ah Song saw me approach, he instinctively hid Wen Lingyu’s student ID behind him, looking very wary. Only when he saw I meant no harm did he hesitantly pull the card out.
I patiently pointed at the student ID, repeating softly, “Wen Lingyu, Wen Lingyu…”
A momentary flicker of clarity crossed Ah Song’s dazed eyes. He lowered his head, looked at me, then at the student ID. His brows furrowed tightly, and his thick lips pressed into a line. After a long moment, he slowly uttered, “…Yu?”
He could actually understand?
I was instantly delighted and pressed on, “Yes, yes! Ah Yu, Wen Lingyu, that’s her name.”
Ah Song hunched his back, lowering his head like a schoolchild, murmuring, “Yu, Yu…”
If I could just make him know Wen Lingyu’s name, perhaps their story wouldn’t be so regrettable, and I would have done a good deed.
Just as I let out a long breath, feeling the stone in my heart lighten slightly, a chilling voice suddenly echoed from behind us.
“What are you doing?”
I immediately turned around to see Shen Jianqing standing beneath a large tree, his face icy, his eyes fixed ominously on Ah Song and me. His gaze was devoid of warmth, as if he were looking at inanimate objects.
Shen Jianqing… was angry?
I glanced back at Ah Song, suddenly realizing that from Shen Jianqing’s vantage point, my head perfectly blocked Ah Song’s lowered head. Perhaps obscured vision always leaves room for wild conjecture.
I was about to explain, but Ah Song suddenly let out a strange cry, his gaze darting fearfully towards Shen Jianqing. Then, he turned and bolted, his long legs carrying him out of sight in the blink of an eye.
He left me alone to face Shen Jianqing’s sudden fury.
I quickly explained, “I was just helping him find something, nothing else.”
Shen Jianqing’s face remained grim, and he was silent, the scar across his face appearing even redder.
As anxiety churned within me, he finally opened his mouth.
“Who allowed you to run out on your own?”
