Wenqin

 　　I

　　Wei Lan's original name was Wei Mingshi. His grandfather, a man well-versed in literature, gave him this name, intending to imbue his earnest expectations into a single call.
　　Grandpa Wei had been a teacher at a private school for several years, and his old-fashioned scholarly style was deeply ingrained. From as far back as Wei Lan could remember, many thread-bound books had been solemnly placed on the shrine in the main room of the house. Curious, Wei Lan once climbed a stool to take them down. The books were light and airy, not covered in much dust, the result of his grandfather's devout airing. The pages were brownish-yellow, occasionally with wormholes, and turning them resembled turning butterfly specimens.
　　If Wei Lan's mother saw this, she would scold her son while chopping wood, "You can't even read! The hen is clucking loudly, go see if it's laid an egg!" Grandpa Wei, who was basking in the sun in the yard, would leisurely interrupt, "Mother, Ming Shi has loved books since he was little, that's a good thing! Grandson, come to Grandpa, Grandpa will teach you to read."
　　The sunlight, filtered by the old banyan tree in the corner of the yard, dappled the clothes of Wei Lan and his grandfather, and also the brownish-yellow pages of the book. The mountain breeze carried the spicy scent of wild walnuts, slowly flowing past the grandfather and grandson's nostrils.
　　"Grandson, come here, read with Grandpa." Grandpa Wei was in high spirits. He took off his water pipe, coughed twice, and opened the book, reciting in a rhythmic tone, "As heaven maintains vigor through movement, a gentleman should constantly strive for self-improvement. As earth's nature is receptive, a gentleman should cultivate virtue and bear all things with magnanimity." Wei Lan raised her mud-covered face, her eyes filled with confusion, refusing to repeat herself. Instead, she said, "Grandpa, I don't want to speak in words I don't understand!" Grandpa, far from being angry, laughed heartily, even coughing again, "Oh dear, my grandson is truly a natural scholar!" Wei Lan was even more bewildered, somewhat bored, playing with the ants moving house on the ground. Grandpa ran his bony fingers through Wei Lan's thick, black hair, stroking it back and forth, muttering, "All answers await the discovery of those who are perplexed." Wei Lan frowned, thinking that Grandpa was indeed "not quite normal," as her mother had said, and ran to the chicken coop to collect eggs.
　　Grandpa Wei's greatest regret in life was that his only son, Wei Jianguo, was born at the wrong time and never received a single day of schooling. From the moment he was born, Wei Lan was naturally burdened with his lifelong aspiration—to pursue scholarship and become a top scholar.
　　Perhaps influenced by his grandfather's early education, Wei Lan possessed an innate sensitivity to words. He had already thoroughly studied the ancient books on the ancestral shrine, and the modern Chinese language education he received at school further cultivated his sensitivity to Chinese characters. Because of this, he gradually disliked his name. Ming Shi? It was as if he were peeling away the outer layers of a person's thoughts like bamboo shoots, revealing the most essential and primal core. Vulgar. The
　　year
　　Wei Ming Shi appeared at the top of the honor roll at the village middle school, Wei Lan was seventeen. In the autumn, he went to the best high school in the county seat.
　　Wei Lan didn't adapt well to life in the county seat. The coal smoke from the tar factory replaced the pungent aroma of wild walnuts from the village. The children of officials wore shiny black leather shoes and laughed loudly with girls, while Wei Lan only buried himself in his studies. Football was the newest and most popular after-school game at school, but Wei Lan found the rules too complicated and strict, rarely participating. In the vibrant spring and autumn seasons, Wei Lan was like a blade of grass growing in the corner.
　　Fortunately, the county library was adjacent to the school, with a connecting path. Wei Lan's childhood love of reading was fully nurtured there, making him feel incredibly happy. The library's bookshelves stood tall, the scent of ink like fine wine, intoxicating Wei Lan through much of his youth.
　　In his spare time, Wei Lan would sometimes write impromptu essays, then secretly submit them to local newspapers. When signing his work, he knew "Ming Shi" was definitely out of the question. So he looked up in thought, and saw the sky, a vibrant blue like a pool of paint from a fabric workshop, beautifully rippling. He then named himself "Wei Lan," a name without deep meaning, but at least avoiding any sense of utilitarianism.
　　After sending the letter, Wei Lan was filled with unease and found himself unable to read anything. He fiddled with an old-fashioned radio until it made a sound, then sat under the banyan tree, embracing it as he whiled away the hurried yet aimless evenings. It was a
　　Saturday in mid-autumn, and the small-leaved banyan blossoms were falling softly. The county radio station had added a new program called "Audio Library," broadcasting classic Chinese and foreign literature. The host was also newly added, and Wei Lan heard it clearly: "...For twenty-five days a month, the camellias Margaret wore were white, while on the other five days they were red. No one could fathom the reason for the camellias' color change..."
　　The ground, long without rain, was covered with dry dust among the fallen leaves. The sound waves from the radio were like a torrential downpour, splashing up the dust at Wei Lan's feet and the afterglow of the setting sun, creating a dancing play of light and shadow. The familiar sentences were slowly read aloud by the host in a sweet voice, and the stiff Chinese characters instantly became beautiful, as if imbued with the elegance of flowers. Amidst the fragrant aroma, Wei Lan, engrossed in her radio, forgot to eat dinner until the host announced, "That's all for today's program. This is Xiao Ran. Have a wonderful weekend, everyone."
　　Xiao Ran. Xiao Ran.
　　Three
　　Tao Tao lived alone for long periods, her mother subscribing to numerous newspapers and magazines for her. On sunny afternoons, Tao Tao would sit alone in the courtyard of the siheyuan (traditional courtyard house), a book always spread across her lap. In the center of the courtyard stood an ancient, rectangular bluestone water vat, resembling a bronze tripod. The vat's exterior was carved with intricate patterns, worn smooth by years of wind and sun, the textures now covered in moss. Half a pool of rainwater within the vat nourished a water lily that Tao Tao cherished; two or three deep pink lotus blossoms floated in the dark green water, tinged with moss, enlivening the damp summer air of the siheyuan.
　　"Listening to the Wind" was Tao Tao's favorite local literary magazine, though its poor sales and inferior paper quality made it unforgettable. But what Tao Tao loved was its sense of intimacy. She believed these authors were all around her, perhaps they had eaten breakfast at the same rice noodle shop as her, or perhaps they were companions who had climbed mountains with her in her younger days. She desperately needed companionship.
　　Recent issues of *Listening to the Wind* had published articles by a new author, one titled "The Life of a Little Grass." "...After the little grass exerted all its strength to break through the thick soil, its tender eyes saw not only the sunlight, but also the green blood flowing from its trampled companions... Fate is just a lie fabricated by humans; life has never been about being humble or noble..." Tao Tao was deeply moved when she read this. Looking at the author's signature, Azure.
　　Her cousin, Ye Yue, often came to visit her on weekends, which was Tao Tao's happiest time. Ye Yue would bring her hair clips that girls liked, or jokes from school, or even love letters from male classmates.
　　"Your beautiful hair is so shiny it's like a mirror... Haha! I'm dying of laughter, writing love letters with this level of skill? Haha..." Tao Tao laughed so hard she almost fell off her chair. "So happy? Why don't you just have that kid write to you every day?" Ye Yue said casually, as she was helping her younger sister fasten the rose-colored hair clip. But her sister suddenly stiffened her neck and fell silent. Ye Yue realized she had touched a sore spot and quickly changed the subject: "Uncle said he'd let you go back to school next year, but unfortunately I've already graduated." Tao Tao still didn't respond. Ye Yue continued, "What books have you been reading lately?"
　　Tao Tao thought of Wei Lan, and her sadness instantly vanished. She cheerfully handed the magazine to Ye Yue, her deep brown eyes reflecting the brilliance of summer flowers: "Sister, look at this author, he writes so well! If he were a student, he'd definitely be at your school." "Why?" "Such an outstanding student would definitely be at a top high school!" "You want to meet him? I'll go back to school and ask around for you." Making her sister happy was Ye Yue's wish. When
　　Ye
　　Yue left Tao Tao's house to return to school, night had already fallen.
　　On the street in front of the school, Ye Yue was stopped by a middle-aged man: "Miss, can I ask you for directions?" The man spoke with a non-local accent and was dressed neatly. Ye Yue stopped and said, "Go ahead and ask." "I'm here on a business trip, but I lost my briefcase in the car! My money and documents are all in there!" The man paused slightly, giving Ye Yue a disdainful look. Ye Yue was puzzled and waited for him to continue. "So, I want to go to the post office now to make a long-distance call!" The man paused again, and Ye Yue continued, "The post office is on Temple Street. Walk straight ahead from here, turn right after you see a barbershop, and then—" "Wait a minute, little sister! You're making it so complicated. It's hard for me, a stranger, to find it. Could you take me a bit?" "I'm waiting to go back to school for self-study." "Just take me to the barbershop, can you point me out clearly before we go back to school? Look, it's already dark, and I don't know what to eat or where to stay tonight..." The man looked sincere and pitiful. Ye Yue thought for a moment and decided to help him: "Let's go then."
　　"Wait! Ye Yue!" A boy suddenly grabbed Ye Yue's wrist from behind and said, "Self-study is about to start, and the homeroom teacher asked me to come out and find you." Ye Yue was quite startled. She was about to say, "Which class are you in? I don't know you," when the boy pinched her tightly: "Run! You'll be punished for being late!" Before Ye Yue could react, the boy pulled her along and ran quickly towards the school. "Hey! Who are you? What's wrong?" Ye Yue hadn't given up asking all the way, but the boy was panting and wouldn't speak.
　　Finally, they ran into the school gate, and the boy stopped: "Do you know that man was hiding a knife?" "Huh?!" "I was passing by you and thought he was your relative. I heard his accent was strange, so I took a few more glances. But I saw his right hand, which was in his pocket, holding a brass-colored knife handle! The more I thought about it, the more suspicious it seemed, so I lied to save you." Ye Yue clutched her chest, stunned. Her once radiant face turned deathly pale, and she kept muttering, "Impossible? Impossible?" "Be careful in the future, don't talk to strangers." The boy said and turned to leave. Ye Yue hurriedly asked, "How do you know my name? Which class are you in?" The boy stopped, scratched his head, and smiled warmly, "Everyone in school knows you. You're welcome, but be careful."
　　"You should tell me your name." "My name is... Wei Lan." "Your name is Wei Lan?!" Ye Yue looked up with eyes as bright as a deer's, scrutinizing Wei Lan closely. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned, with deep-set eyes. "Are you sure? You're also called Wei Lan?" Ye Yue assumed that writers should be fair-skinned and thin; she thought it was just a coincidence of names. "It's alright." Wei Lan remembered her real name and answered less confidently. "Do you like writing novels?" Ye Yue continued to press. She was never reserved in front of boys; it was always the boys around her who were reserved. Wei Lan began to blush, nodding as if she had done something wrong. "So you're the Wei Lan who published articles in 'Listening to the Wind' magazine?!" Ye Yue's voice suddenly rose, drawing stares from passing students. Wei Lan blushed and gestured for her to be quiet.
　　If it weren't for the school bell ringing, Ye Yue would have almost grabbed his arms and cheered.
　　Five
　　Before going to bed, Ye Yue stopped Wei Lan at the entrance of the boys' dormitory: "I have something I absolutely have to tell you." The stairwell instantly became congested, whistles and hisses rising and falling, provocative or jealous glances raining down on Wei Lan's face. Wei Lan was embarrassed. He said as he walked into the building, "What is it? Let's talk about it tomorrow during the day." Ye Yue stamped her foot helplessly, muttered "coward," and left.
　　"When did you start dating the school beauty?!"
　　"What urgent matter did she need you for? What did you do to her?"
　　"I didn't realize, she's always so quiet, but the things she does are so earth-shattering."
　　...
　　Wei Lan was kept awake all night by his roommates, exhausted from answering and explaining. Yes, Ye Yue was beautiful, but Wei Lan liked Xiao Ran. She didn't have to be so beautiful, Wei Lan thought. Even if she were ugly, or even a cripple, he would still like her.
　　The next day, Ye Yue approached Wei Lan again: "I have something very important to tell you."
　　"Go ahead."
　　"I have a younger sister who really likes your writing. She wants to be your friend."
　　"This…"
　　"If you knew her situation, you wouldn't refuse."
　　"What situation?"
　　"Her leg… isn't good. She's been out of school for almost two years. She really wants to go back to school; she's feeling miserable being alone at home. She loves reading, she loves your writing. Perhaps… I think… you can help her."
　　Wei Lan looked at the flock of pigeons circling overhead, their wings refracting fragments of gold in their flapping motion. Beautiful. So free.
　　"What can I do?" he asked.
　　Six
　　When Wei Lan first met Tao Tao, he even prepared a gift: a radio. Subconsciously, it was the most beautiful thing he could imagine.
　　Tao Tao opened the door for them, and Wei Lan saw a tall, slender girl. Her skin was slightly dark, her eyes narrow, and her smile bright. More importantly, she could walk, and was much taller than Ye Yue. Wei Lan was suspicious, looking back at Ye Yue with annoyance at being deceived. Ye Yue pretended to know nothing and cheerfully introduced Wei Lan to Tao Tao: "This is my junior brother." Tao Tao had never seen her cousin alone with a boy before, and she assumed her sister was in love.
　　The three settled into the sunny room. Tao Tao went to prepare tea, but Ye Yue stopped her. She knew very well the pain her sister endured with every step she took.
　　The atmosphere became awkward. A faint musky scent filled the small room, reminding Wei Lan of the barefoot doctor in the village. He noticed a simple shelf in the corner, filled with medicine bottles. Most of the bottles were made of dark brown glass, and the sunlight from the windowsill, mixed with swirling dust, made them gleam like sparkling amber.
　　The beautiful Ye Yue had been pampered since childhood, which gradually overwhelmed the reserve and wariness that most people possess. She broke the silence first, saying to Tao Tao, "Sit down and show my junior brother your copy of 'Listening to the Wind'." Tao Tao was puzzled, but Wei Lan was already starting to get nervous.
　　Wei Lan's gaze followed Tao Tao as she opened the bookshelf, where the entire top shelf was solemnly occupied by a few thin magazines. As she handed the books to Wei Lan, she habitually dusted off non-existent dust with her fingers. The reverence in these actions reminded Wei Lan of his grandfather and the thread-bound books on the shrine. Wei Lan's overwhelming gratitude was evident in his eyes. He unconsciously and familiarly turned to the page with his own writing, seeing the tiny Chinese characters on the inferior paper, carefully outlined with red thread to form certain sentences. That red thread tugged at his heartstrings. Yes, Wei Lan considered these words his children. But he had never dared to hope that his children would be treated with such solemnity by a stranger. He almost cried. Taking advantage of the moment,
　　Ye Yue put her arm around Tao Tao's shoulder, speaking in a Santa Claus-like manner: "Dear sister, do you know why I brought my junior brother to see you? Because he is—Wei Lan! Happy, aren't you?"
　　Tao Tao stared at Wei Lan in disbelief; this moment was too sudden. She suddenly and flusteredly examined her sloppy attire and poorly styled hair. Both she and Wei Lan's cheeks were flushed like late spring camellias, and for a long time, only their deliberately suppressed breathing could be heard in the room.
　　Ye Yue's words were indeed like a gift. Only the giver was Tao Tao; she hadn't even had time to complete the final step of wrapping it before Ye Yue hastily presented the gift to the recipient, Wei Lan. And Wei Lan, through the less-than-perfect wrapping, easily discerned the gift's inherent value.
　　Wei Lan hadn't yet learned to remain calm in such situations. He hurriedly said goodbye, and Tao Tao insisted on seeing him to the courtyard gate. The wooden door creaked, and Tao Tao, head bowed, uttered a soft, gentle voice: "I really hope you can come..."
　　Seven
　　Tao Tao's leg was indeed diseased; it was chronic osteomyelitis. It was quite serious; a cavity had formed in her right tibia, and even slight exposure to cold or exertion would cause excruciating pain. The doctor advised Tao Tao to take a break from school to recuperate and to consistently sunbathe, which explained her darker complexion. Ye Yue later told Wei Lan all this. "She's very likely to be paralyzed and never be able to go back to school. She's only seventeen," Ye Yue said, her eyes filled with a pure, empathetic pain.
　　For many weekends afterward, Ye Yue would accompany Wei Lan to the library to borrow books, then bring one or two for Tao Tao. Ye Yue's clothes and long hair always attracted admiring glances from boys both inside and outside the school, which often made Wei Lan feel uneasy.
　　In the library's imposing bookshelves, Ye Yue, in her pure white dress, walked among them like a noble magnolia. Her dark blue hair spread slowly across her slender, upright shoulders, like the richly colored leaves of a magnolia tree. In their intermittent interactions, Wei Lan was surprised to discover that Ye Yue possessed remarkably detailed analytical insights into Chinese history and literary history. Who said that beautiful girls are all shallow and frivolous? Wei Lan thought that Ye Yue was actually a child whose intelligence and innocence were obscured by her beauty. She was innocent. Those who admired or revered her didn't truly understand her, which was why she hadn't yet found love.
　　But, did Ye Yue truly lack love?
　　On weekends when the three of them spent time together, literature became the theme. Hair clips, love letters, even the pain-relieving plasters or capsules that Tao Tao used, all quietly faded away. Neither Tao Tao nor Ye Yue realized that they were experiencing the first upheaval in their lives.
　　One afternoon, it was drizzling. Tao Tao's leg was in excruciating pain. Ye Yue repeatedly applied hot compresses with a towel, but cold sweat still dripped down Tao Tao's forehead. She clenched her fists, closed her eyes, and murmured, "This torture is worse than death." Ye Yue continued her actions as if she hadn't heard. She had grown accustomed to, and even understood, the madness and despair her sister felt under extreme pain, and the helplessness in her desperate search for relief. She remembered when Tao Tao first fell ill, the pain would drive her to stab her healthy hand with scissors until it bled, trying to distract herself from the pain in her leg.
　　But this was the first time Wei Lan had faced such a situation. Startled, he stood frozen, thinking for a long time before finally managing to say, "Tao Tao, do you know, there's a very strong and courageous writer in China, although he—" "Wei Lan!" Ye Yue, who had been silent, suddenly interrupted him sharply. Ye Yue knew Wei Lan was going to talk about Shi Tiesheng. That morning, when they went to the library, Wei Lan had pointed to Shi Tiesheng's books and talked to her for a long time, sighing and lamenting. But the naive Wei Lan didn't understand how she could use stories of Shi Tiesheng and Zhang Haidi to encourage Tao Tao. She would be sensitive enough to think this was an implication of her possible disability.
　　Wei Lan sensed something in Ye Yue's eyes and was momentarily speechless. Tao Tao asked blankly, "What are you trying to say? Who's strong?" Wei Lan gasped, his heart racing. He excused himself to help Ye Yue change the water in the kitchen, secretly trying to find the right words to make up for his mistake. Turning back, he said, "I misspoke earlier. It's the American writer Hemingway. The characters he created are all very strong and brave. Have you read *The Old Man and the Sea*? I was deeply moved. A man can be destroyed but not defeated. Tao Tao, keep going. We all believe in you."
　　The
　　following Saturday, on the audio library program, Xiao Ran's jasmine-like voice gently blossomed: "...The old man knew he was rowing far away, leaving the scent of land behind, rowing into the fresh scent of the morning sea... In the darkness, the old man could feel the morning approaching..." *The Old Man and the Sea*?! Wei Lan hugged the radio, incredulously happy. He began to fantasize, even believe, that he and Xiao Ran shared a profound resonance in some space. He never narrowly believed that love must be between two familiar people, face to face. One person could fall in love with another simply because of their beautiful voice. Yes, one can absolutely fall in love with another because of their beautiful writing. It's just that the latter is Tao Tao's thought.
　　Xiao Ran's voice disappeared into the deep-sea-like night fog as "The Old Man and the Sea" ended. Wei Lan sat beneath the mottled old wall of the dormitory building, shifting his body as if just waking from a dream. Why didn't Xiao Ran host a talk show? He thought, if he did, he would definitely fall into the same old trap, calling in like a scene from a cheesy movie—"I've fallen in love with a girl, should I tell her?"
　　Should he? Wei Lan sat in the night, his heart breaking. The moon, slowly polished by time, cast a thin, melodious light, almost melodious, bringing tears to his eyes. Suddenly, he frantically jumped on his bicycle and sped towards the radio station. The night wind ripped through him, tearing apart with a whistling sound.
　　In the old town, the signal tower, its red light like a torch, stood out from the crowd. Wei Lan stopped his bike, gazing upwards for a long time, the light stimulating his tear ducts.
　　A drowsy little town. A road paved with moonlight. The confusion of love. The sorrow of a young boy.
　　Tao Tao emerges from the cell tower and is taken away by an ambulance.
　　Wei Lan's bicycle can't catch up.
　　Nine
　　A week later, Ye Yue is making her final preparations for university.
　　On the eve of her departure, she drinks a small amount of champagne alone and writes a vague letter to Wei Lan. She deliberately hides her meaning in an obscure and difficult-to-understand way to lessen her guilt about possibly hurting Tao Tao. She knows that no matter how fragmented her words are, they won't stump Wei Lan.
　　Because of this, Wei Lan dares not reply.
　　The weekend after that night, Wei Lan went to see Tao Tao alone.
　　"You...besides reading at home, is there anything else?"
　　"No."
　　"I saw you coming out of the radio station last week."
　　"How could you see me?"
　　"I..."
　　"My aunt works there. Why are you asking this?"
　　Xiao Ran. Wei Lan almost blurted out, "I wanted to ask the host, Xiao Ran." But he feared it was just a coincidence, and pressing for answers would hurt Tao Tao's pride. So he tried a different approach: "I brought a novel with me today. I'd like to hear you read it in Mandarin, is that alright?" "My Mandarin is terrible. Never mind," Tao Tao replied quite naturally, even conveying a hint of regret in her expression. He tried to find a clue in her eyes, but her eyes were narrow, her smile like a crescent moon, her long eyelashes concealing everything.
　　During the long summer vacation, Wei Lan never faced Tao Tao again. Was Tao Tao Xiao Ran? Her voice on the radio was so clear and elegant, yet it carried no trace of life's helplessness, hardly sounding like someone afflicted with a serious illness. Do you hope Tao Tao really is Xiao Ran? If so, would you love her as you once imagined? Wei Lan asked himself. Then he heard a clear answer from his heart: I would. No matter who she is, I would.
　　After Ye Yue went to university, Wei Lan began to endure the most confusing and frantic days of his life. Because the radio station's audio library inexplicably stopped broadcasting, Xiao Ran disappeared.
　　So, although Wei Lan understood Ye Yue's letter, he still delayed replying. He was considering his wording, how to be clear in meaning yet tactful in expression. Ye Yue was a friend he couldn't bear to hurt; he even felt that if it weren't for Xiao Ran, he would have fallen in love with this magnolia-like girl, like many boys.
　　But love has no "what ifs."
　　Saturdays without Xiao Ran felt empty, like a wasteland; Wei Lan was a lost child. He couldn't visit Tao Tao often without Ye Yue's company. Sitting in the library, bathed in sunlight filtered through the wooden window frames, he was always absent-minded. He had borrowed many books for Tao Tao, but each time he reached the courtyard gate, he hesitated.
　　He hadn't written seriously in a long time; all his diaries were monotonous because of an imagined person.
　　Ye Yue sent a postcard from university, the scenery ablaze with cherry blossoms. The postcard contained only one sentence: "Have you read the letters I wrote to you before I left?
　　"
　　Wei Lan understood that he could no longer deceive Ye Yue, even if the other way of not deceiving her was through rejection and hurt.
　　Wei Lan spent a week writing a letter, revising it several times, more meticulously than if he were submitting a manuscript. In the letter, he repeatedly emphasized Ye Yue's beauty, intelligence, and kindness, saying that Ye Yue would be a friend he would remember for life. But in the end, he confessed that he loved someone else, and wrote at the end of the letter: "Ye Yue, if my stubbornness hurts you, please believe that this is truly not what I wanted."
　　Ye Yue never wrote to Wei Lan again.
　　That year, Tao Tao's mother took a long leave from her workplace and took her daughter south to Guangxi to find a legendary folk healer, a reincarnation of Hua Tuo. She told her husband that if she couldn't find him, she wouldn't come back. She would continue searching for a doctor, even if it meant going bankrupt, even if the final outcome was unchangeable. What she wanted was a mother without regrets, a mother with a clear conscience.
　　Tao Tao and Ye Yue, the two sisters, faded from Wei Lan's life.
　　The radio program was adjusted several times, but no matter how many times it was changed, Xiao Ran and her audio library were no longer there. Wei Lan guessed that Xiao Ran must have left the county.
　　But he still missed Xiao Ran.
　　The summer Wei Lan was admitted to university, Tao Tao returned to her hometown. Unlike before, she was in a wheelchair. Wei Lan went to visit her, and she anxiously explained, "I can still walk, but the doctor said that excessive walking will worsen my condition. Don't believe me? Look, look, can't I walk just the same?" After saying that, Tao Tao ignored her mother's objections and insisted on getting out of the wheelchair and walking a few steps around the house. Wei Lan felt a pang of sadness, but forced a smile and said, "Of course, your walking posture has always been beautiful. I'm just tired, let's sit down and talk?"
　　It was still that sunny little house. The scent of musk, the bookshelf, the amber-colored medicine bottles, the sunlight swirling with dust... everything was still the same as before. Like a movie with a editing error, after playing a long blank period, the plot resumed.
　　“Weilan, I met a fellow patient in Guangxi. He’s a university professor. He encouraged me to take the university self-study exams and even gave me a set of textbooks. You know what? When I was getting treatment in Tianjin, I passed three subjects!” Tao Tao eagerly showed Weilan her transcript, her reverent posture just as it had been when she treated the book *Listening to the Wind*.
　　Weilan’s eyes began to well up with tears. This emotion didn’t stem from any sympathy or pity, but from a sense of admiration and respect: “Tao Tao, you really are amazing.”
　　“Weilan, do you believe it? The pain has made me brave.”
　　“Of course. The extraordinary suffering you’ve endured has tempered your will and given you strength.”
　　“No. Weilan, everyone’s fate inevitably harbors hardship; it’s just a matter of time. No one is luckier, and no one is more pitiful.”
　　Weilan looked at Tao Tao, puzzled. Her way of speaking reminded him of his grandfather. “Why do you say that, Tao Tao?” he asked.
　　“Like my sister, Ye Yue.”
　　“You mean her? What happened to her?!”
　　Tao Tao sighed and turned her wheelchair to leave the house. The water vat in the courtyard was silent. The lotus flowers were in full bloom, their petals standing upright like the graceful hands of a peacock dancer. Sunlight emanated a faint, sweet-smelling tang from the damp earth and rainwater, choking Tao Tao's uneven breathing. Wei Lan nervously followed behind Tao Tao, afraid to guess what would happen next.
　　"She told me not to tell you, but I couldn't help myself. Wei Lan, my sister was in a car accident last year."
　　"What?! Was she badly injured?"
　　"Her left leg was broken, but she healed quickly. It's just..." Tao Tao bit her lower lip, her eyes gazing at the birds perched on the sycamore tree outside the courtyard, the sunlight blinding.
　　"Just what?!"
　　"The car overturned on the road, leaving behind shards of glass. My sister had many scars on her body, including on her cheeks. Some wounds were too deep, the scars can never be removed."
　　The cicadas chirped incessantly in the sycamore tree.
　　Wei Lan sat down softly beside the blue stone water vat, his back against the cool, intricate patterns, his vision blank. He recalled Ye Yue's beautiful, lively eyes, like a deer's, her pure white dress standing like a noble magnolia among the imposing bookshelves of the library, the ever-present theme of the boys' dormitory about the school beauty, Ye Yue… He also recalled the two letters Ye Yue wrote to him, the postcards filled with cherry blossoms… That letter, yes, wouldn't his reply just be adding insult to injury?! He asked sadly, "When did this happen?"
　　"Last October."
　　Wei Lan sighed deeply; he had written to Ye Yue in the first half of last year.
　　"Her contact information hasn't changed, has it?"
　　"No, it hasn't. It's just that after her accident, she was afraid to contact her former classmates again, so she changed her name."
　　"Changed her name?"
　　"Yes. Now she's called Ye Ran. She's always liked this name. When her aunt helped her get a program slot at the radio station, she used Xiao Ran as her stage name."
　　Early
　　spring in the mountain village was still chilly, with new green shoots dotting the landscape. Several wild cherry trees in Wei Lan's backyard had awakened from the cold winter, their pale green branches laden with delicate pink and white blossoms. Wei Lan sat under the trees, occasionally a petal falling onto her shoulder. The mountain breeze smelled like a cup of fresh tea, and Wei Lan closed her eyes amidst this floral fragrance. "
　　No matter who Xiao Ran is, will you still love her?" Yes. "No matter if Xiao Ran is beautiful or ugly, will you still love her?" Of course. Wei Lan's inner answers, like plump seeds, fell into the spring mud beneath her feet.
　　...
　　Wei Lan: "Why didn't you tell me sooner that you were Xiao Ran?"
　　Ye Yue: "You didn't ask!"
　　Wei Lan: "You're so nosy, changing your name even when hosting a program."
　　Ye Yue: "You change your name even when publishing articles!"
　　...
　　A spring dawn ignited the cherry blossoms across the mountain.
　　At the foot of the mountain, two children spoke back to back.
　　A small butterfly, dressed in colorful plumage, kissed the girl's long, dark blue hair. The boy turned around and gently brushed aside the hair the girl had deliberately covered her left cheek. The warm spring sunlight, shattered by the wind, reflected on her cheek.