As a story draws to its close, the protagonist invariably returns to its genesis.
The rhythmic clatter of the train, born from wheels grinding against tracks, served as a peculiar lullaby as the scenery outside the window gradually transformed from bustling cityscape to familiar rural landscapes.
Qi An—or rather, Qi Yue’an, as she now preferred to be called—sat by the window, her gaze drifting.
Deep within her consciousness, that other self, luminous as sunshine and named ‘Qi An’, had quietly receded into a profound slumber, as if having fulfilled a sacred mission after helping stabilize her own fractured self-perception.
Qi Yue’an could still sense ‘her’ presence, yet remained unaware of ‘her’ whereabouts or when ‘she’ might awaken again.
Stepping off the train with only a modest bag, she was met by the slightly damp air of her hometown, a sensation both familiar and utterly foreign.
Guided by memory, she made her way towards the old residential building, her steps involuntarily softening, imbued with the hesitant trepidation of returning home after a long absence.
Pushing open the partially ajar door, she was assailed by the greasy scent of cheap takeout mingled with the musty aroma of old furniture.
In the living room, her parents were huddled around the coffee table, eating simple bento boxes, while a noisy program blared from the television, only serving to emphasize the stark quietness of the room.
Her father appeared to have grown thinner, the white hairs at his temples strikingly more numerous, while the wrinkles around her mother’s eyes had deepened, her face etched with the weariness of hard labor.
Witnessing this scene, Qi Yue’an’s nose suddenly stung, and an overwhelming wave of guilt instantly engulfed her.
‘Was this truly the life her parents had endured in her absence?’
“Dad, Mom…”
Her voice, slightly hoarse, broke the silence.
At the sound of her voice, both parents looked up in astonishment, their faces instantly alight with a mixture of surprise and joy upon seeing the graceful young woman standing in the doorway.
“Yue’an? Why are you suddenly back? You didn’t even tell us beforehand!”
Her mother quickly put down her chopsticks and rose, gazing at the messy coffee table with a touch of helplessness.
“Look at this… we just grabbed a bite… haven’t even cooked dinner yet…”
Her father, too, hastily began clearing away the takeout boxes, his face betraying unconcealed delight mixed with a hint of embarrassment.
“Yes, it’s good you’re back, so good… You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Dad will go buy groceries right away…”
Watching her parents’ flustered movements, Qi Yue’an suppressed the warmth stinging her eyes, quickly walked over, and rolled up her sleeves.
“No need to fuss, Dad, Mom. Please sit and rest for a bit. Today… let me cook.”
Both parents paused, momentarily stunned, as they watched their daughter skillfully tie on an apron, enter the kitchen, and open the refrigerator to inspect the meager ingredients. Their eyes held a complex mixture of relief and confusion.
‘After all, the ‘Yue’an’ they remembered was intelligent, accomplished, and self-reliant, but it seemed… she didn’t often cook?’
The meal was prepared and consumed in a subtly harmonious, yet slightly unsettling atmosphere.
Qi Yue’an did her best to prepare a few dishes her parents loved and that were simple to make, relying on her memories.
At the dinner table, her parents continuously piled food onto her plate, inquiring about her university life. Occasionally, they would blurt out anecdotes about how ‘Qi An’ used to be, only to freeze mid-sentence, a fleeting bewilderment clouding their eyes, as if momentarily unsure how many children they truly had. Ultimately, these moments would dissolve into a vague sigh, and they would steer the conversation elsewhere.
Qi Yue’an responded with a smile, though her heart felt as if an invisible hand were tightly clenching it, aching with a bitter pang.
She knew this was the magic taking effect, and that the lingering echoes of pure, profound ‘love’ stemming from their blood relation were resisting the enchantment, causing this cognitive confusion and overlap.
Each ‘observation’ solidified ‘Qi Yue’an’s’ existence, while irrevocably erasing the traces of ‘Qi An’.
Beneath this veneer of familial harmony lay her unspeakable hesitation.
****
Gradually, by the final day of the deadline, even they ceased to mention the name ‘Qi An’.
The afternoon sun was radiant as Qi Yue’an, alone, arrived at her elementary alma mater, where she had spent her entire childhood.
The school had been renovated, yet the old swing set, tucked away in a corner, remained.
She gently sat upon it, and the iron chains let out a familiar creak.
Warm sunlight dappled her face through the sparse leaves. Closing her eyes, she could almost hear the distant conversations of a scrawny boy and another radiant youth who had once played there years ago.
“If one day I became a monster no one liked, would you still play with me?”
Memories flowed like a warm current, yet they also carried the sharp sting of farewell and betrayal. She swung gently, her gaze lifted to the empty sky above.
She knew not how much time had passed when the empty swing beside her subtly dipped. Her eyes snapped open, her heart nearly skipping a beat.
Without her realizing, Lin Xiao had taken a seat beside her. She still bore that cold, unfamiliar demeanor, yet her gaze seemed slightly softer than during their last encounter.
The two of them sat side by side, silently gazing at the empty sandpit before them, just as they had years ago, yet everything felt profoundly altered.
She didn’t rush forward with questions, nor did she cling to him desperately as she had during their last meeting, begging him not to leave. Instead, she quietly awaited his words.
After a long silence, Lin Xiao finally spoke, his voice low and still imbued with that enigmatic, riddle-like cadence.
“The threads of fate intertwine and tangle, and each person’s destiny is predetermined from birth. This appears to be an unsolvable puzzle… yet there are always those who choose the most arduous path to sever it.”
“An… please remember, no matter what you see or hear in the future… trust me, one day, I will win back a better future for you.”
Qi Yue’an turned her head, her silver eyes fixed on him. Though his face remained impassive, those familiar eyes betrayed a familiar concern, along with a hint of resolve and weariness.
She lowered her head, her heart a tumult of emotions. Despite their physical proximity, it felt as though something infinitely more distant separated them.
“I don’t understand any of what you’re saying… I just want to know why you left me in the first place?”
Lin Xiao rose to his feet, the sunlight tracing a lonely silhouette behind him. He glanced back at her, his profound eyes seemingly holding a thousand unspoken words, which ultimately coalesced into a single phrase.
“I’m sorry. There are many things I cannot explicitly state, but… I have always been by your side. When ‘that time’ arrives, I will tell you everything myself.”
“Until then, you must, absolutely must, live well. That is the most important thing.”
Having said his piece, he turned and walked with resolute steps in a direction utterly divergent from hers, his figure gradually fading into the depths of the sunlight, as if he had never been there at all.
****
Qi Yue’an remained on the swing alone for a long while, until the sun began to set, and the final hour inevitably arrived.
A fine drizzle began to fall from the sky, not heavy, but chilling enough. She stood alone beneath a black umbrella in the public cemetery on the outskirts of town.
Before a fresh grave, the tombstone bore the name soon to be forgotten by the world—Qi An. The funeral had just concluded, the attendees long dispersed, leaving behind only scattered white chrysanthemums and wreaths across the ground, silently recounting the recent sorrow.
She watched her haggard parents, supporting each other, not immediately departing. Instead, they stumbled towards where she stood—seemingly drawn by an unconscious desire to be closer to their ‘son’s’ resting place, not yet noticing the young woman beneath the umbrella a short distance away.
Amidst the patter of rain, she heard her mother’s hoarse voice, thick with tears.
“If only our Yue’an could have come today… he…”
Her words caught in her throat, her confused perception rendering her expression full of contradictions, mentioning her daughter ‘Yue’an’ while weeping for the departure of her ‘son’.
Her father, his eyes red-rimmed, tightly embraced her mother’s shoulders and sighed.
“Don’t dwell on it… Yue’an, she… she’s busy with school, she’s ambitious… she’s our pride and joy. It’s just little An, he… he had no luck…”
They passed by Qi Yue’an, their grief and the veil of rain preventing them from clearly discerning the figure beneath the umbrella.
Yet, in the fleeting moment they brushed past, her mother seemed to glance instinctively in her direction, her eyes filled with an ineffable sorrow and an inexplicable bond that even she herself couldn’t comprehend.
The oblivion brought by magic was accelerating; memories of ‘Qi An’ were rapidly fading and vanishing from the perceptions of all ordinary people.
This grave was destined to swiftly become a solitary, forgotten mound, unvisited and unremembered, as if a boy named ‘Qi An’ had never existed.
But at that very moment, Qi Yue’an stood beneath her umbrella in the rain, before her own tomb, rapidly being erased from the world’s memory, and at the distorted, pain-filled periphery of her parents’ consciousness, shaped by both love and magic.
The rain curtain fell silently, gently yet cruelly cleansing everything, carrying away the sorrows of the past while ushering in new life.
The footprints of yesteryear were fading, yet the lost traveler still found no solace in stopping here.