She blinked, a little embarrassed, scratching her head and said, "Oh dear, I accidentally drank it all, but it actually tasted quite good..."

This seemed to be the young man's first, and only, time to show her a genuine smile.

"It's okay, my family also says it's delicious," the young man said, "Your taste matches with my family."

She stared at his smile, her heart pounding wildly, her throat almost wanted to scream, but was held back by shyness.

"Then... then I'll try to improve it more, so that your tea can appeal to a broader audience..." She bashfully lowered her head, her right hand quietly covering her chest, giving it a grasp.

Clearly, she grasped nothing,

... yet looking at the young man's smile, she seemed to grasp eternity in that instant.

...

"Were you just looking at that glass bottle on the stall?" The girl leaned forward, her shiny black braid swaying.

"No, I wasn't," the young man withdrew his gaze and walked forward with big strides.

... This guy never waits for her, just wandering around on his own!

The girl was silently sullen for a while, then she quietly slipped back, bought the glass bottle, and hid it in her bosom.

She didn't know that the young man's pause was just because he remembered a girl from thousands of years later, the real reason for his heart's move. And she, excitedly buying that glass bottle, eagerly followed him, as her unique gift of confession, anxiously stroking it.

"Where did you just go?" The young man glanced back.

"Nowhere, didn't do anything," she coughed and covered the glass bottle in her arms.

...

"Ahem... Umm! Su Rin... I like you! This is a gift for you, I hope you accept it!" The girl practiced in front of the mirror, then felt it wasn't right, changed her posture, gazed at the mirror tenderly and said, "Ahem! Umm! Little Rin, actually, I liked you from the start, so, accept this gift, and date me... Ahhhhh!"

She threw herself onto the bed, covering her face, screaming like a groundhog, "How could I possibly say something like that out loud! Ahhh!!"

The glass bottle was tossed aside by her, she hurried over to it again, afraid it might break. Clearly, just a worthless bottle, yet she treated it like a priceless treasure.

"Again, this is the forty-eighth time, forty-eighth time... Jiang Yin! You cannot back out anymore, you must say it this time!"

That night, she practiced in front of the mirror all night, finally perfecting the words for her confession, and the way to present the glass bottle, as if solemnly proposing.

She didn't know that even the gift she meticulously prepared was just a monument for someone else.

...

"Last night's fireworks were perfectly timed, drowned out the voice of my confession. Damn it, tonight I have to try again... Eh? Where's my glass bottle? Did it fall somewhere last night?" The girl hastily searched for the glass bottle on the ground.

At this time, the young man walked out of the room, heading outside.

... This guy is off to the teahouse to listen to stories again, every day like an old man.

The girl watched him leave in secret, continued to look down to search. Last night, he didn't hear her confession, she felt really stifled, and after finding the glass bottle, she definitely had to try again tonight. This time... this time there'd be no fireworks, it'd definitely be done!

In the direction she couldn't see, the young man paused, gently turned back, gazed at her scuttling under the bed like a cockroach.

Golden eyes reflected the mountains and seas of Ocean City, the vast, pure sky, the trickling streams, a world so vast... yet alone without the girl.

He paused for a long time, gazed at her for a long time. Until she walked outside... only then did he start moving again.

She ran hurriedly outside, counting the money in her bosom, without noticing as she brushed past him.

This was the last time they brushed past each other.

—The girl ran toward the bustling morning market, the young man turned back, walking toward the distant seaport.

A silent sigh lingered in the air, heard by no one.

"...Why bother delaying her." He walked away into the distance, never looking back.

...

"That woman, already in her thirties or forties, still not married..."

"Tiantian just sits at the fabric shop's entrance with a stool, waiting, although she's well-off, she surely must not be happy."

"With no descendants, no one to care for her when she's old... Someone should go advise Boss Jiang, she's a good person, why hang herself on a single tree."

"I think Boss Jiang is quite romantic, loving only one person in her life, if only I could be so devoted."

"Do you think she'll wait for him?"

"It's hard! No one knows where that boy went... his looks and demeanor indeed don't seem mortal, pity for Boss Jiang... sigh, hope she wakes up soon."

"At most, wait a year or two, the feelings will fade, and she'll forget."

...

"It's been how many years now, Boss Jiang is still there."

"Ah, isn't it true! Used to be sitting with a stool waiting, now started traveling on ships to find... the world is so big, how could she find him!"

"Many tourists heard of Boss Jiang's deep affection, visit her fabric shop to take pictures."

"Boss Jiang is quite spirited, yet treats tourists kindly, just so they can find that young man for her."

"She's a good person, sponsored so many kids' education, yet it's a pity, a good person gets no good returns..."

"When she gets older, she should come around. I see Uncle Zhang from next door has quite an interest in her, often sending her flowers."

...

"Uncle Zhang passed away today... he never married either. Yet Boss Jiang still waits, does she know, someone else was waiting for her with deep affection too…"

"Grandma, who is Boss Jiang?"

"Ah, she's a madwoman... hard to say, no one knows if she's truly in love or just mad."

"Grandma, what is love?"

"Love, it's like Boss Jiang... her hair has turned white, yet she's still waiting for someone who'll never return, that's love."

"Can we help her? Help her search."

"Oh! She's an old lady, half a foot in the grave, we might not even do anything before she's gone, forget about it. Just send her more charcoal, such an age still sitting outside in the wind each night… it's sinful..."

"Do you think about Boss Jiang, when young, she was such a beautiful girl, also the fabric shop owner, everyone from all around liked her, but she just..."

...

Jiang Yin's eyelids grew increasingly heavy.

A drop of ink from her hand fell, instantly staining the young man's painted face, failing to bring out the eyes. Her hand trembled too much, even after decades of painting, she couldn't hold the brush steady.

Blank paper scattered all over, within the fabric shop were still thousands of portraits of the young man, all painted by her, only with outlines, lacking features. Because she feared even with features, he wouldn't return.

As if a lantern before her eyes, the black-haired golden-eyed young man turned into a puff of smoke, vanishing before her eyes. As if signifying even the lantern show was over.

"Su..."

With all her remaining strength, she held the brush persistently, wishing for this last... to write his name on the painting. She wished to write his name one last time.

Eyes that hadn't cried for decades shed tears, the eye sockets warm and moist. White hair fluttered beside her face, like the frost and snow of a winter night. She stared blankly at the drawing paper, as if possessed.

This life, she hadn't attended school, didn't learn many words.

The only words she could write were his name. Only indistinct syllables, she didn't even know which words those syllables represented. To the point where now she wanted to write his name on the painting, she could only write down the syllables.

In the end, she couldn't even write his name.

The pen tip paused for a long time, breathing increasingly slow, she slowly wrote down a word she wasn't even sure of, maybe it wasn't even his name.

"...Rin."

Hope this is your name.

Hope... I got it right in the end.

The paintbrush descends.

Pain sweeps through her body, the sea breeze kissing the tips of her hair. Her heart, already aching, seems to hear...

The sound of footsteps.

"Tap, tap, tap."

In her daze, a young man shrouded in a black robe seems to walk toward her. The wind sweeps his black hair up, revealing the dazzling gold below his brows, the same familiar face.

Snow falls onto his hair, aligning with hers. As if in this life, he finally grayed before her eyes.

Fifty years pass, a short life.

She is old and frail, yet the young man remains as when they first met.

How strange...

She clearly did not paint eyes onto the canvas; the entire painting was marred by ink. How did he appear?

Her vision blurs, and her thoughts stall momentarily until she suddenly understands... this is her dying hallucination.

Her life was too short, she was too hard on herself, too stubborn. Only at the last moment did she finally let go, granting herself an illusion of deceit.

An illusion is fine... an illusion is good...

At least those words, weak with cowardice for so long... she finally dares to utter.

[I miss you so much...] She reaches forward, tears streaming down, her chest emitting a broken sound like a wind-battered bellows, unable to articulate specific words, and she herself cannot hear her throat's sound.

But he is an illusion, so naturally, he understands her words. He faces the wind and snow, holds her hand, slowly squats before her, smoothing the scars on her face caused by illness.

The snowflakes slowly melt on her face, mingling with bitter tears to fall.

[I'm sorry.] He says.

She knows, even if it is an illusion, he would not give her a definitive answer. He never gave her a false impression of romance; the anticipation was always hers.

[It doesn't... matter...] She raises her hand, wanting to touch his face, hesitating for a second before slightly lowering the hand, merely allowing it to touch his shoulder: [It's okay...]

Having an answer is already enough.

She has known this answer all along.

[In the past, I also encountered a girl, and I didn't agree to her. Afterwards, she married and had a happy life. I thought...] His voice lowers.

I thought you too would find someone more suitable, you too would embrace the happiness that belongs to you, so I decisively left.

Never thinking... that the girl named "Jiang Yin" was so stubborn. Time flowed too quickly; when he returned, it was already too late.

[I'm sorry.] He reiterated once more, still providing no additional answer.

Jiang Yin reveals the newly bought glass bottle from her bosom, already warmed, the daisies long wilted. She can finally present...an expression of affection she practiced countless times in front of the mirror.

This is... the forty-ninth time.

She successfully spoke it out loud.

[Little Rin. I like you, liked you since the first meeting, liked you since speaking the first word, liked you since your first gaze. Others ask me what exactly I like about you, but if pressed, I cannot say it.

[If I must say, it would be your brows, which I like. Your expression, which I also like. Your demeanor sitting on the roof, which I still like. Your demeanor when you asked if the tea tasted good, which I still like...I really want to discard this feeling, so I won't be in so much pain, but no matter what, I cannot discard it. If there is a next life, and you still cannot agree to me, do not meet me. Otherwise, should it happen again, I will still fall for you. It's too painful; I don't want it...

[Or perhaps, in the next life, the next life...let me also become a longevity species. No longer just decades of lifespan; I too can have longevity like you, perhaps then the answer would be different. But it's too late now; only when facing an illusion do I dare to speak...]

If only, if only a bit braver...

If my lifespan were a bit longer...

Would you...

"Crash."

White hair falls, head tilts, words unfinished suddenly fall silent.

Papers are scattered on her knees, all falling to the ground.

On the paper are sketches of the young man's yet-to-be-formed silhouette.

As if responding to her closed eyes, the sound of the ocean echoes from afar, a silent meteor falls from the sky.

Like daylight rolling in from the horizon, pouring like waves.

An elderly woman in a flowered jacket sits on an ancient bench, clutching the unfinished painting, breath stopping.

A snap sound,

Ink spreads, her arm naturally falls, all sounds echoing in her ears abruptly stop.

The sound of neighbors' gossip.

The sound of a black-tipped boat slicing through the water.

The chirping of a white bird on the eaves.

The final groan from the worn bench.

The small sound of a tear falling to the ground.

The sound of a sewing machine pedal.

Decades of waiting and love.

A confession knowing the answer all along.

Past without an echo.

Frost and snow filling the white hair of the elderly.

The eternal slumber on the seat.

The young man slowly crouches, picking up the glass bottle from the ground. This is the bottle Jiang Yin bought at the morning market a few days ago, sensing her impending end, the daisies at the bottle's mouth already wilted.

Then he gently retrieves, from his bosom, an identical glass bottle, its daisies still fresh. This is the glass bottle Jiang Yin left on the roof decades ago, its daisies kept in their original state.

Two glass bottles, slowly held in his hands. One wilted, one as new.

The meteor falls across the horizon, like daylight dragging long trails. His shadow is cast upon the slumbering old grandma, blocking the streetlights. Her eyes closed, mouth smiling, seemingly finally finding long-lasting satisfaction.

He stands there for a long time, until her body begins to grow cold, until her fingers become rigid, and the ink on the paper begins to dry.

He clasps her hand tighter, his throat emitting a quiet sigh.

[...Jiang Yin.] He looks at the scattered papers on the ground: [...You wrote it right, well done.]

On the paper, black ink spreads widely, yet the small characters in the corner remain clear.

It is the name she wrote countless times, refined over and over... finally chosen... his name.

...

[Su Rin.]

[—Jiang Yin's lifetime of love... friend.]

[You should be called by this name.]

...

[If I guessed it right.]

[Then...]

[Praise me a bit.]

...

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.