Chapter Thirty-Three: Plateaus and the Deep Sea

A Songli’s relatives were exceedingly warm and, eager to express their gratitude, insisted that they stay for dinner. Even A Songli clung to Xinggan’s hand, pleading for her to remain. Instinctively, Xinggan’s gaze drifted toward Cheng Jiu, who wasn’t looking at her, but was speaking with their hosts. She couldn’t understand a word of what he said.

She couldn’t help telling A Songli, “When you’re home, you must listen well to your elders.” After spending time together, A Songli had come to trust and cherish her deeply. The thought of her leaving made him reluctant; he didn’t want to let her go.

Outside, the moon hung large in the sky, and the distance was swallowed by darkness so profound that it was impossible to tell whether mountains or a lake lay beyond. A Songli led Xinggan outside to stand under the moon. He asked, “Will you come to see me in the future?”

Xinggan smiled. “Do you want me to come see you?”

He nodded, his eyes bright as the moon, gazing at her with pure innocence. Xinggan couldn’t bring herself to deceive him, yet she dared not promise, for she wasn’t sure if she would ever return. She still contemplated emigrating—an idea she had always entertained, though with her engagement to Cheng Jiu, she feared her family would not approve. If she were to marry him, she would no longer be free to leave the country, let alone emigrate. This was, after all, her true purpose for this journey.

As for Cheng Jiu, she had no intention of telling him about her plans to emigrate, at least for now. Xinggan lowered her eyes and gently stroked A Songli’s hair. “Even if I don’t come to see you, you must live happily,” she said softly.

He was still young, yet remarkably mature. He did his utmost to bear the sorrow of losing his loved ones, never showing it, and only wept quietly under his covers at night.

A Songli then asked, “Can I come find you someday?”

“Yes,” Xinggan replied.

“Then let’s pinky swear. Swear that for a hundred years, we won’t break our promise.”

…

Cheng Jiu came outside and saw Xinggan and A Songli talking not far away. She was squatting down while A Songli stood before her. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but then he saw them hook their little fingers together, one tall and one small, their shadows stretched long and askew in the moonlight.

A Songli’s family was not well-off and couldn’t spare a room for them to stay the night. After bidding his family farewell, Cheng Jiu and Xiao Shi decided to drive through the night to return. The two of them took turns at the wheel, so Xinggan could lie down and rest in the backseat, making the journey a little less uncomfortable.

Driving at night was no easy task, and Xinggan sensed there must be a pressing reason for their hurried return. Her mood was heavy. Though she lay awake, eyes closed, she listened to the drone of the engine and caught the faint scent of cigarettes. Opening her eyes, she saw that it was Cheng Jiu at the wheel. Her legs had gone numb, and she couldn’t help stretching them, making a slight sound. Cheng Jiu glanced into the rearview mirror.

“Did I wake you?” he asked.

“No, I just woke up,” she replied in a low voice.

Xiao Shi, in the passenger seat, was already asleep, breathing softly. The plateau at midnight was a deep blue mingled with dense shadows, like the depths of the sea.

Cheng Jiu said, “Do you mind if I smoke? Driving at night—I need something to keep me awake.”

“It’s fine, go ahead. Don’t worry about me.” Xinggan kept her voice especially low, not wanting to disturb the sleeping Xiao Shi.

With a sharp flick, a brief flare of light illuminated the cabin as Cheng Jiu lit a cigarette. After several drags, he seemed more alert. “Are you getting carsick?” he asked, clearly directing the question at her.

Xinggan was silent for a moment before replying, “I’m fine.”

Their conversation was spare, question and answer, her responses cool and reserved. Had he not spoken, she would have kept silent.