Zhao Rugu’s presence was like a meteor, briefly streaking across my life before vanishing. After I resolutely rejected her that day, she disappeared from my view.
That was fine. I thought perhaps that was normal human nature. Life is short; anyone who has glimpsed the beauty of the world wouldn’t hang themselves on a single tree.
Just like my parents—they married on a whim of passion. When the passion faded and they realized they weren’t worth each other’s time, they left decisively.
That was normal human behavior.
This weekend, the class monitor organized a “class birthday” event. Our classmates came from all corners of the country, and in the end, everyone would inevitably return to the crowd. But since freshman year, we had set this “class birthday,” celebrating it every year. I thought it was merely an excuse for a class activity, yet everyone treated it as meaningful.
The “class birthday” was set in late autumn, around the transition to winter.
This year’s celebration would be the last. Class monitor Zhang Xu planned something grand, setting a camping spot on Qushan, where we could hike and camp.
Zhang Xu had been my former roommate. We had always gotten along well, so I naturally supported his plan.
I remembered an old Daoist temple on Qushan, famous for its incense. I had long wanted to visit but hadn’t had the chance. This time, it was perfect.
Qushan wasn’t far from school—just over ten minutes’ walk. The climb was a bit exhausting, so a few classmates secretly took the cable car. When the class monitor noticed some missing people, he mock-scolded them after finding out where they went.
“Ah Ze, you’re amazing! Climbing this whole way and not even out of breath!” Zhang Xu scolded theatrically, then gave me a thumbs-up.
He was a southern boy, with the delicate, soft features typical of the region, yet blessed with a strong, muscular body, earning him the nickname “King Kong Barbie.”
I looked at the various heavy backpacks he carried and laughed, “Want me to carry a few for you?”
He immediately protested, “Hey! That’s why I trust Ah Ze! You guys just know how to boss me around!”
A few girls covered their mouths, laughing, while a mischievous one mercilessly hung a bag around his neck. Zhang Xu exaggeratedly feigned outrage, causing everyone to chuckle.
I couldn’t help laughing as well.
He carried on, talking to me: “Ah Ze, I really think you’re incredible!”
I was surprised. “Why?”
Zhang Xu said, “Before, I thought you were weak and delicate, studying literature… back in ancient times, you’d be the delicate scholar who can neither lift nor carry. I’m different; I just drifted into our major.”
He adjusted the bag on his shoulder, catching his breath, and continued, “When I heard you went missing deep in the mountains, I thought for sure you were dead! What kind of place was that? Full of snakes, insects, and rats crawling everywhere!”
I said, “Not really. It wasn’t crawling all over the place.”
But Zhang Xu gave a thumbs-up again: “Yet you came out alive, on your own! You know, I really think you’re a real man!”
I was momentarily at a loss for words.
He grew more excited, almost bouncing: “Hey! Tell me about your survival experience in the mountains! It might come in handy later! How did you make fire? How did you find direction? And dealing with insects—that’s super important!”
When he said “dealing with insects,” my heart skipped a beat. I instinctively reached for my neck—but it was empty.
Oh, I had forgotten. I had left the sachet at home.
But memory is like a trigger. Once pressed, everything floods out uncontrollably.
The scene of Shen Jianqing giving me the sachet, hanging it close to my neck, his slender fingers, deep eyes, and that striking red mole above his eyelid—everything came rushing back.
The memories I thought I had long forgotten surged up before me. Only then did I realize—not only had I not forgotten, but I remembered every single detail clearly.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Zhang Xu suddenly came up to me.
I snapped back to the present. “It’s nothing… I just… got lucky, I guess.”
Zhang Xu opened his mouth to say more, but a cheer suddenly erupted from ahead.
We had unconsciously reached halfway up the mountain, arriving at our destination.
The camping company had already set up the area. On the spacious lawn were several tents, which we would need to assemble ourselves.
As class monitor, Zhang Xu immediately stepped forward to organize things. “Let’s pair up—two people per tent!”
Everyone immediately began discussing who they would partner with.
Zhang Xu grinned mischievously, rubbing his hands together. “Well then, I won’t hold back—I’ll claim Ah Ze for myself!”
A few girls covered their mouths, whispering together, while another roommate laughed, teasing, “Hey, he already has someone in his heart, calling out names every day! Class monitor, are you trying to play the third wheel?”
I could tell he meant no harm, but I still felt my smile stiffen.
Another roommate poked him with an elbow and pulled him into their already set-up tent.
Zhang Xu and I quietly set up our tent. He hid his grin, looking a bit serious. “Don’t mind him; he’s just nosy. If you don’t want to say anything, you don’t have to. Who says dating needs to be announced to the world?”
How could I tell them I wasn’t dating at all? If I said it aloud, it would only invite unnecessary attention and gossip.
“I remember there’s a Daoist temple nearby. I’ll go take a look,” I said.
Zhang Xu slapped his forehead. “I know! Qingjing Temple! I heard it’s very effective!”
As class monitor, he had many responsibilities and couldn’t accompany me. I set off alone, following the navigation, feeling relaxed as I sought out the reputedly powerful temple.
It was the weekend, and Qushan was crowded. Hikers and tourists strolled slowly, taking photos along the way. I naturally slowed my pace as well.
Eventually, I wandered up to Qingjing Temple.
The temple inside wasn’t much different from other temples—perhaps all the statues had a certain similarity. The Three Pure Ones here looked much like those elsewhere.
Many devout followers bought incense to pray, each one seeming deeply earnest. A few elderly women proclaimed loudly in the courtyard how effective the temple was, describing which number visit this was and giving thanks for answered prayers. Crowds gathered around, and the attention only made them speak more energetically.
Those entering the temple, whether believers or not, seemed to gain a hint of faith and joined in the prayers.
I had no wishes and didn’t believe in any of it. After wandering casually, I left the temple.
Outside, something caught my interest. An elderly man sat leisurely on a small foldable stool in front of a white cloth. On the cloth were written words like “I Ching,” “Character Divination,” “Resolving Confusions,” “Healing Ills and Heart.”
I was drawn to the phrase: “Resolving Confusions, Healing Ills and Heart,” and approached him.
“Sir, are your predictions accurate?” I asked.
The old man opened one eye, slightly displeased, and pursed his lips. “Not accurate, not accurate. Questions bring no results. Only if your heart is sincere will it work.”
Mysterious, mumbling.
“How do you resolve confusions?” I asked.
The old man held up five fingers.
I blinked.
“Fifty,” he said flatly. “Electronic payment accepted.”
I had planned to try it anyway, so I handed him fifty. Upon receiving it, he immediately opened his eyes, smiling. “Young man, tell me what confuses you. Write a character for me, and I’ll have a look.”
“I…” I hesitated, then decided to be honest since he didn’t know me. “There’s someone… I’m not sure how I feel about him. I used to hate him, but now… I can’t stop thinking about him.”
The old man subtly rolled his eyes, and I saw it.
“Write a character,” he said.
I thought for a moment and wrote a neat, square “青” (“Qing”) on the paper.
The man picked up the paper, sighed, “Good character!” Then he studied it carefully. I noticed his eyes scanning left and right, the furrows of his face appearing and disappearing with effort. Despite his age, his eyes were sharp, not clouded as one might expect.
I suddenly thought—was I wasting my fifty on this seemingly conman-like old man?
“You write well-formed characters, but your strokes lack sharpness, not smooth enough. I see that you care too much about others’ opinions, unaware of your own heart’s desire.”
Perhaps he was right, but it wasn’t hard to infer that from what I had just said.
“This ‘Qing’—the top and bottom are disconnected, split too far apart. Perhaps it represents the struggles of the young…”
My heart skipped. Was he speaking of Shen Siyuan and Ah Qing, or me and…?
“However!” The old man exhaled grandly. “The color of the world, the hue of Qing, comes from perseverance. There may yet be twists and turns.”
I asked, “What about my problem?”
The old man smiled. “When you wrote this ‘Qing,’ your strokes were light yet firm, without hesitation. I see that your heart already knows the answer.”
I suddenly looked up, meeting the old man’s meaningful gaze.
He didn’t seem as unreliable as he appeared.
I asked, “And the ‘Healing Ills and Heart’—how does that work?”
The old man leisurely gestured a fist—meaning one hundred.
Without thinking, I transferred the money.
The old man said, “So young, and asking about illness already?”
I lowered my voice. “Sir, can you see gu?”
The old man paused. “What?”
“I mean… can you see gu?”
“Gu?” He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never seen gu myself. Ah, wait—don’t rush to get your money back! I can still take a look for you.”
He examined me from head to toe, then smiled. “Though I haven’t seen gu, I can see that your mind is clear, your speech articulate, your body lean and well-proportioned, your eyes bright—not like someone suffering from a strange illness. Oh, except for your dark circles.”
So… that meant there was no gu?
I didn’t know how to feel.
Suddenly, Shen Jianqing’s words, “I won’t place gu on you,” rang strangely in my mind.
Perhaps… he really hadn’t lied.
Seeing my dazed expression, the old man sighed. “Young man, since you are sincere, I’ll say a bit more. Life is short. They say mayflies live and die in a single day, but what difference is there between humans and insects? Don’t overthink, don’t overlisten—just enjoy life while you can.”
I felt a faint understanding in my heart and was about to thank him, but the old man suddenly stood up, smiling. “Today I earned one hundred and fifty, time to pack up—go home and eat!”
I couldn’t help but feel both amused and exasperated, still unsure if he was a charlatan.
But in the end, it didn’t seem to matter much.
The rest of the activity passed without incident. Everyone gathered together, chatting about all sorts of things.