2016-11-03

On the bus, we rode home.

The No. 5 bus was packed; even in a dream, I clearly remember there wasn’t a single seat left on the bus.

I stood in the center of the bus, my right hand gripping the overhead handle.

It was so crowded that I felt the scenery outside the window shifting wildly.

Ling stood right in front of me, less than a meter away, leaning against the handrail, facing me — yet still on the No. 5 bus.

At that moment, my heart was unshaken, my face unashamed; I had been silent for too long. I wanted to let the sorrow I had suppressed for years flow from my eyes, hoping she would notice.

Suddenly, an abrupt brake — I swayed and lost my balance, and Ling fell into my arms.

…

She turned her head, resting it against my chest. From above, I looked at her profile, cheeks outlined like strings of a zither, bangs scattered across her forehead, expressionless. And in her eyes, the sorrow she had suppressed for years quietly spilled out toward the window…

The sorrow in her gaze, she lay quietly in my arms, expressionless, watching the wildly shifting scenery outside…

Looking at her, we finally stopped hiding…

琴舞勾勒，溅雨散落