Whether it was because she had been too excited the previous afternoon or because she was looking forward to the next day too much, Qiu Yun suffered from insomnia on Friday night.
In her mind, she rehearsed the scene for the following day over and over: she would get up early in the morning, wait by the school gate for the driver to arrive to pick up the students, and then she would charge toward the vehicle. In the dark, on the slippery road, she would close her eyes—and perhaps when she opened them, she would be back in 2018. Like a film director, she performed a detailed analysis of every shot in her mind. Fearing a mistake, she even rehearsed it twice. In the silence of the night, Qiu Yun lay quietly in bed, but her mind was engaged in strenuous mental labor. After two rehearsals, she actually felt a bit exhausted. Just as drowsiness finally hit her, a spark of unease flickered briefly—as if something was missing. Before she could grasp what it was, she fell into a deep sleep.
"Xiaoyun! Xiaoyun!" Someone was pounding hard on her bedframe. "Have you slept yourself into a coma?!"
Qiu Yun opened her eyes groarily to find Wang Chen’s large face only five centimeters away from hers.
"You scared the life out of me!" Wang Chen said, seeing her finally wake up. "I was calling you so loudly and you didn't budge. I thought you hadn't recovered and were going to faint for another three days and nights. Are you okay? Get up, quick, we’re going to be late!"
"Late?" Qiu Yun snapped awake. She sprang up from the bed in a single motion. Outside the window, the sky was already bright.
Qiu Yun froze for a second. Then, her expression shifted violently before she collapsed straight back down, burying her face in the quilt, wanting to cry but finding no tears.
The entire process took only ten seconds.
What was missing? Qiu Yun finally realized what that missing piece was: an alarm clock!
Without a cell phone or an alarm clock, where had she gotten the confidence to assume she would naturally wake up at four in the morning?
She was a fool, truly. How could she have overlooked such an obvious flaw?
She couldn't help but grab her pillow and bash her own head with it.
*I really am an absolute idiot.*
"Xiaoyun! Xiaoyun!" Wang Chen was genuinely frightened by her behavior and pounded the bedframe again. "What’s wrong? Are you... alright?"
Qiu Yun poked her head out from under the quilt, revealing only her eyes. Seeing Wang Chen’s innocent, worried expression, she let out a long sigh. "...I'm fine. I just have a really bad case of morning grumpiness."
Because of Qiu Yun’s morning antics, both of them were late.
A semi-new bus was parked in the middle of the playground, its body striped in red and white with massive windows. Qiu Yun immediately filled in the scene inside the cabin—wooden slat benches with iron backrests. They would freeze your backside in winter but stay cool in summer, though they were bound to be uncomfortable. Liang He stood by the bus door, hands tucked in his pockets, watching them run toward him out of breath. He wore a poker face, looking thoroughly displeased.
Wang Chen apologized sheepishly, "Sorry, Teacher Liang, we're late."
Liang He checked his watch. "Fifteen minutes."
"It won't happen again."
"Everyone else was on time. Only you two were late."
"We were... delayed this morning."
"Delayed by what?" he pressed relentlessly.
Curious eyes peered out from the bus windows—one pair, two pairs, three pairs—all smiling as they watched the show.
Wang Chen’s face flushed red.
Qiu Yun, thickening her skin, said directly, "Delayed by me. I was kicked in the head, I had a headache, and I couldn't get up."
Liang He choked on his words, having no choice but to wave them onto the bus.
Stepping inside, she saw about twenty people; the bus was nearly full. The students had been polite enough to board first and take the seats toward the back, so Qiu Yun and Wang Chen, being the last to board, ended up in the very front. Just as they sat down, another person sat across the aisle from them. Qiu Yun glanced at him out of the corner of her eye with ill intent, only to be caught red-handed.
She had no choice but to close her eyes and rest.
As soon as she closed her eyes, the morning's failure filled her with frustration again. Having slept through such a perfect opportunity, would there ever be another?
The bus was right here, but in broad daylight, would a driver be so blind as to let her just run into it?
*Sigh.* Qiu Yun exhaled and turned her body slightly. Opening her eyes, she saw Liang He’s silhouette by the window again.
The young Liang He.
The twenty-two-year-old Liang He.
He sat upright and still. Light filtered through the window, outlining his perfect profile. He looked slightly toward the outside, the moving scenery contrasting with his stillness.
Liang He was handsome; Qiu Yun had known that since she first met him. However, the handsome Teacher Liang she knew was the Liang He of 2018—the Liang He of thirty years later. That man had been tempered by more than half a lifetime; he was elegant, scholarly, youthful in spirit, incredibly approachable, and could easily mingle with the post-90s generation.
But the Liang He before her was vastly different from the one thirty years in the future. As for exactly how he was different... Qiu Yun studied his profile: the smooth forehead, the high bridge of his nose, the sculpted lips, the slightly upturned chin...
"Student Qiu Yun," Liang He turned toward her with a stiff expression, "do you need assistance?"
"Huh?" Qiu Yun was caught completely off guard.
"You've been staring at me for two minutes." His tone was steady, but his face was turning slightly red.
"How did you know?" He had clearly been looking straight ahead.
Liang He looked up, gesturing toward the rearview mirror above the driver. Qiu Yun followed his gaze and saw Liang He’s sharp eyes, the driver’s suppressed smirk, and a large crowd of people in the back, all watching her through the mirror.
Qiu Yun wished she could find a hole in the ground to crawl into.
She realized what was different—this caustic, old-fashioned, and uncompromising Liang He was completely different from the one she knew!
The Liang He thirty years later was fifty years old with the heart of a twenty-year-old; but thirty years ago, he was clearly twenty years old with the heart of a fifty-year-old man!
At that moment, a tall, thin boy stood up in the back, drawing everyone's attention. "Classmates, let's sing a song!" Qiu Yun turned to look with a heart full of gratitude for the distraction. He opened his mouth and began: "Young friends, let us meet..." Her spirit immediately deflated again.
The bus rattled along bumpy rural dirt roads for nearly an hour before finally arriving at Guiyun Temple in the eastern suburbs. Accustomed to the smooth roads of the 21st century, Qiu Yun had no sooner stepped off the bus than she pathetically found a large tree to vomit under. Similar sounds came from nearby; it seemed several others hadn't been spared. Wang Chen had thoughtfully brought water for her to rinse her mouth and handed her a handkerchief to wipe her face.
"Chen-chen, you're so wonderful," Qiu Yun said as she recovered. "You're like a big sister to me."
Wang Chen replied, "Well, I am a few years older than you."
"Whoever marries you in the future must have saved the galaxy in their past life," Qiu Yun remarked with a sigh.
"Saved the galaxy?" Wang Chen laughed. "Xiaoyun, you have such a vivid imagination. You're always saying things we'd never expect."
Qiu Yun smiled secretly without explaining and tried to return the handkerchief to Wang Chen.
"Don't give that back to me. It's Teacher Liang's."
"What?" Qiu Yun was surprised.
"Yes. You wouldn't be able to tell, but he's very thoughtful. He anticipated that some people would get motion sickness and prepared it specially."
Qiu Yun looked toward the mountain gate. Liang He had his back to her and was busy organizing the other students.
Guiyun Zen Temple was originally built during the Northern Wei Dynasty. It had suffered a great fire during the Ming Dynasty, which destroyed everything except for the temple murals and two thousand-year-old ginkgo trees at the entrance. In the late Ming, a monk named Guiyun traveled there and spent his life's energy restoring the temple. When Qiu Yun was a child, the temple didn't charge for admission. She used to play there often and knew every detail—an old nun from the south lived there and liked her very much, always giving her treats; there was a well under the ginkgo trees where the summer water was sweet and cool; many Buddhist statues were carved into the cliff behind the Mahavira Hall, their colors un-faded after thousands of years... But at that time, only the mountain gate and the Mahavira Hall remained. The other buildings had fallen victim to the urbanization of A City.
But now, standing before the towering mountain gate, Qiu Yun saw more than just the ginkgo trees and the Mahavira Hall. She saw the morning bell and evening drum towers, the east and west meditation halls, the outlines of buildings behind the Mahavira Hall, and the lush, majestic mountains rising behind the temple.
As the tides of time surged within her, she found her emotions difficult to put into words.
The temple's abbot received the Art Academy students and gave them a brief tour. Then, everyone dispersed, setting up their easels and taking out their gear to begin painting. Liang He made an agreement that everyone must gather back at the bus by 4:00 PM; he would not wait for stragglers.
Whether intentional or not, he spoke those last few words slowly and with emphasis, his gaze flickering briefly toward Qiu Yun.
*Hmph.*
Most people went to paint the main buildings or the cliffside murals and statues on the back mountain. Only Qiu Yun dragged Wang Chen to paint the bell and drum towers and the meditation rooms in the front courtyard. When Wang Chen asked why, Qiu Yun simply replied that she liked them. But Wang Chen didn't like them; halfway through, she packed up her board and headed to the back mountain. Qiu Yun was left in peace. The trees were tall, the mountains distant; a gentle breeze blew, cicadas chirped, birds sang, and dappled shadows danced on the ground.
"So, you're here." Someone broke the silence.
Qiu Yun jumped in fright. Her hand jerked, and a crooked diagonal line immediately appeared on her canvas.
"I'm sorry," the newcomer apologized repeatedly. "I didn't mean to."
"...It's fine," Qiu Yun was forced to say.
"My name is Gao Zhifei," he introduced himself. "Why are you painting here all by yourself?"
Qiu Yun remembered him. He was the boy who had organized the singing on the bus—tall and thin, wearing oversized denim bell-bottoms and a shirt, with large-framed glasses. He looked refined and scholarly, a typical 1980s intellectual.
"There are too many people over there. I didn't feel like joining the crowd," Qiu Yun answered. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to get some water." He gestured to the bucket in his hand.
"Oh."
"I'm the class monitor. Your name is Qiu Xiaoyun, right?"
"Yes."
"I was there in class that day."
"That day?"
"In Teacher Chen Jingtao's class, when he asked you to answer that question..."
"Oh."
"...Do you need any help here?"
"No."
"...Alright then. If you have any problems or need help, just let me know."
"Thank you."
Gao Zhifei didn't know what else to say. He gave a token smile, picked up his bucket, and turned to leave.
Qiu Yun’s intentionally cold face broke into a smile. Having awkward small talk with people from this era was actually quite interesting.
