If I Wait Thirty Years | Chapter 18 | Vision and World | Novela.app

“Teacher Liang is coming for hot pot?” “Yeah, I was surprised too. I thought he helped us find a place out of the goodness of his heart, but it turns out he had an ulterior motive.” Qiu Yun finished unloading the honeycomb coal and wiped the sweat from her face, leaving a smudge of soot behind. “Don’t say it like that. I think it’s quite nice,” Wang Chen said, helping her wipe away the coal dust. “Teacher Liang provided the coal and the location; it’s only right that we treat him to a meal. Besides, I actually think Teacher Liang is a really good person.” “But don’t you think it’s a bit… abrupt?” “What’s abrupt about it? He only just graduated. We’re undergraduates and he’s a graduate student; he’s basically just our senior. Age-wise, he’s only ten days older than me. Strictly speaking, he should be calling me ‘Big Sister.’” “Exactly, it’s just classmates having a meal,” Chang Huan chimed in. “Oh, by the way, Gao Zhifei is coming too.” “Gao Zhifei?” “I ran into him on my way back from buying groceries. He wanted to come, so I agreed.” Qiu Yun: “…” Plans never kept up with changes. What was supposed to be a small improvement to the diet for the four girls in the dorm had expanded to include Gao Zhifei and Liang He, making it six people. However, there were actually seven people at the table in the end, because Liang He arrived with a delicate, scholarly figure trailing behind him—Lu Xialan. Thinking about it, this made sense. Lu Xialan had come to see Liang He for a reason today, so it wouldn't have been right for him to leave her behind while he went off to eat. Furthermore, Lu Xialan’s aunt was a manager here; while Liang He had provided the room, it wouldn't have been so convenient without Lu Xialan’s connection. It was just that Lu Xialan’s arrival caused the eyes of the other three girls in the dorm to light up with a collective, excited spark. Fortunately, they were all of a similar age. Although it was their first time meeting, the conversation flowed easily as they chatted back and forth. Qiu Yun didn't say much, mostly listening in silence as they talked about stories of this era. In the process, she realized more and more that their words and actions all revealed the unique characteristics of the 1980s: simple and upright, studious and diligent, sunny and innocent, clean and vibrant. They talked about where to catch the most cicadas in the summer, which river was best for swimming, which bookstore was selling a particularly hard-to-find book, which street stalls sold tapes from Hong Kong and Taiwan, where an exhibition was about to be held, and which professor was leading a new trend… Even though Liang He and Lu Xialan were close, there were no private, intimate gestures. Everyone was natural and relaxed, existing in a state that was… how should she put it? Qiu Yun suddenly thought of the word “healthy.” Yes, healthy. The air was healthy, the food was healthy, and the relationships between people were healthy. It was the healthiest possible state of being. “So, Student Xialan—oh, no, Teacher Lu,” Gao Zhifei was the most active person at the table, “are you staying on at the university as a faculty member, just like Teacher Liang?” “Yes, that’s right,” Lu Xialan said with a reserved smile. “But I’m not a graduate student yet. I’m currently applying for an overseas study program.” “In the Literature Department?” “Yes, my focus is Classical Literature and general education courses. I happen to be teaching the freshmen this year.” “The Literature Department at B-University is very impressive,” Gao Zhifei said. “A guy in the room next to mine tried to test in for two years. I heard him reciting poetry every day, but he never made it. His love letters were quite good, though.” Everyone laughed. Gao Zhifei continued enthusiastically, “I really envy people who are good at literature. They speak so eloquently and beautifully; it’s truly enviable. I’ll have to come and learn from you when I have time.” “I wouldn't dare say ‘learn,’ but we can certainly exchange ideas,” Lu Xialan smiled. “Every profession has its specialty. When it comes to art, I’m practically illiterate.” “You’re too modest. Which day is your class? Do I need to prepare anything to attend your lecture?” In an instant, his way of addressing her had shifted to the formal, respectful form of ‘you.’ “Wednesday afternoon, first period,” Lu Xialan said. “I’m not a teacher at your school, so you can just call me by my name. Don’t laugh, but I’m only twenty this year.” “Only twenty? I’m twenty too! This gap… it’s truly beyond reach. I admit defeat,” Gao Zhifei said, throwing out two idioms in a row. “Ah, I’m twenty as well,” Chang Huan and Liu Yujin said almost in unison. “I’m twenty-two,” Wang Chen said, sounding a bit embarrassed. Qiu Yun was also surprised. By this count, she—Qiu Xiaoyun, at eighteen—was the youngest one in the circle. She had assumed Lu Xialan was just a student; she hadn't expected her to be a teacher at such a young age. Looking at her again, Lu Xialan was dignified and elegant. Though her face was young, her speech and mannerisms held a degree of maturity that surpassed that of a simple student. Lu Xialan didn't know what to say. She glanced at Liang He and smiled softly. “I started school early.” “Ahem…” Qiu Yun also glanced at the silent Liang He beside her, then lightly nudged Gao Zhifei’s foot under the table, signaling him to change the subject. To her surprise, Gao Zhifei completely misunderstood. He turned to her with an apologetic look and asked, “Sorry, are my legs stretched out too far?” Qiu Yun froze, but Liang He suddenly let out an inexplicable smile. Thinking that Gao Zhifei was a total blockhead, Qiu Yun hurried to say, “No, no. By the way, the pickles you brought from home are delicious.” “Thanks! My grandmother made them. It’s a family recipe, a must-have with rice,” Gao Zhifei said, eager to promote them now that someone had offered praise. “Teacher Liang, have some more. Qiu Xiaoyun, you guys eat up too. If you like them, I’ll have my grandmother make a bigger batch to bring next time.” He then turned and asked, “Teacher Lu, what do you think? They’re a bit spicy; can you handle the heat?” This blatant favoritism—her boyfriend was sitting right there! Qiu Yun thought, *It’s over, it’s over. This kid’s emotional intelligence must be in the negatives.* Lu Xialan said shyly, “I don’t eat much spicy food, but I can handle a little.” Gao Zhifei was incredibly enthusiastic. “My grandmother makes non-spicy ones too, and they’re just as good. I’ll bring some over to your class next time.” Qiu Yun silently ate her bean sprouts, thinking, *It’s over, it’s over. If Liang He grades his final exam, his score might end up in the negatives too.* “Is this tofu ready, Gao Zhifei?” Qiu Yun decided to save the boy, regardless of how abrupt she sounded. “The piece you just put in.” “Tofu just needs a quick boil. It should be fine once it floats.” “What about these greens?” “And this meat?” “And the cabbage?” “And the bean sprouts?” … Qiu Yun became like a human ‘Book of Why,’ forcibly steering Gao Zhifei’s attention away from literature and back to their own field of art. Liang He listened to Qiu Yun’s transparently diversionary questions for a while, finding it amusing. He set down his chopsticks. “I forgot to give you something.” “What is it?” Liang He walked to the door and pulled a magazine out of his bag: *Wild Wind*. Except for Lu Xialan, everyone’s eyes lit up. “It’s published?” Liang He was very satisfied with their reactions and wore a slight smile. “The first issue of *Wild Wind* has been released. Some of your works are inside. You can guess whose made the cut.” “Chang Huan and I didn't go to the sketching trip, and we didn't submit anything, so it’s definitely not us,” Liu Yujin said. “I think my painting was just average,” Wang Chen thought for a moment and shook her head. “Watercolor has never been my strength. Although the overall effect of that piece was good, the details were a bit messy. It’s unlikely. But I’ve seen Xiao Yun’s; it was very conceptual.” “Mine?” Qiu Yun remembered the sunglasses incident and the time she handed her self-reflection letter to Liang He. She felt a bit guilty. “I just painted randomly. I’m afraid I’ve failed Teacher Liang’s nurturing this time. In that case… Gao Zhifei’s must be in there.” “Is my painting in there?” Gao Zhifei beamed at the slightest hint of encouragement, his face full of anticipation. Liang He kept them in suspense, placing the magazine on the table. “See for yourselves.” Wang Chen couldn't wait. She grabbed it and flipped to the table of contents. Running her finger down the list of works, she read aloud: “Class 1, 1987, Wang Chen: *The Buddha’s Smile*; Class 1, 1987, Gao Zhifei: *Sketch of Guiyun Temple*; Class 1, 1987, Qiu Xiaoyun: *Vision—World*.” “Ah…” Wang Chen looked up, delighted. “All three of us are in the magazine?” Liang He nodded. “That’s wonderful!” Wang Chen flipped to the back. Sure enough, all three of their paintings were there, arranged together. Below each one was a critique from an expert. “Xiao Yun, Gao Zhifei, look!” Although everyone’s eyes were already glued to the magazine, Wang Chen couldn't help but call out to them, afraid they might miss something. “Our paintings are even grouped together. Look, here’s my critique, here’s Gao Zhifei’s, and here’s Xiao Yun’s—wow, Xiao Yun, the evaluation of yours is very high.” Qiu Yun looked at her own painting. She hadn't expected her work to be published. She had originally only gone on the trip for the sake of the bus ride; she hadn't expected that her casual effort would result in such a good outcome. She hadn't cared much about it before, but seeing her work in the first printed issue of the Fine Arts Academy’s publication, the corners of her mouth slowly and unconsciously curled upward. One had to realize that this magazine would hold a position of immense weight in the industry in the future. For her, a mediocre student from the 21st century, to appear in the inaugural issue of such an authoritative academic journal was indeed an unexpected surprise. Silently, a crack opened somewhere in her heart, and a sweet spring of joy slowly welled up. Below the painting was a paragraph of critique. It followed the standard format, describing the content, composition, and technique. But the final sentence was like a finishing touch. Qiu Yun only read it once, yet it was imprinted into her mind like a photocopy: “Vision, World. What you see may not be the truth; the line between illusion and reality may lie only in one's own choice.” Her heart stirred inexplicably. She looked up at Liang He. As if he had expected it, he was looking back at her amidst the surrounding clamor. *** **Glossary** Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation --- | --- | --- 野风 | Wild Wind (Ye Feng) | The name of the Fine Arts Academy's magazine. 归云寺 | Guiyun Temple | The location of the sketching trip mentioned in previous chapters. 视界—世界 | Vision—World | The title of Qiu Yun's published artwork. 邱晓云 | Qiu Xiaoyun | The protagonist's full name in this life. 高志飞 | Gao Zhifei | A male classmate of the protagonist. 陆夏兰 | Lu Xialan | Liang He's friend/colleague, a young teacher.