No one knows which will arrive first: tomorrow or an unexpected tragedy.
The next day, Qiuyun went to the villa, but no one answered the bell no matter how long she pressed it. She called He Bowen, only to be told that Liang He had suffered a sudden, massive hemorrhage that morning and had been admitted to the hospital. By the time he was moved out of the ICU, it was clear that his body was a shadow of its former self.
Yet, he remained exceptionally stubborn about returning home, refusing to stay in the hospital.
This time, even the doctors relented.
Qiuyun’s heart ached as if pierced by needles.
She offered to come every day to look after him. He Bowen gave her a long, meaningful look before agreeing. He knew his uncle had always been favored by women, but at this stage, he didn't care to speculate on the exact nature of the relationship between this young female student and his uncle. Regardless of their history, the fact that she was willing to visit and care for him now—when his youthful face had aged, his body was no longer robust, and his life was in its final hours—was a rare display of true devotion.
Liang He, however, was somewhat surprised to see Qiuyun every day. Although he spent most of his time in a deep stupor, he felt a flicker of confusion whenever he woke to find her there. He would even offer a faint smile, advising her not to waste her time guarding a "miserable old man" like him. Wasn't she about to get married? It wasn't proper. Choking back tears, Qiuyun told him that Lin Shaohua knew and didn't mind. Liang He watched her for a moment before suddenly asking if she was facing some sort of difficulty—perhaps something financial...
Before he could finish, Qiuyun stared at him blankly, her tears falling like pearls from a broken string, looking for all the world like a wronged young girl facing a heartless man. Liang He froze, explaining that he only meant well; to him, money was now nothing more than a meaningless sequence of numbers. But Qiuyun’s weeping only grew more intense. Liang He fell silent, observing her with wise, subtle eyes, seemingly trying to discern the source of her grief. Unable to bear the atmosphere, Qiuyun stood up, looking at him for two seconds with eyes that held a thousand unspoken words. "No," she said. "There are no difficulties. No financial problems at all." Then, she turned and fled to the bathroom.
Sima Qiuyun sobbed in the bathroom.
It wasn't for money, or material things, or anything else—it was only for him.
How could he think she wanted something from him?
How could she tell him that she was Qiu Xiaoyun? She looked nothing like the Qiu Xiaoyun of thirty years ago. If someone who had disappeared for over three decades suddenly returned, not having aged a day and wearing a more beautiful skin, would he even believe it? In his current physical state, could he even handle it?
Qiuyun sat on the toilet and cried for a full two hours.
She was useless; she could do nothing but cry.
***
When she finally emerged, Liang He had fallen asleep.
Qiuyun sat quietly by his bed.
His forehead was still broad, possessing the perfect bone structure that had been praised many times in beauty magazines. His brow bone remained prominent, with thick eyebrows following the ridge of that sharp contour. His nose was still straight and noble, like the Greek sculptures they had sketched so many times. His eyelashes were still long and dense, resting quietly against the skin beneath his eyes.
But he was thin. The full cheeks of thirty years ago had sunken; the smooth corners of his eyes were now etched with faint lines; the hands that had once held hers had lost their strength; and the raven-black hair of thirty years ago now held a streak of white at the temples.
Qiuyun’s heart throbbed with a dull, unbearable ache. It was like an ancient bell tolling against her chest, emitting a heavy, muffled sound. One toll per second. It had been tolling for thirty-two years. Thirty-two years was 1,009,152,000 seconds—1,009,152,000 tolls. The tears she had just managed to stop began to flow again, uncontrollable.
Just then, Liang He’s eyelids flickered, and he suddenly opened his eyes.
With tears still hanging on her face, Liang He asked softly, "Xiaoyun?"
Qiuyun felt as if she had been struck by lightning. She stared at him blankly, not daring to move an inch.
Liang He asked again, very gently, "Xiaoyun, are you crying?"
Yes, she was crying, but now she didn't even dare to let the tears fall, standing as still as a statue that had stopped breathing.
The whole world stood still.
Liang He naturally reached out his hand, attempting to wipe away her tears, but just as his fingers were about to touch her cheek, he suddenly stopped.
"Qiuyun." He had regained his clarity.
The world came back to life.
Except for her heart.
"What did you just call me?"
"…?" A look of confusion crossed Liang He’s face, as if he were searching his memory. "I’m muddled. I mistook you for someone else."
"Who?"
"Someone you don't know."
"Am I… very much like her?"
"No. Her personality was a bit more extroverted than yours," Liang He smiled. "But you are more beautiful than she was."
Qiuyun’s eyes reddened again.
"If we aren't alike, how could you mistake me for her?"
"My apologies. When one gets old, it’s inevitable that the eyes grow dim and the mind wanders," Liang He said apologetically. "Don't take it to heart."
"Then… just treat me as her," she pleaded in a low voice.
Liang He paused, looking at Qiuyun for a few seconds before shaking his head with a smile.
"Why?"
Liang He only smiled. There was too much meaning in that smile.
"Are you waiting for her?"
Liang He reached for a tissue on the nightstand and handed it to Qiuyun, changing the subject. "Actually, I’ve known who you were for a long time."
Qiuyun gasped, looking at him as if turned to stone.
Had he recognized her?
But Liang He only looked at her quietly and said calmly, "Your father is Sima Feng. Before you were even born, he and I had a very brief encounter in Datong, Shanxi."
Datong, Shanxi…
Yes, back then, Liang He had taken Qiuyun’s class to the Datong grottoes for sketching. Wang Chen had broken her leg, and Sima Feng had come to take care of her. Liang He had even been jealous of Sima Feng back then.
Wang Chen, Sima Feng… the past came rushing back in a torrent.
"Your father probably doesn't remember me; after all, it was over thirty years ago. His surname is a compound one, so he left a deep impression on me. I realized this when I was teaching your class. I was moved to see that the child of an old acquaintance had grown so large and had even become my student."
So that was it.
This was the "knowing" he spoke of.
It was like a bucket of cold water poured over her head.
So Liang He had known about Sima Feng being in prison back then. He really had given Qiuyun guidance and had intentionally tried to help her find a job after graduation. And those normal sentiments of a teacher for a student had been seen by Wu Liu, twisted by the magnifying glass of jealousy, and turned into the fuse that ignited the entire disaster.
Qiuyun was stunned, unable to speak.
The causal relationships of the world were so subtle and bizarre that she could no longer distinguish between cause and effect.
"How is your father doing now?" Liang He asked.
Qiuyun felt an indescribable misery in her heart. She nodded vacantly. "He’ll be out of prison in another year."
"Everything will get better," Liang He comforted her. "When your father is released… if I’m still around," he offered a faint smile, "we can share a drink and talk about old times."
*If I’m still around.*
The phrase stung Qiuyun. Ignoring her image, she spat three times into the air to ward off the bad luck, correcting him, "Don't say such unlucky things. Take it back, take it back."
Liang He laughed. It was a look Qiuyun knew well—laughing at her childishness, tinged with a bit of doting and joy.
Qiuyun found a sudden surge of courage and looked up to ask, "Teacher Liang, have you ever watched time-travel dramas?"
"What kind of dramas?"
"The kind on TV where a modern person, through some coincidence, goes back to live in ancient times."
Liang He shook his head with a smile. "Children’s play. I don't watch those."
"But do you believe such things are possible? The world is vast and full of wonders. Perhaps there really are channels that modern science simply cannot explain."
"Perhaps. The world is indeed large; one cannot say for certain that they don't exist just because we don't know of them."
"If… if…" Qiuyun steeled her heart, prepared to pour out the words she had been brewing for so long. But at that moment, her phone rang abruptly.
Lin Shaohua.
"I’m a bit tired." Liang He saw the caller ID and said considerately, "Go out and take it. I’ll rest for a while."
Lin Shaohua’s call wasn't about anything important, just a routine check-in. But Qiuyun had no heart to deal with him; she even felt like losing her temper, but then she thought better of it. What use would it be? What would shouting at him accomplish? She spoke a few hurried words and hung up.
When she turned back, Liang He had truly fallen asleep.
***
Liang He had a dream.
He hadn't dreamed in a very long time. When Qiu Xiaoyun first left without a word, he had suffered from insomnia for months. Later, when he finally managed to sleep normally, he was plagued by endless, restless dreams. In those dreams, all sorts of strange things happened. Sometimes Qiu Xiaoyun hadn't left; she stayed by his side, they moved into the villa, got married, and had children, just like in a fairy tale. He dreamed she had been torn to pieces and returned as a ghost to ask him for revenge; he dreamed she had fallen in love with someone else and run away, even inviting him to her wedding; he dreamed she finally returned, but when he stepped forward to embrace her, he found he was holding a rough old man… they were varied and countless.
As more time passed, Qiu Xiaoyun gradually faded from his dreams. It was as if she had grown tired and no longer wished to appear so frequently. Eventually, Liang He rarely saw her in his sleep. Even when he did, it wasn't anything strange; it was usually just a real fragment of their time together.
Whenever he had such a dream, Liang He would wake in the middle of the night. In the pitch-black darkness, he would sit in silent abstraction.
On occasional nights of insomnia, he would roll out of bed and take out the small sketchbook he had used for her, flipping through the sketches of her being mischievous, frowning, fake-smiling, or making faces.
But tonight, Qiu Xiaoyun came again.
She was still so young, just as she had been thirty-two years ago, with two thick braids and wearing a blue Dacron shirt.
"Xiaoyun," he said. "You’ve come."
"Yes, I’ve come," she said. "Liang He, are you well?"
He smiled. "I’m quite well. And you? You seem to have lost weight."
"Really? That’s great then," she said in her usual playful tone, but then her smile faded. "But why have you lost weight too? And… why have you become so old?"
"Yes," Liang He’s smile dimmed. "I’ve grown old. How could I not? I’ve finished copying the *Diamond Sutra* I promised you. How could I not be old?"
This sentence brought tears to Xiaoyun’s eyes. She said, "I’m sorry, Liang He… I’m sorry. I’m late."
"Don't say sorry," Liang He comforted her. "Where have you been all these years? Have you been well?"
"I… I feel like I’ve slept for a very long time," Xiaoyun’s tears welled up, filled with grievance and sorrow. "I woke up, and so much time had passed. In my dream, I met He Ying. She said you had been waiting for me all this time. Is it true? But she also said she married you. What was that all about?"
"Well… that’s a long story," Liang He said, a trace of awkwardness on his face. "I should tell you something that might sound like good news—He Ying liked you too, just as I did. Don't be shocked; it’s true. But as you know, in our era, that kind of affection wasn't tolerated. When she came to me, I was also being pestered by my family to marry, so the two of us…"
Xiaoyun’s eyes widened. "She…"
"She later had her own secret partner, but we never dissolved the marriage," Liang He smiled and said in a low voice, "This is a secret between her and me. You must keep it for her too."
"And you?" Xiaoyun asked impatiently. "What about you? These thirty-some years… did you really wait for me the whole time, like He Ying said?"
Liang He smiled at her, his eyes gentle.
"You… how could you be so foolish?!" Qiuyun blurted out, both angry and anxious.
"Because I promised you," Liang He said without a hint of annoyance, his smile widening. "You said you would definitely, definitely come back for me. See? You’ve finally returned, and I finally haven't broken my word. We are both people of our word."
Hearing this, Xiaoyun’s tears fell like pearls. She ran over and hugged Liang He, crying in his arms while lightly hitting him with her hands. "How could you be so foolish, so foolish…"
Liang He stroked her head, resting his chin against her hair, and took a deep breath. The long-lost, familiar sensation of the person in his arms made his nose sting. He held her with greed and lingering affection, suppressing his emotions before saying, "I wasn't foolish. I did exactly what you said in your letter—I put my time to the best possible use. I went on to paint many superior works, won many awards, published several monographs, traveled the world, and even founded a school of Buddhist art. I haven't wasted this life."
Xiaoyun only held him tightly, her tears flowing endlessly.
He didn't want to speak anymore either. He held her even tighter as a mist rose from her eyes to his, blurring his vision.
If only time could stop forever at this moment.
But suddenly, Liang He felt a sharp pain in his chest, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
"Did… did I hurt you?" Xiaoyun looked at him blankly, filled with self-reproach.
"No, it’s just that I’m ill." Liang He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, terrified of scaring her. "Xiaoyun, I’m afraid this time, it’s my turn to say I’m sorry."
"What do you mean… You, what illness do you have?"
"…Leukemia."
"How can that be?"
"It’s true."
"Leukemia… leukemia can be treated! Come, let’s get to the hospital right now."
"It’s too late. It’s terminal," Liang He pulled her back. "Besides, I gave up on treatment myself."
"Why? Why?!" Xiaoyun cried out in desperation.
Liang He’s eyes were full of reluctance to leave her, but he still managed a smile. "Perhaps it’s heaven’s will. I’ve waited for you for a long time… Fortunately, the *Diamond Sutra* I promised you is finally finished." As he spoke, a glint appeared in his eyes.
Xiaoyun was still saying something in a panic, but he seemed so very, very tired. He could no longer hear or see anything.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 何博文 | He Bowen | Liang He's nephew. |
| 司马峰 | Sima Feng | Qiuyun's father. |
| 的确良 | Dacron / Polyester | A popular synthetic fabric in China during the 70s and 80s. |
| 金刚经 | Diamond Sutra | A key Buddhist text; in the story, Liang He spent years transcribing it. |
| 大同 | Datong | A city in Shanxi province known for its Buddhist grottoes. |
| 复姓 | Compound surname | A Chinese surname consisting of two characters (e.g., Sima). |
| 穿越剧 | Time-travel drama | A genre where characters travel through time. |
| 白血病 | Leukemia | The illness Liang He is suffering from. |
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If I Wait Thirty Years | Chapter 84 | A Dream of Thirty Years | Novela.app | Novela.app
