Just as Lin Shaohua was methodically moving forward with the wedding arrangements, Sima Qiuyun suddenly received a phone call from He Bowen one weekend.
Since Liang He’s passing, she had lost touch with He Bowen. When she saw the caller ID, her heart skipped a beat.
He Bowen apologized for disturbing her but said there were matters she needed to handle in person. When Qiuyun asked what it was about, He Bowen said it was difficult to explain over the phone and requested that she come to East Lake Liyuan.
After hanging up, Qiuyun drove to East Lake Liyuan herself. It was late autumn, and the entire estate was permeated with the scent of osmanthus. It was just as Liang He had once said: there was a garden of golden osmanthus here, and when autumn came, the entire neighborhood would be filled with fragrance.
Qiuyun took a deep breath.
The villa door was unlocked; it opened with a gentle push. He Bowen stood in the center of the living room, staring blankly at the artificial lake outside the window.
More than three months had passed, and the layout here hadn't changed at all, though the dining table, sofa, and other furniture were now draped in white dust cloths.
"Xiao He?" Qiuyun called out.
He Bowen turned at the sound and came forward. "Sister Sima, you’re here."
"You said on the phone that I needed to come in person. What is it?" Qiuyun asked directly.
"It’s this..." He Bowen spread out a set of documents in his hand. "My uncle left this house to you. These are the relevant documents issued by the lawyer."
"He left this house... to me?" Qiuyun doubted her own ears.
"Yes." To be honest, He Bowen hadn't been able to believe it either when he first saw the documents. Liang He had drafted his will before he died; most of his paintings were donated to museums and schools, and his estate was left to charitable organizations. This villa was originally intended to be auctioned off, with the proceeds donated. However, while sorting through Liang He’s effects, He Bowen found a passage Liang He had added to a blue-covered sketchbook in his final moments, changing the fate of the villa: he was gifting it, and everything inside, to Sima Qiuyun.
He Bowen found it incredibly strange. Liang He’s assets had mostly gone to charity. He had no children, his parents were long dead, and his wife had passed away before him, leaving no direct heirs. Most of his relatives were scattered across the globe; He Bowen was the only one of the next generation remaining in the country—he was the son of Liang He’s cousin, the grandson of He Chengyan’s brother. Liang He had asked him if there was anything he wanted, but He Bowen had declined. He had been born into wealth and lacked for nothing material; moreover, he deeply admired his uncle’s philosophy on money—that one brings nothing into this life and takes nothing out, so it should all be left to those who need it most.
Thus, when he saw Liang He change his will to gift the villa to Sima Qiuyun, he was beyond shocked. He contacted the lawyer, verified the handwriting, and confirmed that the passage was indeed written by Liang He and held legal weight. Only after obtaining this confirmation did he call Sima Qiuyun to have her handle the formalities.
Yet He Bowen still didn't understand why his uncle would suddenly change his mind on his deathbed to gift this immensely valuable villa to his former student. Was it simply because of Sima Qiuyun’s care during his final days? Was it an attempt to make amends for the guilt of her being hit by a car and becoming a vegetable? Or was this seemingly simple and kind, beautiful student actually harboring ulterior motives, having induced his uncle to change the will?
He thought that once he saw Sima Qiuyun, the truth would come to light.
"You’re saying that Liang He... Teacher Liang... gave this house to me?" Qiuyun scanned the documents and looked up. Her face showed no hint of joy, only shock and disbelief.
"Yes. You didn't know?"
"Why?" It was too sudden; Qiuyun’s mind was a blank. "When did this happen... how could he..."
"My uncle never mentioned it to you?" He Bowen asked in return.
"...No." Qiuyun shook her head blankly. Mentioning Liang He was like a dream from a past life, and her heart began to ache dully. "He never told me."
He Bowen observed her expression as he spoke. "This villa was originally meant for auction and donation. But while the lawyer and I were sorting through my uncle’s things, we saw a blue sketchbook where he personally rewrote the villa’s disposition, gifting it and everything inside to you. The date of the signature was the very day he passed. So, I thought perhaps he had a sudden change of heart at the end, and you just happened to..."
Before He Bowen could finish, Qiuyun’s face turned deathly pale. She swayed, looking like a leaf ready to drift away at any moment.
"You said... a blue sketchbook... in his final moments?" Qiuyun repeated in a murmur, her breathing becoming rapid.
"Yes. Sister Sima... are you alright?" He Bowen supported her. The grief on Qiuyun’s face was unbearable to witness. A question that had been lingering in the depths of He Bowen’s heart finally slipped out: "What exactly was your relationship with my uncle?"
But Qiuyun lowered her head, her whole body trembling, as if she hadn't heard him at all.
Her thoughts flew back to three months ago. That day, in front of these massive floor-to-ceiling windows, she had fallen asleep. When she woke, she found that Liang He had taken the sketchbook that had been resting on her chest. She remembered how, in his final moments, Liang He had weakly called her "Xiao Yun"—he must have seen the drawing she made of the two of them! He must have recognized her! He definitely recognized her!
So that "Xiao Yun" was truly meant for her.
That was why he had gifted this house to her at the very end.
"Sister Sima? Sister Sima?" He Bowen called her several times before Qiuyun’s eyes regained their focus. He Bowen pulled back a corner of the white cloth on the sofa and helped her sit down. From her reaction, he had vaguely guessed her relationship with his uncle—they must have shared a deep emotional bond, one that remained hidden from the world. But then his gaze fell upon Sima Qiuyun’s ring finger, where a diamond ring clearly symbolizing an engagement sat. For a moment, he didn't know what to say and could only let out a deep sigh.
"Sister Sima, I’ll leave the documents here. When you’re free, we’ll make an appointment to handle the procedures." He Bowen stood up. "All of my uncle’s things have been left untouched in the second-floor study, including that blue-covered sketchbook."
***
He Bowen left.
Sima Qiuyun was the only one left in the empty house. Sunlight streamed through the clean floor-to-ceiling windows, the shadows of the trees growing longer and longer until, at dusk, they reached her feet.
She sat there like a wooden doll for the entire afternoon.
This was the villa she had once begged Liang He to buy; it was the wedding home he had bought for her. For thirty years, he hadn't lived in it, nor had he sold it. After a long, winding journey, after his death, he had found her and given it to her.
It had finally returned to its original owner.
Qiuyun’s heart was numb. She sat for the afternoon, thinking of many things, her heart aching until it was raw.
She stood up and walked toward the second floor.
She had only been to the second floor once, over thirty years ago, when she and Liang He first came to see the house. After Liang He fell ill, he stayed on the first floor for convenience, so she had never gone up.
But now, she wanted to see it.
She had heard that the small terrace above was a little garden, just as they had discussed. She imagined them sketching up there, a bitter yet longing smile touching her lips. When she passed the long white wall covered with the *Diamond Sutra*, she stopped. Tilting her head back, she read through it seriously, section by section. Her eyes were stinging, but not a single tear fell. She had likely lost the ability to cry. From now on, these eyes would only smile, never weep; just like her heart, it would only beat numbly, never feel pain.
She climbed the stairs. The study was on the left side of the landing, the door slightly ajar.
She pushed it open.
On the wall facing her hung a massive oil painting. It was an abstract scene of a person—a bright window in the black night, a luminous full moon, and beneath the moon, inside the window, a broken and blurred face. On that face were glittering, glowing things, like the tears of a young girl.
In the bottom right corner was the signature:
*Bright Moon*
*Liang He, Late 1987*
Qiuyun knew this painting; it was called *Tears of the Buddha*. She also knew it was the first international gold medal Liang He had ever won. The person in the painting was none other than Qiu Xiaoyun. Furthermore, she knew this was the very work she had once begged Liang He to sell to buy this villa. At the time, Liang He had been clearly unwilling to sell it because it was the first painting he had ever done of her, and it had won an award; it held extraordinary significance for them. But in the end, he couldn't win against her persistence and sold it to a foreigner to afford this house.
But now, how could it be here, hanging quietly in this villa?
In a flash of insight, Qiuyun suddenly understood. Although this was Liang He’s breakout work, it was rarely mentioned, to the point that its later whereabouts were a mystery—because the artist himself had long ago bought it back, hanging it silently in this villa as a secret unknown to the world.
*Patter, patter...* Like rain, tears rolled down her chin and dripped onto the wooden floor.
Qiuyun’s tears had finally come back to life, gushing out like a spring.
She stared blankly at the painting, slowly reaching out to touch its texture. More than thirty years later, she was finally seeing the original work for the first time. The graininess of the pigments and the traces of the brushstrokes were still so clear on the canvas, as if it were new, as if Liang He had just finished painting it this afternoon.
She began to wail, letting out hoarse, jagged cries like a small, inconsolable beast. She curled up against the painting, completely disregarding whether she might damage it—it was as if by doing this, she could still touch Liang He, still feel his lingering warmth. This was her Liang He. She cried until she was spent, yet she also felt a surge of resentment toward him, hating him for being so devoted. Was she really that good? What had she done to deserve such treatment from him? In those long thirty years, why hadn't he just found someone to marry and have children with? She wouldn't have minded waking up to see him holding a grandson! If he had only nodded, there were plenty of women willing to bear his children. Why choose a marriage of convenience to deceive others, making a wedding dress for someone else, pretending he wasn't waiting? Did he not know that such devotion was almost too heavy for her to bear, making it impossible to breathe, turning her into a heartless puppet merely scraping by in this world?
She had tried so hard.
Heaven knew how hard she had tried to start a new life. For Sima Feng, for Lin Shaohua, she had given it her all. But this afternoon, in just a few short hours, the fortress she had painstakingly built over so many days was easily demolished. Her world had collapsed into ruins.
She was so tired, truly exhausted. Every day she was acting, playing the role of a person named "Sima Qiuyun."
But who was this Sima Qiuyun?
She was no longer the "Sima Qiuyun" of this world. She clearly belonged to this era, yet everything around her felt so foreign. She had only lived in the eighties for a year, yet it seemed to far outweigh her twenty-plus years in the 21st century. The difficulty of reintegrating into this rapidly changing era was far greater than the difficulty of integrating into that time of green hills, clear waters, and white shirts.
What was the point of remaining in this world, other than to taste endless pain and torment?
Suddenly, a letter fell from behind the painting onto the floor.
Qiuyun froze for a moment, then picked it up.
*To the one brought here by fate, greetings!*
*I do not know who will eventually see this letter, but by the time you do, I will no longer be in this world.*
*This painting is my breakout work and the first of my pieces to win an international gold medal. It holds immense significance for me, but it is more than that—the person in the painting, that young girl, is the love of my life, the one my heart has waited for.*
*If fate has allowed you to obtain this painting, please keep it safe and treasure it carefully; I would be deeply grateful. If one day you are destined to meet the person in this painting—though it is but a wish—please help me by saying hello to her, and wish her all the best!*
*With gratitude,*
*The Artist, Liang He, Late Summer 2020*
***
When Lin Shaohua returned home after working overtime, he found the house lit with warm lights. Three dishes and a soup were already set on the dining table—all of them his favorites.
The exhaustion of overtime vanished instantly. He walked into the kitchen and pulled Qiuyun, who was still busy, into his arms from behind.
"Why are you being so good today?" he asked.
Qiuyun paused for a second, then continued scooping rice. "You worked hard at the office."
"You worked hard too." Lin Shaohua took the opportunity to give her a kiss.
That evening, after dinner, Qiuyun took the initiative to wash the dishes. Lin Shaohua stopped her, saying he would do it. Qiuyun glanced at him, didn't argue, and said, "Alright then, I’ll go take a shower."
By the time Lin Shaohua finished the dishes and came out, Qiuyun had finished her shower and was sitting obediently on the sofa watching the evening news. Lin Shaohua took off his apron, walked over, and touched her still-damp hair. "Why didn't you blow-dry it?"
Qiuyun shook it out casually. "It’s not long; it’ll dry quickly."
Lin Shaohua carefully took a towel and began to dry it for her. "Be careful or you’ll catch a cold. Your hair is growing quite fast. By the time you’re a bride, it should reach your shoulders."
Qiuyun pressed her hand over his and turned to look at him.
Lin Shaohua smiled. "What is it? Don't tell me you’re going to say you’ve changed your mind."
Qiuyun looked at him steadily, then slowly shook her head. "No. I was just thinking, if we wait until next year when my father is out to hold the wedding, will you feel it’s too long? You’ve always been the one taking care of me and accommodating me; I’ve never asked how you feel."
Lin Shaohua was stunned. He hadn't expected Qiuyun to say such things to him. A sense of blissful joy blossomed in his heart. He squeezed her hand back. "No, as long as you’re happy and I’m with you, I’m satisfied."
Qiuyun’s brow furrowed slightly, her expression skeptical. "Shaohua, am I really that good?"
"Of course. What’s wrong with you today? You’re acting a bit unusual."
"You’re so good to me, I feel I have no way to repay you."
"Haha," Lin Shaohua laughed. "Why think like that, my silly girl?" Qiuyun’s hair was half-dry now, so he tossed the towel aside and pulled her into his arms. "Since you have no way to repay me, just stay by my side for the rest of this life."
Qiuyun didn't speak, only lay quietly in his embrace.
The heart that Lin Shaohua had kept suspended for so long finally settled. The heart is made of flesh; his Sima Qiuyun was not a cold person after all. He felt his worries from a while ago were laughable—he had even suspected she might be suffering from depression and had specifically consulted a friend.
At this thought, he held her tighter. He felt the person in his arms move, and then, a kiss landed gently on his cheek.
He paused and looked down to see a pair of clear, dark eyes looking at him with unspoken words.
They gazed at each other for two seconds before Lin Shaohua leaned in, cupped her face, and kissed her deeply. When their breathing became ragged and hurried, he pulled away slightly and met her gaze. He was desperate to take the next step, but he needed her consent.
Qiuyun looked at him as well, offering no rejection, as if she had long been prepared and waiting. There was a faint mist in her eyes, like the clouds of Mount Wu, hazily shrouding something mysterious—something Lin Shaohua had never known, something that had once made him feel inexplicably uneasy. But in this moment, he had no time and no desire to explore what it was. He had waited for this moment for a very long time.
He kissed her lips again.
Perhaps the terrible days were finally over, perhaps his long-term devotion had finally won her heart, or perhaps there was some other reason. But it didn't matter. Now, except for the woman in his arms, everything else was as light as drifting clouds.
***
Qiuyun felt herself floating like a feather. The window screen was blown gently by the breeze, and she hung weightlessly in mid-air, appearing and disappearing through the mesh. Like an outsider, she watched the two people entwined below, her eyes slowly filling with pity. She remembered a summer night in 1988, in front of the hundred thousand Buddhas, in the cool waters of the Shili River, when she and Liang He had been so close.
"Do you want to?" she had asked him dreamily.
He had looked at her with restraint, suppressing his rising breath. Then he had kissed her fiercely, like a general conquering a city, until her lips ached.
She had wanted so much to give herself to him, but he had said cherishedly:
*I love you, Xiao Yun. But what you’ve given me now is enough.*
How she hated herself for not giving it to him!
Qiuyun’s tears slowly dispersed in the air.
At that time, had the Buddha also looked at her and Liang He with such pity, just as she was looking at the two people below now?
***
The next day, Sima Qiuyun went to the A City Academy of Fine Arts.
It was during class hours, so there were few people on campus. She walked to the tall cedar tree by the West Teaching Building and began to dig into the soil with a small trowel she had brought.
Thirty-three years had passed, and the campus had undergone several rounds of construction; she wasn't sure if she could still find it. Just as she was thinking this, she heard a crisp sound as the trowel hit something hard.
Qiuyun immediately dropped the trowel and began to dig with her hands as if unearthing a treasure. Before long, she pulled out a dirty red bag. Opening it, she found a glass bottle of Coca-Cola. It was from 1987, when foreign students had come to the Academy for an exchange; at the party that night, Liang He had specifically bought it for her.
—"This is for you, the best of the night."
His smile seemed to be right before her eyes.
Qiuyun hadn't opened the Coke back then; instead, she had buried it under the cedar tree like a hidden secret. So many years had passed, and though it had never been opened, the liquid inside had evaporated until it was only a pinky-finger deep. She carefully wiped it clean and placed it in her bag.
When night fell, she went to the riverbank.
There was a bridge here that had not yet been joined in the middle. It was said that once completed, it would be the longest and most beautiful suspension bridge in A City. She waited by the river until late at night, until all the workers had left, then bypassed the layers of guardrails and walked to the center of the bridge.
The river wind whistled, blowing her hair just like the wind by the Shili River in 1988. She carefully took a blue sketchbook from her bag, turned to the page with the drawing of her and Liang He together, and looked at it for a long time. Then she turned to the page behind it, where she had pasted something herself—a drawing found among Liang He’s effects, showing Wang Chen and Sima Feng, with a somewhat clumsily drawn Qiu Xiaoyun in the middle.
A smile touched the corners of Qiuyun’s mouth. She opened the bottle of Coke and drank it in one gulp. More than thirty years later, she finally tasted the first gift Liang He had ever given her—the Coca-Cola that had been so precious in that era. The drink had no flavor left, yet it seemed exceptionally sweet, the most beautiful beverage in the world.
Then, she leaped, tracing a graceful arc through the night sky.
In the haze, she thought she saw a familiar figure in a white shirt, swimming toward her from the deep, blue depths of the water.
***
**The End.**
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 东湖郦苑 | East Lake Liyuan | The name of the luxury villa estate where Liang He lived. |
| 《佛的眼泪》 | Tears of the Buddha | The title of Liang He's award-winning painting. |
| 《金刚经》 | Diamond Sutra | A Buddhist scripture. |
| A市美院 | A City Academy of Fine Arts | The university where the characters studied/worked. |
| 邱晓云 | Qiu Xiaoyun | The protagonist's name/identity during her time in the 1980s. |
| 蓝皮速写本 | Blue-covered sketchbook | A significant item containing Liang He's final wishes and drawings. |
| 巫山的云 | Clouds of Mount Wu | A literary reference often associated with romance and mystery. |
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