Aki Apricot Juvenile - Chapter 1

Dreaming a beautiful dream is like meeting a beautiful person both are rare, both are precious, and they always appear when we are least prepared to receive them.

After five years away, Qiu Xingyou stepped once more onto this familiar land. A mixture of sweetness and bitterness welled in his heart, a feeling too complex to name. He had lived here for twenty-four years and spent the next five running from it. He thought he would never return, but life, as always, had other plans and so, here he was again, back in Luozhou.

As soon as he got off the plane, Qiu Xingyou hailed a taxi headed toward his family’s old home. Once, he’d lived comfortably; his family had been well-off. But at fourteen, he lost both his parents in an accident. They left him a great inheritance and an even greater loneliness.

The old house wasn’t exactly near the airport, so the ride would take a while. Leaning his head against the window, Qiu Xingyou watched the city drift by, each scene stirring a thousand half-forgotten emotions. He never thought he’d see it again. The car sped along, the cityscape flashing past unchanged, almost painfully familiar.

When they reached the city center, traffic began to crawl. It struck him how long he’d been gone long enough for his once-familiar hometown to have changed its face without him noticing. Maybe that was the sorrow of leaving a place behind: by the time you return, it has already learned to live without you.

The radio in the taxi played softly all the while, the host rambling about life and love, sprinkling in sentimental songs. Qiu Xingyou was only half listening until a particular melody made him freeze. The host was dedicating a song called “Sakura and Apricot” to a girl chasing her love.

That song was his.
He had written it years ago for Jiang Ji.

Since leaving Luozhou, he hadn’t heard it once. But now, hearing it again, the wall around his heart cracked. Memories he’d sealed away began to stir and breathe once more.

… Qiu Xingyou’s memory …

Under a wide country sky, Jiang Ji held him close as they lay on the grass. Qiu Xingyou turned over, resting his head on Jiang Ji’s chest, tracing the outline of his sharp, mountain-like profile. But before his fingers could wander further, Jiang Ji caught his wrist.

“Do you know something?”

His voice was low and magnetic.

“What?”

“At this moment, I’m happy so happy that even if the world stopped turning, even if the universe fell apart, it wouldn’t matter. None of it would matter. As long as I have you, that’s enough.”

Qiu Xingyou was stunned for a second, but warmth quickly flooded through him. Happiness was quiet and complete wrapped around him like sunlight. How lucky, he thought, that the person he loved was right here beside him.

But time always moves on, no matter how deep the love once was. In the end, even the most devoted hearts are left to face the world alone.

By the time his thoughts quieted, the taxi had pulled up to the old house. He paid the fare and stepped out, dragging his heavy luggage to the gate. The lock clicked open. To his relief, the place wasn’t as dusty or neglected as he feared.

He didn’t clean right away. Instead, he made sure his bed was usable, then wandered out into the small yard behind the house. It was really more of a villa complete with a small garden. His parents had loved ginkgo trees, and there was one still standing there, planted the year he was born. That’s where his name came from “Xingyou,” Apricot and Ginkgo, a symbol of love and endurance.

The yard was simple: one tree, a deck chair, and a swing. Qiu Xingyou brushed the fallen leaves off the chair and lay down. As it rocked gently beneath him, he felt himself drift back into childhood.

He used to dislike his name it sounded too soft, too neutral for a man. But after learning what it meant to his parents, he stopped minding. That name carried their love, and the story of the two people who had once loved each other most in the world.

Time really does pass quickly. It was hard to believe he was nearly thirty.
He remembered how, back when he had decided to leave Jiang Ji, Jiang Ji had asked him.“Why don’t you even cry for me?”
And he had answered, “A feeling weathered by time can’t possibly still have tears left.”

At the time, he’d thought himself profound. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Who could say how much of that love had been real, and how much had simply been youth?

Lost in thought, he finally grew tired and went to rest. He slept deeply so deeply it felt like drifting through a whole lifetime in a dream. Perhaps he would never leave Luozhou again.

Pain can’t be shared; no one can hurt in your place. And so grief always follows those who leave. Qiu Xingyou slept for a long time, dreaming of the past his parents, Jiang Ji, the days that once filled his world. Ever since he’d set foot back in this city, those memories had come flooding back, unbidden and unstoppable.

There are things in this world you think you’ve escaped from. But when you finally circle back tired, older you realize they were never gone at all. They’d been waiting right where you left them, unchanged, patient, eternal.

When Qiu Xingyou finally woke, it was morning. He felt as though he’d slept through years. After washing up, he looked around at the slightly messy house, unsure where to start.

Then he remembered his old friend Meng Li, who still lived in Luozhou. Though Qiu Xingyou had moved to Japan later on, they had never lost touch, chatting now and then online. Their parents had been close friends too, and when tragedy struck, Meng Li’s family had helped him through it. They’d grown up together, closer than brothers.

He thought about sending a text, but worried it might go unseen, so he called instead. The line rang several times before a deep, tired voice finally answered.

“Hello?”

The tone was hoarse, weighted with exhaustion.

“Brother, have you been drinking again?” Qiu Xingyou asked softly, fingers tapping the table nervously.

A pause—then the voice softened.

“Xingyou?”

“Mm.”

“You’re back, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, don’t say anything else. You’re at the old house, right? Stay put I’ll bring food and come get you.”

“Okay.”

The line went dead with a few quick beeps.

Qiu Xingyou sat there, throat tight, eyes stinging. It had been years since anyone had spoken to him with that kind of warmth. At this moment, Meng Li was his only family left in the world, precious beyond measure.