"The Mortal Chapter Of Qing Zhuan" - Chapter 3

Subtle Blossoming Affection

Summer quietly arrived—like a young maiden drifting across the land on a gentle breeze. The fragrance of ripe fruit intensified under the season’s warmth, and the sweetness of ice cream bloomed on the tongue.

At dusk, the sky lit up with fiery clouds, their vibrant hues hanging like soft silk against the distant horizon.

Summer nights were speckled with brilliant stars and bathed in clear moonlight that washed over the fields. Dew gathered on ripening wheat, and a cool breeze rustled the willows toward the Milky Way. The moonlight danced across the rippling water, adding a touch of serenity to the summer night.

Youth — in its innocence, we mistake fleeting emotions for eternity. A boy doesn’t understand the constellations mirrored in a maiden’s eyes; she doesn’t see that the love in books can be as pure as snow.

I remember once—my friend’s aunt traveled to Japan and brought back Japanese specialties along with manga volumes.

One book was a manga adaptation of Spirited Away, featuring a small girl and a white dragon.

After reading it, I was in awe of this Miyazaki—how he crafted such a meaningful, moving story. I believed in the unbreakable bond between Chihiro and Haku. But Wenwen had a different take. He said, “What’s between them isn’t just friendship. Haku has protected Chihiro since childhood—they’re like a princess and her devoted knight.” He then looked at me gently. Our eyes met, and a strange, unnameable feeling stirred within me… something I couldn’t quite describe.

I shrugged it off: “Still, it’s just a comic, isn’t it? In real life, stuff like that probably doesn’t exist.”

He murmured softly, head bowed, “How do you know it doesn’t? Maybe you just haven’t noticed yet…” He said something else in a whisper, but it was too quiet to hear clearly, so I didn’t ask more.

Outside, the sky blazed with sunset. I sighed, “It’s so beautiful—these fiery clouds. Looks like good weather tonight. Why don’t we take Mimi out, Wenwen?”

He smiled and nodded. “Let’s go just the two of us. No need to call Lao Gao—he’s stuck studying.”

We both laughed. I teased, “Well, he’s got a mother like Meng Mu—no chance escaping that. Probably nose-deep in math right now!”

Meanwhile, Lao Gao really was studying hard—and sneezed mid-problem. He glanced outside, a small smile forming as he murmured to himself, “A sky like this—with that fiery glow and a sliver of moon—tonight’s absolutely starry. They’re out there with Mimi… I envy them. No competition prep to worry about… When can I finally relax like that?”

…

That night, we arrived at our usual spot. Mimi was curled up in my lap, asleep in bliss—but growing rounder each day, she weighed like a little furball now. Yet she remained absolutely adorable.

Our village’s pebble path by the river was a summer haven: old stones smooth beneath our feet, lavender lining the sides, the air scented and sweet.

We entered the river under starlit skies, its clear, gentle waters cool against our legs. We quietly fished, while Mimi lazily basked in the moonlight.

I lifted my skirt slightly, moonlight caressing my shoulders, hair drifting in the breeze. I reached for a fish.

Wenwen started to speak, then fell silent. With a splash, I plunged in and caught a plump fish that thrashed wildly. “Wenwen, grab it before it gets away!” I cried.

He sprinted over, secured the fish into a bucket, and called back, “That’s a big one, Yuanzi! You’re soaked—come up!”

I emerged dripping, wringing water from my clothes, smiling, “See? That was awesome. Let’s roast it!”

Wenwen smiled shyly, “Sure—that sounds good. I’ll get wood. You can dry yourself with my jacket.”

I blushed, “Um, maybe later—better to keep wearing it…” He noticed my discomfort, gently draped his shirt on me, then said, “Wait here—I’ll grab pants from home.”

I nodded, watching his figure fade under the stars, thinking, “He’s so kind.”

I turned to check the fish—it was still swimming in the bucket. I stroked it gently until Wenwen hurried back, out of breath: “Here—put this on. I’ll get the fire going.”

As I changed quietly, he whispered, “It’s so white…” I spun—caught him staring, nose flushing pink. I wrapped the shirt around me and he stammered, “I didn’t see anything! Come on—get dressed.”

My heart pounded red-hot. When I finished dressing, I called, “You can look now!”

He tiptoed over, lit the fire. Silence enveloped us—so awkward, yet comforting.

He glanced at me. I met his eyes: one panicked, one shy. After a beat, he knelt by the fire and murmured, “Yuanzi, I—I saw nothing. Really.”

I fiddled with the shirt fabric and softly asked, “What did you mean by, ‘so white’?”

He swallowed, scratched his head, then said quickly, “The moonlight—it’s so white… really white…” He sharpened two sticks—one for roasting the fish, the other for drying my clothes.

Under that moonlit night, we felt frozen in innocence. I finally found my voice: “It wasn’t weird—nothing happened, right? So why are we acting like this? Anyway—how’s that fish doing?”

Wenwen’s eyes sparkled: “Almost ready! Look at the stars—aren’t they gorgeous tonight, Yuanzi?”

I looked up, relief flooding me. Soon the fish smelled roasted and enticing, and Mimi leapt awake, purring, and devoured it greedily. Then, belly full, she nestled on my lap and fell back asleep—content as can be.

That pebble path held so many memories—sometimes, a college kid from the village would come and play flute by the river. His melody was cheerful, yet tinged with tragic undertones, a haunting contrast that made you pause.

We watched the moon and Wenwen softly said, “Looks like another great harvest year.”

I nodded, “Yes—definitely.” I glanced at his profile, thinking, He’s so handsome… boy or girl, he’d be stunning. What’s he thinking? Doesn’t even talk much, just blinks with those clear eyes.

Then he turned to me, squinting, and asked, “Yuanzi… am I pretty?”

I nodded without hesitation: “Yes—your eyes are beautiful.”

He propped his chin in his hands and beamed, “No—your eyes are what’s beautiful. Like petals of peach blossoms… irresistible. You’re so beautiful, Yuanzi.”

A soft flush lit his cheeks. A breeze lifted my hair as I tucked stray strands behind my ear.

Moonlight was gentle. As our eyes met again, my face caught fire. Wenwen’s gaze burned—deep and unspoken—and I knew I wasn’t ready for such depth.

I looked away to the shimmering river. He chimed in, “Tonight’s night is so beautiful. Mimi’s sleeping so well.”

I glanced at the cat, snoozing peacefully in the grass.

Fireflies drifted among the lotus blooms—even the night felt sweet, accompanied by cicadas and crickets.

I rose and wiped my skirt: “It’s late. Let’s head back. Thanks for the shirt—I’ll return it tomorrow.”

He picked up Mimi and said cheerfully, “Let’s go home… Mimi, you’ve gotten chubby again—should diet, ha!”

We joked all the way home. At my doorstep, I took Mimi, saying, “Wenwen, the sky was so beautiful tonight. Sleep well—see you tomorrow.”

He waved, “See you tomorrow, Yuanzi.”

I occasionally looked back—he lingered, walking me home. I waved again, “Wenwen, go home soon…”

He nodded, “I’ll go once you’re inside.” Thanks to his quiet company, I reached home.

Looking back, he stood in the moonlight—a young figure in a white tee and light blue jeans, watching me with a calm intensity. He looked so cool.

I entered with a soft smile, thinking, Wenwen is such a wonderful friend—he’ll be one of my best, always…

Unbeknownst to me, he took a deep breath and whispered to himself with a silly grin:
“Yuanzi… so white… I can’t wait until we’re older. I want to marry you under the moonlight—you’re so beautiful… Aha, Wen Wen, what are you thinking? Just go home and sleep!”

…

Back home, after washing up, I caught my reflection. My mind replayed that moment he saw me changing—his infatuated look—and I couldn’t help but smile.

My mom appeared behind me suddenly, making me jump. “Mom! You scared me!”

She sized me up and laughed, “What’s with the guilty smile? Enjoying your own reflection?”

I retorted, “What’s wrong with appreciating myself?”

She chuckled and said, “Alright, my beautiful girl—admire yourself a bit, then go sleep.”

I nodded, looking at my reflection and murmured, You’re lovely, Yuanzi—no more daydreaming.

Later, I found Wenwen’s jacket on the chair. I folded it and placed it carefully on the kang (heated bed). My eyes fell on the book—Spirited Away—left open on the desk. One line caught me:

“I can only take you this far. You must walk the rest alone. Don’t look back.”

My heart tightened. Outside, a breeze lifted the curtain, brushing against my hair and cheek. It felt like a life lesson—goodbyes.

Although that lesson seemed far off now, a quiet ache nestled in my chest—the kindless named sadness of fate.

Like Wenwen and I, caught between family histories and multigenerational resentments… how could such chains be easily broken?