When The Snow Falls In Autumn Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The crease on Ye Qiulan’s fingertips looked particularly abrupt on the flat page.She hurriedly tried to smooth it out, and her nails scraped against the paper, making a tiny hissing sound that was amplified in the excessively quiet air.

Ling Xueqing raised her eyes.

His eyes fell on Ye Qiulan’s frantic fingers, paused, and then moved to her thin red ears.Ye Qiulan could almost feel the warmth of that gaze, with the clarity unique to morning light, and a hint of quiet concern that she couldn’t fully interpret.She stopped moving, pressed her fingertips on the crease, and stopped moving.

Ling Xueqing’s eyes fell back to the pages of her book, as if the glance just now was just an accident.But the tip of her pen was hanging above the paper, and the ink was about to fall, forming a small, still black spot.

The air was stagnant for a few seconds.The faint sounds of conversations in the distance, the rustling of book pages, and the slow crawling of camphor tree shadows on the floor all became vague background noises.Ye Qiulan held his breath, waiting for something, but also afraid that what he was waiting for would actually come.

Ling Xueqing finally moved.She put down her pen without making a sound.He reached for the dark blue pencil case on the corner of his desk, opened the zipper, and took out a small, bone paper knife from it.The handle of the knife was made of warmly polished dark wood, and the blade was stored in the sheath, leaving only a short, cold-glow metal edge exposed.

She gently placed the paper knife on the side of the table between the two of them, close to Ye Qiulan.The handle of the knife was facing Ye Qiulan’s direction.

“Use this,” she said, her voice steady. “Be careful with your hands.”

Ye Qiulan looked at the small paper knife.The handle of the knife is smooth, with a moist feel from years of use.This is Ling Xueqing’s thing, which she always keeps in her pencil case, used to cut those copied pages of ancient books that are too sticky, or to sharpen special drawing pencils.Ye Qiulan has seen it many times, but never touched it.

Now it was shoved in front of her.

She stretched out her hand and her fingertips touched the cool wooden handle.The touch was warmer than she imagined.She picked it up, it was very light, but its weight was inexplicably heavy.She pulled out the scabbard, and the thin and sharp blade was fully exposed, reflecting a cold, short arc of light in the morning light.She carefully pressed the tip of the knife against the folded edge of the page and scratched lightly.

The paper fell apart obediently, the crease split, leaving a thin, almost invisible line.Flattened.

She put the blade back into its sheath and ran her fingertips over the subtle lines on the wooden handle.After hesitating for a moment, she did not push it back immediately, but held it in her hand.The warm wood presses against the palm of the hand, bringing a strange sense of stability.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Ling Xueqing said “hmm” and picked up the pen again.When the pen tip fell, it made a rustling sound on the paper, which became much smoother.

Ye Qiulan gently placed the paper knife on the edge of his side of the table and did not return it.She looked at her book again, but her eyes couldn’t focus.The touch of the wooden handle seemed to still remain in the palm of my hand, and the words “be careful with your hands” echoed in my ears.A very ordinary sentence came out of Ling Xueqing’s mouth, but it had a certain… different texture.It’s not a perfunctory thing, it’s not polite, it’s a real and practical concern.

She quietly raised her eyes and looked across.Ling Xueqing lowered her eyes, her long eyelashes casting shallow fan-shaped shadows under her eyes, her expression focused, as if she was completely immersed in the difficult words.The sunlight illuminated half of her face, and her skin was so white that it was almost transparent, and the very light, almost invisible fuzz on her cheeks could be seen.Her lips were pursed, the color was a natural light pink, and there was a very small mark in the middle of her lower lip, left by habitual biting with her teeth.

Ye Qiulan looked at the trace and suddenly remembered that a long time ago, probably in elementary school, Ling Xueqing would bite her lower lip unconsciously every time she was thinking about a difficult problem or was nervous.She once laughed at her and said it would turn her into a sausage mouth.Ling Xueqing didn’t speak at that time, she just loosened her lips and glanced at her, her eyes a little fierce and a little aggrieved.Later, Ling Xueqing seemed to gradually get rid of this habit, at least he was rarely seen in front of her.Only when you are extremely focused or… are you experiencing mood swings will that trace reappear.

Like now.

This discovery made Ye Qiulan’s heart tremble slightly.Ling Xueqing was not as calm as she seemed at the moment.What was she thinking?Is it a problem in the book, or…something else?

Ye Qiulan averted his eyes and unconsciously rubbed the sheath of the paper knife with his fingertips.The coolness of the metal passes through the wooden sheath.She suddenly wanted to ask, did you sleep well yesterday?That cardigan…how can I give it back to you without looking weird?Between us… what is it now?

But these words were too heavy, like stones stuck in my throat, unable to spit out or swallow.She could only let them sink in her heart, and let the full, slightly prickly feeling continue to ferment silently.

Time flows through the pages and silence.As the sun gradually rises, the light becomes brighter and more direct, passing through the cracks in the camphor tree and casting a clearer light spot on the tabletop.Ye Qiulan finally forced himself to focus back on the text in front of him.It is a discussion about the aging mechanism of paper fibers in ancient books. It is boring, but needs to be understood.She read slowly, chewing each word.

After an unknown amount of time, she felt thirsty and reached for her water glass out of habit, only to find that the glass was empty.I was in a hurry to go out in the morning and forgot to get water.She put down the cup and pursed her dry lips.

Almost at the same time, there was a very light sound from the opposite side, as the lid of the thermos cup was unscrewed.

Ye Qiulan raised his eyes.Ling Xueqing was turning over the lid of the thermos cup, which was a small cup that came with it.She poured half a glass of water into it, and the heat rose up, carrying a faint aroma of tea – the unsweetened green tea that Ling Xueqing often drank.

Then, Ling Xueqing gently pushed the half glass of water across the center line of the table, stopping within Ye Qiulan’s reach.His movements were natural and smooth, he didn’t look at her, his eyes still stayed on the page, as if he just did a trivial thing casually.

Ye Qiulan looked at the steaming cup of tea.The rim of the cup is clean without any stains.The heat steamed up, blurring Ling Xueqing’s lowered eyebrows.The aroma of tea is mild and bitter, mixed with the very light metallic smell unique to the stainless steel inner wall of the thermos cup, and… an almost imperceptible hint of cold aroma that belongs to Ling Xueqing’s fingertips.

Her throat moved.No saying “thank you” or asking “how did you know I was thirsty?”Some tacit understandings have long been ingrained and require no words.She stretched out her hand, touched the warm wall with her fingertips, and took the cup over.The temperature of the water is transferred to the palm of the hand through the wall of the cup, which is very warm.

She sipped.The tea is slightly hot, with a bitter aftertaste, sliding over the dry throat, bringing a comfortable feeling.She drank slowly, almost savoring it.It’s not just quenching thirst, it’s more like confirming – confirming this silent care, confirming the unspoken and detailed thoughts behind this glass of water.

Ling Xueqing turned over a page of the book while she was drinking water.The sound of paper scraping was very soft.Her fingers paused at the edge of the opened page, her fingertips curled slightly, and then relaxed.

Ye Qiulan finished drinking the water and gently put the cup back to its original place.The bottom of the cup touches the table and makes a slight “click” sound.She looked at the bottom of the empty cup. There were one or two small, stretched tea leaves remaining inside.

“Do you want more?” Ling Xueqing asked suddenly, her voice low.

Ye Qiulan shook his head.”That’s enough.” She paused and added, “…it tastes good.”

Ling Xueqing didn’t speak anymore, just stretched out her hand, took the cup back, covered it again, and put it back in her hand.A series of movements flowed smoothly without unnecessary eye contact.

But Ye Qiulan saw that when she picked up the thermos cup, her fingers paused briefly and almost imperceptibly on the edge of her cup, and her fingertips seemed to unconsciously brush against the edge of the cup – the place where Ye Qiulan’s lips had just touched.

This subtle movement is like a pebble thrown into a lake of heart, causing ripples that are far more lasting than imagined.Ye Qiulan’s cheeks began to heat up again. She hurriedly lowered her head and pretended to read seriously, but her vision was blurred.

She suddenly understood.Some things don’t need to be said.It’s hidden in the paper knife being pushed over, in the half-filled cup of hot tea, in the slight pause at the fingertips, in the seemingly ordinary coexistence in the morning light but every inch is soaked in silent undercurrents.

Ling Xueqing was using her own way to say what she couldn’t say.And she, in this silent reception and response, gradually confirmed the gradually clear emotions with weight and warmth in her heart.

The sun is getting warmer and warmer, and the shadows of the camphor trees have become shorter.There were more people in the library, and there were more whispers and footsteps.But their corner seemed to be a world of its own, shrouded in a quiet and tense aura.

Ye Qiulan finally took out the cardigan from the mezzanine of the canvas bag.With a very light movement, she placed the squarely folded light gray wool blend fabric on her knees.She smoothed the last wrinkle on it with her fingers, and then gently pushed it to the opposite side of the table, stopping at the edge of Ling Xueqing’s side.

“Your clothes.” She said, her voice was very soft, as if she was afraid of disturbing something, “…thank you.”

Ling Xueqing’s eyes lifted from the page and fell on the folded cardigan.Her eyes stayed on it for a few seconds, but she didn’t go to get it immediately.The morning light fell on the light gray wool, giving it a soft velvety sheen.The clothes were folded very carefully and the corners were neat. You can see the care of the folder.

She reached out and touched the soft wool with her fingertips.He paused for a moment, then took it over and put it on his lap, without immediately putting it into his bag.Her fingers unconsciously stroked the surface of the fabric, which seemed to still contain the smell of old library books, and perhaps a trace of Ye Qiulan’s clean and gentle body temperature.

“Yeah.” She responded in a low voice, without saying “You’re welcome” or asking “Why are you paying it back now?”His gaze returned to the page, but Ye Qiulan saw that her fingers holding the edge of the page tightened slightly, and her knuckles turned a little white.

The cardigan was returned.A cycle seems to be over.But some things, once started, can never go back to their pure starting point.

Ye Qiulan looked at the light gray cardigan on Ling Xueqing’s legs. His heart felt empty for a moment, and then was filled with more complex emotions.Those were Ling Xueqing’s clothes, and they were now back with their owner.But yesterday, the weight it placed on her shoulders, the breath it wrapped around her, and the throbbing and warmth it brought remained, becoming an inseparable part of her memory.