When The Snow Falls In Autumn Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The sound of the paper roll being unrolled was very soft, like autumn leaves being blown by the wind, dry and pliable.The last golden-red ray of the setting sun slanted in through the window, covering the piece of paper gradually revealed on Ling Xueqing’s lap. Every ink line was outlined extremely clearly, and you could even see the tiny burrs left by the pen tip when it scratched the fiber.

Ye Qiulan held his breath.

That’s no ordinary map.There is no regular grid of longitude and latitude, and no familiar place name markers on modern maps.What appears on the paper is an outline of a landscape outlined with simple but powerful lines – several undulating curves representing mountains, a thick line that meanders through to represent rivers, and scattered settlement points marked with small circles.The lines are not very precise, and in some places they are even dotted lines drawn based on feeling, but it has a quiet and ancient charm, as if it was rubbed from the depths of memory or the edge of a dream.

Even more eye-catching are the place names marked.It is not a printed script, but Ling Xueqing’s unique, strong and neat regular script. The ink is thick and black, and it falls heavily on various locations on the paper: “Cangwu Ridge”, “Luoxia Pi”, “Yinma River”, “Guiyundu”… and the most eye-catching river, which is marked as “Ruishui”.Ye Qiulan did not recognize any of these names. They did not belong to any contemporary geography that she knew, but they carried a strange echo that seemed to come from the distant past.

She leaned forward involuntarily, her eyes following the ink marks closely.The air seemed to be frozen, only the last ray of skylight outside the window was slowly closing in, and the shadows in the room were deepening.The cold air from the air conditioner was still blowing, blowing the broken hair on her forehead, but she couldn’t feel the coolness. She only felt an unfamiliar heat rising from her heart, mixed with strong curiosity and a touch that was almost awe.

Ling Xueqing lowered her eyes and focused on the picture she had drawn. Her long eyelashes cast thick shadows under her eyes, covering all the emotions in her eyes.Her fingers gently pressed against the edge of the drawing, and her fingertips turned slightly white from the exertion.She didn’t speak, just waited quietly, letting Ye Qiulan’s eyes pass over the lines and names inch by inch, as if she was waiting for a silent trial, or as if she was sharing a heavy secret that had never been revealed to anyone.

“This is…” Ye Qiulan finally found his voice, very soft and cautiously probing, “Your mother… a map of your hometown?”

She used “hometown” instead of “homeland” or “ancestral home.”The word is softer and more personal.

Ling Xueqing nodded almost imperceptibly, still not raising her eyes.”Yes. Based on what she… said occasionally when she was awake, and some scattered records that I found myself, I pieced it together.” Her voice was low, a little hoarse, no longer the smooth and smooth tone on weekdays. It was mixed with too many things – the exhaustion of looking through the pile of old papers, the loneliness when piecing together the fragments, the heartache when facing her mother’s trance memories, and perhaps a hint of complex emotions that even she herself did not fully understand about showing this heavy privacy to others.

“Ruishui…” Ye Qiulan’s fingertips pointed towards the most eye-catching river, but he didn’t dare to touch the paper, “That’s…that river? The ancient name of ‘Qingrui’ you mentioned last time?”

Ling Xueqing’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly.She finally raised her eyes and looked at Ye Qiulan.The afterglow of the setting sun danced in her eyes, reflecting an almost fragile glimmer.”Yes.” She confirmed in a low voice, “Earlier, it might have been called this. Later it was changed, and then… it disappeared from the map.” Her eyes fell back on the word “Rishui”, and her fingers unconsciously traced along the ink line, her movements were very gentle, as if stroking an invisible wound.”The water may still be flowing, or it may have changed its course, or it may have dried up. No one remembers its original name.”

Except her.Except for those few words about “beside the Ruishui River” and “under the Cangwu Ridge” that occasionally flashed in the mother’s broken words.Except for herself, she spent countless late nights buried in old memories, trying to salvage this little bit of memory about a disappeared river that no one cared about long ago from the long-annihilated local chronicles and vague family records.

Ye Qiulan looked at her drooping side face and the unconscious tracing movements of her fingers. His chest seemed to be tightly grasped by something, and he felt a dull pain.She suddenly realized very clearly that the silent map in front of her was not just a collection of lines and ink marks.It is a spiritual map of family separation and mother’s pain that Ling Xueqing weaves bit by bit with lonely research and heavy emotions.It is the most private corner of Ling Xueqing’s inner world that she never shows to others.

At this moment, Ling Xueqing spread this corner in front of her.

The shock brought by this realization is far stronger than seeing any precious ancient books or complex restoration techniques.It broke through the usual fuzzy boundary in Ye Qiulan’s heart regarding the safe distance between their “childhood sweethearts” and brought her directly to the edge of Ling Xueqing’s heart, which was frozen all year round but with turbulent undercurrents.

“These names…” Ye Qiulan’s voice became softer, as if he was afraid of disturbing the sleeping past on the drawing, “They are so nice. Cangwu Ridge, Luoxiapi… they look like places in poetry.”

Ling Xueqing was silent for a moment.”Yeah.” She responded, with no emotion in her voice, “Maybe it used to be. Now… maybe it’s just ordinary hills and slopes, or it may have been bulldozed and built a house.” She paused, and her fingertips stopped on the three words “Wangxiang Terrace” – it was a location on the cliff marked with a dotted line in the upper right corner of the map.”Mother…occasionally mentioned this place. She said that she could see far away from it.”

But what I see is no longer the pastoral hometown of the past, but a time that cannot be returned, and the pain of separation that cannot be healed.Ling Xueqing did not say this sentence.But Ye Qiulan understood the unfinished words from her suddenly darkened eyes and slightly tightened corners of her mouth.

The room became completely dark.The last glow of the setting sun has disappeared, and there is a deep, blue-purple dusk outside the window.Only the desk lamp on the desk was still on, casting a warm yellow halo behind Ling Xueqing, but unable to illuminate her downcast face.

Ling Xueqing suddenly rolled up the drawing by a small amount, exposing only the lower half.Her movements were a little hasty, as if she wanted to hide something, or she had made some kind of determination.”Here,” she pointed with her fingertips at a relatively empty area in the lower half of the drawing, where only a few simple undulating lines were drawn, and “Southern Migration Trail (Doubtful)” was marked in a slightly larger font, “This is what I speculated based on some indirect information…the route they may have left back then. Not sure, a lot of it is just conjecture.”

Her tone became restrained again, even with a hint of academic calmness, as if she was introducing a topic that had nothing to do with her.But Ye Qiulan saw the subtle trembling of her fingertips and the way she deliberately avoided his gaze.

Move south.Migration path.Doubtful.

Behind these words, is there war?Is it a famine?Or is it an internal strife within the family?Ling Xueqing didn’t elaborate, and Ye Qiulan didn’t dare to ask further.She knew that this was the limit of what Ling Xueqing could share.Those more specific and painful details may not even be fully understood by Ling Xuequing herself, or they may be too heavy to bear, so they can only be marked on this private and silent map with a “doubtful” dotted line.

Ye Qiulan’s eyes stayed on the words “Southern Migration Trail (Doubtful)” for a long time.The ink seems to be thicker than other places, and the strokes are a little sluggish.She could imagine Ling Xueqing’s mood when she wrote these words – the loneliness and powerlessness of struggling through the fog of history, trying to grasp some real context, intertwined with the heaviness of carrying her mother’s painful memories.

“You…” Ye Qiulan raised his head and looked at Ling Xueqing, his voice choked with emotion, “Has it been painting for a long time?”

Ling Xueqing’s fingers stopped scrolling the drawings.She raised her eyes and met Ye Qiulan’s gaze.Under the dim light, her eyes were particularly deep, like two bottomless pools of cold water, but at this moment, there seemed to be tiny ripples rippling in the depths.She didn’t answer “yes” or “no”, but just looked at Ye Qiulan quietly for a long time.

Then, she said three words very softly, almost like a sigh:

“Get used to it.”

I am used to catching fragments in my mother’s trance-like narration.

I am used to looking for clues in the vast pile of old papers.

I am used to using calm research to soothe the turbulent emotions in my heart that have nowhere to put them.

I am used to drawing alone and carrying alone.

These three words made Ye Qiulan’s heartache more than any long confession.She looked at Ling Xue’s thin but straight back, her lips that were always pursed tightly as if to block all emotions, and her figure that looked unusually thin under the dim light at the moment, a strong impulse suddenly seized her.

She wanted to reach out and hold Ling Xueqing’s slightly trembling hand on the drawing.I wanted to touch her frown.I want to tell her that you are not alone.At least…at this moment, I saw it.I saw the river, these mountains, and the dotted line of migration that you drew.I saw the loneliness and pain that was as heavy as a mountain under your silence.

But she didn’t dare.His fingertips curled up at his sides, and his nails dug into his palms, causing a clear sting.There are too many things between them.Twenty years of familiarity has become the farthest distance at this moment – because they are too familiar, they cannot easily cross the invisible wall built by gender, family, responsibility and their respective heavy pasts.

She could only sit like this, one step away, watching Ling Xueqing reroll the drawings and tie them with strings.The movements are slow and meticulous, as if she is performing a solemn ceremony that belongs only to her.

“This picture…” Ling Xueqing held the rolled drawing in her hand and did not put it back into the drawer immediately. Her eyes fell on it and her voice was almost inaudible, “No one has seen it except you.”

Ye Qiulan’s heart suddenly shrank.This sentence exploded in her ears like a silent thunder.No one has seen it but you.What does this mean?Does it mean that Ling Xueqing has classified her into the most private and inviolable area?Or is it simply because she is the only one who might understand this burden without bringing an additional burden?

She couldn’t tell.The chaotic thoughts and turbulent emotions made her dizzy.

Ling Xueqing didn’t seem to be expecting her response.She stood up, walked to the desk, opened the bottom drawer, and put the drawings in.When the drawer is closed, it makes a slight “click” sound, like a world closing again.

Then, she turned around, facing away from Ye Qiulan, and looked out the window at the completely darkened night sky.The lights of the city dimmed in the distance, reflecting on her upright back, giving her a vague, lonely halo.

There was silence in the room.There was only the low, continuous sound of the air conditioner.

I don’t know how long it took before Ling Xuequing’s voice sounded again. It had returned to its usual calmness, even with a sense of deliberate distance: “Put the medicine in the refrigerator. Remember to remind your father to use it on time when you get back. Oral liquids should not be refrigerated longer than the time on the label.”

She was reminding her that it was time to go.Use the most common advice about medicine.

Ye Qiulan felt like waking up from a dream.She stood up hurriedly, and her knees hit the legs of the chair, making a loud noise.”…Well, I know.” Her voice was a little shaky.

Ling Xueqing turned around, her face no longer showing any trace of the emotions she had just shown, only her usual, slightly alienated calmness remained.”Let’s go, I’ll take you downstairs.”

“No need…” Ye Qiulan declined subconsciously.

“The street lights are not very bright on this stretch of road at night.” Ling Xueqing had already picked up the key card and said in an unquestionable tone, “Let’s go.”

Ye Qiulan did not insist anymore.She picked up the medicine bag placed on the table and followed Ling Xueqing out of the room.

The corridor was still quiet, and the warm yellow wall lamp illuminated the thick carpet.The elevator goes down and the numbers jump.The two stood side by side, neither of them speaking.In the closed space, one could smell the familiar scents of each other – the clean scent of soap locust on Ye Qiulan’s body, and the refreshing cold scent of cedar on Ling Xueqing’s body.

The lobby on the first floor was empty.Outside the glass door, there is the dark night and the warm summer night air.

Ling Xueqing arrived at the door and stopped.”Be careful on the road.” She said, her eyes falling on Ye Qiulan’s face for a brief glance.

“…You too.” Ye Qiulan whispered, not daring to look into her eyes.

Ling Xueqing nodded, without saying another word, turned around, swiped her card, and walked into the apartment building again.The glass door slowly closed behind her, completely isolating her figure.

Ye Qiulan stood outside the door, the night wind blowing her hot cheeks.The medicine bag in her hand was heavy, reminding her of the burden of reality.But in my mind, the clear ink-marked landscape map, those ancient names, Ling Xueqing’s lowered eyebrows and the words “No one has seen it except you” are like imprints, deeply engraved in the depths of consciousness.

She raised her head and glanced at the floor where Ling Xueqing’s room was located.The window was lit, the curtains were drawn, and nothing could be seen.

After standing for a while, she slowly turned around and walked towards the road leading to the West District.The night was getting darker, and the street lights came on one after another, stretching her shadow very long.

That night, in a neat and deserted room in the East End apartment, there was a carefully collected volume of personal maps in a drawer.In a small room in the old dormitory building in the West District, someone was tossing and turning. What lingered in front of his eyes were the ink lines unfolding under the setting sun, and the silent and heavy part of the painter’s mind that had never been revealed to anyone.Some rivers, even if they disappear from the map, will find new channels in people’s hearts and begin to flow secretly and turbulently.