A Dream of Nanke (Part 1)

My name is Fang Qi.

Today, I turned sixteen.

Mom said that being sixteen makes me half an adult, and I should learn to record my life, so she gave me this thick leather notebook.

I opened it, and the smell of ink was pleasant. The cover felt somewhat soft and gentle to the touch, just like Liguang's hands.

Speaking of Liguang.

She has been my "little shadow" ever since I can remember.

With silver hair and heterochromia, everyone turns to look at her when she walks down the street.

But she never looks at anyone else; she only looks at me.

When I fell as a child, she would squat beside me and blow on my knees, crying even harder than I did.

When playing house, she insisted on being the bride and wouldn't allow anyone else to partner with me, just staring quietly at others until they got creeped out.

If I spoke a few more words with other girls, she would tug at the hem of my shirt all the way, pursing her lips in silence, her eyes looking a bit scary.

When I got into a fight in elementary school, she rushed over and smashed her backpack over the other kid's head, then dragged me on a wild run, her silver hair fluttering in the wind like a flag.

In middle school, when a girl handed me a love letter, she leaned over with a smile to take a look; after the next day, that girl never came looking for me again.

Later I found out that Liguang had "gently" had a conversation with her about the "dangers of puppy love."

That's just how she is. Gentle, stubborn, with eyes only for me.

In the afternoon, she came to my house holding a ribbon-tied box in her arms.

"Happy birthday, Aqi." Her eyes curved into a smile, her amber left eye like honey, her crimson right eye like the sunset glow.

I opened it, and it was a fountain pen. A tiny character for "Qi" was engraved on the barrel, next to a crooked little star.

"I engraved it myself," she said, looking a bit shy. "I ruined three pens before I got it right."

I held it in my hand; the metal was slightly cool but quickly warmed to my body temperature.

"Thank you," I said.

She suddenly leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

"Stamped," she said, the tips of her ears turning red. "Aqi has to use this pen to write his diary from now on, until I become an old lady."

Looking into her sparkling eyes, I suddenly felt... that the sixteen-year-old me was somewhat different.

...

...

The countdown in the upper right corner of the blackboard read 90 days.

Liguang spread my math test paper on the desk and circled three incorrect problems with a red ballpoint pen.

Then she picked up that little ruler—made of sandalwood, which she bought at a stall by the school gate in middle school, claiming it was "exclusively for supervising studies."

"For this one, you mixed up the trigonometric conversion formulas."

Then, with a smack, the ruler lightly tapped the back of my hand. It didn't hurt; it just tickled.

"For this one, you missed a scenario in analytic geometry."

Smack.

"And this one..." She paused, suddenly sighing. "Aqi, you stayed up late playing video games again last night, didn't you?"

I shrank my neck back. "Just for an hour..."

"Not even an hour." She put down the ruler, rested both hands on the edge of the desk, and leaned over to look at me. Her silver hair slipped from her shoulder, sweeping across my workbook.

"You have to get into the same university as me," she said, her voice very soft but like a nail driven into wood. "Otherwise, I'll repeat a year and wait for you. If you still don't get in, I'll wait another year."

My throat felt dry. "Your grades are so good, there's no need..."

"There is a need," she interrupted me, a faint gleam like a data stream flashing past her crimson right eye.

I always felt her eyes were like this sometimes; it was probably just an optical illusion from the lighting.

"Wherever Aqi is, that's where I'll be."

She picked up the ruler and gently tapped it against my forehead. "So, for the next ninety days, I will be keeping a close eye on you."

I looked at her serious face and suddenly laughed. "Wouldn't that make you act more like my mom than my actual mom?"

She smiled too, her eyes curving into gentle crescents. "Then Aqi has to be a good boy and listen to 'Mom'."

It started raining outside the window.

She stayed to help me organize my mistake notebook, the tip of her pencil rustling.

I occasionally looked up at her focused profile and suddenly felt...

The college entrance exam didn't seem so scary after all.

...

...

Third year of university.

Liguang studied design, and I studied computer science. The two campuses were separated by a lake, a twenty-minute walk apart.

But she still appeared downstairs at my dorm every day. At seven o'clock sharp, right on time, carrying soy milk and fried dough sticks, or sandwiches and milk in her hands.

Every morning, my roommates would lean out the window and holler, "Fang Qi! Your wife is here to deliver warmth again!"

The whole department knew that the campus belle, Liguang, had a childhood sweetheart for a boyfriend.

She got straight As in her major courses, won scholarships, had a terrifyingly high GPA, and her projects were wildly successful, but every single day, without fail, she would cross half the campus just to "watch me eat."

For general elective courses, she absolutely had to choose the same ones as me. In a large classroom of three hundred people, she could always accurately sit right beside me.

While the teacher lectured on the history of Western art, she would gently hook my fingers under the desk.

"Aqi, let's go get ice cream after class." When she leaned in close to my ear, her breath always carried the sweet scent of strawberry lip balm.

"Don't you have a student union activity this afternoon?" I asked her.

"I pushed it off," she blinked. "Keeping Aqi company is more important."

While envying me, my roommates would sometimes ask, "Fang Qi, how can you stand it? You have no freedom at all."

I just smiled and didn't say a word.

They didn't understand.

It wasn't that she was clinging to me—it was that I needed her.

I needed her seven a.m. soy milk, I needed her fingers secretly hooking mine under the desk, I needed her crimson right eye to reflect only my shadow.

That feeling of "being wholeheartedly needed" was like a warm cocoon, making one willingly indulge in it.

After class today, she pulled me to the lakeside. The setting sun dyed her silver hair golden as she suddenly turned and hugged me.

"Aqi."

"Hmm?"

"Today a senior asked if we could do a project together, and I told him I have a boyfriend."

"And then?"

"He said 'it's just academic cooperation,' and I said 'my boyfriend will get jealous.'" She looked up, her eyes shining brightly. "Did I do the right thing?"

I lowered my head and kissed her.

Ripples spread across the surface of the lake, and her eyelashes fluttered gently against my cheek.

"Yes," I said. "Always say that from now on."

...

...

The graduation thesis defense was over.

We had one farewell dinner after another, beer foam mixing with tears.

The class monitor held his guitar and sang "You Who Sat Next to Me," while several girls cried together in a huddle.

Liguang sat beside me, quietly peeling shrimp for me. She peeled the shells off cleanly and neatly stacked the shrimp meat on a white porcelain plate.

"Aqi, Liguang, have you guys decided where you're going to work?" my roommate across the table asked, his tongue thick from drinking.

Before I could answer, Liguang spoke first. "Wherever he goes, I go."

Her voice wasn't loud, but the table instantly fell silent.

She put down the shrimp and took a wet wipe to clean her hands, her movements unhurried. "I've already gotten offers from three companies, all in the city where he submitted his resume."

"Whoa!" Uproarious cheering erupted.

"Liguang, you're going too hard!"

"Fang Qi, you lucky bastard, what did you do to deserve this!"

She just smiled and held my hand under the table.

After the party broke up, we walked slowly along the main road of the campus. The shadows of the plane trees danced, and the streetlights stretched our shadows long and then shortened them again.

"You could actually choose better opportunities," I said to her. "You don't have to follow me."

She stopped walking and turned to face me. Her heterochromatic eyes looked like two warm, lustrous gems in the night.

"Aqi."

"Yeah."

"Do you remember when we were little, you had a fever once, and I stayed in your living room?"

"I remember. You cried even harder than my mom did."

"Back then I thought, if you disappeared, I would go crazy."

She reached out, her fingertips gently touching my face. "So don't ever say things like 'you don't need to follow me' again."

She stood on her tiptoes, pressing her forehead against mine.

"You can't get rid of me. I'm going to follow you for the rest of my life—from birth, to death, and into the next life."

The evening breeze blew past, bringing the scent of distant gardenias.

I held her tight, as if I were embracing the most precious treasure in the world.

...

...

The engagement party.

Both sets of parents sat at the same table, beaming from ear to ear.

My mom held Liguang's hand and said, "I'm leaving this brat in your hands from now on," while her dad patted my shoulder and said, "If you dare to bully my daughter, I'll break your legs."

A very cliché conversation.

But Liguang just kept looking at me and smiling, her amber left eye as gentle as honey, her crimson right eye sparkling.

She had been like this all day, as if she could never get enough of looking at me.

I picked out the rings, simple platinum bands with our initials engraved on the inside. When I put it on her finger, my hands were shaking a little.

She whispered, "Aqi, your heart is beating so fast."

"No kidding," I whispered back. "It's the first time in my life."

"And the last." She picked up where I left off, slipping the other ring onto my finger. "Now that you're wearing my ring, you're mine. Forever."

After making the rounds with toasts, I was a little drunk. Liguang helped me to the lounge and wiped my face with a wet towel.

"Trying to act tough when you can't handle your liquor," she scolded playfully.

"I'm just happy." I grabbed her hand, the ring pressing into my palm. "Liguang, we're getting married."

"Yeah."

"Will there ever be a day when you don't want me anymore?" My drunken words slipped out.

She froze for a moment, then laughed until tears came to her eyes.

"Aqi, I should be the one asking you that." She lowered her head and kissed the ring on my ring finger. "How could I not want you? You're the treasure I spent so, so long trying to hold onto."

I fell asleep after that, my dreams filled with images of her in a wedding dress.

When I woke up, she was right beside me, holding my ringed hand, fast asleep as well. Her long eyelashes drooped down, making her look like an angel.

I gently touched her silver hair.

She didn't wake up, but subconsciously nuzzled into my embrace, murmuring, "Aqi..."

...

...

The wedding.

We held both a traditional Chinese and a Western ceremony, which left everyone completely exhausted.

But seeing her in both her traditional bridal gown and her white wedding dress made me feel like it was all worth it.

During the morning door games, she sat on the bridal bed strewn with red dates and peanuts, wearing a phoenix coronet and robes of rank, her face hidden beneath a red veil. I lifted it with a steelyard, and as her eyes met mine, she pressed her lips together and smiled.

Her amber left eye was filled with shyness, but her crimson right eye shone with a burning intensity—it was a nearly paranoid joy that only I could understand.

Her hands shook during the tea ceremony, spilling a little of the tea. My mom smiled and told her not to be nervous, but she whispered to me, "I'm not nervous, I'm just too happy."

In the afternoon, she changed into her wedding dress.

It was pure white satin, with a long veil trailing behind her. As she walked toward me arm in arm with her father, the sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows just right, giving her a holy, golden halo.

The officiant asked, "Do you take her to be your wife, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

I said, "I do."

When it was Liguang's turn, she answered quickly and eagerly, "I do!" Then, as if realizing something, her face turned bright red. The guests broke into good-natured laughter.

We exchanged rings and kissed. Her lips were slightly cool, carrying the sweetness of strawberry-flavored lipstick.

Between breaths during the kiss, I heard her whisper, "Aqi, we're together forever now."

Forever.

During the evening banquet toasts, she covered for me a lot again. When we finally returned to our bridal chamber, we both collapsed on the bed in exhaustion.

The bright red bridal quilt made her skin look even paler. She turned on her side to look at me, her fingers twirling a lock of my hair.

"Aqi."

"Hmm?"

"Today feels like a dream."

"Is it a good dream?"

"The best dream." She snuggled into my arms. "So when I wake up tomorrow, you have to be right by my side."

I held her tight, catching the faint scent in her hair—it was still strawberry, unchanged since we were kids.

The moonlight outside the window was beautiful.

I thought to myself, this is probably what the rest of my life will be like.

Growing old with her, bickering, having kids, and finally being buried under the same tombstone.

It's pretty good.

Really pretty good.