Winter Time Rendering

Song’s grand lecture continued:

"So they’re easy to satisfy. Or maybe, they’re plenty shrewd to begin with, but then they get swept up in the heat of the moment and throw all that to the wind. Whether you have money, whether you’re successful—none of it matters..."

’Gu Qiuyan definitely doesn’t care if other people have money; her own family has plenty,’ Zhang Shutong thought. But it was obvious Song was talking about his own ex-girlfriend. Zhang Shutong was actually quite curious about his romantic history and didn’t mind listening.

"That’s how it was with my girlfriend and me. When we met, we weren’t much older than you are now. Seventeen, eighteen, maybe nineteen. We were so broke that when we went to the movies, we’d only buy one ticket. I’d have her run in first. Then, a few minutes after it started, I’d hand the old man at the door a cigarette, change into a security guard’s uniform, and sneak in. And you know how we drank? Even Jianlibao was a luxury. Back then, they sold malted milk powder by the scoop. I’d fill up a thermos at home, and I’d drink from the bottle while she drank from the cap. We’d even toast each other as we drank. You think girls don’t find that embarrassing? They do. But they’re willing."

With Song going on and on about women, Zhang Shutong suddenly found the scene familiar. It was just like Qingyi, except that guy went on and on about men. ’Maybe if Qingyi goes down the wrong path one day, he’ll end up just like Song,’ he thought.

"That’s why I say you have to pursue a girl. If you don’t chase her, how will she ever know how you feel? And it all comes down to initial attraction. If she likes what she sees, she likes what she sees. If she doesn’t, she doesn’t. Once that first impression is set, nothing you do later can change it."

Song seemed to be getting into it. He lit another cigarette, talking while fiddling with the frog on the center console. He hummed smugly. "You all probably think your teacher is a complete slob now, but let me tell you, I was a handsome, dapper guy back in my day. I had a slicked-back Heavenly King haircut, my leather shoes were polished to a shine, and I’d ride my motorcycle to the dance hall with my beloved girl on the back. Every time we got off, she’d smooth out my hair after the wind had messed it up. Was it because she was so gentle? Wrong again. The truth is, she was obsessed with keeping up appearances. That’s why your old teacher was kept on such a tight leash back then. Of course, I’ve since gone completely off the rails again."

Zhang Shutong listened with interest at first, but then he looked at Song in his wrinkled white shirt, his hairy arms exposed. He was a man who had fallen on hard times. ’It seems he and his ex-girlfriend lost their battle against life in the end. Even a naive girl will one day become a shrewd woman.’

But at this rate, they’d be talking until the wee hours of the morning. The atmosphere was surprisingly romantic, with the crisp sound of raindrops hitting the car’s metal roof, the glowing ember of a cigarette in the darkness, and the faint wisp of smoke that drifted away, only to be washed into nothing by the rain.

But this clearly wasn’t the time for a heart-to-heart. Zhang Shutong decided to deliberately provoke him a little.

"So where is your wife now?"

Zhang Shutong asked with feigned innocence, flicking the frog with his finger as he did. The Bulbasaur, with its wide-open mouth, seemed to be directing a silent sneer at the man in the driver’s seat. A Greninja or a Pikachu could never achieve that effect; in a way, he’d really bought the right one.

But as it "laughed," the smile on Song Nanshan’s face froze.

His enthusiasm gone, he tossed the cigarette butt to the ground, where it was instantly extinguished. Song Nanshan silently rolled up the window.

’Sorry,’ Zhang Shutong thought. ’When I’m done with this whole mess, I’ll buy some beer. We can sit down, teacher and student, and I’ll listen to you talk all night.’ He then fastened his seatbelt and waited for Song to start the car.

But the car didn’t start. Song Nanshan just stared at the frog for a long moment before he spoke.

"She passed away."

Zhang Shutong’s hand, still on his seatbelt, froze. He wanted to laugh and say, ’Come on, Song, be a bigger person. Don’t go around cursing the girl just because you broke up. That’s a scummy thing to do...’ But he knew that wasn’t it. In the darkness, he could see the man’s stoic, expressionless face, and his voice was devoid of emotion when he spoke:

"It was the day we bought this frog. I didn’t take her home that night. She was hit by a car. By the time I found out the next day... you can probably guess the rest.

"That’s why I’m telling you, when you have the power to hold on to something, don’t let it go. You’ll regret it one day."

He opened his mouth as if to say more, but no words came out. Instead, he twisted the knob on the radio. The silver faceplate of the radio was peeling, and it was still playing the CD Gu Qiuyan had picked out. They had no idea how long they’d been talking—long enough for the song to have looped back to the beginning. It was "Ruyan" then, and it was "Ruyan" now.

Amidst the crisp patter of the rain, Zhang Shutong could make out the lyrics:

That year when I was seven, I caught a cicada;

And thought I could hold on to summer;

That year when I was seventeen;

I kissed his face;

And thought I could be with her forever...

They were listening to a summer song on a rainy winter night.

"Damn it, what stupid lyrics. As if catching a cicada means you can hold on to summer. What a load of crap." Song let out a short laugh, then turned off the radio and turned the key in the ignition. The small car’s engine, old as it was, shuddered violently, just as the aged Bulbasaur bobblehead trembled along with it. The man flicked the frog listlessly. "She’s gone. Now I’m just left with you, you ugly thing."

But the frog seemed to defy him, always stubbornly returning to its original position after a few wobbles. Zhang Shutong looked at the yellow-eyed, knock-off Bulbasaur, wondering just how many years it had sat here alone. From his first year of middle school to his fourth year would be at least four years. Or had it been even longer?

The car’s interior was cracked and worn, yet the bobblehead was the newest, most vibrant object inside—even more vibrant than the man sitting beside it. But Song Nanshan didn’t drive off just yet. Instead, he suddenly spoke again.

"Shutong, this actually isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.

"It’s not really appropriate for me to tell you this. It’s another family’s private matter. Technically, as a teacher, it’s unethical for me to be saying this, but I think you’d better know. When I called Qiumian’s father this afternoon, I heard a woman’s voice in the background calling him ’darling.’

"Who do you think that was? Why do you think her father went off-island? And do you think Gu Qiuyan knows?"

His questions hit like a volley of bullets, and the silence inside the Fox was too heavy for even the rain to conceal.

Then, Song Nanshan lit a cigarette, breaking the silence.

"Qiumian’s mother passed away a long time ago."

As smoke gradually filled the car, Zhang Shutong suddenly understood why she had never seen the rainbow cotton candy under the Ferris wheel. He turned to look at the car window. The ghostly face he had drawn was already faint. Zhang Shutong wiped it away, but the world outside was still pitch black, and he couldn’t see a thing.

That was it. They were on a small island, and this was the most remote part of it. The four-story villa might be brilliantly lit, but if you looked out through its windows, you would never see the glowing silhouette of the Ferris wheel.

’It must be so lonely,’ he thought.

...

"Alright, now you know what you need to know. What you do from here on is up to you."

Song Nanshan shook his head and opened the car door.

"I’m going to go take a piss. You wait here. After we eat, we’ll head to the commercial district. Your old teacher will join you young folks to play the hero and save the damsel in distress for once..."

Zhang Shutong sat there silently and just nodded to show he’d heard.

But unexpectedly, it was a long time before Song Nanshan returned, and his expression was grim.

"I just took a look at her backyard. I think something has really happened..."