CITM - 13

Ye Yun stayed in her room. About the time Bai Wenfu should have reached the newsstand, she finally stood up and carefully opened her door.

The living room lights were off. She tiptoed out, quietly shutting the door behind her and creeping toward the front door, each step feeling like it was landing on her heart. Her nervous heartbeat quickened with every move until she finally stepped outside.

The wind in the corridor blew against her face. She didn’t feel cold at all; instead, it was as if her blood was silently burning. A scorching energy began to spread through her. She picked up her pace, as though something terrifying was chasing her from behind.

At twenty years old, in the prime of youth, she had been forced into the shackles of fate. Still naive about marriage and love, she was nonetheless expected to dwell endlessly in mourning over an accident.

She and Wen Bin had only known each other for a few days—hardly enough time to get acquainted, much less build a deep emotional connection. Yet societal expectations forced her to play the role of a grieving widow.

She dashed down the stairs in the dark. With each level she descended, it felt like she shed another layer of gloom. Ye Yun had never gone out at night before—not even back in her hometown. There wasn’t much nightlife in the countryside; after dinner, people usually went to bed early. Her mother always told them, Girls shouldn’t go out at night. It’s not good for their reputation.

Ye Yun had grown up in such an environment. Sneaking out at night behind Tong Mingfang’s back was probably the wildest thing she’d ever done. Fear and adrenaline drove her to move faster, nearly breaking into a run.

She didn’t even realize it herself, but during the walk to the newsstand, her eyes regained a spark of life, and a faint smile crept onto her face. It wasn’t until she saw Bai Wenfu’s figure and ran up to him that she became aware of her expression and quickly reined it in.

Bai Wenfu was sitting on his bicycle, quietly observing the subtle shift on her face. He said to her, “Hop on.”

This time, Ye Yun was wearing pants, so she didn’t have to sit sideways. She mounted the bike more easily than last time and quickly adjusted herself, gripping the frame. The night wind brushed her cheeks, and the street faded into the distance behind them. The wind-swept dead leaves, the gaudy posters outside the theater, the stray dog that darted out from an alley—all of it seemed lovely in Ye Yun’s eyes.

After turning a corner, they reached a straight path lined with swaying red cedars, with not a soul in sight. Bai Wenfu turned his head slightly and asked, “Got a good grip?”

Ye Yun replied, “I’ve got it.”

No sooner had she said that than Bai Wenfu picked up speed. Ye Yun felt her heart leap into the air. The red cedars flew by, and the rustling leaves and rushing wind filled her ears, blocking out the noise of the world. All that was left was the thrill and excitement flooding her chest.

Ye Yun couldn’t help but shout, “I’m about to fall off!”

“You won’t fall. I’m about to go faster—hold on tight.”

Ye Yun exclaimed, “That wasn’t fast already?!”

“Not fast enough.”

Bai Wenfu launched into a full sprint, charging down the path with Ye Yun in tow. The speed and her pounding heart raced forward together. Ye Yun felt like her soul had left her body.

He asked, “Still scared?”

Ye Yun’s voice trembled. “Yes.”

“Don’t hold it in if you are.”

Ye Yun had always buried her fears deep inside. She didn’t know how to let them out—especially not in public.

But what happened next gave her no time to think. In an instant, she felt Bai Wenfu suddenly stop pedaling. At the same time, the bicycle seemed to lose control and break free of all restraints.

Before she could react, a scream burst from her throat. The downhill slope lasted who-knew-how-long, and she screamed the entire way. Bai Wenfu, worried she might actually be scared out of her wits, eventually hit the brakes.

Ye Yun got off the bike and leaned against a red cedar, gasping for breath. Bai Wenfu stood nearby with one leg on the ground, looking at her with a sideways glance. “Was it fun?”

Ye Yun lifted her head and met his meaningful gaze, half-suspecting he was laughing at her. As her breathing steadied and she straightened up, a rush of relief colored her cheeks a vibrant red.

Trying to sound mature, she said, “It was fun, sure—but let’s not do that again.”

Bai Wenfu rested his hands on the handlebars, a rare relaxed expression softening his eyes.

Still recovering from the scare, Ye Yun asked, “Is your leg okay?”

Bai Wenfu straightened and stepped off the bike. “Not really. That’s why you’re riding now.”

Ye Yun said in surprise, “Me? No way. I don’t know how!”

Bai Wenfu responded casually, “You won’t know unless you try. Come here.”

Ye Yun hesitated for a moment but found herself walking over as if drawn by some invisible force. Bai Wenfu held the handlebars with one hand and gestured for her to move to the front.

“Know what to do first?”

Ye Yun looked up at him and shook her head.

Bai Wenfu solemnly said, “You need to get on first.”

“...”

As she grabbed the handlebars, Bai Wenfu let go. But the frame of a man’s bicycle was too tall for Ye Yun. She tried to swing her leg over, but the seat was too high—her feet couldn’t touch the ground. As soon as she was off balance, the bike tipped over. She broke into a cold sweat from the scare.

Fortunately, Bai Wenfu hadn’t stepped away. With quick reflexes, he grabbed the handlebars and pulled her and the bike upright again.

Ye Yun was pale with fright and didn’t dare try again.

This time, Bai Wenfu didn’t let go. One hand steadying the handlebars and the other holding the back rack, he told her, “Go ahead. I won’t let you fall.”

Ye Yun had just decided to give up, but hearing his words gave her a sudden surge of courage.

She tried again to mount the seat. Just like before, her feet couldn’t reach the ground, but with Bai Wenfu holding the bike steady, she wasn’t wobbling all over the place.

Awkwardly, Ye Yun found herself stuck on the bike, her bulky pants limiting her movement. She looked up at Bai Wenfu in distress—just in time to feel a strong hand at her waist lifting her onto the seat. Even through thick fabric, she could feel the surprising strength in his arms. A blush flashed across her cheeks, quickly replaced by the rush of actually sitting on the bike.

Now truly seated, she felt like she was floating in the air—more unsteady and panicked than ever.

She nervously asked Bai Wenfu, “What do I do next?”

“Just hold on tight and pedal. The bike will start moving.”

Ye Yun looked down to find the pedals, but didn’t forget to remind him, “Don’t let go.”

Once both her feet were on the pedals, she repeated, “Seriously, don’t let go.”

“If I don’t let go, how is that riding a bike?” he replied.

Ye Yun got scared and was about to get off, but Bai Wenfu smiled and said, “Okay, I won’t let go.”

Ye Yun slowly pressed down on the pedals, and the bike began to move forward at a very slow pace. She kept her head down, staring at the turning wheels.

Bai Wenfu said leisurely, “Who rides a bike without looking at the road? I’m letting go now.”

Ye Yun immediately looked up. “No! You promised not to let go!”

“Did I?” His tone was teasing, half serious and half joking.

Ye Yun glanced at him anxiously, but he urged her, “Faster. At this speed, you won’t even squash an ant.”

Ye Yun muttered under her breath, “Can you even keep up if I go faster?”

Bai Wenfu gave a soft laugh. “Try me.”

Ye Yun began pedaling harder. She had thought it would be easy — after all, if Bai Wenfu could ride fast with an injured leg, how hard could it be? But once she was actually doing it, she realized it was anything but easy. After just a short time, she felt like she was about to stand up from the exertion, all her body’s weight pressing down on the pedals.

Though it looked like a struggle, the bike really was moving, and slowly she found a subtle sense of balance. As she gained speed, she thought Bai Wenfu would let go, but surprisingly, though he kept teasing her about it, he never actually did.

Worried about his leg, Ye Yun asked how to stop. Bai Wenfu taught her how to brake, and the bike gradually came to a halt.

He said nonchalantly, “For your first time, you did pretty well.”

Just moments ago he’d complained she was too slow, but now he didn’t hold back on the praise. At her age, Ye Yun still had a childlike heart — finally trying something she’d always dreamed of doing, she was already excited, and the praise just made her beam. A bright smile spread across her face, her features suddenly vivid and glowing.

But then, she suddenly remembered what Tong Mingfang had said: “Wen Bin is gone, and you don’t even seem to care?”

Panic flickered in Ye Yun’s expression. She lowered her head and wiped away all signs of emotion. The light on her face was forcibly dimmed in an instant.

Bai Wenfu saw this and sighed lightly. “If you want to smile, just smile. There’s no need to hide anything in front of me.”

He had her get back on the bike, and they resumed riding down the path, this time at a slower pace. After his words, Ye Yun felt a little lighter, at least when she was around him — the burden in her heart not quite as heavy.

They turned onto the main road. It was quiet at night, few people around. Passing a large gate, Ye Yun asked, “What’s that place?”

“Law and Politics University.”

It was the first time Ye Yun had seen a university campus. Even after they passed it, she kept looking back.

Bai Wenfu glanced at her and turned the bike around, heading back toward the university gate.

Ye Yun asked in surprise, “Where are we going?”

“Didn’t you want to see it? Let’s go in and take a look.”

Ye Yun grew nervous. “But we’re not students. Isn’t this wrong? Let’s not.”

Bai Wenfu responded with a non sequitur: “Do I look old to you?”

What kind of question was that? Ye Yun couldn’t wrap her head around it and actually gave it some thought. Many men showed their age easily, but Bai Wenfu wasn’t one of them. His mysterious and unreadable aura made him hard to place. If she hadn’t asked Wen Bin before, she wouldn’t have been able to guess his exact age. But one thing was certain — he definitely didn’t look old. In fact, he was even more upright and sharp than many men in their early twenties.

“No,” Ye Yun answered.

“Then it’s fine. The students here are about your age, and I don’t look old. If you don’t say anything, and I don’t say anything, who would know we’re not students?”

Ye Yun didn’t expect him to have a line waiting for her, especially after she had so seriously evaluated his appearance in her head.

The bike rolled through the campus gate, and Ye Yun’s palms started to sweat from nerves, while Bai Wenfu remained completely at ease.

On the plaza in front of a building, music was playing. Ye Yun asked, “What’s that sound?”

“Guitar. Let’s go check it out.”

Bai Wenfu parked the bike under a banyan tree near the plaza. In the distance, a group of university students sat gathered together. In recent years, Hong Kong and Taiwanese music had become increasingly influential in the mainland and was widely embraced by students. A male student was playing guitar and singing a recently popular Cantonese song. His pronunciation was awkward and his tone too forced. Bai Wenfu couldn’t help but chuckle, but Ye Yun couldn’t tell — she was simply intrigued by something so fresh and novel.

A few girls were sitting nearby, clapping along as the boy sang. Their faces were full of bright, carefree smiles. The light, relaxed atmosphere was infectious.

They were all around her age, yet they got to be on a university campus, freely enjoying their youth, stepping into a bright future.

Ye Yun, on the other hand, had stopped school after middle school. Her family had her take care of her younger siblings. Most girls in her village lived like this. She’d never seen the world outside before and had never known that girls her age could live like that.

She clenched her left hand over her right wrist in front of her, gripping tightly. Her eyes shimmered faintly with emotion. Among these peers, she felt a deep sense of inferiority.

Bai Wenfu glanced at her whitened knuckles and deliberately asked, “Sounds good? You look mesmerized.”

Ye Yun nodded. “It’s nice. What language is he singing?”

Bai Wenfu chuckled quietly. Not wanting her to form any wrong impression about the pronunciation of Cantonese, he said, “It’s an original song. Don’t bother listening.”

He turned and led her away. Even after they had walked quite far, Ye Yun was still marveling, “College students are amazing — they can even make up their own language.”

Bai Wenfu responded with a faint “Mhm,” the corners of his mouth curving slightly.