She used to wonder why holding hands carried such deep significance in Chinese, symbolizing a bond so strong that it’s expressed with the phrase "to hold hands and grow old together."
Now, she began to understand. When he held her hand, she felt an extraordinary sense of security.
She stood quietly by his side, sneaking glances at his profile.
She started by looking at his nose. His nose bridge was straight, even more so from the side. Then she looked at his cupid’s bow. It’s said that people with a pronounced cupid’s bow have the most attractive lips when they’re slightly parted, but he often kept his mouth closed, with little expression and even fewer words.
Next, she looked at his jawline and Adam’s apple.
Sheng Jingchu turned his head to look at her, "Little Cao once said that when a woman stares intently at a man, it’s almost always because she’s fallen for him."
Cheng Liao smiled sweetly, "That’s not entirely true. What if the man just has a grain of rice stuck on his face?"
She flipped his hand over to look at his palm lines. His line of intellect was long, extending all the way to the base of his pinky.
"Judging by your palm, you’re a very focused person, not easily influenced by your environment." She then checked his life line, "And you’ll live a long life."
Finally, she looked at his marriage line, "Your marriage line extends to the base of your index finger, which means you value deep emotional connections."
As she spoke, her index finger traced the lines on his palm. Sheng Jingchu suppressed the ticklish sensation in his palm, watching her as she kept her head lowered, her earlobes full and rounded.
Cheng Liao finished with a summary, "So, you’re someone with a sharp mind, a long life, and a happy marriage."
She had been rambling, but he seemed genuinely interested and began to examine her palm lines.
Cheng Liao instructed him, "Men on the left, women on the right—you should look at my right hand."
"See my line of intellect? It has branches, which means I’m easily distracted. But my life line is long, and my marriage line is decent."
He summarized with a smile, "So we can grow old together."
Cheng Liao laughed, her nose crinkling with fine wrinkles.
"If you look at it that way, everyone in the world can grow old together."
But he didn’t care about everyone in the world—he only cared about him and her.
He used to think life was too long, that this endless, dull existence was unbearably lonely. As an only child, he lost his parents at a young age and spent several years drifting among relatives before meeting his teacher.
Yet, he still felt lonely. In the vast night, he often stood by the window, watching the lights in countless homes, each with its own story, but he could only be a spectator.
There are many things in this world that harden a person’s heart, but fortunately, there’s someone who can make it soft again.
He wasn’t religious, but standing under the temple eaves, he found himself wishing that Buddha would allow his happiness to last a little longer. And if that wasn’t possible, he would rather his life end at the happiest moment.
Cheng Liao asked him, "You once asked about my nickname. What about yours? Do you have one? I’ve heard people call you Jingchu."
For the first time, he seemed a bit embarrassed.
Cheng Liao poked his side, "Come on, tell me!"
He dodged slightly, "My nickname is Yuanyuan."
"Yuanyuan?" Cheng Liao wasn’t sure which characters it was, so she guessed, "Were you chubby as a kid?"
Sheng Jingchu shook his head, "I was born on the first day of the first month, so that’s why they called me Yuanyuan."
"My parents gave me a different name; it’s not the one I use now.
"My teacher changed it because he thought my old name didn’t sound like a Go master’s. But even my teacher was casual about it. He flipped through The Annals of Chinese History, stopped at the list of dynasties, and told me to pick a number. He counted down the list and landed on the era name ‘Jingchu.’ Little Cao’s name wasn’t always Cao Xihe either—his name was also picked from an era name."
Cheng Liao laughed, "Teacher Jie really picked names haphazardly. What if Cao Xihe and you had picked the same number?"
Sheng Jingchu paused, "Then, I suppose we’d both be called Jingchu."
Cheng Liao felt a bit uneasy—after all, not all ancient Chinese era names were pleasant. Some emperors had peculiar ideas, like the Northern Wei’s era name "Shen Gui" (Divine Tortoise) and the Northern Zhou’s "Da Xiang" (Great Elephant).
The more she thought about it, the more amusing it became. Sheng Jingchu noticed that she was imagining something odd again but didn’t ask, waiting for her to finish laughing.
She asked him, "What name did your parents give you?"
He gestured for her to hold out her hand and carefully traced the characters in her palm.
"Yu Hang."
"Da Yu controlled the floods, and my family lived by the canal. The name is a homophone for Yuhang, the old name for Hangzhou."
Cheng Liao thought his parents probably had a strong sense of destiny and responsibility, so they gave him a name that would always remind him of where he was born, where he grew up, and where he would return.
The rain showed no signs of stopping, and Cheng Liao wasn’t in a hurry to leave. She stretched out her hand to catch some raindrops, and with a mischievous glint in her eye, she flicked the water onto Sheng Jingchu.
Sheng Jingchu shook his head with a smile and extended his hands to catch some rain as well. Soon, he had a handful of water. Cheng Liao thought he was going to splash her and quickly stepped aside.
He glanced at the water in his hands and softly said, "Huh?"
Cheng Liao, unable to resist her curiosity, moved closer and asked, "What is it?"
He looked more closely and said, "There’s a little fish."
At first, Cheng Liao didn’t believe him, "How could that be? Did it fall from the sky?"
But seeing his serious expression, she realized he wasn’t joking and leaned in to peer at his hands, "Where? Where?"
Sheng Jingchu playfully tossed the water away. Most of it had already spilled out to avoid drenching her.
Cheng Liao dodged quickly but still got a bit wet. She pretended to get angry but couldn’t help laughing.
As the sky grew darker, the other people taking shelter from the rain grew impatient and dashed out, braving the downpour.
Cheng Liao began to daydream again.
"In weather like this, I should be lounging in a chair with a book. Not a Chinese one, though—I’d get too absorbed in it. An English book would be better, something I could daydream over while reading. And there should be a few plates beside me—one with chestnut cakes, another with pineapple pastries, one with dried plums, and the last with caramelized sunflower seeds."
After finishing, she smacked her lips in satisfaction.
Sheng Jingchu knew what this meant—she was hungry.
He still had a piece of candy in his pocket. He unwrapped it and offered it to her.
She took a bite from his hand, slowly drawing the candy into her mouth with her tongue, almost drooling in the process.
She didn’t have a particular sweet tooth, but every time she ate this candy, she felt especially satisfied.
It was sweet, but not cloying, with a hint of bitterness.
Sheng Jingchu asked her, "Do you know what kind of ‘grapefruit’ this is?"
She licked her lips and smiled like a mischievous little mouse that had just stolen some oil.
"It’s ‘fall in love with you.’"
They waited a while longer, but the rain showed no signs of stopping. Cheng Liao began to worry, "It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon." She tested the intensity of the rain, "Should we make a run for it?"
After all, whether they ran or not, they’d be soaked through either way.
"Maybe we should ask Xiao Qi to come pick us up."
"That would be too much trouble. The rain is so heavy, and the roads must be terribly congested."
She glanced at a spiderweb hanging from the eaves and shrank back.
Sheng Jingchu pointed to a corner of the wall, "Spider!"
"Where? Where?" Cheng Liao jumped up, clinging to Sheng Jingchu, "Is it still there?"
Her position was quite awkward—both hands wrapped tightly around Sheng Jingchu’s neck, her eyes wide with fear, and her legs clamped around his waist like a suction cup, holding on for dear life.
Sheng Jingchu felt a bit helpless. He gently patted her back, comforting her, "It’s okay, I was just kidding, there’s no spider."
"How do I know you’re not lying now?" Cheng Liao realized she’d been tricked but stubbornly refused to admit it, feeling embarrassed by her reaction. "What if I get down and you say there’s a spider again?"
The two of them were at a stalemate, one trying to reassure, the other refusing to let go. Just then, a loud voice boomed through the rain.
"What are you two doing?"
They turned to see Cheng Liao’s father standing there with a flashlight, holding an umbrella, his face dark with anger.
Cheng Liao quickly slid off Sheng Jingchu and stood obediently by his side.
Sheng Jingchu felt even more awkward, as if he had been caught seducing an underage girl by her parents.
Although the situation wasn’t what Cheng Liao’s father thought, Sheng Jingchu still felt the need to apologize.
"Uncle…"
Cheng Liao quietly grabbed his hand to stop him, "Hey, Dad."
"Shut up!"
Neither of them knew who Cheng Liao’s father was telling to be quiet, so they both closed their mouths.
Cheng Liao’s father walked over and stared intently at Sheng Jingchu.
He was half a head shorter than Sheng Jingchu, so he had to look up to see his face clearly. With a furrowed brow, he handed the umbrella to Cheng Liao, then gripped Sheng Jingchu’s shoulders tightly, squeezing his way down his arms.
The surroundings were silent except for the sound of rain. Cheng Liao knew how strong her father’s hands were from his years as a chef and held her breath for Sheng Jingchu.
It wasn’t until he reached Sheng Jingchu’s wrists that her father finally let go and sighed.
He turned to glare at his daughter, "You’re as heavy as a stone weight! What if you hurt our Jingchu?"
Then, smiling, he patted Sheng Jingchu on the shoulder, "Jingchu, are you alright?"
Cheng Liao’s face turned black with embarrassment—could her dad be any more obvious?
Sheng Jingchu breathed a quiet sigh of relief and defended Cheng Liao, "She’s not heavy."
Cheng Liao’s father scolded her, "You silly girl, why was your phone off when I called? If it weren’t for Xu Chi asking me if you’d made it home, I wouldn’t have known you were stuck in the rain."
Cheng Liao pulled out her phone and saw it was dead.
She felt guilty but couldn’t resist retorting, "How was I supposed to know you’d come to get me? When I was a kid, I always thought you’d come pick me up in the rain, but I waited until dark, and no one came. I had to walk home in the rain, and you were in bed, asking me, ‘Oh, did it rain?’"
Her father was exasperated at her bringing up old mistakes, "People need to have a conscience. Didn’t I pick you up once later?"
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