Waterbound Love - Chapter 54

Du Bai walked through the streets and alleys of Japan, not in search of picturesque scenes or serendipitous encounters. Perhaps she was just looking for a quiet place where she could pause and lose herself in admiration.

Yet, she found neither people nor landscapes. Perhaps the greatest sorrow comes from a dead heart. Shao would call every now and then, but never mentioned Shen Yan. Initially, their conversations were casual, likely just to ensure her safety, Du Bai understood-this must have been orchestrated by Shen Yan. Du Bai did not inquire about their arrangements nor did she try to expose them; she was no longer naively young, lacking the energy to guess others’ thoughts and beat around the bush.

As time went on, Shao’s calls mostly became nudges for her to return. Du Bai could sense a slight urgency in her tone, which made her procrastinate further, unwilling to think or face the reality. Shao never asked about her itinerary, which allowed Du Bai to maintain a free-spirited demeanor.

After hanging up with Shao just now, the room fell silent, and loneliness crept in. She had intended to lazily sprawl out on the bed for a good night’s sleep, but sleep eluded her. She grabbed a glass of wine and walked barefoot to the hotel balcony.

Du Bai didn’t know how much she had drunk, but her consciousness remained embarrassingly clear. Her mind felt dizzy, and everything around seemed to slow down. It felt like she was stepping on soft clouds, and her mind went blank.

Standing on the balcony, the halos of light below seemed to freeze, the uniform frequency of the lights brought no visual flow. It seemed that even the solidified things were floating, but they were too far to be seen. Her bones shivered as she turned to leave. If there is pain, even the most beautiful scenery cannot hold one’s interest. Protecting oneself is an innate belief. Thoughts once memorized by heart become estranged over time; picking them up again might feel awkward at first, but the sentiment remains, like missing someone. Give me the quiet of a blooming flower, let me cleanse myself in the memories. When the flowers bloom and the leaves fall, the dust settles, and I will no longer think of you, is that alright? Would you want that?

The morning sun scorched Du Bai awake; she shielded her eyes with her hand, peering through the gaps at the scenery, yet she couldn’t see clearly. She shook her head and got up from the ground. It seemed she hadn’t woken this early in four months.

Four months had passed, living a familiar life in a strange land, as mundane as any other day. Ultimately, she found nothing.

Four months, and it was time to leave. It seemed her waiting had withered away with the changing colors of the ginkgo leaves, even though the ginkgo had not yet withered, everything had lost its meaning.

Du Bai couldn’t quite understand what she was waiting for. Was it just a fleeting impression?

Du Bai packed her bags and went to the airport, only to discover her passport had vanished. After reporting it to the police, Du Bai couldn’t find any substantial resolution between the two countries’ internal affairs; this was inevitable. The Japanese police left her a phone number with some empathetic words Du Bai barely understood, ending with “We’ll contact you if there’s any news,” sending her off in a diplomatic manner. Du Bai couldn’t help but feel dejected, thinking, by the time you have news, I could have gotten a dozen new passports.