As dusk unfurls, the enchantment truly awakens. One by one, the lights from the stilt houses begin to gleam, initially as mere scattered sparks, then multiplying swiftly.
Soon, the entire village blazes with a sea of countless warm lights, crafting a stunning spectacle against the backdrop of the darkening mountains.
Xingxing mused, "The sight of the illuminated village is like a starry sky fallen to earth, with the river mirroring the twinkling lights like a dream."
She paused, lost in thought.
"...Beautiful..." Xingxing whispered, her gaze fixed on the view below.
Hearing xingxing, Ah-Xiao couldn't help but smile with relief.
"Xingxing... I'm sorry about this morning," Ah-Xiao said softly.
"...You did nothing wrong," she replied quietly. "Rather, our lives exist in different worlds." A sarcastic smile touched Xingxing lips, yet her eyes betrayed a deep sadness. "I was jealous, actually."
"My mother doesn't want me to attend school, fearing something might happen to me there. At first, I dismissed it as mere delusion, but her repeated anxieties silenced my questions." Xingxing's voice was low, tinged with hesitation.
Ah-Xiao listened to her story, realizing the profound differences in their lives.
"—Even so, I love my mother. I've come to think... perhaps this is my destiny." Xingxing tone was mournful, on the verge of tears.
Ah-Xiao couldn't help but ponder the unfairness of it all—children deserved love and the right to shape their own futures.
"Xingxing, don't think like that. My father always says, 'Stars map our paths at birth, but we carve our roads through the dirt. When walls rise tall, or skies turn gray, where paths vanish—build your own way.'"
"...paths vanish...build your own way..." she repeated, as if struck by a sudden realization.
"I understand now, Ah-Xiao," xingxing said, her smile returning, bright and genuine.
"That's more like it!" he exclaimed. "Ah! Right, I almost forgot—here." Ah-Xiao handed her a gift he had bought earlier.
It was a bracelet with a sliding knot, half red and half black. The red and black strands intertwined in the center, forming a decorative knot that caught the eye.
"The craftsman said he made it when he was a child. Though no one ever bought it, he said it symbolizes friendship. Look..." He pointed to his right ankle, where he wore a matching bracelet. "It's a pair. He said you can't find these anywhere else, since he made them himself and has long forgotten how."
"It's lovely..." Xingxing said, fastening it around her left ankle, her smile widening.
"From now on, this marks our friendship. Even when we're apart, we'll recognize each other because of this, so don't you dare remove it, understand?" Ah-Xiao said with a commanding tone and smiling.
She nodded, and replied, "Thank you, Ah-Xiao."
"Shall we head back, then?" Ah-Xiao murmured, his voice a gentle invitation as he stood and offered her his hand, his eyes holding a silent promise of shared moments under the starlit sky.
She met his offered hand with a smile, a silent promise passing between them. Rising, she breathed, "Let's go," the words carrying a weight of unspoken emotion, a shared resolve against the encroaching darkness.
"Ah-Xiao, Xingxing, it's late—come inside. Ah-Xiao, your father is home." Aunt Jìngyí called as they arrived. Ah-Xiao squeezed her hand, smiled, and led her into the house.
Laughter greeted them. A man who shared Ah-Xiao's features—the same warm smile and mischievous glint in his eyes—his father, no doubt, was among those laughing.
"Is this your girlfriend, Ah-Xiao? Aww!"
"DAD...!" Ah-Xiao groaned, mortified, wishing the floor would swallow him whole.
Aunt Jìngyí's hand flew out, a swift, playful rebuke that cut short his jesting words, while Ah-Xiao choked out an embarrassed denial. The ghost of their first meeting flickered in her memory—his audacious declaration of her as his fiancee. 'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree', she mused, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes despite the awkwardness.
"Like father, like son, indeed." Grandpa Lin said, shaking his head.
Ah-Xiao's face was flushed, his ears red. It was, undeniably, cute.
"Dad, this is my friend Yún Xīngyuè. We're the same age. Xingxing, this is my dad," Ah-Xiao said, introducing them.
"Hello, Sir... Please, just call me Xingxing, that's what everyone calls me," she said politely.
"You're too polite, Xingxing. Just call me Uncle Mù from now on, okay?"
"Okay," she said, thinking, 'His parents are nice.'
The aroma of the dinner mingled with peals of laughter as Uncle Mù recounted his escapades in Beijing, each story a vibrant brush stroke on the canvas of a life so unlike her own muted existence.
Aunt Mù mentioned Ah-Xiao's talent for music and art, inherited from his father. Initially skeptical, she was soon convinced as Ah-Xiao picked up his guitar and sang a song, its name "Stars in Our Hearts" a melody that seemed to pluck at the very strings of her heart. As his father's voice harmonized with his, the room filled with a warmth that both comforted and stung, especially knowing Uncle Mù had crafted such a heartfelt song.
Soon, the room was alive with voices, some ringing with genuine joy, others playfully missing notes, yet all united in a chorus of belonging. Xingxing watched, her smile a delicate facade over a heart craving such unburdened happiness, and finally, she surrendered to the moment, letting the music envelop her, a poignant reminder of what she had always yearned for.
A warmth spread through me, a sense of belonging so profound it brought tears to my eyes. I wanted to stay, to be part of this forever. But my mother's shadow loomed, a constant reminder.....'No, Xingxing, don't get carried away. Focus on right now.' I tried to ground myself, to bury the yearning deep inside.