Water Lily

13

The banquet hall of the Financial Center blazed with lights on this late autumn evening. Light refracted by the crystal chandelier fell on Lin Yan’s sharp dark gray suit. He clutched the academic project investment proposal in his hand, his fingertips slightly warm with anticipation—this was the "rural economic digitalization" project he led, in need of crucial funding support. Tonight’s reception gathered numerous investors, including the rumored representative of the Shen Group, who had just returned from London and dabbled in cultural and creative as well as tech investments.

Song Xiaoran stood beside him, wearing a light champagne-colored gown, holding two glasses of champagne and smiling as she handed him one: "Don’t be too nervous. Your project data is solid. Professor Zhou was just telling me this is the most socially valuable academic transformation project of the year." Her fingertips gently brushed Lin Yan’s wrist, carrying a calming warmth. A small parasol leaf brooch pinned to her gown’s neckline—gift from Lin Yan on their wedding anniversary last year.

Lin Yan took the champagne, feeling the coolness of the glass against his fingertips, which steadied his nerves. He turned to Song Xiaoran, who was chatting politely with university leaders nearby. Her profile looked especially gentle under the lights, her hair styled in a low bun, revealing earlobes adorned with hand-painted daisy earrings—works from Le Le’s kindergarten craft class that she had worn ever since.

"Professor Lin, I’ve long admired your reputation."

A familiar yet unfamiliar voice came from behind. Lin Yan turned around to see Shen Ze in a well-tailored black suit, with Su Wan standing beside him. Shen Ze was more composed than in university, wearing an understated mechanical watch on his wrist and holding an investment catalog. Su Wan wore a navy blue velvet dress, her hair cascading down to her waist, casually draped over her shoulders. Instead of the parasol leaf necklace, she wore a simple pearl pendant. In her hand was an album printed with "Su Wan Art Studio," her features having shed the youthfulness of university days, now exuding the poise of an artist.

Lin Yan’s heart skipped a beat, like an old page fluttering in the wind, a soft stir in his chest. He quickly regained his composure, extending his hand to shake Shen Ze’s: "Mr. Shen, long time no see." When his gaze shifted to Su Wan, he nodded gently: "Ms. Su, welcome back to China."

"Lin Yan, I didn’t expect to meet you here." Su Wan’s voice was deeper than he remembered, warm with a smile. Her eyes fell on Song Xiaoran beside him, asking politely: "And this is?"

"This is my wife, Song Xiaoran." Lin Yan turned slightly to wrap his arm around Song Xiaoran’s waist, his gesture natural yet firm. "Xiaoran, this is Mr. Shen Ze and Ms. Su Wan—both alumni from my university days."

Song Xiaoran smiled, extending her hand with a business card: "Mr. Shen, Ms. Su, nice to meet you. I’m a middle school art teacher, and I occasionally help Lin Yan organize visual materials for his projects—like the illustrations in the rural economic reports, all drawn by me." Her tone was appropriate, without the slightest awkwardness. A small parasol leaf was printed on the back of the card, matching the pattern of her brooch.

Su Wan took the card, her fingertips pausing briefly as she glanced at the "parasol leaf" design, then nodded with a smile: "Ms. Song’s paintings must be very warm. I just heard Shen Ze mention that Lin Yan’s project includes many illustration cases by rural children—I assume those are your works."

Shen Ze also smiled, taking two documents from his assistant and handing them over: "Our team has reviewed Professor Lin’s ‘rural economic digitalization’ project and is quite interested. My return to China this time is not only to expand Shen Group’s cultural and creative investments but also to focus on such socially valuable projects. By the way, Wanwan just opened an art studio in China and plans to launch a ‘rural children’s art enlightenment program’—perhaps we can cooperate with your project in the future."

Lin Yan took the documents, his fingertips touching the Shen Group logo on the paper, a surge of emotion welling up in his heart. He flipped through the investment catalog to find the introduction of Su Wan’s studio. The attached pages featured several paintings by rural children—childlike yet vibrant, with the phrase "Art Illuminates the Countryside" written beside them—a wonderful alignment with the concept of "Digital Empowerment for Rural Areas" in his project.

"Cooperation would certainly be a great thing," Lin Yan closed the documents, his tone sincere. "Rural economy needs industrial support as well as spiritual nourishment. Our project is just lacking resources for art enlightenment."

Song Xiaoran chipped in at the right moment: "Many art teachers at my school are willing to participate in public welfare teaching. If Ms. Su’s studio needs volunteers, we can help connect them." Her gaze swept gently over Su Wan, filled with goodwill among peers rather than curiosity.

Su Wan nodded, taking an album from her bag and handing it to Song Xiaoran: "This is my collection from exhibitions in London, including some illustrations on children’s themes—perhaps they can serve as references for public welfare teaching." She flipped open the album, and one page featured parasol leaves on a London street, their veins clearly defined, much like the sketch Lin Yan had found years ago. "I didn’t expect you still like parasol leaves after all these years."

Lin Yan’s gaze fell on that page of parasol leaf illustrations, a soft stir in his heart. He thought of their first meeting in the university library, the sketches in the Art Building, and the sticky note that read "May we all shine brightly"—those memories hidden in time brushed gently across his mind, no longer stirring the same ripples as before.

"Yes, parasol leaves always remind people of youth," Song Xiaoran smiled as she took the album, naturally linking her arm through Lin Yan’s. "We also have a parasol tree in our yard. Le Le loves picking leaves and drawing them there, saying he wants to use them as illustrations for Daddy’s project." She took out her phone, opening an album of Le Le’s paintings. On the screen was a lopsided parasol tree, with a family of three standing beneath it—childlike yet full of innocent love.

Su Wan looked at the painting on the phone, a gentle smile flickering in her eyes. She turned to Shen Ze: "We should plant a parasol tree in the studio too—perhaps it will inspire the children." Shen Ze nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her shoulder, his gesture natural and tacit, as if they had done it a thousand times over the years.

The reception music began to play, and the host started introducing key investors. Shen Ze said to Lin Yan: "I’ll have my team connect with you tomorrow to discuss project details. We’re very optimistic about this direction." Su Wan added: "My assistant will sort out the studio’s cooperation plan and send it to Ms. Song."

"Thank you," Lin Yan nodded. After saying goodbye to them, he took Song Xiaoran’s hand and walked toward the corner of the banquet hall. Song Xiaoran looked at his profile, asking softly: "Did you think of university days?"

Lin Yan froze for a moment, then smiled, reaching out to ruffle her hair: "Yes. I remembered the first time I met them in the library. Back then, the future felt so far away. I never imagined that now... we all have our own lives." He took out his phone, opening a voice message from Le Le in the family group. The little boy’s milky voice said: "Daddy, Mommy, when are you coming home? Grandma cooked sweet potato porridge—I’m waiting for you to eat together."

Song Xiaoran’s eyes lit up, smiling: "Let’s not stay too long. Le Le is waiting for us." She pulled Lin Yan’s hand, walking briskly toward the banquet hall entrance.

Stepping out of the Financial Center, the late autumn evening wind carried a chill. Lin Yan took off his suit jacket and draped it over Song Xiaoran’s shoulders. Song Xiaoran leaned against him, asking softly: "Do you want to flip through Ms. Su’s album? The parasol leaves are really beautiful."

"No need," Lin Yan shook his head, tightening his grip on her hand. "No matter how beautiful the paintings are, they can’t compare to the parasol leaves in our yard—after all, those are the leaves Le Le picked, you painted, and we swept together."

Song Xiaoran looked up at him, her eyes brimming with smiles. Moonlight fell on them, stretching their shadows long. Lin Yan looked into her eyes, suddenly remembering how, years ago on the parasol-lined path at Mingde University, he had secretly watched Su Wan’s back, his heart filled with uncertainty. Now, holding Song Xiaoran’s hand, he knew clearly that what he wanted was not the illusory crush of youth, but these plain days—holding her hand, listening to Le Le’s laughter, and eating sweet potato porridge with Grandma.

As the car passed the parasol-lined path near their home, leaves were falling in a flurry. Song Xiaoran pointed out the window: "Look, the parasol leaves are even yellower than last year. Shall we bring Le Le here to pick leaves for bookmarks tomorrow?"

"Sure," Lin Yan nodded, reaching over to turn off the car music, leaving only the rustle of falling leaves outside the window.