Dew Turns White from This Night

Chapter 4

Sometimes, he would tease her on purpose, letting her talk until her mouth was dry while he continued his sketches with an air of nonchalant calm. Frustrated, she would snatch his sketchbook in mock anger, flipping through the pages filled with vivid landscapes.

The earlier sketches in the book almost all featured clouds, transforming this simple subject into an array of diverse, dynamic forms that captivated the heart, yet they conveyed a sense of cool detachment overall.

In the later drawings, the presence of clouds diminished, the scenes grew more intricate, and the strokes became softer, creating an illusion that the artist was smiling while painting, perhaps with a blade of grass between his lips, unconcerned by the passage of time or the aging of youth.

Lying on his strong legs, she tilted her head, asking why he no longer drew clouds.

He replied lightly, "Yan, sometimes we see clouds hanging still in the sky, seemingly inactive, but in reality, they are always moving, just in ways we can't see."

"..."

She nodded, half-understanding, her action resembling that of a curious puppy.

She heard his gentle laugh, a rare indulgence hidden from the daylight.

After a long silence, just as she thought the conversation was over and her eyelids were growing heavy, his voice came again, even softer.

"And now I have you."

Like a celestial melody.

Before she could ponder deeply, her eyes slowly closed, and she drifted into sleep.

In this lifetime, to fall asleep in the embrace of someone dear, even if it meant sinking into eternal darkness or aging in mere minutes, what regret could there be?

In her half-dream state, she felt his warm lips tenderly kissing her eyelids.

Time seemed to stop then.

She hadn't understood his words before, but after leaving him, reflecting on his every word and smile, she finally comprehended their meaning.

He was like the wind and the clouds, never stopping for anyone, yet he had paused for her, willingly and wholeheartedly.

"The clouds have no fixed abode, now they linger for the blue mountains." Today, this cloud-like man quietly accompanied Zhou Huaian, sharing the passage of time. Zhou Huaian's English name was "Jebel," meaning mountain.

It's said they were like fish and water, blue sky and wispy clouds, perfectly in harmony.

Her fingers gripped the railing tightly, the knuckles turning white from the force, her heart racing once again before it gradually calmed down.

The ringtone sounded. She pulled out her phone from her bag and opened the new message. It was from an unknown number, yet the name and content were familiar. The screen displayed: "Youyan, what can I say about you? You really deserve a scolding. You've been back in City G for months without a word. We only found out through Susan's whisper. Tomorrow is my birthday; I bet you've forgotten. There's a gathering at 8:30 PM tomorrow night to celebrate my birthday, just a small reunion of old classmates. You must come. At 'Lavender' on the 14th floor of Times Square. Awaiting your arrival. Xu Qing."