Chapter 40: Elegy

In the room across from Fu Linxing’s, Fu Lan was equally immersed in a turbulent sea of thoughts.

Knowing that everything was already set in stone, he felt only more lost.

Familiar music flowed through his headphones, a random track from his playlist that he hadn’t listened to in a long time.

...

"What song is this?"

Years ago, on an afternoon, He Yue, who had been sitting before an easel, leaned out and dangled her feet as she asked him.

"Elegia."

"It sounds a bit... scary?"

Fu Lan looked at her in surprise. "Is that really how it feels to you?"

"I don’t know, maybe it’s this... psychedelic electronic style?"

He Yue set her brush on the palette and listened intently to the music. "This song reminds me of a night when I was very young. I woke up and looked out the window.

"I was still living in a small mud hut in the countryside back then. The window faced the backyard, which was filled with fields and tree shadows, like many slow-moving giant beasts...

"To a child, everything seemed so huge back then."

Fu Lan imagined the scene, but he felt no fear.

In fact, he had experienced similar bouts of insomnia, but he only found such deep nights peaceful. He loved that quietude.

"It must have been a bit scary for a child," he said.

He Yue shook her head. "I wasn’t scared at the time. It’s only when I recall that scene now that I feel a bit afraid.

"I don't know how to describe the feeling... it’s like I’m floating in a void, and in the darkness, there is only that small hut and the little me, along with the shadows outside the window and the stars.

"And I am watching that little girl from afar, feeling as though I exist and yet I don’t. The entire universe is like an old television, ready to click off at any moment."

Fu Lan sketched the vague image she described in his mind and was suddenly struck by a subtle sense of dread. But soon, he realized it wasn't fear, but an inexplicable loneliness.

"I must have been only four, or maybe three? It’s a very blurry memory... I can’t remember anything before that; it only exists in my parents' descriptions. That must be the earliest memory I truly possess."

He Yue blinked, and her gaze cleared once more.

"What about you? How do you feel when you listen to this song?"

"...Sorrow, I suppose. It is, after all, an elegy," Fu Lan said, lost in thought. "Perhaps not entirely sorrow, though.

"Sometimes, when I listen to a song, I recall the past associated with it. What I was doing at the time, the dry air lingering in the atmosphere, the smell of burning grass wafting from the mountains in the distance, and the feeling of sitting on the back of a bicycle, staring down at the spinning wheels..."

And blood—blood scattering across the sky like a slow-motion shot.

People rushing back and forth.

A funeral.

That frozen smile in a shattered mirror, a hand he hadn't managed to catch...

When he finally snapped back to reality, he saw He Yue with her head bowed, the palette resting on her left arm stained with flowing colors from her tears.

"What's wrong?" Fu Lan asked, tentatively and with a hint of panic.

He Yue wiped away her tears, suddenly remembering the paint on her hands, and gave a self-deprecating smile at the mirror nearby.

She took the wet wipe Fu Lan offered. "It’s nothing. I just realized there are so many parts of your past that I never had the chance to be a part of, and I can't personally experience those feelings. If only we had met sooner..."

Fu Lan was momentarily speechless. After thinking for a moment, he comforted her, "It’s okay, I wasn't part of your past either."

"You..." He Yue shot him a reproachful glare. "You really have no idea how to talk!"

...

It wasn't until the electric guitar section near the end began that Fu Lan tapped his headphones twice to skip to the next track. But after only a few seconds, he took the headphones off and placed them on the desk, idly spinning them around.

It was always like this; some songs, the moment he heard them, brought back everything associated with them, regardless of whether it was appropriate.

He checked the time. It was time to sleep; staying up late was bad for the heart.

That night, he seemed to have many dreams, all of which were forgotten by the time he woke up, leaving him as exhausted as if he hadn't slept at all.

Fu Lan sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, then shook his head and opened the wardrobe to look at the clothes he had picked out the night before.

"If there ever comes a day when you don't love me anymore, I’m going to wear my most beautiful dress to go get a divorce with you," the old He Yue had once stood before this very wardrobe, twirling with a dress in her hands. "I'll make you regret it to death."

Fu Lan touched the lapel of the suit and smiled self-mockingly.

*Don't you hate these tedious, performative rituals the most?* he asked his reflection. *Imagine the awkwardness of running into Fu Linxing wearing this later.*

He pushed aside the high-end suit He Yue had given him, grabbed a casual outfit similar to his usual attire, and walked out of the bedroom.

When he opened the door, Fu Linxing was just waking up. He let his son use the bathroom first while he squeezed some toothpaste and headed for the kitchen.

"Up so early?" Fu Linxing asked, his voice muffled by toothpaste. "The civil affairs bureau doesn't open this early, does it?"

Fu Lan finished brushing his teeth thoroughly before replying, "I'm taking you to school."

"Funny. How old do you think I am? It’s not that far away."

But Fu Lan still gathered the document folder and packed the trash that had filled up in the living room, heading out with Fu Linxing. They bought breakfast at a stall near the residential complex gate and ate in silence.

Halfway through, Fu Lan couldn't help but look up and say, "Xiao Fu, don't worry. No matter what happens, after today, we will still be..."

"Hey, hey! Don't—ah, don't say that," Fu Linxing interrupted hurriedly. "Just be casual. If you keep saying that, are you trying to make me lose my cool and keep bothering you?"

That was indeed a headache. Fu Lan looked at him uncertainly. "Does that mean you've come to terms with it now?"

Fu Linxing finished his soy milk in one gulp, wiped his mouth, and said, "I can't be bothered to think about it anymore." With that, he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked toward the school bus stop.

The old father silently finished his breakfast and sat there blankly for a while, feeling that something was off, though he couldn't quite place it.

There was still time. He stood up, thought for a moment, and turned back toward the house. Ignoring the curious gaze of the cleaner, he began to rummage through the trash bin downstairs.

He found the bag of trash he remembered; if it hadn't been for the semi-transparent blue bag, he might have missed it.

Opening the bag, Fu Lan frowned at the object wrapped in a small plastic bag. It looked like a piece of aloe vera that had been cut and squeezed, presumably to extract the juice.

Fu Lan clearly remembered never throwing such a thing into the living room trash; it could only have been the boy, Fu Linxing, who did it yesterday.

He pulled out a tissue, pinched the bag out of the trash, carefully avoided the dirty water, and unwrapped it. After observing it for a moment, he confirmed exactly what it was.

"This is called a 'drip-water lotus' (Alocasia). Its leaves look like taro leaves, like a big umbrella.

"But never use it to shield yourself from the rain, because the water flowing from its stem when you break it is poisonous. Even a touch will make your hands red, swollen, and itchy." Back when Fu Linxing was in kindergarten, Fu Lan had once explained this to him while reading a science book. "Remember, never touch it."

"Yeah! Got it!"

Ten years later, Fu Lan stood by the trash can, looking at the Alocasia in his hand, and felt once again how ridiculous fate could be.