He Qing lowered his eyes again.
"...It's nothing."
Shen Qiyao quietly shook his head.
"...It isn't."
The answer came almost immediately.
"If it were nothing..."
"...you wouldn't still be thinking about it."
He Qing smiled faintly.
"You really do notice everything."
"I try."
"...No."
He Qing looked toward him.
"You don't."
"You notice everything..."
"...except yourself."
Shen Qiyao blinked.
"...Myself?"
"Hm."
"You never notice when people are looking at you."
"..."
"You never notice when someone waits for you."
"..."
"You never notice..."
He Qing stopped.
His fingers tightened slightly around the teacup.
The sentence disappeared before it was finished.
Shen Qiyao waited.
He did not interrupt.
The mountain had taught him that sometimes silence was kinder than questions.
After a long while...
He Qing laughed quietly.
"...Forget it."
"It sounds foolish."
"...If you don't tell me..."
Shen Qiyao said slowly,
"...I cannot understand."
"I know."
"..."
"...That's exactly the problem."
Another breeze wandered through the bamboo.
The tiny silver bell answered with a delicate chime.
He Qing looked at it.
"...It suits you."
Shen Qiyao lowered his wrist.
"...Does it?"
"Hm."
"...Better than I imagined."
Another silence.
This one gentler.
He Qing leaned back against the wooden pillar.
His gaze drifted toward the distant village.
"...Miss Mei Lin..."
he suddenly said.
"...She's kind."
Shen Qiyao nodded.
"She is."
"And well-read."
"Hm."
"...She smiles beautifully."
"..."
"She does."
Shen Qiyao answered naturally.
Without thinking.
He Qing laughed through his nose.
"...See?"
Shen Qiyao looked over.
"...See what?"
"You really don't know."
"...Know what?"
He Qing rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Nothing."
"...Forget it."
"...Qing."
"Hm?"
"...Were you..."
Shen Qiyao hesitated.
His brows slowly drew together.
The images returned one after another.
The old bookshop.
Master Gao.
Mei Lin.
Her smiling whenever he spoke.
He Qing becoming quieter.
Walking toward the doorway.
Pretending to look outside.
Refusing to join the conversation.
...
...
The pieces slowly found one another.
His eyes widened just a fraction.
"...Ah."
He Qing froze.
"...Ah?"
Another long silence.
Then—
Shen Qiyao covered his forehead with one hand.
A soft breath escaped him.
Followed by...
a laugh.
Not loud.
Not restrained either.
Simply...
honest.
It caught even himself by surprise.
For years...
his laughter had remained somewhere he could no longer reach.
Yet tonight...
it appeared as naturally as the mountain wind.
He Qing simply stared.
"...Mr. Taller Shen..."
"...You can laugh?"
Shen Qiyao was still smiling.
"I..."
He paused.
"...Apparently."
"..."
"..."
He Qing could not help smiling too.
"...I should become jealous more often."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Silence.
Both of them froze.
He Qing closed his eyes.
"..."
"...I didn't say that."
Shen Qiyao looked at him.
"No."
"..."
"But I heard it."
"..."
"..."
He Qing buried his face in one hand.
"...This is embarrassing."
"It is."
"...Please stop agreeing."
Another laugh escaped Shen Qiyao.
Lighter this time.
Warmer.
He Qing looked up.
He had never imagined...
that hearing Shen Qiyao laugh...
would become his favourite sound.
The laughter gradually faded.
Only quiet smiles remained.
After a while...
Shen Qiyao's fingers absentmindedly found the tiny bell again.
Chime...
His thumb rolled it gently.
"...There is something..."
he murmured.
"...I've wondered about."
He Qing looked toward him.
"Hm?"
Shen Qiyao watched the little bell.
"...After you came..."
"...I rarely hear the flute anymore."
He Qing's smile remained.
Only his eyes became still.
"It used to appear often."
"Sometimes in the afternoon."
"Sometimes deep into the night."
"...Sometimes..."
Shen Qiyao frowned thoughtfully.
"...there would be a fragrance."
"A very faint one."
"I could never find where it came from."
"It would disappear before I reached it."
"...White lilies."
He looked toward He Qing.
"...Strangely..."
"...when you're nearby..."
"I sometimes think..."
"...I've smelled something similar."
He immediately shook his head.
"...Perhaps it is only my imagination."
He Qing did not answer immediately.
The night stretched quietly around them.
When he finally spoke...
his voice had lost its usual playful warmth.
"...Do you miss it?"
"The flute."
Shen Qiyao thought for a long while.
"...Hm."
"I think..."
"...I do."
"Why?"
He Qing asked.
"You don't know who plays it."
"You don't know..."
"...whether they are young or old."
"...Human..."
"...or something else entirely."
His eyes rested on the dark bamboo grove.
"...Would you still wait..."
"...if the one playing it..."
"...wasn't human at all?"
Shen Qiyao followed his gaze.
The grove stood quietly beneath the moon.
Nothing moved.
Nothing answered.
After a very long silence...
he spoke.
"...I don't know."
Another pause.
"But..."
He lightly touched the tiny silver bell.
Chime.
"...Whenever I heard it..."
"...it always sounded lonely."
His voice was almost lost beneath the wind.
"As though..."
"...someone had been waiting..."
"...for a very long time."
"...and never stopped."
Silence.
He Qing slowly lowered his eyes.
His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around his teacup.
No answer came.
The moon remained high above the bamboo.
The little silver bell stirred once more in the night breeze.
Its quiet sound drifted into the darkness...
like the final note of a flute.