The wisteria bloomed and faded—its flowering season brilliant yet brief.
On the broad street, a woman in a warm yellow top hurried forward. Only when she turned the corner and saw the familiar gate did she slow her pace, her breathing gradually steadying.
But the moment she raised her hand to knock, someone suddenly gave her shoulder a hard slap from behind.
“Ah!”
A piercing shriek cut through the otherwise quiet, empty street, startling the birds resting on the eaves into flight. They scattered in all directions, fleeing the spot. The commotion also gave the person behind her quite a scare—she nearly missed her footing and tumbled off the steps.
“Aiyun, what’s wrong?” Liu Hui clutched her chest, quickly grabbing Lin Aiyun’s arm to snap her out of it.
Recognizing who it was, Lin Aiyun finally let out a heavy sigh of relief. The taut string in her mind snapped abruptly. “It’s you, Auntie Hui. I’m fine—I’m just a little… never mind.”
Hearing the incoherence in her words, Liu Hui sensed something was off. She turned and scanned the surroundings repeatedly, but found nothing unusual. She took Lin Aiyun inside first, locked the door securely, and then asked gently: “Did something happen to you? If you don’t mind, you can tell me about it.”
Hearing this, Lin Aiyun first shook her head, then nodded. When no one showed concern, she could hold it together—but the moment someone did, all the fear she’d been bottling up came pouring out. Her face shifted from pale to flushed, then back to ashen white.
“I’m right here. What happened?” Liu Hui was taken aback for a moment, then stepped forward and patted Lin Aiyun’s shoulder as she asked again. Normally, Lin Aiyun was quiet, sensible, strong, and smiley—she handled everything well. This was the first time Liu Hui had ever seen her so flustered.
Not just Liu Hui—Lin Aiyun herself was surprised by her own reaction.
“I might just be overtired lately and imagining things. I don’t even know if it’s real or not.” Lin Aiyun covered her face, not wanting Liu Hui to see her in such a pathetic state. She felt embarrassed.
After all, she wasn’t young anymore. This wasn’t the first time she’d encountered something like this—there was no reason to fall apart like this.
But no matter how many times it happened, it was impossible not to be afraid.
Having been born fair and pretty, whether in the village or at school in town, she’d never been short of disgusting men making smug remarks or teasing her. Most of them had the nerve to talk but not the guts to act—at most, they’d take advantage verbally; when it came to actually making a move, they’d chicken out.
But this time, everything was different. It was eerie, and it had started a few days ago.
Xiao Cheng’s departure, the sudden blind date, the blame in her parents’ letters… all these messy things piling up had already worn her out. And now these inexplicable experiences were making it hard to sleep or eat properly. She was on edge every day, terrified that something would happen at any moment.
Ding Weidong’s uncle had suddenly passed away, and everything needed tending to. Ding’s father and his brother were deeply bonded, so he’d taken the whole family to help overnight—leaving Lin Aiyun alone in the Ding household.
Though Zhang Wenyue had asked the neighbors to keep an eye on Lin Aiyun, they’d barely spoken before and weren’t close. When something really happened, she was too embarrassed to bother them. Besides, the neighbors often went back to the countryside to visit relatives and were frequently away, so she couldn’t even find them if she needed to.
The Ding household was usually lively and bustling; suddenly becoming so empty was unsettling—especially for Lin Aiyun, who was used to having people around. At first, the first two days passed peacefully enough. Nothing happened, and she enjoyed the quiet.
But on the third afternoon after the Dings left, she began to feel a tail following her on her way home from work. Every time she turned around, there was no one there. At first, she told herself she was being overly sensitive. But as this strange feeling happened more and more often, she could no longer fool herself—it wasn’t her imagination. Someone was really following her.
Although the person hadn’t done anything harmful yet, just lurking silently in the shadows, that very elusiveness was the most torturous part.
Only a few days had passed, but Lin Aiyun felt like she was going mad—one step away from a complete breakdown.
Who was it? A man or a woman? A stranger or someone she knew?
The enemy was in the dark, she was in the light. Everything was unknown. What if one day that person got tired of playing hide-and-seek and made a direct move? What would she do? How could a defenseless woman like her protect herself?
She did have a suspect—Niu Wenshan.
She hadn’t been in Lanxi County long and barely knew anyone, so aside from him, she couldn’t think of anyone else.
But Lin Aiyun had specifically inquired at the machinery factory where Niu Wenshan worked. The gatekeeper said the factory had a big order next month, so everyone was working overtime to meet the deadline. As a senior technician, Niu Wenshan couldn’t even get time off, let alone get much sleep.
That ruled him out—he simply didn’t have time to follow her.
After eliminating him, she wracked her brain, suspecting everyone she could think of, but came up with nothing.
She usually dressed plainly and old-fashionedly, without even a few coins to her name. She didn’t look like someone worth robbing. Most people weren’t blind.
That left only one possibility—the person was after her looks. After all, Lin Aiyun knew she had a certain amount of charm.
After laying out her suspicions, Lin Aiyun looked at Liu Hui anxiously, unsure whether she would believe such unfounded claims. Fortunately, Liu Hui did believe her. Her expression gradually grew serious, and her voice carried concern.
“You’re living alone right now. It’s possible some bad person has set their sights on you precisely because of that. No wonder you’ve seemed so distracted lately—so this is what’s been troubling you.”
Lin Aiyun smiled bitterly. “I don’t know what to do now. If I go to the police, they won’t do anything.”
What police would investigate a crime that hadn’t even happened yet?
Liu Hui understood that too. Looking at Lin Aiyun, who was trembling with fear, she thought for a moment and said: “Why don’t you stay with me until your aunt and the others come back? That way, you’ll have someone looking out for you. Going back and forth alone every day is too risky.”
After nearly a month of getting along, Lin Aiyun’s character was clear to see. Even if she stayed at Liu Hui’s place, there was little fear of conflict.
“Thank you so much, Auntie Hui.” Lin Aiyun gripped Liu Hui’s hand tightly, finally letting out a sigh of relief.
“Don’t be so formal. After lunch, I’ll go back with you to get some clothes. You can stay here without worry.” Liu Hui looked at Lin Aiyun, who was about the same age as her own child, and a gentle smile curved at her lips.
That afternoon, the sun was harsh. The two of them took a key and headed out toward the Ding household. Perhaps because she usually didn’t come out at noon, this was the first day in a long while that she didn’t feel that prickling sensation on her back—the gaze that had been following her.
Lin Aiyun touched the back of her neck; it was damp with sweat, sticky and uncomfortable.
“Do you need any help?” This was Liu Hui’s first time at the Dings’ place, and she couldn’t help but look around at the cozy furnishings.
“Not much. Please sit for a while—I’ll be ready soon.” Lin Aiyun poured Liu Hui a glass of water, then went to the balcony to take down the dry clothes and pack them into a bag. While tidying the cabinet, she found a handkerchief in the corner.
A plain orchid swayed gracefully on it—exquisite and beautiful.
This was the handkerchief Auntie Hui had given her when they first met.
Lin Aiyun tucked it into her coat pocket. After a moment’s thought, she took out paper and pen, briefly wrote down where she was going, and placed the note on the desk in Zhang Wenyue’s bedroom.
Finally, she double-checked that all the doors and windows were locked and the utilities were turned off. Finding nothing amiss, she picked up her bag and headed to the living room. Seeing her come out, Liu Hui put down her cup and stood to meet her.
“All packed?”
“Yes, all set.” Lin Aiyun nodded, then remembered something. She pulled out the handkerchief from her pocket like a treasure and said with a smile: “Auntie Hui, look at this.”
Liu Hui took it and examined it. She recognized her own needlework at a glance and, recalling the incident, beamed: “You still have this?”
“Yes. I couldn’t bear to use such a fine handkerchief. This burnout velvet fabric isn’t cheap, and the embroidery is so intricate—it must have taken a lot of time and skill.”
Hearing this, Liu Hui looked up at Lin Aiyun in surprise. After a moment’s pause, she curved her lips and said: “You recognize this fabric? And you know embroidery?”
“Yes. Two years ago, I saw someone selling it at the county market with my mother. But the seller said it was for making cheongsams—I didn’t expect you’d use it for a handkerchief.” Lin Aiyun remained calm, weaving a lie that couldn’t be easily disproven. She’d forgotten that in this era, information wasn’t as widespread as in later times—many people went their whole lives without ever seeing burnout velvet, let alone knowing its name.
Sure enough, Liu Hui was silent for a moment, then nodded: “Many people do use it for cheongsams. But times have changed—fewer people wear cheongsams now, and even the merchants selling this fabric have disappeared. This piece was given to me by an old friend when I was in Shanghai—I cut it from the remnants.”
At the mention of the past, Liu Hui pressed her lips together, a faint glimmer of starlight in her eyes. But only for a moment—those beautiful days had gradually faded in the river of time along with the war, leaving behind only memories that could never be revisited.
“One day, you’ll have a chance to go back and see it again.” Lin Aiyun patted Liu Hui’s shoulder. After Shanghai was liberated and rebuilt, it would only get better—after all, its future reputation as an international metropolis was no empty title. As long as it existed, there would always be a day to return.
“Yes, if I can, I’d love to invite you to my little courtyard for tea—to try some pear syrup candy and spiced broad beans. Oh, and leisha yuan—you probably don’t know what that is. I’ll make some for you one day.” At this, Liu Hui’s words flowed endlessly, her smile like the lingering spring rain of Jiangnan, making one eager to listen to her stories.
Lin Aiyun listened quietly, occasionally asking or responding, the atmosphere warm and harmonious.
As they chatted, they reached the Liu household gate. Just as they stepped inside, Liu Hui seemed to think of something and changed the subject: “Aiyun, do you know how to do embroidery?”
Leave a Reply