Chapter Sixty-Four: Five Centimeters Per Second

When Su Yuxi uttered those words, everyone in the car was stunned. Wu Zixuan was the quickest to react, hastily saying, “Let me go with Brother Xiaoyu and take a taxi instead.” As he spoke, he prepared to get out. Wu Zixuan was also a senior in high school, uncertain whether Cheng Xiaoyu was older or younger than himself, so he called him Brother Xiaoyu. His father had always instructed him to remain humble, no matter whom he faced.

Su Yuxi shook her head. Before Wu Zixuan could step out, she reached out and closed the rear door of the Mercedes, heading off towards the street. Cheng Xiaoyu was surprised at this sudden shift in Su Yuxi’s attitude towards him, and followed her to the curb. Behind them, Su Weilan called out, saying she’d wait for them at Tongque Terrace and urging them to hurry.

Cheng Xiaoyu and Su Yuxi stood together on the cold street. Both had their hands in their pockets, the biting wind whipping Su Yuxi’s ponytail so its ends danced wildly. The orange glow of the streetlights cast faint shadows of themselves onto the dark cement road, under a sky heavy with gray haze, so low it seemed to press down upon them. Towering skyscrapers pierced through the mist, looming and indistinct.

As each car passed them, it slowed slightly, as if taken aback by this unusual pair. These ordinary scenes formed a magical abstract landscape, beautiful in its strangeness and allure.

Su Yuxi’s cool, fair face was still reflecting the neon lights as she stood at the curb and spoke first to Cheng Xiaoyu, “Thank you for yesterday.”

Cheng Xiaoyu turned his head slightly to glance at Su Yuxi’s profile, then quickly straightened, a bit surprised by her sudden gratitude. “Thank me for what?”

Su Yuxi seemed chilled by the wind, pulling the zipper of her down jacket up to her chin. Her voice was soft and gentle, “I’ve read all of Wang Dongliang’s transcript. Even though you were a bit clumsy and made everything such a mess, I still want to thank you.”

Cheng Xiaoyu hadn’t even looked at Wang Dongliang’s transcript today, unaware that this top student remembered almost every word exchanged between him and Wang Dongliang, and had recited it all for the record.

He recalled what he’d said yesterday, and felt his face flush inexplicably. Watching Su Yuxi’s rosy lips exhale white puffs of breath, like delicate mist, he felt intoxicated by the scene—it was as if he’d dreamed of it before.

Cheng Xiaoyu smiled, “If you don’t mind me being clumsy, I’m already satisfied. 'Thank you' seems a bit much.” He paused, then added quietly, “Truth is, I really am a pretty useless brother.”

Su Yuxi wasn’t inclined to comfort him. She flagged down an empty taxi and turned to Cheng Xiaoyu, “Why don’t we skip the singing?”

Cheng Xiaoyu chuckled, “You really are my sister—just what I was thinking.”

Su Yuxi smiled too. It was the first time Cheng Xiaoyu had seen her smile: it brushed against his chilly body like a summer breeze, and he felt as if he were about to melt with warmth.

Su Yuxi took long strides, stepped off the sidewalk and opened the car door, turning back to say, “But honestly, I think I’m more like your older sister.” Then she got in and sat in the back.

At that moment, Cheng Xiaoyu felt every blow he’d ever received was worthwhile; each scar was transformed into a sweet kiss. Deep down, he desperately craved the approval of this proud younger sister. He grinned foolishly, opened the front door of the taxi, and got in.

The driver shifted gears and asked, “Where are you two headed?”

Cheng Xiaoyu had no idea, so he turned to Su Yuxi, “Where do you want to go?”

Su Yuxi pulled her hands from her pockets, breathed into them a few times and rubbed them together, “Isn’t that supposed to be the guy’s job to decide?”

Cheng Xiaoyu could only tell the driver, “Just drive straight for now.” The driver took the chance to glance in the rearview mirror several times, also struck by Su Yuxi’s beauty.

The taxi rolled down the empty avenue in the capital for a while. Both remained silent. Then, in unison, they said, “How about the library?”

In this world, the National Library was much like the Eslite Bookstore Cheng Xiaoyu remembered from his past life—open twenty-four hours, year-round. It was said that the impoverished founding father spent his long student days there. He’d once remarked, “Look at a country’s library and you’ll see its future.” Thus, the Huaxia Library was not only a free place for students to study, but also a sanctuary for tourism and leisure. Especially for students with little money, it was the favorite spot for dates.

The taxi driver smiled, hearing Cheng Xiaoyu and Su Yuxi speak in perfect harmony, “You two are really something—going to the library to study on New Year's Eve. My own kid just falls asleep when he tries to read.”

Forty years of life experience offered Cheng Xiaoyu no resistance against this remark; his face reddened instantly. “She’s my sister.”

The driver laughed, “What’s there to be shy about? I don’t believe siblings could be so different!”

Cheng Xiaoyu mimed tears, gazing skyward with a dramatic sigh, unable to hide his embarrassment.

Su Yuxi stifled a laugh, covering her mouth, charming and lovely.

Amid the driver’s teasing, they arrived at the grand, solemn library. Inside, it was nothing like the cold emptiness they’d imagined.

The library’s heating was strong. Despite it being the eve of the lunar New Year, many people were sitting on the wooden floor, leaning against massive bookshelves, reading. Some had ordered hot drinks and were reading at tables by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

In this vast, ostentatious city, there were always souls with nowhere else to rest, who found refuge in this spiritual wheat field.

Cheng Xiaoyu saw the black calligraphy of the founding father hanging on the library’s main wall: “Even if I have nothing, I can quietly read here.”

That line stirred a strange strength in his chest—a spontaneous pride in being Huaxia-born.

At night, only the first floor of the library was open, but it was still enormous, with many specialized sections. Once inside, Cheng Xiaoyu and Su Yuxi each went off to find their books.

Eager to understand the era’s progress in online technology, Cheng Xiaoyu quickly selected three books: “The Second Machine Revolution: How Digital Technology Will Change Our Economy and Society,” “Fifteen Years of Boiling,” and “At the Crest of the Wave.” He pulled them out and found a seat by the window.

Soon, Su Yuxi approached with her books: a German volume, “From Bismarck to Hitler—A Retrospective on Germany,” and an English one, “Guns, Germs, and Steel—The Fate of Human Societies.”

Cheng Xiaoyu called over a server, and they each ordered a cup of Bamboo Leaf Green tea. They sat across from each other, not speaking, and began to read intently.

Occasionally, Cheng Xiaoyu looked up. The incandescent light poured a clear glow over Su Yuxi’s delicate, smooth face; her long lashes framed eyes filled with focus. Through the faint scent of drifting tea, Cheng Xiaoyu watched as Su Yuxi lifted her cup, blew aside the leaves, and took a gentle sip. Every gesture was imbued with a subtle, supreme beauty.

The scene felt so familiar—their expressions so alike, even the curve of their eyelashes seemed miraculously the same.

Time soared between Cheng Xiaoyu and Su Yuxi like magnificent fireworks. Cheng Xiaoyu felt himself as a flickering speck of dust, his faint light slowly extinguished in Su Yuxi’s gaze.

In a daze, he was swept backward through that dazzling firework to his first love.

It was a Valentine’s Day with snow falling like goose feathers,

Under the lush jacaranda tree in the library courtyard,

Beneath a starry river shimmering through the clouds.

He held her cold hands and kissed her gently.

In that instant, Cheng Xiaoyu seemed to understand eternity, the soul, and the heart,

As if he had shared everything from those eighteen years.

He always felt that after that kiss,

The world was renewed.

And he wished dearly for the power to protect her.

Yet, he did not know how to treasure her soul, nor where to take it.

Because their universities were in different cities, he knew they could not stay together.

What loomed before them was the enormity of life,

What separated them was the vastness of time,

Both were powerless before it.

Through the passing years, countless times, following the scent of memory, he wandered into the seam of dreams,

Saw the little town growing old, and traces of their past.

Yellowed diaries in the bookcase, filled with memories of longing,

Turning pages of bygone days,

In a certain year, certain month, certain day, in some chapter, her figure was gone.

Su Yuxi looked up and saw Cheng Xiaoyu’s eyes shimmering with a hint of tears, staring at her without focus. She couldn’t help but ask, “What’s wrong?”

Cheng Xiaoyu snapped out of his reverie, but he could not recall the contours of his first love’s now-blurred face. All he could see was Su Yuxi’s flawless features drifting before his eyes.

He gently wiped the traces of tears from his eyes and said to Su Yuxi, “I just thought of a melody—it obsessed me for a moment.”

Su Yuxi had always been fascinated by the music Cheng Xiaoyu composed; philosophy and music were her greatest passions. “It must be beautiful,” she sighed softly, deeply admiring Cheng Xiaoyu’s unparalleled talent in music.

Cheng Xiaoyu smiled, “Let me play it for you!”

Su Yuxi straightened, “Here?”

Cheng Xiaoyu nodded.

“But there’s no piano here,” Su Yuxi frowned, thinking Cheng Xiaoyu was being a bit fanciful.

Cheng Xiaoyu pointed to his heart, “It’s right here.” Then he took a pen from his pocket and drew eighty-eight black and white piano keys along the edge of the table.

Su Yuxi closed her book and watched silently as Cheng Xiaoyu worked with such seriousness.

When he finished, Cheng Xiaoyu sat upright, gently placed his hands on the table, and began to play. (b: “5 Centimeters Per Second” honor, onoran piano soundtrack)

His fingers danced lightly on the drawn keys, and Su Yuxi saw, miraculously, notes rising before her like shooting stars. As those notes reached their peak and fell, it was as if cherry blossom petals were drifting down—falling onto Su Yuxi, onto the table, onto Cheng Xiaoyu’s moving arms, onto the space where their gazes met.

As Cheng Xiaoyu played, sometimes gentle, sometimes intense, his leaping fingers wove a beautiful and sorrowful melody, echoing in Su Yuxi’s mind.

For the first time, Su Yuxi felt her heart beat faster, as if she were at the heart of a spinning galactic cloud. She watched the surging Milky Way rush past, saw Cheng Xiaoyu revealing to her a journey through time, trembling and bittersweet.

Are these notes his tears? Su Yuxi wondered.