The Alley Was Always This Long – Chapter 86
by Little PandaFinal Chapter
In the first ray of sunlight after the first snow. (Main text complete)
[In the first ray of sunlight after the first snow,
you smiled at me like the entire world.]
The door opened to reveal Director Ma’s familiar face — her nose not a nose and her eyes not eyes1. The moment she saw Tao Tianran, she couldn’t suppress a snort through her nose.
She waved her hand, signaling Tao Tianran to step back, then came out the door herself in a padded jacket and pushed the wooden door shut behind her with a creak.
“Xiao Tao.” Director Ma had been a neighborhood committee director for so long that even her opening tone sounded like she was conducting ideological outreach. “I won’t invite you in. Mainly, your uncle doesn’t know about you and Xiao Xiang. And since you and Xiao Xiang are over now anyway, there’s no need to tell him, right?”
“Auntie.” Tao Tianran held out the gift box first. “Sorry to disturb you and Uncle.”
“Xiao Tao, how crass.” Director Ma looked at the abalone and sea cucumber gift boxes and sighed. “Why waste your money? We don’t even eat these things — never had the habit our whole lives. But aren’t you dressed too thinly? Look at that coat of yours. You young people always prioritize style over warmth. You’ll suffer when you’re old, let me tell you.”
Director Ma frowned, looking as though she were fretting over her own child.
Meet Director Ma once, and you’d know exactly where Cheng Xiang got her chatty mouth.
Tao Tianran only said, “It’s not a waste.”
She was a little clumsy, not knowing how to express care for an elder. She was also a little at a loss, not knowing how to accept care from an elder.
All of this was unfamiliar to her.
She curled her long fingers. “I’m not cold.”
Director Ma sighed.
“Is Xiao Xiang… here?”
“She’s gone.”
Tao Tianran’s brain buzzed. Only when she saw Director Ma’s calm expression did she realize — she meant “she’s left Beicheng to go teach.”
“But she told me to come find her this morning.”
“She resigned, didn’t she? She was at home drawing comics, but nothing came of it. She didn’t say anything, but I know she was anxious inside.” Director Ma continued: “I told her to take the civil service exam2, but she wouldn’t. She said she’d always been like that — wanting to draw comics, wanting a backup plan, hemming and hawing, unable to do anything well.”
“Recently she saw a video and proposed going to teach in an underdeveloped region3. She looked into it herself and found a suitable program.” Director Ma went on: “Of course I encouraged her. I said, if you want to go, then go. Your father and I are still healthy, you don’t need to worry about us. Teaching would be great, and it’ll help with the civil service exam when you come back.”
“She said, Mom, can you stop bringing up the civil service exam? How crass.” Director Ma laughed. “My daughter’s been like this since she was little, silly girl. She said she didn’t want to think about backup plans anymore. So what could I do as her mother but think about it for her sake?”
Tao Tianran asked, “Where did she go?”
“Xiao Tao, don’t take this the wrong way.” Director Ma looked at her. “I know how sad Xiao Xiang was after you two broke up. She always kept a rubber band around her wrist — she thought I didn’t notice, but I’m her mother, how could I not? Whenever she missed you, she’d snap the rubber band, until her wrist was red and raw. But the heart doesn’t listen to reason, does it?”
“I used to worry she’d hold you back, because I’d feel sorry for her, afraid she’d be left far behind and be hurt. But in the end, she was still hurt. Auntie’s asking you now — won’t you let her go? If your paces don’t match, no matter how much you pull and drag, she’ll only find it exhausting.”
Tao Tianran opened her mouth, but was speechless.
This time it wasn’t even because she was poor with words.
If she and Cheng Xiang were facing life and death, she could resolutely declare she wouldn’t accept fate. She’d drag Cheng Xiang back from in front of that truck by sheer force.
Among all the people in the world, each one ordinary, each one finding completeness in incompleteness — why should she and Cheng Xiang accept fate?
But Director Ma stood here now, wrapped in a padded jacket, talking to her about feelings.
No matter how hard Cheng Xiang rushed, or how hard Tao Tianran pulled, the problems between them wouldn’t simply resolve themselves.
Tao Tianran noticed that in the year-plus since she and Cheng Xiang had separated, Director Ma had aged. The new hair growing at her temples, never dyed, showed scattered streaks of gray.
She said to Tao Tianran, “Wait here.”
She pushed the door open and went into the Siheyuan4. Deputy Director Cheng’s voice rose from inside: “Who is it?”
“Oh, nobody. A salesperson.”
“A salesperson you talk to for this long?”
“I’m doing ideological education work, aren’t I?”
After a moment, Director Ma returned and pressed a hand warmer5 into her hand: “Xiao Xiang bought these before. She said you always dress too thinly, so she stocked up during the Double Eleven6 sale. But then you two broke up, and these never got used.”
She pulled a small slip of paper folded in four from her pocket: “This is from Xiao Xiang for you. Read it yourself.”
With that, she returned to the Siheyuan and closed the door.
Tao Tianran returned to her car, holding the hand warmer and the letter.
「Hey Tao Tianran:」
Cheng Xiang’s handwriting, like her, was small and fine. Tao Tianran had only read this one line when she remembered how Cheng Xiang had called out “Hey Tao Tianran” in that cheerful tone ever since their sophomore year of high school, and her heart seized.
She could barely breathe. She looked up from the letter and surveyed her surroundings through the car window.
This was an old, narrow alley, rich with the texture of everyday life. Wild grass grew on the rooftops. At the alley entrance, a stall sold tangyoubing7. There was an old-fashioned general store. A calico cat lounged lazily along the base of a wall. Passersby — elderly men and women — greeted each other: “Have you eaten?”
“Right, see you later.”
Tao Tianran breathed slowly, then returned her gaze to the letter.
「This is probably the first time I’ve written you a letter since graduating from high school. Those things I used to write in high school don’t count as letters — they were notes, passed to you in class when the teacher wasn’t looking. I don’t even know if you actually read them.」
「This time I originally picked out some nice stationery, but after writing a bit I decided to forget it — that would be too formal, too much like a real letter. Don’t treat this as a letter. Just treat it like one of those notes I used to write you in high school. Otherwise it’d be so artsy and melodramatic — I’d be embarrassed, hehe.」
Cheng Xiang had even written her signature “hehe” catchphrase, then crossed it out with a single line. A tiny scrawl beside it noted: 「These two characters have to go — wouldn’t look serious enough.」
「I’ve gone to teach in a rural region. My mom must have told you, right? She’s always wanted me to take the civil service exam. I’ll tell you a secret — I don’t want to. I don’t know why, after being apart this long, I’m still willing to tell you what’s in my heart, Tao Tianran. I don’t know — maybe it’s habit. I just want to draw well, but I also know that if I stay here, I won’t be able to draw anything worth a damn.」
「Because my life has been too barren. Meeting you was the most earth-shattering thing that ever happened to me. You probably don’t know this, but I got into a fight with Ziqiao the other day. She yelled at me: ‘Why is it always Tao Tianran, Tao Tianran, Tao Tianran every time you open your mouth! Do you even want to forget her or not!’」
「I was stunned, you know? A fight with Ziqiao — that huge — and I forgot to cry. I realized, yeah, why do I keep bringing you up? I thought about it carefully. Partly because I used to like you so much, and partly because meeting you was the most earth-shattering thing in my ordinary life.」
「Didn’t I tell you I had a dream? In the dream, we were together, and you were so, so good to me — good enough to be real.」
「When I woke up I thought, if you really came to make up and treated me like in the dream, I’d be so happy I’d lose my mind.」
「Yesterday I saw you, and I realized — no, Tao Tianran. It’s not like that.」
「In the 400 days since we broke up, I was so, so sad. Everyone knew I was sad — my mom, Ziqiao — but they spared my feelings and didn’t call me out on it. Part of it was because I used to like you so much, but it was also because the earth-shattering event of my life was gone.」
「I looked at you standing in front of me and remembered that dream. Was the dream really what I wanted most? Was you being so good to me enough? I suddenly realized — no, it wasn’t.」
Tao Tianran paused here.
The hand warmer sat on her knee, burning through to her leg. All her unease rose up again.
She continued reading:
「Ah, why do I have so much to say? I’m almost out of room and the writing’s getting smaller and smaller — so annoying. What I want to say is, even in the dream where we were that good together, my heart was always hanging. The reason I acted so sad during those 400 days was because I didn’t want people to think I was the bad one.」
「It was you who dumped me, you who left me, you who was bad — I behaved this way because subconsciously I actually knew I had my own problems too. When we were together, I tied everything to you — my emotions, my days and nights.」
「Without Xiao Xiang, Tao Tianran is still Tao Tianran. But without Tao Tianran, why should Xiao Xiang’s life be worthless? It can’t be like this, Tao Tianran. I used to cling to you, maybe because deep down I knew this. But I don’t want to be like this anymore. I know that even if we were great together, as great as in the dream, I’d still feel it wasn’t real — like flowers in a mirror and the moon in the water8, a beautiful emptiness — because my own heart isn’t steady.」
「Now I’m going to find myself. Hahahaha, how did I write something so artsy?」
「Don’t ask my mom where I went, and don’t ask Ziqiao — neither of them will tell you. Not afraid to tell you, they actually both resent you quite a bit. But I’ll tell them to stop resenting you. Eat more food, drink more water, sleep more. You don’t owe me anything, really.」
「Who knows what the future holds? Maybe I’ll love the place where I’m teaching so much I’ll stay and never come back. If we never cross paths again, I’ll think of you with a smile. Or — maybe you really do owe me a tangyoubing, and after all the winding detours, we might just run into each other again.」
「Tao Tianran, liking you is the best thing that ever happened in my life. But I hope I can also say, one day, that liking you isn’t the only best thing that ever happened in my life.」
「Goodbye, Tao Tianran. Wish you za, wa, wa9 — hahaha, that’s a line from that old movie we watched together, remember? It means good morning, good afternoon, good night. I’m borrowing it, hehe.」
By this point, the irregular slip of paper was finally filled. The last line ran out of room — the two characters for “hehe” were squeezed together in the corner.
Tao Tianran looked out the car window. All the texture of everyday life remained unchanged.
The only thing that had changed was that the girl with the long, fine limbs had truly moved on.
Orioles took flight and grass grew lush10; winter yielded to spring.
Yi Yu hunched over, clutching her lower back as she shuffled into the office. “Teacher Tao, do you know any famous traditional Chinese medicine doctors?”
Tao Tianran glanced at her.
Yi Yu suddenly straightened up, then hissed in pain and doubled over again. “What’s that look for? Teacher Tao, I didn’t expect you to have such a dirty mind! You think my back hurts for what reason? I was at the zoo feeding capybaras11 — from forking hay!”
“You went to the zoo?”
“Yeah! A friend saw I was bored out of my mind and suggested I go feed capybaras at the zoo. So cute, right? So I went. Did you know you can sponsor animals at the zoo now? I immediately paid 30,000 yuan! But who knew feeding capybaras was so exhausting? These huge brown lumps,” Yi Yu gestured with her hands. “Bottomless pits!”
“What’s the zookeeper’s name?”
“Huh?” Yi Yu froze, pushing her hair back. “Why do you suddenly ask about the zookeeper? You want to sponsor one too?”
“No, just asking.”
“Oh.” Yi Yu pushed her hair back again. “Her name’s Qin Ziqiao.”
Later, at a company team-building event, Yi Yu invited Qin Ziqiao along.
Qin Ziqiao hadn’t changed much — still that same hime-cut12, sour-faced little punk look, wearing an oversized hoodie with her hands tucked in the front pocket. From across the crowd, she shot Tao Tianran a distant glance.
In the KTV hallway, the two of them ran into each other.
Qin Ziqiao’s face was cold. “You really never came to ask me once where Xiao Xiang went?”
“Would you have told me?”
“Of course not! She even changed her phone number to avoid you. And where she went probably doesn’t even have signal.” Qin Ziqiao glared at her. “If you two aren’t meant to be on the same path, just let her go.”
In her life, Tao Tianran had indifferently ignored some things. She had also stubbornly demanded some things.
But feelings — feelings were different.
They involved a heart threaded with the finest capillaries — sensitive, subtle, perpetually torn between hope and fear. They drove a person to cross through everything to arrive, only to stand powerless before them.
That night, Tao Tianran drank. She called a designated driver to take her home.
She sat cross-legged on the living room floor, poured herself another glass of red wine, and spread out before her a collection of plane tickets, train tickets, and bus tickets.
Scattered, covering the floor.
Tao Tianran pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She hadn’t drunk in a long time, and the sudden alcohol tonight wound a sour bitterness around the root of her tongue.
Ever since Cheng Xiang left, whenever she had free time from work, she would go to Yun Province.
She didn’t know why, but she felt Cheng Xiang must have gone to Yun Province. Because there — there were many, many apple trees.
She had crossed many mountains. The sky there was a near-transparent tile blue, clouds drifting so close it seemed you could reach out and touch them, the intense light making you squint.
Tao Tianran found nothing.
Returning from Yun Province to Beicheng once again, Tao Tianran visited Yimin Market.
She still didn’t go in. She gazed at the four large characters, long since dulled by wind and rain.
The crosswalk before her had been worn blurred by the feet of pedestrians. That night, Qin Ziqiao had told her — it was on this very crosswalk that Cheng Xiang suddenly made up her mind to go teach.
On that winter day, the first snow fell thick and fast. Cheng Xiang looked up, blinking her dense lashes against the flakes, with a feeling she couldn’t name — as if something were being buried.
Tao Tianran didn’t know what she was being stubborn about.
She didn’t go to Director Ma for information. She didn’t go to Qin Ziqiao for information. She just went to Yun Province again and again to search. Perhaps she also understood in her heart — the one thing that could not be forced was feeling.
The company took on a new S+ client who specifically requested Yu Yusheng as designer.
Yi Yu said “how novel” while assigning Tao Tianran to be Yu Yusheng’s second on the project.
When Qiao Zhiji’s elegant face appeared in the conference room with her usual cool expression, Yu Yusheng looked as though she might stand up and walk out immediately — but professional composure kept her in her seat.
Qiao Zhiji commissioned a brooch.
At her final visit to pick up the finished piece, Qiao Zhiji tossed the brooch, box and all, casually into her Hermès bag, then asked Yu Yusheng: “A new restaurant just opened. Want to go?”
She lifted her eyelids — those usually warm, charming apricot eyes now sharp.
Yu Yusheng wore her standard commercially-tinged smile: “President Qiao, hold on a moment.”
She walked out of the conference room, and through the floor-to-ceiling glass behind Qiao Zhiji’s back, secretly signaled Tao Tianran: “Come out.”
Tao Tianran stepped out.
Yu Yusheng lowered her voice: “Help me find an excuse to turn her down.”
Tao Tianran: “Me?”
Yu Yusheng pressed her palms together: “Teacher Tao, I’m counting on you.”
Tao Tianran walked back into the conference room.
Qiao Zhiji looked at her coldly.
Tao Tianran said: “She said she doesn’t want to eat with you.”
Outside the conference room, Yu Yusheng buried her face in her hand.
Qiao Zhiji turned her head to glance through the glass, then walked out in her heels: “You don’t want to eat with me?”
Yu Yusheng blinked. “If Teacher Tao comes, I’ll go.”
At the newly opened Ocean Restaurant, the seawater was blue in varying shades, simulating all sixty-four seas of the world.
Qiao Zhiji sliced a piece of roasted sea bass, casting a sidelong glance at Tao Tianran.
Tao Tianran took a quiet sip of red wine, thinking: Don’t look at me. I don’t know why I’m here either.
Perhaps after she had seen through Yu Yusheng’s secret, Yu Yusheng occasionally exchanged a few words with her.
Tao Tianran had also researched extensively herself, and now understood why smiling depression13 was called an invisible killer.
This time, take it slow.
Don’t rush the schedule. Don’t let Yu Yusheng be so eager to show her best side in front of Qiao Zhiji. Don’t let that forced brightness only deepen Yu Yusheng’s exhaustion.
Tao Tianran left early, stepping out of the restaurant alone.
She looked back at the floor-to-ceiling windows. Warm yellow light spilled out. Yu Yusheng sat on the sofa with her arms crossed, no forced bright smile on her face. Her brows and eyes looked faintly tired, but overall she was relaxed.
It was late autumn.
Tao Tianran crossed the steps in her heels. A withered leaf fell from a branch, landing atop the ones already fallen.
She stepped on it — a fine rustling sound. Tao Tianran looked up at the half-moon in the sky.
She wouldn’t say she missed Cheng Xiang.
She just thought of Cheng Xiang on nights like this, walking alone over fallen leaves — wondering if Cheng Xiang would say the sound was like falling rain.
The temperature shifted toward bitter cold, the first snow of winter beginning to gather.
When colleagues started discussing Christmas plans, Tao Tianran looked down at her phone: December 14.
Three days until December 17.
This time, both Cheng Xiang and Yu Yusheng should be safe.
Because this return — she had built it herself.
That day, Tao Tianran stayed alert.
She stayed home the entire day, reading a miscellaneous book on folk customs. When she finished the chapter, she glanced at her phone: 16:18.
She stood and went to the kitchen to cook noodles.
Hot water splashed and burned the back of her hand. Tao Tianran ran it under cold water, staring at the reddened mark — it looked like a tiny heart.
After eating her one meal of the day, Tao Tianran fell asleep on the sofa. The book slipped from her fingers, its pages rustling shut.
A bookmark lay to the side, not yet slipped in.
The day Cheng Xiang left, after reading her note, Tao Tianran had asked Director Ma to take a photo for her — a photo of the drawing Cheng Xiang had made in her sophomore year, with a line of small text beside it: 「I want to embrace this world with all my heart.」
Tao Tianran bought a small printer, printed the photo on five-inch paper, and tucked it into the book she read most often as a bookmark.
When Tao Tianran woke again, her shoulder jerked first, her hazy eyes clearing.
Her first instinct was to check her phone. The time had already reached 00:02.
December 17 had passed. Just like that. Nothing had happened except the hot water burning her hand while she cooked noodles.
Tao Tianran grabbed her car keys and drove to Hundred Flowers Alley.
The old Siheyuan was quiet. Deputy Director Cheng’s low coughing sounded from inside.
Then a desk lamp clicked on. Director Ma’s voice came through: “Did you take your blood pressure medication tonight?”
“Oh, forgot.”
“Look at you.” The shuffling sound of slippers — Director Ma going to get the medication.
“Hey,” Deputy Director Cheng laughed. “Our daughter called us tonight. I was so happy I forgot.”
Tao Tianran stood under the streetlamp outside the Siheyuan, looking down as she sent Yu Yusheng a WeChat: 【Still up?】
【Not yet.】 Yu Yusheng replied: 【What’s up?】
Tao Tianran’s shoulders relaxed. She leaned against the old alley wall.
When Yu Yusheng saw she wasn’t replying, she sent another message: 【Actually I’m chatting with her on WeChat.】
Then she forwarded a WeChat message from Qiao Zhiji, asking Tao Tianran: 【What do you think I should reply?】
Tao Tianran typed a few words: 【You’re asking me?】
Yu Yusheng sent a pointing-finger emoji: 【Teacher Tao, you do know what your image is like, right?】
Tao Tianran tucked her phone away, hands behind her back, leaning against the wall, gazing at the moon.
Everything was fine. Everything was well.
Why?
As Tao Tianran drove away from Hundred Flowers Alley, she passed the long-closed Yimin Market. The first snow of this winter, just like last year’s, had fallen yesterday. The market entrance was quiet and clean, only the faded crosswalk barely visible beneath a thin layer of snow.
Tao Tianran suddenly thought of what Qin Ziqiao had told her at the KTV that night — that Xiao Xiang had been crossing the crosswalk on the day the first snow fell when she made the decision to go teach.
What had been buried beneath the falling snow in that moment.
Tao Tianran thought: it was Cheng Xiang’s vividly beating heart.
Cheng Xiang had finally let her feelings for the past die, and taken a great step forward. This was nothing less than a kind of true death. Tao Tianran parked by the roadside. Midnight in Beicheng was very quiet. The snow fell again, flake by flake, covering her windshield.
Tao Tianran looked down at the burn mark on the back of her hand.
Like a tiny heart.
And what Tao Tianran had sacrificed — was also her own heart, once still as calm water, now beating vividly.
New Year’s Eve came.
Yi Yu would never pass up such an opportunity. She organized a KTV gathering, and before the annual party even started, she was already standing on the coffee table singing 《Must Love to Death》 while tossing money. Qin Ziqiao watched her coldly from the side.
During the last song, everyone started the countdown: “Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen…”
Yi Yu was shouting: “Which genius suggested starting the countdown from twenty? I’m drunk and I can only count to ten!”
Tao Tianran had already walked outside.
Yu Yusheng and Qiao Zhiji left together. When the midnight bell rang in the new year, they kissed beneath the KTV’s neon sign. Yu Yusheng tilted her head back, and Qiao Zhiji’s hand threaded through her lush curls, cradling her head.
Then they noticed Tao Tianran leaning against a wutong tree nearby, a cigarette between her fingers — not smoking, just letting the smoke curl and drift, wrapping around her like fog from long ago.
Yu Yusheng said a word to Qiao Zhiji and walked over.
“Teacher Tao.”
Tao Tianran turned and nodded to her.
“Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year.” Though Tao Tianran didn’t understand why every holiday had to be followed by the word “happy.”
“Why are you always looking at the moon?” Yu Yusheng followed her gaze to the sky.
For the first time, Tao Tianran thought she might not find Cheng Xiang.
She had walked through every village, large and small, across Yun Province. There was no young teacher with long limbs who was always smiling.
Winter gave way to spring. Another year.
When December 17 came around again, this time Tao Tianran didn’t fall asleep. She watched the time on her phone screen jump from 17:40 to 17:41.
Still safe.
Only the small burn scar from cooking noodles last year — perhaps because her skin was so fair — never faded, printed on the back of her hand.
Tao Tianran thought: this truly was like a sacrifice, offering up her own heart.
She still kept searching, never asking Director Ma or Qin Ziqiao about Cheng Xiang’s whereabouts. She felt that the process of searching place by place — hoping, grieving, letting her heart die, then rising from the ashes with new hope — was the price she paid in exchange.
Two weeks after New Year’s, the streets and alleys were already filling with Spring Festival atmosphere.
Tao Tianran kept seeing news push notifications — “streets and alleys.”
Her gaze fixed on the two characters 「Xiao Xiang.」
Yi Yu burst excitedly into her office: “Teacher Tao!”
Tao Tianran glanced at the manuscript in front of her: “Get out.”
“No no no, this time it’s actually serious!” Yi Yu pulled out her phone: “Yesterday a friend recommended a comic artist to me. Everyone else uses Xiao Mou Shu14, but she still publishes her work on a public account15. Her style is so interesting — blue skies, white clouds, little yaks, kids’ smiling faces. You can tell at a glance it’s nothing like our concrete-and-steel city, you know? Not many followers yet, but I think she could blow up big! With my naked-eye gemstone-spotting skills, could I be wrong? Should we reach out for a collaboration?”
Before she finished speaking, Tao Tianran had already grabbed her coat and rushed out of the office.
Yi Yu turned her head in time only to see the hem of her coat flying behind her.
Tao Tianran’s heart pounded.
She immediately booked a flight to the Tibetan Region.
The public account had no location data. Fortunately, alongside the drawings, the artist occasionally posted photos she had taken herself.
The artist had a strange ID: “Eating Clouds One Bite at a Time16.”
Following the clues in those photos, Tao Tianran searched place by place.
The winter cold was fierce, her brain dizzy with the slight oxygen deprivation of altitude.
Perhaps another reason she had never asked Director Ma or Qin Ziqiao for Cheng Xiang’s whereabouts was simply stubbornness.
She had made Cheng Xiang buy her a tangyoubing. She wanted to always owe Cheng Xiang something — so long as they remained tangled together, the thread connecting them wouldn’t snap.
She didn’t know if she was trying to prove it to herself or to Cheng Xiang: a first snow couldn’t bury anything. That vividly beating, ecstatic, wildly joyful heart — it could still be found.
At last she climbed the mountain, heading toward the elementary school that locals had pointed out.
An art class was in session inside the classroom.
Tao Tianran leaned her back against the outer wall, listening to the voice inside telling the students: “You don’t have to follow everything I say. Draw whatever you like.”
“What if I draw it wrong?”
“There’s no right or wrong. The world under your brush is the world in your eyes. If you say it’s right, then it’s right.”
Tao Tianran’s fingertips curled, pressing deep into her palm.
The voice in the classroom sounded like Cheng Xiang, and yet didn’t. The Beicheng erhua17 wasn’t that heavy, with a rasp to it, as though wind had passed through it.
Tao Tianran stood a long time. Perhaps what she felt in this moment was what best deserved to be called the dread of nearing home.
Or perhaps she was afraid.
So many days and nights had passed.
If this wasn’t Cheng Xiang, where else would she go to find her Xiao Xiang?
She looked down at the lines of her own palm, just as Cheng Xiang had done the last time they met. But what did these intertwined curves signify? Tao Tianran herself couldn’t see through them.
Had the thread of fate between her and Cheng Xiang… snapped?
Tao Tianran couldn’t claim she had gathered enough courage. She simply couldn’t bear the sensation of her heart pounding any longer. She shifted quietly, stepping to the back window to look inside —
It wasn’t Cheng Xiang. She told herself that.
Because the young female teacher was facing the blackboard, drawing, her long hair tied in a ponytail.
On the blackboard, an apple tree full of fruit was slowly taking shape.
A bold student teased her: “Teacher, why do you always teach us to draw apple trees?”
“Because I like them! Hahaha.”
“Come on!” The student seemed quite close with her and continued teasing her.
“I’m telling you, adults are all like that. But honestly, you have to draw the same thing over and over to practice. Da Vinci painted eggs for three years — though some say that’s made up…”
“Alright.” The young teacher finished drawing, brushing chalk dust from her fingers. “Free expression now. If you have any questions, raise your hand.”
The classroom filled with the scratch of pencils — like falling rain, like falling snow.
Outside the classroom, the cold wind stirred the prayer flags. And the light on the high plateau was always transparent, like the first ray of sunlight after the first snow.
For some reason, in that stillness, the young teacher gazed at the apple tree on the blackboard for a long time.
And when she turned her head, the end of her ponytail brushed a soft arc across her cheek, her eyes looking straight toward the back window of the classroom —
Tao Tianran stood there quietly.
In that moment, Tao Tianran thought: The alley18 that never ends in memory was never, never a regret.
— Main text complete —
The author has something to say:
If I had to give this story a keyword according to my own wishes, it would be “love,” or “regret.”
Why does life always hold so many regrets?
Sometimes I think — even though we’re still writing romance novels and reading romance novels, how many people truly still believe in love? Society teaches us to be smart. Even jokes go: “You can break my heart, but don’t you dare take my money.” Love has gradually become insignificant. I wanted to write about a fool who throws herself in without hesitation, who believes in love without reservation. I also wanted to write about a frozen wasteland that never believes in love — or rather, the one least willing to step into love — and her gradual melting.
And all those regrets — we pretend there aren’t that many.
What’s past is past, as if we’ve already marched off with great strides, leaving all regrets behind. Remembered long after, regret is like a deep, winding alley. We hold an old key, only to find there’s no door and no window.
All regrets are irretrievable.
So at least the people in this story — Cheng Xiang, Tao Tianran, Yu Yusheng, Qiao Zhiji, Qin Ziqiao, Yi Yu — they waver between hope and fear, they circle round and round, they cross through time itself, fighting every regret. Many readers have asked whether this story has an HE19 (Happy Ending). I say: of course, of course.
Regrets cannot be undone — but I hope that before regrets happen, we all have the courage to throw ourselves in without hesitation. For what we truly care about, a thousand times over.
Wishing you well.
I think ending the main story here feels just right, but don’t panic, everyone! There are still side stories20! See you tomorrow~
Footnotes
- A Northern Chinese colloquialism meaning to look extremely displeased or to pull a long face.
- The Chinese national civil service examination, a highly competitive process for obtaining government positions.
- A program in China where volunteers or teachers go to remote, underdeveloped, or rural regions to teach, typically for a limited period.
- A traditional Chinese courtyard residence, typically arranged around a central open space.
- Adhesive body warmers — thin packets containing iron powder that generate heat when exposed to air, commonly used throughout China during winter.
- China's largest annual online shopping festival, held on November 11, originally created by Alibaba's e-commerce platform.
- A classic sweet fried pastry from northern China, made of dough fried in oil and coated with sugar syrup.
- A Chinese idiom meaning 'flowers in a mirror and the moon in the water' — a beautiful but ungraspable illusion, a mirage.
- A reference to the 1998 film The Truman Show, in which the protagonist greets his audience: 'Good morning, and in case I don't see ya: good afternoon, good evening, and good night.' Cheng Xiang writes 'za, wa, wa' as a playful phonetic shorthand for 'zao, wu, wan' — morning, afternoon, night.
- A Chinese literary phrase denoting the arrival of spring and the flourishing of life.
- A phonetic rendering of 'capybara,' popular in Chinese internet culture as a symbol of calm and unbothered living.
- A Japanese-origin hairstyle ('princess cut') featuring straight-cut bangs and sidelocks, popular in East Asian fashion and anime culture.
- A form of depression in which the person maintains a cheerful exterior while suffering internally. In Chinese, the term literally means 'sunshine-type depression.'
- A self-censored reference to Xiaohongshu ('Little Red Book'), a popular Chinese social media and lifestyle platform.
- A WeChat Official Account — a publishing platform within China's most widely used messaging app that allows creators to share content with subscribers.
- Literally meaning 'Eating Clouds One Bite at a Time' — a whimsical, poetic account name.
- A linguistic rhotacization feature characteristic of the Beijing dialect, in which a suffix 'r' sound is added to the ends of words.
- In Chinese, 'small alley' (小巷, Xiao Xiang) is identical to Cheng Xiang's nickname. This closing line operates on both levels — the physical alley of memory and the person herself.
- An abbreviation for 'Happy Ending,' commonly used in Chinese web fiction to denote a story's conclusion.
- Supplementary chapters or side stories published after the main narrative of a Chinese web novel, often exploring secondary characters or alternate perspectives.
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