The morning rush hour on Metro Line 6 nearly squeezed Wang Luxi into liquid form.
When boarding the subway, she deliberately chose the “strong cooling” car, but even the most powerful air conditioning couldn’t dispel the resentment of office workers facing their 8 AM shifts. A few passengers away, Wang Luxi heard arguing—it seemed someone had accidentally bumped another’s shoulder or stepped on someone’s foot while boarding. The car was packed tight as sardines, so she couldn’t see what was happening at all. She could only silently clutch her backpack to her chest, protecting it securely, then hold her breath to resist the unpleasant odors in the car.
Arriving at Beihai North Station, she got off and exited through Exit B.
Leaving early was indeed more comfortable. The vicious sun seemed not yet awake, and as she came up the escalator from the subway station, she saw a corner of blue sky while a cool breeze brushed her face.
She stood right at the subway entrance, in the cool breeze, waiting in a patch of shade.
They had agreed to meet at the subway entrance. She wasn’t late, and Yuan Bei was even less likely to be someone who would be late. After waiting a while without seeing him, she thought about sending a WeChat message to ask about Yuan Bei, but then felt that prompting wasn’t necessary, so she simply continued standing there, tilting her head back and closing her eyes.
Waiting and waiting.
When did she become aware that someone had arrived beside her?
Probably when the cool breeze carried a different scent—very faint, very light, with a slight astringent quality, like grass with dewdrops, or like trees after being drenched by rain.
She opened her eyes, and almost at the same instant, heard a soft laugh.
The source of that scent—Yuan Bei stood beside her, half his body under the sunlight, being directly illuminated.
Wang Luxi’s first reaction was to examine what he was wearing.
Based on her understanding from these past days, she had to admit that Yuan Bei had really good taste, at least when it came to dressing himself—very appropriate, yet with his own style. Yesterday he was a mysterious underground trainee, and today he had transformed back into Japanese magazine style. Tall with long legs, under the sunlight, he had that lazy appearance again as he said good morning.
“Morning…” Wang Luxi withdrew her gaze. “Why didn’t you say anything when you arrived?”
“I saw someone practicing breathing exercises at the subway entrance early in the morning. It was quite interesting, so I watched for a while.”
Wang Luxi was stunned for a moment before realizing he was talking about her.
“Just breathing some fresh air, mind your own business.” She stepped forward half a step and took two more deep sniffs. How strange, that scent from just now had disappeared again.
Yuan Bei didn’t move. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Wang Luxi said. “Did you eat breakfast?”
“I did.”
As Yuan Bei answered, the backpack zipper was already being pulled open. Wang Luxi opened her bag wide, revealing it was packed full of snacks and drinks, and pushed it forward with eager expectation.
Yuan Bei even spotted a row of Wahaha AD Calcium Milk.
“Are you an elementary school student on a field trip?”
“Fine, don’t eat any. Don’t come begging me when you get hungry from all the walking later.” She zipped it shut with a swift motion.
“…”
The conversation pattern between the two seemed to have undergone a subtle change, with bickering taking up a larger proportion. Sparring with Yuan Bei brought her pleasure. Wang Luxi was aware of this, just temporarily unsure what it represented.
…
“Left? Or was it right?”
The park entrance closest to the subway exit was just a few hundred meters away, but Wang Luxi had forgotten the route. Just as she was about to open her phone’s navigation, Yuan Bei had already grabbed her “Phoenix Chirp” and started walking forward.
“If you break it, you owe me a new one!”
“I’ll pay you back ten,” Yuan Bei said. “Hurry up, there’ll be crowds soon.”
Beihai Park is an ancient imperial garden of Ming and Qing emperors.
The so-called Beihai (North Sea) naturally has no sea—it’s actually a lake, with Qionghua Island located at the center of the lake. The island also has Yong’an Temple, and because there’s a Tibetan-style white pagoda, it’s also called White Pagoda Temple.
From the moment Wang Luxi stepped into the park, she started humming—”Let us paddle our oars, the little boat cuts through the waves.”
The white pagoda on the water, green trees and red walls—it really was just like the illustrations in childhood music textbooks. The only flaw was that there were too many people. They had already chosen to come in the morning to avoid peak hours, yet still nearly drowned in the crowds. Several tour guides carrying small flags had already led tour groups inside.
The tour group Wang Luxi had signed up for previously was too short and didn’t cover this place, but that didn’t matter—she now had a private guide.
Thick-skinned and grinning, she walked forward and patted Yuan Bei’s shoulder: “Tour Guide Yuan? Where should we go now?”
After all, it was just walking around the lake, simply choosing between two directions.
The two stood in place. Yuan Bei put down his phone and lifted his chin slightly, indicating the direction the crowd had just surged toward: “There are more scenic spots on the west side.”
Jingxin Studio, Western Paradise Buddhist Realm, Kuaixue Hall, and the very famous Nine-Dragon Wall were all on the west side. This was also the route most tourists chose after entering the park.
“You’re quite familiar with this, Tour Guide Yuan. Do you come here often?”
“Somewhat,” Yuan Bei said. “Last year when a friend visited Beijing, I showed him around.”
“No wonder,” Wang Luxi pulled at the corner of her mouth. “I thought you crammed last night. You were much better than your explanation at the Temple of Heaven last time!”
Yuan Bei pretended not to hear this sarcastic praise.
“What about when you were little? Didn’t you come here to play as a child? I thought you grew up here and had already gotten sick of visiting all these scenic spots.”
“I came too…” Yuan Bei seemed unwilling to continue this topic. He looked around, then “lifted” Wang Luxi and walked toward the east. “Let’s go the opposite direction.”
To prevent the west side from being too crowded with tourists, so that when people wanted to take photos later, the shots would be full of heads, which would surely be disappointing.
“Hey, Yuan Bei, let’s go boating!”
Wang Luxi spotted a dock by the lake with electric boats and pedal boats. There were already boats floating on the lake surface. Looking from afar, colorful boat canopies moved slowly, intersecting and passing each other.
Yuan Bei nodded and walked toward the ticket office at the dock.
The Chinese verbal habit—since we’re already here, it’s best to have fun to the fullest. He wouldn’t be the one to spoil the mood. But the next second, he was called back. Wang Luxi suddenly grabbed his shirt hem and shook it: “Never mind, never mind, I don’t want to anymore.”
“?”
Yuan Bei realized he seemed to be gradually getting used to Wang Luxi’s impulsive thought patterns, but occasionally, he would still be rendered speechless by her sudden changes of mind. He asked: “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing wrong, I’m just afraid of water.”
Afraid of water?
Yuan Bei thought to himself that this girl must have forgotten her WeChat profile picture was a selfie of her stepping in water at the seaside.
…
Wang Luxi pretended not to see Yuan Bei’s surprise.
She would never tell Yuan Bei that it was because she had just observed that getting on the boat required wearing yellow life jackets—puffy and really ugly. She didn’t want to lose face in front of Yuan Bei. Also, she had put on a little makeup today, and after boating, her makeup would probably smudge… But speaking of which, had Yuan Bei noticed anything different about her today?
Walking forward along the lakeside.
Both walked very slowly.
Comparatively, Yuan Bei was slower. In less crowded areas, they would walk side by side, but if it got crowded, they would go single file. Yuan Bei would very consciously fall back a couple of steps, seeming already accustomed to following behind her, not too far. Whenever Wang Luxi turned around, she could definitely spot him at first glance.
Of course, he stood out, eye-catching in crowds—this was also one of the reasons.
Thinking this way, when Wang Luxi made eye contact with Yuan Bei again in the bustling crowd, her heart suddenly felt a little excited.
It was noisy around them. He didn’t speak, only inquired with his eyes: What’s wrong?
Wang Luxi smiled, turned her head, exhaled, and patted her chest.
…
A splashing sound came from the lakeside.
The sound of water spraying up.
Some tourists were exclaiming. It seemed some birds had flown close to the lake surface, finally braking by skimming the water and landing gracefully. Several of them floated in the center of the lake.
Their feathers were dark with iridescent colors, like oily metallic hues that were particularly eye-catching under the sunlight.
Wang Luxi’s attention was instantly drawn. Afraid that Yuan Bei hadn’t seen them, she suddenly grabbed Yuan Bei’s arm and pointed at the lake surface: “Mandarin ducks!”
“…” Yuan Bei was speechless. “Those are ducks.”
“They’re mandarin ducks!”
“Ducks. Mallards.”
“Mandarin ducks!”
“…”
Mandarin ducks that big? With green heads?
Yuan Bei didn’t argue. He gestured to Wang Luxi: “Go ask someone else.”
Ask she would. Wang Luxi was socially confident. She happened to see an old man standing nearby doing arm exercises, so she enthusiastically ran over. From Yuan Bei’s perspective, Wang Luxi politely interrupted, then pointed at the lake to ask her question. He didn’t know what the old man said, but when the girl came back, her expression was normal and she was still righteously confident.
“They are mandarin ducks, big mandarin ducks. Their relationship is harmonious, so they’ve gotten fat, right? Why do you care so much?”
Yuan Bei couldn’t help but burst into laughter, pushing her forward: “You might as well say they’re pheasants, red-crowned cranes, or penguins. Whatever you want.”
He led her through the crowd.
Passing Huafang Studio, then continuing south, passing the park’s south gate, they reached Tuancheng.
Most tourists would choose to climb Qionghua Island, and after visiting the temples and scenic spots on the island, they could take the large ferry across directly to the Five-Dragon Pavilion on the west side, saving energy and time. So Yuan Bei called out to Wang Luxi.
“Are you tired?”
“Not tired,” Yuan Bei said. “Didn’t you want to photograph the white pagoda?”
Wang Luxi had mentioned that the white pagoda in the center of the lake was her main purpose for visiting Beihai Park. It was worth approaching personally, up close, to appreciate it carefully.
After all, this was Beihai’s white pagoda.
“Let’s not go. It looks better from a distance than up close. There’s a perfect shooting location—I found it when researching. I’ll take you there later,” Wang Luxi said.
Yuan Bei had also witnessed Wang Luxi’s process of taking commemorative photos during their journey today.
She had already taken quite a few shots with her Polaroid camera, but she wasn’t confined to the scenic spots themselves. Her choice of angles often surprised Yuan Bei. For instance, she hadn’t photographed the lake surface just now, hadn’t photographed the red walls and stone carvings hidden among the distant green trees, hadn’t photographed the most famous “Spring Shade of Qionghua Island” stone tablet on the island… She had hurried past all these places where tourists gathered, but instead took a snapshot of those two wild ducks.
Yuan Bei didn’t quite understand—what was special about Beihai’s ducks? If they went to Quanjude or Bianyifang restaurants where they serve Beijing duck, they might gain some value.
“When I look at photos of these two manda… ducks in the future, I’ll think of you, think of today when we came out to have fun. That’s very meaningful!” Wang Luxi had her own logic. “Those stone tablets, red walls, and lake have no relationship with me, but these two ducks have a relationship with me. Do you understand?”
“But they’re still just two ducks.”
“…Yuan Bei, are you allergic to romance?!” Wang Luxi was getting annoyed. “They’re ducks, but they’re also not just ducks… Forget it, I can’t be bothered with you. Want some water?”
She opened her bag and broke off two bottles of Wahaha.
“…” Yuan Bei had hesitated, but after hesitating, still accepted it.
The two stood under the tree shade, both silent, each finishing a bottle of AD Calcium Milk. Wang Luxi drank quickly, making slurping sounds with her straw.
Maybe so.
Yuan Bei thought he not only resisted so-called romance, but also had resistance to, even disgust for, all ethereal ceremonial feelings and fleeting things.
The several conclusions Wang Luxi had drawn about him: low-maintenance, lacking eyes to discover beauty, and now adding “allergic to romance.” None of them wrongly accused him.
A vulgar pessimist, a nihilist despised by both realism and cynicism, often doubting the meaning of life itself, yet having to disguise himself as positive and progressive because he didn’t want to be called pretentious or artsy.
The best way to avoid being overwhelmed by thoughts was to give up thinking.
After all, human life is so short—who can pat their chest and say they’ve figured life out?
Yuan Bei suddenly remembered what his childhood friend had said: “Yuan Bei, do you know why you’ve always been single? Because heaven has eyes—whichever girl ends up with you would be truly unlucky.”
Negative energy is contagious.
Just as he was thinking this, he heard Wang Luxi calling him: “Yuan Bei, Yuan Bei! Come here quickly!”
…
Collecting his thoughts and walking over, he found Wang Luxi standing at the entrance to Kuaixue Hall, looking up.
Kuaixue Hall was also one of Beihai Park’s scenic spots, formerly an emperor’s temporary palace, a royal three-courtyard complex, now a calligraphy museum open for visits. Wang Luxi couldn’t understand the first carved tablet at the entrance, and didn’t see any annotations either. Yuan Bei walked to stand beside her and glanced—it was Wang Xizhi’s “Kuaixue Shi Qing” calligraphy.
“Are you pulling my leg, Tour Guide Yuan?” Wang Luxi was surprised, then laughed after her surprise. “I didn’t actually expect you to really understand. I can go find someone to ask.”
Yuan Bei seemed to resume that show-off manner, looking down at Wang Luxi condescendingly: “Then find whoever looks agreeable to you to ask. Don’t follow me around.”
She would follow anyway.
Wang Luxi, carrying her bag, trotted after Yuan Bei.
There happened to be a special exhibition these days, and it was free, so there were many tourists visiting. Wang Luxi took this opportunity to discover Yuan Bei’s talents—he seemed to understand calligraphy and painting very well.
Not seemed—it was certain, very much so.
At least those calligraphy works hanging in the exhibition were incomprehensible to Wang Luxi. They were beautiful, but she didn’t know what they said. But Yuan Bei could provide her with answers, extremely detailed ones.
“When I was little, my grandfather said I had a bad personality and forced me to practice calligraphy,” Yuan Bei said.
Wang Luxi felt this sentence contained a lot of information. She wanted to ask: bad personality, how exactly was it bad? But there were too many people and no time for detailed questioning. She was just somewhat puzzled—at least up to now, in her eyes, Yuan Bei was all pros.
But this couldn’t be said out loud. First, it was embarrassing; second, she was afraid he’d get conceited.
“This one, this one I recognize,” Wang Luxi grabbed Yuan Bei’s wrist in the crowd, then immediately felt it inappropriate and quickly let go. “…This one, ‘Preface to Tengwang Pavilion,’ right?”
…Still waiting to be praised.
But in the blink of an eye, he had already walked away.
Yuan Bei didn’t linger long among those calligraphy and paintings. It felt a bit stuffy, perhaps because it was too crowded.
Going around the Nine-Dragon Wall, Wang Luxi’s last scenic spot to check off was Western Paradise Buddhist Realm, also called Da Xitian, a Ming dynasty Lamaist temple.
Wang Luxi thought this name sounded very nice, with religious coloring, very much like a place name from mythology. The most renowned feature here was the huge glazed memorial archway, with luxurious and exquisite craftsmanship. Emperor Qianlong’s imperial brush wrote “Huazang Realm” on the south side of the archway’s top, and “Xumi Spring” on the north side.
Wang Luxi had no religious faith and didn’t understand many things related to temples, but that didn’t matter—she had Tour Guide Yuan.
Yuan Bei explained to her the concept of “Mount Sumeru.” People use Sumeru to represent the enormous, and mustard seeds to describe the tiny. The so-called “Sumeru hiding mustard seeds, mustard seeds containing Sumeru” sounded very mysterious and philosophical.
Wang Luxi was a good student today.
While Yuan Bei was speaking, she listened carefully to the lecture. When he finished, she put her phone back in the side pocket of her backpack, then extended her hand toward Yuan Bei: “Can I borrow your phone? I feel like I didn’t remember it all, so I need to look it up again. My phone doesn’t have much battery left, I’ll borrow a power bank when we go out.”
Yuan Bei didn’t suspect anything and handed over his phone.
A moment later, it was returned.
Wang Luxi suddenly seemed in a much better mood.
She grabbed Yuan Bei’s wrist again, this time for longer.
A man’s bones were ultimately somewhat different. She could feel his wrist bone in her palm—cold, hard, prominent, distinct.
She pulled Yuan Bei and ran a few quick steps, coming to the north side of that glazed archway, stepping back, then back again, and then let go of his hand.
Wang Luxi pointed at the middle of that archway, at the exquisitely carved arched doorway: “Look!”
Through that small arched door, just right, they could see a corner of Beihai, and the white pagoda in the center of Beihai appeared exactly in the center of the arched doorway.
Like a picture frame framing it. Inside the arched door, the view was blocked, but outside that arched door lay a broad landscape.
Red walls, blue-green water, white jade railings.
Beyond the lakeside willows, the blue sky seemed about to descend, everything visible in the distance.
That was Beihai.
That was Beihai’s white pagoda.
This was what Wang Luxi had found in advance while researching—the best shooting angle for the white pagoda. It could even perfectly capture the characters on the archway in the frame, as if passing through a narrow path to discover another vast world.
Wang Luxi took a deep breath, then raised her Polaroid camera.
This was today’s “moment.”
…
“Yuan Bei.”
Yuan Bei stood beside her without speaking.
“Yuan Bei!”
“What?”
“You liar, talking about bringing friends here. I just looked at your phone—you didn’t even delete your browsing history. You crammed last night, didn’t you?”
Wang Luxi giggled and closed her eyes.
There were quite a few tourists around.
But she didn’t care. Being in the same landscape as the white pagoda was too precious. She wanted to close her eyes and feel it properly. Other people’s gazes didn’t matter.
Not only that, she invited Yuan Bei to join her.
So.
Among the bustling tourists, under the hot sun, the two stood side by side like fools, eyes closed, quietly listening to the murmuring voices around them.
Wang Luxi had wanted to grab Yuan Bei’s wrist, but couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“Don’t move, stay with me for ten minutes,” she said.
“Not afraid of getting sunburned?”
“Whatever, I’m not as fair as you anyway. I’ve given up.”
A breeze swept over from the lake surface, cool, like a layer of soft gauze gently brushing across their faces before disappearing.
Wang Luxi remained silent, suppressing her urge to speak. She really didn’t want to disturb this moment—a rare moment when the two of them resonated.
Perhaps? Perhaps there was resonance?
Just like when she had seen that line from “Preface to Tengwang Pavilion”—”The sky is high and the earth vast, I sense the infinity of the universe.”
And like finding a rare corner within Sumeru.
The world is so vast, yet here was one person, or one instant.
Wang Luxi once again smelled the scent from Yuan Bei’s body—grass, dewdrops, heavy rain, or tree canopies… whatever it was, the wind had carried it to her nose.
She thought that no matter how much time passed, she would remember this smell, remember this day, remember Yuan Bei, remember this moment.
“Yuan Bei?”
“Mm.”
“What cologne do you use?”
“…”
“Don’t get the wrong idea, it smells really good, I’m just curious.”
Yuan Bei said faintly: “You’re curious about quite a lot of things.”
“Well, you don’t know me yet,” Wang Luxi smiled.
She still kept her eyes closed, head tilted back, feeling the wind, so she didn’t know that Yuan Bei had opened his eyes before she did.
He looked at her profile.
Her bangs stirred by the wind, delicate eyelashes, upturned nose tip, and a drop of sweat hanging on her nose tip.
Yuan Bei finally saw traces of Wang Luxi’s makeup as he noticed that her foundation had been moistened by sweat in a small patch.
For a long, long time.
Wang Luxi still kept her eyes closed. Hearing a laugh, she frowned and scolded Yuan Bei: “What are you laughing at? Be serious!”
No appreciation for the moment!
“…”
Wang Luxi was satisfied. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.
The water continued to ripple, the wind continued to blow.
She only felt at ease, yet couldn’t fathom what Yuan Bei was thinking, much less know that at this moment, she, along with the white pagoda, was being remembered by Yuan Bei.
This day, this moment.
North of Beihai.
In this human world, Sumeru spring.