Mr. Lizard Outside the Window - Chapter 63
Chapter 63: Lotus Unstained, Pure as a Child's Heart
During winter break, Ling Dong accompanied Banxia on a train ride back to her hometown.
As they departed, the scenery outside the window was lush and green, the mountains rolling, the rivers flowing. The train snaked its way through the fertile plains of central China, crossing rivers and streams, a steel dragon traversing the vast landscape.
Gradually, the scenery changed, the land flattening, the greenery giving way to barren fields.
And then, snow began to fall, a delicate dusting at first, then heavier, thicker, the world outside transforming into a silver landscape, a sign that they were nearing Banxia's hometown.
As they stepped off the train, the cold air made Banxia puff out her cheeks, exhaling a cloud of white mist.
"Can you handle this? Are you cold? Have you ever been this far north?" she asked Ling Dong, who was standing beside her.
Ling Dong unwrapped his scarf and carefully wrapped it around her neck, his fingers deftly tying it in a neat, perfect knot.
The scarf, warmed by his body heat during the journey, now enveloped her in a comforting embrace.
Banxia looked at him, his eyes holding a gentle warmth, a hint of indulgence, as if she had said something silly, and he was patiently humoring her.
From the train station, they had to take a long-distance bus.
The bus station wasn't far. They walked hand in hand under the dim streetlights, sharing an umbrella.
"So much has changed. Many of the shops I remember are gone," Banxia said, looking around the small city where she had spent so many years, a familiar landscape now strangely unfamiliar.
To study with a good violin teacher, she had attended a boarding school in this city, returning to her village only on weekends.
"The bus station is still in the same place, though," she chuckled. "Just like ten years ago… Xiao Lian, how do you know the way? You're walking ahead of me!"
Ling Dong turned to look at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes, and tilted the umbrella to shield her from the light snow.
They boarded the bus and continued their journey, the snow falling steadily outside the window.
As darkness fell, the bus, its headlights illuminating the winding mountain road, climbed higher.
"When I was in middle school, I took this bus home every weekend," Banxia said, turning to Ling Dong, who was sitting beside her. "The roads were terrible back then, and the buses were much less comfortable. Fewer routes too, and getting on the bus was like a battle. Only the strongest got a seat."
"Everyone would bring their chickens and ducks, their bags and bundles, all crammed together. You wouldn't believe how crowded it would get, the smell… Thankfully, I was small and… experienced, so I usually managed to get a seat."
She looked out the window, the familiar scenery of her teenage years flashing past.
The grey sky, the swirling snow, the dark trees lining the road…
"We didn't have much money. By Friday, I'd be skipping meals, saving my appetite for when I got home. I'd always travel hungry, sometimes arriving very late. It messed up my stomach."
Ling Dong's arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer, his lips brushing her hair.
Outside, the snow fell, but inside the warm bus, their reflections in the window, his gaze on her, a silent promise of comfort, of protection.
Banxia felt a warmth spread through her. It wasn't like before.
She was no longer that lonely child, huddled on a crowded bus, her stomach aching with hunger.
The bus lumbered on through the snow, and Banxia, lulled by the gentle rocking motion, fell asleep against Ling Dong's shoulder.
In her dream, the bus arrived at a familiar station, the old platform, long since demolished, restored in her memory.
Under the warm yellow streetlight, her mother stood in the swirling snow, a pot of hot soup in her hands, a smile on her face.
Ling Dong gently woke her, and she opened her eyes to find they were almost home.
They got off the bus, collected their luggage, and walked towards the village.
After a few steps, Banxia couldn't help but look back.
The newly renovated bus station was bright and spacious, the smooth road ahead illuminated by advertisement billboards.
But the platform was empty.
I'm back, Mom, she thought. And I brought someone with me. Someone I love.
Are you at peace now?
It was late, the snowy village roads deserted.
As they neared the village entrance, Ling Dong suddenly thrust the luggage into her hands and disappeared.
The little black gecko, clinging to her hand, quickly crawled up her arm and into her scarf, seeking warmth.
"What's this? Suddenly shy?" she teased him gently.
He peeked out of her scarf, but said nothing.
The quiet village, its houses scattered among the snow-covered fields, the lights twinkling in the distance, a figure with a flashlight approaching.
The figure, seeing her, waved excitedly.
It was her cousin, Ban Huhu, who had come to meet her.
"Sis! I knew you were almost here!" he said, taking her luggage. He was taller than her now, but he still looked at her with a mixture of awe and affection, their childhood rivalry replaced by a grudging respect.
He shone the flashlight on the path ahead, then turned to her with a hopeful expression. "Did you bring me any snacks, Sis?"
Their shared love of food was, perhaps, their strongest bond.
Banxia handed him a large plastic bag. "Here."
"Wow! You actually brought some! So much! What's with the sudden generosity? Where did you get the money?"
"I worked hard for it! Just for you!" Banxia said, her tone still teasing, but her words, for once, sincere.
Huhu, now older, understood the sacrifices she had made, working tirelessly to support herself and her studies. He no longer demanded things from her like a spoiled child.
"Thanks, Sis," he said, his voice sincere, walking beside her, a comfortable silence between them.
It was late, past midnight, and their grandmother was already asleep.
Banxia declined Huhu's invitation to stay at their uncle's newly renovated house, preferring to return to her own small courtyard, the one she had shared with her mother.
The brick bed had been preheated, the bedding freshly laundered by her aunt. The room smelled of sunshine and clean linen, the familiar scent chasing away the chill of the long journey.
Outside, the snow fell heavily, large, fluffy snowflakes drifting down like goose feathers.
Banxia, who hadn't seen snow in a long time, lay by the window with Xiao Lian, watching the snow fall, mesmerized.
She wiped a small circle on the frosted glass, revealing the silver landscape outside, a world transformed, a pristine, untouched expanse of white, the only sound the howling wind.
"If you came in summer, this would all be green, with wildflowers everywhere, and bees buzzing around. And there's a small pond just beyond the fields. We used to play there all the time when we were little," Banxia said to the little gecko perched on the windowsill.
Xiao Lian stretched his neck, his dark gold eyes, reflecting the snow, fixed on the white landscape outside, his gaze distant, lost in thought.
Banxia, following his gaze, pictured the summer scene he had described, the tall grass swaying in the breeze, and, unable to resist, began to share her childhood memories with him.
"When we were little, there were all sorts of stories about the wilderness. The adults told us not to go too far, that it was inhabited by spirits and demons, a place where humans didn't belong."
"But I was always the bravest, always exploring. I brought back all sorts of things: a rabbit, some pheasants…"
"I once saw a beautiful stag. It had been injured by some wild animal, a bite on its neck. It was… dying."
"And there was this time when a neighbor's child went missing. The whole village was looking for him, but I found him, hiding in the tall grass," Banxia's eyes sparkled as she recounted the story. "He was my teacher's grandson. We used to play together all the time."
The little gecko turned to look at her, his dark gold eyes shining, as if holding all the light of the snowy world within them.
"But then, his parents died, and I heard he was going to be sent away, so he ran away and hid in the wilderness," Banxia's voice softened, remembering the boy's tragic story. "I found him and brought him back. I even promised to visit him, but… we lost touch. I often wonder what happened to him."
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. His name was also Xiao Lian," Banxia chuckled, rubbing her head sheepishly. "When I named you… I think it was because I still remembered him, subconsciously."
A pale hand, the skin partially covered in black scales, reached out and drew the curtains.
Ling Dong, half-transformed, bent down and kissed her, his lips soft against hers, the air filled with the sweet fragrance of lotus, his skin warm, his tail twitching against her leg.
Banxia, lost in the moment, her senses overwhelmed by his scent, his touch, murmured, "So, how are you going to… repay me?"
And the usually shy and reserved young man, his voice husky with desire, whispered sweet nothings in her ear, his words a seductive promise.
"Material things are meaningless. All I can offer you… is myself."
Banxia, misunderstanding his meaning, thinking he was offering himself to her, here and now, spent the night lost in a whirlwind of passion.
The next morning, when Banxia finally woke up, it was well past noon. Ling Dong was already up and dressed.
He wore a formal shirt and suit, his hair carefully styled, his shoes polished, a tie neatly knotted at his throat.
He looked impeccable.
Banxia stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "What's the occasion?"
"Aren't we meeting your family today?" Ling Dong asked, his gaze flickering slightly. "Did you… change your mind about introducing me?"
"Of course not! I want them to meet you! My grandma, my uncle, my… mom," Banxia said, taking his hand. "But you transformed back into Xiao Lian last night, so I thought… you didn't want to go."
"It was late, and people here… they gossip. So I…" Ling Dong explained. "It's more appropriate to meet them during the day, formally."
He's so considerate, Banxia thought, touched. He knows my mother raised me alone, that people talked about us. He's worried they'll gossip about me too.
But how does he know about the gossip in our village? she wondered. Perhaps all villages were the same.
Banxia's grandmother was both shocked and delighted to see them.
Shocked that her granddaughter had brought home a boyfriend without any warning.
And delighted that he was so handsome, so polite, so… perfect, his background, education, and talent impeccable.
She fussed over them, checking Banxia's cheeks for signs of weight gain or loss, holding Ling Dong's hand, asking him endless questions, then hurried to the altar, her hands clasped together. "My daughter, look! Xiaxia brought someone home to meet you!"
Banxia's uncle and aunt were equally excited, preparing a lavish meal and inviting all the relatives, the entire extended family, seven aunts and eight uncles, to meet the young man.
Banxia, her face burning, watched them scrutinizing Ling Dong.
"My, my, these city boys are something else! So handsome!"
"He's a celebrity! My Little Lei is always talking about him! He loves playing the piano! I never imagined he'd be part of our family!"
"Xiaoxia has good taste! And she's so lucky!"
"Who would have thought? She insisted on learning the violin, and now look at her!"
Ling Dong, remarkably composed, sat politely, answering their questions with a courteous smile, his demeanor impeccable.
Banxia, curious, reached under the table and squeezed his hand. It was damp with sweat.
Her aunt, meanwhile, pulled her aside, her expression a mixture of delight and concern, showing her the gifts Ling Dong had brought: expensive tobacco for her uncle, a pearl necklace for her aunt, a gold bracelet for her grandmother, all carefully chosen, perfectly appropriate for a formal introduction to the family.
"This is too much! Is he… proposing?" her aunt whispered, her eyes wide.
"Just accept it. It's his way of showing respect," Banxia said.
Her aunt, a practical, sometimes harsh woman, hadn't been particularly kind to Banxia, especially after her mother's death. But she had also helped, in her own way, and Banxia, remembering those small kindnesses, had forgiven her.
She was just… surprised by Ling Dong's generosity. She had seen his Red Lotus account balance. He wasn't wealthy.
When did he earn so much money? And when did he buy all these gifts? she wondered.
Compared to his meticulous preparation, her own casual invitation to her hometown seemed… inadequate. She touched her nose, feeling a twinge of guilt.
On their way back to the village, Banxia kicked a small stone along the path. "When did you buy all those gifts? My grandma and uncle were so surprised! They thought you were proposing!"
Ling Dong stopped and turned to look at her, a smile playing on his lips.
"When you can wear the third dress I give you… then I'll come and propose," he said, the setting sun illuminating his handsome face, his words a promise, a dream.
Banxia stared at him, mesmerized. "What… third dress?" she stammered.
He had given her the dress of moonlight, shimmering and silver, and the dress of stars, a dark, mysterious gown, scattered with glittering crystals.
The third dress, he had said, would be the color of the sun, woven from golden threads, a dress for a bride.
Banxia bit her lip, her heart singing, a joyful melody echoing within her.
Ling Dong stopped in front of a dilapidated house, its walls covered in moss and vines, the courtyard gate locked.
Banxia peered through a gap in the wall, seeing only a desolate courtyard, the trees bare and withered.
The small house, its paint peeling, its windows boarded up, looked abandoned.
Years ago, Old Mr. Mu's daughter and son-in-law had died in an accident, and he, heartbroken, had passed away shortly after.
The house had been empty ever since.
Xiao Lian, who used to visit every summer, hadn't returned.
"This was Old Mr. Mu's house, my first violin teacher. I practically lived here when I was a child," Banxia said, turning to Ling Dong, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I want to sneak in and take a look around. Want to climb the wall with me?"
His smile, as he nodded, was as bright as the sunlight, the same mischievous smile as the boy who used to climb the wall and wave to her.
Ling Dong's eyes held a depth of emotion, of shared memories, finally expressed in the gentle curve of his lips.
They climbed over the wall, into the dust-filled, silent courtyard.
"It's been empty for years. So desolate," Banxia said, her voice echoing in the stillness.
The plants and flowers the old man had lovingly tended, now overgrown and wild, their survival a testament to nature's resilience.
The bare, black branches of the trees, intertwined and reaching towards the sky, cast long shadows across the courtyard, a frozen landscape, a world suspended in time.
"There used to be a grape trellis here. I would climb over the wall, right there," Banxia said, pointing to a corner, then turned to Ling Dong.
He wasn't there.
The heavy lock on the house door was open.
Ling Dong was inside, pushing open a window, the dusty glass creaking in protest.
"Xiao Lian, how did you get in?" Banxia asked, surprised.
The dusty room, frozen in time, still held the old piano, its velvet cover thick with dust.
Ling Dong gently caressed the piano, his fingers tracing its smooth surface, then lifted the cover and sat down, his back to the window.
He opened the lid, his pale fingers touching the keys, silent for so many years, and played a single note.
Dong…
Sunlight streamed into the dusty room, illuminating the dancing dust motes, the single note echoing through the stillness, a sound that seemed to transcend time itself.
He began to play, a simple melody, joyful and pure, like a childhood memory.
The music evoked images of summer breezes rustling through the trees, a lotus pond shimmering in the sunlight, the vast expanse of a grassy field, snowflakes falling from the branches of a winter tree.
Banxia stood by the window, mesmerized, as if she were in a dream, the sunlit room, the familiar melody, transporting her back to her childhood, the figure at the piano no longer the adult Ling Dong, but the boy she had known, her childhood friend, Xiao Lian.
So, Xiao Lian… was really Xiao Lian, she realized, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place.
He had called her name that first night, at her window, his voice so familiar.
How had she not recognized it?
The old piano, silent for so long, its wood weathered, its keys dusty, its strings probably out of tune, yet the music was still so beautiful, its purity, its innocence, like a lotus flower unstained by the mud, a child's heart untouched by the world's darkness.
The music drifted out the window, into the sunlit courtyard.
Like fireworks blooming in the night sky, their colors vibrant, their light illuminating the world.
Finally recognized ❤️
ReplyDeleteI REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT THE PIANO WASN'T OUT OF TUNE
ReplyDeleteBUT YAYYYYYYYYY