Evolution - Chapter 63
Chapter 63
This was Ji Changqing's first outing since coming to this planet, renowned for its flowers, to recuperate.
Her destination was the museum of the Galactic Interstellar Alliance. Learning that the Alliance's grandest and most complete history museum was not located on the political center of Capital Star, but rather on this tourist planet, left her with a rather indescribable feeling.
Didn't the people of the Alliance find the juxtaposition a bit jarring?
When she arrived at her destination, Ji Changqing was utterly dumbfounded.
There was no solemn, imposing structure befitting the title of the Alliance's grandest and most complete history museum. What lay before her, this so-called museum, seemed more aptly described as a corridor through a sea of flowers.
Winding paths led to spacious corridors with high glass ceilings, from which flowers of every color cascaded down, enveloping the scattered benches below. You could even sit on a bench, lower your head, and gently inhale their fragrance.
Each corridor, adorned with a single type of flower, presented a different period of history.
Connecting all these corridors was a vast lake, with a boardwalk circling its shore that linked the exit of each corridor. The design symbolized that history is not a continuous progression, but rather a series of leaps from one point to another, with the creators of history being the ones who string these scattered points into a line.
The lakeside boardwalk also branched out in another direction, with dozens of paths leading to a structure in the middle of the lake—or perhaps it should be called a town? After all, it could simultaneously accommodate a hundred thousand people for lodging, shopping, dining, and entertainment.
Ji Changqing had to admit she was impressed by the audacious design of having a town in the middle of a lake as the centerpiece of a history museum. To truly see everything in a place so vast—a combination of a floral sea and a historical museum—would surely take three to five days.
She had no particular agenda. With the mindset of simply wandering wherever her feet took her, she ambled leisurely through one corridor after another, the sound of her own footsteps her only companion, reading the recorded fragments of history bit by bit.
As she was passing through the wisteria corridor, heading from the entrance toward the lake and nearing its end, she came across Yu Zhiyao.
No, she saw her.
Yu Zhiyao, wearing sunglasses, was leaning back on a bench. Her right leg was bent, her left stretched out casually. Her left hand rested lightly on her right leg, while her right hand idly poked at the clusters of wisteria hanging before her eyes.
For a moment, Ji Changqing was dazed. The leisurely ease on her face was replaced by astonishment. She subconsciously held her breath as the sounds around her faded away. A nebulous joy slowly rose from within her heart and began to spread, her pulse quickening bit by bit. Countless unconscious thoughts flashed through her mind, finally coalescing into a single line:
Heavy dew on the flowers, low mist on the grass, curtains drawn in the houses. Languid from the swing, she loosens her silk robe; to the painted hall, a pair of swallows returns.
She knew Yu Zhiyao wasn't just spacing out from boredom. On the contrary, her expression and posture, combined with her being alone, clearly indicated she had intentionally carved out this time for herself. A time when no one could contact her, and she would contact no one, in order to contemplate certain matters and come to a decision.
She didn't speak, just stood there quietly as the sunlight, filtering through the wisteria blossoms, dappled her form and cast a long shadow.
One, two, three… Before she had even counted to ten, Yu Zhiyao turned her head slightly to look over. Even with the sunglasses, Ji Changqing could clearly picture her expression and movements in her mind: she would slowly open her eyes, lazily turn her head just a fraction, and only then, as she gradually became more alert, would she register the “creature” standing in her line of sight. And only after all that would she react.
Except this time, the reaction was a few seconds slower than she'd anticipated. Yu Zhiyao had probably forgotten just how much Ji Changqing had changed—she was at least twenty centimeters taller than before.
When she heard the light footsteps approaching, Yu Zhiyao knew someone was coming but paid them no mind, assuming this person would pass by after a moment, just like all the others.
But this time, unexpectedly, the person stopped. She could feel their gaze resting on her, unwilling to move away. This was slightly disconcerting. Yu Zhiyao frowned faintly, opened her eyes, and turned her head to look.
When that familiar face leaped into her vision, it was as if she could hear fireworks exploding in her mind.
She had once been a vivid presence in her life, and later, a hazy figure in her imagination. She had thought it was merely because that period of her life was too beautiful in her memory that she would think of it from time to time. It’s just the time I miss, not the person, she had told herself, over and over again.
Now, twenty years later, as this person appeared before her once more, an immense joy surged from her heart, nearly drowning her. It forced her to admit—ah, no, that wasn't it. The one who had haunted her dreams was this person, and it was only because of her that the time they shared was so exceptionally nostalgic.
A thousand thoughts tumbled through her mind. She tried her best to remain composed, yet the corners of her mouth curved stubbornly upward into a smile. She raised a hand and waved. “Hi.”
Long time no see, she added silently in her heart.
To Ji Changqing, it felt as if a very, very long time had passed. In reality, from the moment she saw Yu Zhiyao to the moment Yu Zhiyao lazily waved and said “Hi,” the entire process had taken no more than half a minute.
“Yu Zhiyao.” When Ji Changqing said her name, the final syllable unconsciously lingered, carrying an intimacy she herself hadn't noticed.
But Yu Zhiyao caught it. She paused for a moment, then, as if she had finally confirmed something, she sighed silently to herself. She smoothly removed her sunglasses, her eyes filled with an indescribable emotion, and beckoned to Ji Changqing.
Ji Changqing couldn't help but smile and slowly walked over.
As she drew nearer, the look in Yu Zhiyao’s eyes grew more complex.
Although she knew many people had changed significantly after the evolution, the sight of this person standing before her was still quite a shock. The feeling was subtle. The one with whom she had been so passionately in love, so intimately entangled, had been a sweet, puppy-like girl with a brilliant smile and a slender, delicate frame. But upon seeing her again, she found that girl had become a woman with long, slender legs, a tall and straight posture, and a lean waist that held an unknown explosive power, like a graceful yet powerful cheetah.
Tilting her head back slightly, her gaze slid over Ji Changqing's face, inch by inch. She nodded to herself. Hmm, her face hasn't changed much. In fact, she seems a little younger than back then. Maybe even a little better-looking.
“Squat down,” Yu Zhiyao said, a hint of playful complaint in her voice. “You’re too tall. It’s tiring to crane my neck.”
Ji Changqing first bent at the waist, but feeling that wasn't quite right either, she squatted down in front of Yu Zhiyao, hugging her knees.
She was always willing to indulge Yu Zhiyao.
Yu Zhiyao was left speechless by this action. Doesn't Ji Changqing have any self-awareness? Back then, when she was a girl of average height, squatting and hugging her knees looked adorable and sweet. Now, as a tall woman nearly 1.8 meters tall, doing the same thing was just… an eyesore.
A tiger cub is cute, but you can’t find a single cute thing about a full-grown tiger. Size is the ultimate killer of cuteness.
“Never mind. Let’s go find a place to sit up ahead,” Yu Zhiyao said, pressing a hand to her forehead.
Ji Changqing obediently stood up and, very considerately, extended a hand to gently pull Yu Zhiyao to her feet.
They stood together naturally, as if the twenty years that had separated them simply didn't exist.
Once Yu Zhiyao was steady on her feet, Ji Changqing released her hand. They maintained a distance of half an arm's length between them as they strolled side by side along the boardwalk toward the center of the lake.
“Didn’t you join the military? What brings you here?”
“Recuperating. And you?”
“Just traveling around. Is it anything serious?”
“It’s fine. Half a year of rest should do it.”
…
When they entered a cafe, Ji Changqing pulled out a chair for her, bending slightly and gesturing for her to sit. Yu Zhiyao felt that things were, after all, different. In the past, during a gesture like this, they could have stolen a quick kiss as their paths crossed.
Now, in the process of moving past her to take her seat, she felt completely enveloped by Ji Changqing's presence, as if she were being held gently in her arms.
Because of the height difference, Yu Zhiyao felt a subtle unease—back then, they had been evenly matched, but now, standing before her, she seemed small, pitiful, and helpless.
Pah, pah, pah, what a bizarre thought. Small, pitiful, and helpless? The true measure of strength was intelligence and perception, not height and build.
For reasons of their own, they both tacitly avoided certain topics, not asking seemingly safe yet perilous social niceties like, “So, how have you been all these years?” Instead, they chatted casually about the evolution that had swept across Blue Star a decade ago, its devastating impact on everyone both mentally and physically, and the subsequent rebuilding. They also talked about interstellar matters and exchanged their impressions of the planet.
They spent the entire afternoon in each other's company.
It was as if they were old friends, separated for many years, having a rare reunion—familiar, yet not overly intimate.
After having dinner together, Ji Changqing was delighted to learn that Yu Zhiyao would be staying for at least a month. She walked Yu Zhiyao back to her hotel, and after arranging to meet again the next day, she stood with her hands in her pockets, watching until Yu Zhiyao had gone inside before turning to leave.
She took a few steps, then couldn't contain her excitement any longer. Clenching her fists, she jumped up and down a few times before breaking into a jog toward the public maglev station.
Upon entering her room, the first thing Yu Zhiyao did was throw herself onto the sofa. She grabbed a throw pillow, hugged it tightly, and buried her face in it. She could feel her face and ears burning as her thoughts inevitably drifted back to Ji Changqing. She had known, throughout the entire afternoon, that Ji Changqing had been completely tense—she was nervous, there was no doubt about it.
Knowing Ji Changqing as she did, she could easily read the nervousness in her expressions and actions, as well as the concern she tried so hard, yet failed, to hide. That look was all too familiar—it was the exact same state Ji Changqing had been in when they first met, after feelings had sparked but before anything had been said.
A little smitten, a little concerned, a little conflicted, a little hesitant… yet unable to let go.
Yes, unable to let go. If she could, why would her heart be so disobedient when her rational mind knew she should stay away, should not get close? Her eyes saw only her, her ears heard only her voice, and her mind was in a daze, her reactions sluggish. She could only hope that Ji Changqing hadn't grown sharp enough in this regard to notice.
Yu Zhiyao let out a soft laugh, as if laughing at Ji Changqing, and also at herself. She raised a hand and gently covered her eyes. Don't listen, don't look, don't think. Just let it be, let it be. Treat it as old acquaintances meeting in a new place. It will pass soon enough, and we'll both go our separate ways. Just have to endure it. Just a little longer.
That night, after meeting Ji Changqing again, Yu Zhiyao was too emotionally stirred to fall asleep for a long time. In a daze, she seemed to dream of the night Ji Changqing had confessed her feelings.
A bustling crowd, the sea breeze, music, beer. She was on the second-floor terrace of a bar, drinking and chatting with friends. Below the terrace was the stage where a band was performing, and the view was excellent. Their drinking game involved each person choosing a small crab and placing it on a plate; whoever’s crab was the first to crawl off had to drink. They were completely absorbed, as if watching a horse race, watching the little crabs scuttle about after the cover was lifted, cheering for everyone else’s crab and sincerely hoping someone else’s would win first place.
In the midst of their lively game, Ji Changqing came over and asked if she could sing a song for her. She said, “Sure,” and Ji Changqing ran down to the band on the beach. She didn't know what was said, but the band members quickly yielded their spot to her.
Ji Changqing looked so handsome holding the guitar. Her voice was beautiful, and her eyes were so bright.
The song, carried on the sea breeze, blew past her ears and into her heart. She couldn't describe the feeling of that moment; it was like a multicolored soap bubble that you dared not disturb for fear of it popping, wishing it could just float on forever. Ji Changqing looked in her direction the entire time she sang. Her eyes seemed to hold countless stars, and all of that starlight seemed to fall upon her.
That moment was as beautiful as a dream. Every time she recalled that night, her hardened heart would grow soft and tender. It was the strength from that memory that had accompanied her through countless long, difficult nights.
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