Chapter 11: That Encounter Was a Perfect Alignment of Time, Place, and People
Perhaps it was the unique tranquility of the rainy night that made the two in the car converse so harmoniously.
Jiang Muhe was about to follow up on Liang Youyun’s words when his phone rang.
He answered, replying in Dai language.
Liang Youyun couldn’t quite understand; she could only piece together a few words from experience. He was likely speaking with his mother, telling her he would be returning to Mengla.
When he speaks Dai, his voice is incredibly gentle, even the interjections soft; such a language lends him a tender and moving side, unlike the tough and profound image he projects outwardly.
“Was that your mother calling just now?” Youyun asked once he ended the call.
Jiang Muhe: “Mm, I told her I won’t be returning to Jinghong these couple of days. Asked her not to worry.”
Youyun: “You have a very good relationship with your mother and father.”
Jiang Muhe: “They treat me like their own son.” He glanced at her again and asked, “Director Zhang must have told you something about me, right?”
“Mm,” Youyun nodded. “Just a little.” Yet curiosity stirred within her; she simply wanted to know his original reason for staying here. So she ventured boldly, “But I… I want to know more.”
Hearing her say this, Jiang Muhe was moved. Perhaps she was trying to understand him, even if unconsciously.
Her eyes were like crystal, clear and sparkling; if he weren’t driving, he would have loved to gaze at them closely, for as long as possible.
“I’ll tell you another time when there’s a chance.” He pointed ahead. “We’re almost there.”
They first dropped Yuxiang off at her home.
Liang Youyun had called Yuxiang’s mother in advance. Aunt Yunan had been waiting at the door for quite some time; she pulled Yuxiang into the bamboo house while scolding, “Oh my dear, how did you end up in such a terrible state!”
Auntie Yu Nan wanted to give Liang Youyun some fried pork rinds made for the festival, but Youyun declined, saying she was too full to eat any more. Auntie Yu Nan reluctantly gave up, instead inviting her over for dinner the next day, which Youyun accepted. Hugging her, she said, “Sangkanbi Mai, Ruli Jinwan!”
Noticing that the man who had escorted them back was unfamiliar, Auntie Yu Nan asked who he was and whether he was Youyun’s boyfriend.
Youyun quickly waved her hands with a smile. “No, no, just an ordinary friend.”
Liang Youyun’s home is a two-story building located behind the village committee office. The ground floor is used for storage, while she lives upstairs in accommodations specifically provided by the village for stationed cadres. Thanks to favorable national policies in Xishuangbanna, the material support here is impeccable.
The rain outside gradually eased, turning into fine, dense drizzle.
Jiang Muhe held an umbrella to escort her out of the car and walked her to the doorway.
Liang Youyun took her keys from her bag but didn’t immediately open the door. Instead, she turned to Jiang Muhe, who was standing in the rain, and smiled warmly. “It’s too late today, so I won’t invite you in for a sit. Thank you very much for driving us back!”
Jiang Muhe maintained a gentle smile throughout, both polite and deeply attentive.
Youyun hardly dared to look into his eyes; whenever he gazed at her, it felt so intense that it left her flustered.
“Get some rest early,” he said.
“Mm, you too. Stay safe on your way home,” Youyun replied.
She stepped up the stairs, turning her back to him, yet she could feel him still standing there, unmoving.
She didn’t know what to say and didn’t turn around.
Yet she heard Jiang Muhe call her name, his voice low and hoarse: “Liang… Youyun.”
She turned; he stepped forward.
Their breaths mingled, close enough to be felt.
“How can I contact you in the future?” he asked directly, looking into her eyes.
“…” Youyun slapped her forehead with her right hand. “Oh my god…” What a useless brain. Quickly seizing the opportunity to save face, she stepped forward a few paces into his umbrella, pulled out her phone, and said, “I forgot something so important; I’m sorry. Let me add you on WeChat right now!”
“It’s alright.”
Jiang Muhe also took his phone from his jeans pocket, opened the QR code scanning page, and waited for her friend request to arrive. Only after accepting it did he shift his gaze back to her face.
Liang Youyun looked up, suddenly realizing how close the two of them were under the umbrella—far closer than any normal social distance would allow. She could even feel the heat of his skin beneath his clothes and the slight rise and fall of his chest with each breath.
The fine rain, the street-corner lamp, and the two figures beneath the umbrella were all bathed in a hazy golden glow.
Youyun quickly stepped back, offered him an awkward smile, and pointed toward the door. “Then I’ll head up!”
Jiang Muhe nodded, making a phone call gesture with his left hand near his ear: “I’ll wait for your dinner invitation.”
“Okay!”
Liang Youyun went upstairs and turned on the lights. Only then did she hear the roar of a car engine outside the window. She couldn’t help but walk over, lift the curtain, and look down. The road below was silent, shrouded only in misty rain.
She sat on the sofa, opened her phone again, and tapped on Jiang Muhe’s profile. His WeChat name was “Wooden Box.” Youyun chuckled; this man was perfectly suited for dad jokes.
She habitually changed his contact name to his real one; with so many work-related contacts, she feared forgetting who he was if she didn’t. His profile picture featured a vivid crimson sunset surrounded by colorful auspicious clouds. It felt vaguely familiar, yet she couldn’t recall where she’d seen it before. After all, sunsets in Xishuangbanna are breathtakingly beautiful every day; any casual snapshot turns out stunning.
His WeChat Moments were sparse, but better than nothing.
The most recent post was from yesterday, during the Dai New Year celebrations: three casually taken photos showcasing the festive meal, home decorations, and scenes of Buddhist worship.
Traditional, solemn, and heartwarming.
Youyun scrolled downward; since there were no restrictions, he could keep going all the way to the bottom.
Unfortunately, not a single photo featured him himself. Only in one picture did his hand appear—Youyun recognized it immediately. It was a handsome hand, slender fingers gripping a crystal glass filled with bright orange liquor. The caption read: “To you.”
As if addicted, Youyun went through post after post, suddenly realizing a pattern in Jiang’s WeChat moments: every year, there were two dates on which he invariably posted—one was the Dai New Year, and the other was October 12th. Youyun couldn’t figure out why; perhaps those two dates held special significance for him.
After she had basically finished scrolling through Jiang Muhe’s Moments, a WeChat message arrived.
Jiang Muhe: “I’ve already arrived home.”
So quickly? Unknowingly, she had been sitting there in a daze for fifteen minutes.
Youyun stared at the message, bewildered, unsure of what tone to use in her reply. She struggled to calm her heart, repeatedly reinforcing her own mental defenses: Jiang Muhe is not a simple man; you don’t truly know him, so don’t be misled by his outward appearance. Women often find themselves moved by beautiful coincidences, when in reality, it’s frequently nothing more than wishful thinking. Jiang Muhe belongs here, while you are destined to leave. Even if something were to develop between you, it would ultimately fizzle out without ever truly beginning. Therefore, there’s no need to expend your already limited emotions on this. Remaining friends still leaves plenty of time ahead.
So, she straightened up her attitude and replied, “Mm-hmm, you’ve worked hard today! Thank you so much! [Fist and palm salute]”
After a while, the reply came from the other side: “Good night.”
She was just about to type “Good night” in return when she suddenly felt it sounded a bit too intimate. Not to mention anything else, but considering her ex-boyfriends, they were all used to employing this very phrase to soothe a woman’s lonely heart, making one naturally think, “Finally, there’s someone saying good night to me.” Yet in reality, after that “good night,” they would go off to bars as usual or cheat without a second thought.
Instead, she replied, “Mm-hmm, good night then! [Moon]”
It was an impeccably official reply, more like the entire Manle Village bidding Jiang Muhe “goodnight.”
Jiang Muhe cracked open a can of cold beer, poured it into a crystal glass, scooped some ice from the freezer to add in, and sipped while scrolling through WeChat.
Liang Youyun’s WeChat name was “Everything Is Fleeting Clouds.” Jiang Muhe smiled instinctively. Her profile picture was a close-up of her covering one eye as she looked into the camera; her gaze appeared weary, exuding a kind of languid beauty. Her Moments were filled with posts, mostly detailing the work she had done while stationed in the village—seemingly intended for her superiors, a way of showcasing her achievements.
There were also portrait photos of her dressed in Dai-Le traditional attire.
Jiang Muhe tapped to zoom in, carefully studying her face. In truth, he couldn’t quite pinpoint his feelings toward her. Yes, she was undeniably beautiful, but what truly drew him in was her personality—always unpredictable, seemingly tough on the outside yet soft-hearted and deeply loyal within. This striking contrast made her feel vibrantly alive, as if an intriguing soul resided within her!
He scrolled back to their chat window, staring blankly at Liang Youyun’s two replies. Each sentence began with a formal “you” and ended with a polite “mm-hmm,” grating on his nerves.
He sat down on the barstool, raising his glass toward the side table. On it rested several framed photographs; the one in the center showed two young men dressed in special forces camouflage uniforms—the last photo taken together before Yan En passed away.
Jiang Muhe addressed the smiling, bright-toothed Yan En in the photograph: “Why does she seem so guarded around me? Am I really that intimidating?”
Unfortunately, Yan En in the photograph could no longer answer his questions.
He recalled how, during their missions together, he and Yan En were always partners, working with remarkable synergy and sharing a close bond. Yan En had once said he regarded him as an older brother, wanting to introduce him to his parents and share their parental love with him. Jiang Muhe had teased him in return, asking, “After meeting your parents, should I meet your girlfriend too?”
Hearing this, their comrades jokingly chimed in, “Can that be shared as well? That would be quite thrilling! Let me do it! Let me have a go!”
Yan En would always scratch his head shyly, saying, “I’ve never dated a girl before, but once I meet someone who captures my heart, I’ll definitely rush forward to confess my feelings and bring her home with me!”
His comrades teased him, asking, “How do you know your heart’s fluttered? What does it even feel like?” Yan En put on a comical act and replied, “It’s just like this: when your heart pounds wildly, a slight ache stirs deep within, and you can’t stop thinking about her—no matter what you’re doing, she’s always on your mind. Well then, congratulations, you’ve fallen for someone!”
Yan En didn’t forget to tease Jiang Muhe either: “Brother Mu, you’ve got experience; tell us, isn’t that exactly how it feels?”
The comrades listened eagerly, surrounding Jiang Muhe with grinning faces, waiting expectantly for some juicy gossip.
“You little rascal, looking for a beating, are you?” Jiang Muhe slung an arm around Yan En’s neck, pulling him down as he scolded, “Ever since I enlisted, I haven’t been back home. Where would I have gotten any ‘experience’ from?”
Everyone laughed and played, none willing to yield…
Memories unfolded vividly before his eyes, as if they had happened just yesterday; yet today, that vibrant soul was forever frozen within a photograph.
Jiang Muhe drained his glass, forcing himself to halt the reverie, his gaze settling on the far edge of the side table.
There sat a small picture frame. The photo captured a blazing red sunset; in the foreground stood the back view of a woman, her face turned slightly toward the setting sun. Her braided hair rested against the hollow of her shoulder, her nose straight and prominent, her lips slightly parted. Her eyes sparkled with intensity, as though stunned by the breathtaking scenery.
That was the most recently developed photo, capturing an exquisitely beautiful sunset.
Yan En had said he wanted to see the sunset.
Jiang Muhe held the crystal glass with both hands, his palms rubbing against its cool surface, his thumb tracing the cut patterns on the glass.
A faint ache stirred deep within his heart.
He stood up, walked to the side table, and tucked the sunset photo into the drawer.
Sighing, he said, “Perhaps I shouldn’t have deliberately lured her here.”
That encounter was a perfect convergence of timing, place, and circumstance.
If he hadn’t spotted Liang Youyun eating sticky rice alone under the setting sun, finding the scene so vivid and charming, he wouldn’t have raised his camera to adjust the angle and shift positions… only to accidentally tumble into a deep pit.
At that moment, everything was utterly chaotic—so much so that his scalp tingled and his entire body itched. It felt like a sheer insult to all his skills; he had never imagined becoming the “prey.”
Yet, amidst the chaos, a sliver of hope lingered in his heart.
Thank goodness, she had arrived.