See the Spring Hills

Before Ning Chunye met Jiang Jiashu, she had heard his name many times. Her mother always spoke of him with praise, so listening to her talk about him was one of the few interesting things in Ning Chunye’s dull days.

That day, her mother came home weary from a long journey, and tears carried on the breeze fell onto Ning Chunye’s forehead. Her thoughts were in a daze, and the only thing she could think was: So now she would meet the good boy her mother had always talked about.

His eyes were dark as ink. Long, thick lashes drooped over them, veiling half his gaze. He was polite and courteous. She quietly studied him, and the boy her mother had sketched out with her sparse words became vivid and real, every word and gesture giving him flesh and blood. She gazed at him intently, silently agreeing with her mother.

He really was a good person.

So she couldn’t understand how things had come to this. It began with a bowl smashed in front of his door. Just as the scalding soup splashed onto her calf and brought a sharp sting of pain, his eyes, usually so calm, made her feel exposed and uneasy for the first time.