Five Colors of Spring: My Memories of You

It took me a long time to understand: meeting the right person at the wrong time is a regret; meeting the wrong person at the wrong time is a calamity. The camphor trees shed their leaves and turned green again; the cicadas began to sing, then fell silent. In Shen Lan Yin’s youth, Xiao Nan was a mist she could never escape. Back then, she counted the sunbeams caught in his curls, remembered the look in his eyes when he joked, turned her wardrobe upside down for a chance encounter, and savored his casual remarks like candy. Day after day, she basked in the sweetness of her own wishful thinking, convinced that their glances, teasing, and deliberate closeness meant they were running toward each other. Only at the end did she understand: the light in his eyes had never shone for her. The cool breeze carried him away with that summer, leaving only her and that empty summer to wander through the memories.