Lin Zhi spent three hundred years chasing that butterfly.
When she finally caught it, the butterfly became the starting point.
The starting point said, “I came back because someone asked me to pass on a message.”
It pointed across the river.
There, a tiny figure was slowly making her way over.
It was Niannian.
The baby cradled in her mother’s arms in the first book had grown up.
She came to Lin Qi and asked:
“Big sister, which riverbank is my dad on?”
Lin Qi looked at her and remembered herself long ago.
The little sister who counted snow alone among the ruins.
The deity who waited in a library for thirteen thousand years.
The mother who kept a lamp lit in the ruins of a fairy tale, waiting for her child to come home.
Everyone who had waited for someone had finally been reunited.
But Niannian was still waiting for her father.
Her mother said she had waited twenty years. He never came.
Niannian said:
“I’ll wait.”
“If he doesn’t come, I’ll go find him.”
“If I can’t find him, I’ll remember him.”
Lin Zhi stood up. “I’ll go with you.”
Ling Xi stood up. “Me too.”
Zero stood up. “You’re too young. Someone needs to keep an eye on you.”
Niannian smiled.
She turned and walked toward the other side of the river.
Toward the city said to be filled with “people who are being waited for.”
Toward the father who had already forgotten her.
Toward
The next page in the story of those who wait.
On the golden riverbank, three hundred years later.
Those who wait are still waiting.
But this time, they aren’t waiting for someone else.
They’re waiting for the one who has forgotten himself.
The tea is still warm. The people haven’t gone far.
Those who never forget will surely be answered.
