"Pointing"

"If I kiss her now, will God blame her?" The sound of scripture debates at Sera Monastery fell in the empty courtyard. Ji Xunan sat on the steps and listened all afternoon, not understanding a word. She turned her head and saw Shen Zhi standing on the porch, the afternoon light passing through her hair, and the leaf-shaped birthmark on the side of her neck half exposed outside the collar. She looked at it for a long time, wondering if God would blame her if he kissed her now. She was twenty-two years old at that time. She didn't know that she would lose her at twenty-five, and she didn't know that she would lose everyone at twenty-five. She didn't know that in the next ten years, she would stand alone under the aurora, in the night breeze of Kyoto, and in all the places Shen Zhi had said she "wanted to visit", taking every photo as a monologue that no one signed for. The first time she saw her was when she was twelve years old. A strange little girl handed over a pack of tissues. There was a leaf-shaped mark on the side of her neck. The girl pointed to the south and said: "My home is on the other side of the sea." She remembered that direction, that leaf, and forgot that person. Twenty-one years old, Beicheng. In the conference room, she saw the leaf for the second time. The afternoon light passed through the man's hair, and the blurred memory fragments overlapped with the person in front of him, and his heart beat a beat faster. She thought it was nervousness. Thirty-five years old, Nancheng. Same conference room, same window. She saw the leaf for the third time. The heartbeat was still a beat faster. This time she didn't lie to herself. She walked in one direction for twenty-three years. It took twenty-three years for a leaf to fall back into the same palm. Pointing in your direction never changes. Intention: The direction can point to the distance or to a person. It takes you many years to walk there, only to realize that the end is never a place, but a certain person.