No Promise of Another Life, Worlds Apart

A hurt/comfort short story I wrote when I was a little girl. It's melodramatic, so proceed with caution. Even now, I still don't know what stance to take or how to feel as I try to recreate those summers, when the sun dipped toward the clouds and the clear skies seemed woven just for us. I still don't know how to find the words to trace, stroke by stroke, the thousands of days and nights Qi Yunduan spent in my life. Just as I've never understood how far apart floating clouds and wildflowers really are. Over the years, I've often heard people say that whenever there's a class reunion or a hometown gathering, after all the teasing and chatter, people can't help remembering that “crazy” girl who was once famous, and asking, “Did Kuang Wei ever catch Qi Yunduan in the end?” The whole room falls silent, then sighs, but there's no answer. It seems to be a question without a solution. And even I, one of the people involved, often ask myself the same thing: Kuang Wei, did you ever catch Qi Yunduan in the end? Theme: