Praying for a Mayfly's Immortality

After all these years, Cheng Si finally sees Zhang Qingsheng again.

Zhang Qingsheng's eyes are slightly narrowed now, just enough to hide his cloudy gaze.

But his gray hair is still exposed, the wrinkles still crowd his face, and his back is still hunched... Every detail bears witness to the marks time has left on him.

Zhang Qingsheng is seventy-one. Old. Truly an old man.

"Who are you? Did you get the wrong place? I don't know you," Zhang Qingsheng says to Cheng Si.

Clearly, his memory has gone, too.

Cheng Si sighs inwardly and walks toward Zhang Qingsheng. He naturally takes the things from Zhang Qingsheng's hands and carries them himself, then says, "Go open the door, Brother Sheng. I've been standing here ages, and my legs are getting sore."

They look so familiar with each other, nothing like people who haven't met in decades. More like family who have lived together every day...

(I've planted lots of little seeds lately. This short story is under ten thousand words, a quick, fun read. Come check it out~)

It has the same tragic tone as A Mountain Called Wangyang in My Dreams. If you like this short story, you'll probably enjoy our Wangyang Mountain, too. It's on my profile. Come give it a read.

Theme: Don't rush, and don't let the moment pass.