Chapter 2: The Day of Calling Stars (1)

[When I was little, I was a crybaby.

Because I was always worrying that I would lose something, always afraid that one day I would become lonely, become all alone.

I had an older sister.

She was a very pretty, very pretty person, a very gentle, very gentle person.

Whenever I sat alone at the bedside crying over my loneliness, she would knock on that window and take me to look at the star-filled colors on the grassland.

Starlight lit the halo above her head.

Moonlight shone on her pure white wings.

A feather fell from her back and drifted before me.

I caught it.

It was so warm.

Sister said we were children of the gods, symbols of happiness created by God.

In this little world (Eden), everything was unchanging.

But.

Sister was a liar.

Clearly she always looked so lonely gazing at the deep, deep blue sky above her head.

Clearly she left our little Eden, yet she wanted to deceive me by saying I would not lose.]

[We will not lose.

Because from the very beginning, we had nothing.

Alone in the world, without a speck of worldly dust.]

[Not until I was much older did I understand.

The reason Sister felt lonely was because she had found—found that person who would not let her feel lonely, feel like she was only one person.

She had simply understood the meaning of loneliness.]

[I actually envied her a lot.

In those days Eden was sunny and brilliant every day.

But Sister’s words at parting always lingered in my mind, unable to be dispelled.

“If you feel lonely, please believe—in a broader, more distant place, there is definitely, definitely someone you very much want to meet.

“He will surely make you never, ever lonely again.”

But when I realized Sister’s words were actually right, I woke from the dream.

The me who woke looked at the empty room, the bed with only me, eyes full of bewildered tears.]

[I felt lonely.

Even though this Eden had long since lost its myriad stars, long since lost the clamor of former days, I had never felt lonely before.

Because I thought I had already hidden my fear together with my tears in childhood, but at that moment I… only wanted to cry.

Every one of your sentences, every sigh, every laugh surfaced in my ears, and at that moment made me understand how lonely I was.

Lonely enough that I could not help but cry.]

[I just miss you.

I am waiting for you in the sky.

I miss the sound of you reading to me, miss your silly, cute appearance, and those drawings that carried a sweet, warm atmosphere.

No matter how much time passes, no matter how the years change, even if it is forever, forever…

I miss you.

I am waiting for you in the sky.]

It seemed I had a very warm, very warm dream.

In the dream there was a girl wearing a long white dress, moonlight draped over her shoulders, starlight crowning her head, standing beneath an apple tree and watching me from afar.

The night sky, sparse stars, moonlight spilling faint silver across the earth.

I could hardly fail to notice her, because she was so beautiful, so beautiful.

Behind her was a pair of pure white wings hung with fresh flowers.

The halo above her head glittered like starlight beneath the apple tree.

She stood there so gracefully, standing among the green grass, smiling at me from afar.

Lingyin.

How long had it been since we last met?

If I counted from the day I finished the last subject of the college entrance exam and eagerly called you, it had already been four years.

But your smile, the way you sat in a white dress beneath the sunlight, was still as clear as yesterday, carved into my memory.

I would never, ever forget.

At some unknown point I had formed the habit of keeping a diary.

This habit seemed to have started not long after I met you; the specifics I could no longer remember clearly…

Because whenever I saw those diaries in the locked drawer, some of them with covers already worn and torn, I wanted to open them and look, yet after casually flipping one or two pages I would always carefully close them again.

I actually missed, missed very much the days I spent with Lingyin, the days that had Lingyin in them.

But when I opened the diary I would also be afraid of remembering too much.

Recalling them felt like recalling yesterday.

Whenever I looked at those words in the diary, it was as if I were looking at you.

I was still waiting for you, but I was also afraid that today would bring the same disappointment.

Once again I closed the diary, locked the drawer, and walked out of my room.

A cool breeze blew through the corridor outside the door.

It was a little cold.

Only then did I realize summer had completely passed.

In a blink I had already graduated university.

I had not chosen, like several other classmates, to go see the world in a coastal metropolis.

Instead I stayed in this city I had lived in since I was little, in the house I had grown up in, because only here were there traces of you.

The house was actually quite large.

After all, it was the house that had once held my parents, my sister, and me.

Living here alone I often felt it was very quiet, but I had long grown used to the feeling of quiet.

Every day I spent with you, wasn’t it just this quiet?

Although what I needed had still not changed.

All I wanted was a tiny room that belonged to me, a bed I could rest on when I was tired; actually that was already enough.

Although a tiny room made me feel warmer, feel more at ease, I still did not want to leave here.

I thought I probably just wanted to use one kind of remembrance to dilute another kind of missing.

I was probably someone who had sunk into the past and could not pull herself out.

Whenever I saw you in a dream, the feeling of loneliness would be replaced by warmth, and that day my mood would be very, very pleasant, as if I had truly come to your side.

Without realizing it I had long grown used to loneliness, had even come to like the feeling of loneliness, because that way, in the dead of night when all was still, I could still dream of you.

Beep—beep—

“Hello, the number you have dialed is powered off. Please try again later.”

I was probably long since hopeless.

Because I had long since hopelessly fallen in love with you.

This string of numbers that had long since rotted away at the bottom of my heart—I still topped it up every month.

Because I was afraid that one day when I dialed, the other end would bring a completely unfamiliar voice.

In the days of waiting for you, this phone, this library, had become my only attachment.

That’s right.

Today was the weekend, the day to go to the library, the day of our promise.

I locked the front door behind me.

Cool wind coiled through the stairwell, making me wrap my black coat tighter.

Houses this old were actually already uncommon in this city.

There were a few pits and hollows in the cement of the stair landings, but what caught the eye even more was how the originally rough cement had been worn smooth by years upon years of footsteps.

The stair railings were made of cement and flat steel bars.

Those lime chunks, like the steel bars that had already turned black and red, had long since grown mottled under the erosion of the years, only making one think of one’s childhood self.

The stairwell was always bright.

It had no windows; only one wall was built of hollowed lime bricks formed into some unnameable pattern, so feeling cold was only natural.