Heading for the Plains - Chapter 33

What Ping Yuan hadn’t expected was that while she was supposed to be the one showing Xia Chao around, she ended up being the one led through the fields by the younger girl.

Q City was situated on a vast plain with fertile soil. As far as the eye could see, there were endless fields of wheat and rice. Unlike the double-cropping cycles of the south, northern rice follows a single-harvest schedule: seedlings are transplanted in April and harvested only in August.

It was now mid-July, nearing the “Great Heat” of the solar calendar. Waves of rice rolled toward the horizon in the breeze—bright green leaves and translucent stalks—yet the air already carried the heavy, milky fragrance of grain filling the husks.

The scent of rice is substantial; on the sun-baked ridges of the fields, it felt thick and warm, reminiscent of the moment dinner is served and the rice is freshly cooked. Xia Chao loved this smell, just as she loved watching crops grow.

How could the world produce something so good? Heavy heads of rice and vast stands of tall corn stood firmly in the wild, surviving simply by standing between heaven and earth.

She pushed the bicycle along the narrow ridge with a light step, teaching Ping Yuan how to identify sweet-tasting grass stalks. Occasionally, she picked up a long branch to part the stalks, pointing out river snails and loaches in the water below.

When the wind blew, the rice plants bowed in unison, pushing forward before parting again to reveal a majestic white goose emerging from the depths of the field. Leading several fluffy, yellow goslings behind it like a long-necked teapot leading a set of teacups, the goose stretched its neck and—snap—snatched the fat loach Xia Chao had been carefully pointing at.

Xia Chao: “…”

She bristled, ready to pick a fight with the goose, but then remembered the “glorious” childhood incident of being pecked and chased across a village. She had no choice but to swallow her pride and submit to the goose’s tyranny.

Every time Ping Yuan saw this expression of “fuming but not daring to speak,” she wanted to laugh. She kept her hands lazily in her pockets, and when she laughed, Xia Chao couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

Summer truly was a wonderful season. It was nearing five o’clock; the sun was sinking, but the sky remained brilliant—the final stretch of cloudless light before twilight. The sweltering heat was dissipating, and the straw hats blocked the direct glare, allowing Xia Chao to look up unreservedly at the deep blue sky as it stretched endlessly toward the horizon alongside the bright, emerald fields.

Even with the same crops, the geography of southern hills and northern plains felt vastly different. Gazing at the distant horizon, Xia Chao smiled instinctively.

“It’s so magical,” she said absently. “I didn’t realize the sky over the plains looked like this.”

Ping Yuan was a bit surprised and turned her head. “Didn’t you see it when you took the high-speed rail here?”

“I was too exhausted and slept through the first half,” Xia Chao thought back, feeling a bit embarrassed. “And during the second half, I was too nervous to notice anything. I had even prepared an entire self-introduction,” she added, casting a meaningful glance at Ping Yuan. “Who would have thought we’d start fighting the moment we met?”

And it had been a fierce fight, too. Xia Chao had been so angry that night that she had peeled and eaten the orange she had originally intended to give to Ping Yuan. Ping Yuan probably didn’t know about that yet. Xia Chao looked at her helplessly; that orange, which she had picked so carefully, had turned out to be so sour it set her teeth on edge. She had regretted it then, thinking she should have let Ping Yuan suffer through it.

But now, she couldn’t bring herself to feel that way.

Human hearts are so strange, she thought silently as she pushed the bike.

At this moment, they were technically discussing an awkward topic, but the silence between them didn’t feel heavy. Perhaps it was because of the wind in the fields; her peaceful mood was like a hydrogen balloon, floating to the very top of her chest. Ping Yuan walked beside her, her skirt swaying gently. After a while, Ping Yuan suddenly lowered her voice and said, “I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t matter at all, was Xia Chao’s first instinct.

But she swallowed the words before they could leave her lips.

Slivers of sunlight filtered through the weave of the straw hat, dancing across Ping Yuan’s face and illuminating her features with a gentle, vivid glow. Xia Chao found herself lowering her own voice, as if the tiny specks of light on Ping Yuan’s nose and eyes were shimmering fairy dust that might be startled away by a loud noise.

She let a trace of a gentle smile enter her voice. “Then… close your eyes.”

Ping Yuan looked confused. “Close my eyes for what?”

“For the apology,” Xia Chao said with a grin. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you just say you were sorry?”

“I’ve never heard of an apology requiring one to close their eyes.”

“I don’t care,” Xia Chao said, her voice lazy but laced with a teasing lilt. “If you want to apologize now, you have to listen to me.”

Normally, Ping Yuan would never indulge in such a pointless game. But today, knowing she was the one at fault, she was uncharacteristically compliant. Or perhaps “compliant” wasn’t the right word; after all, all she had to do was stand there and dignifiedly shut her eyes.

But what things in this world require one to close their eyes?

Unable to guess the answer, she let go of her reservations and closed them. Again, some people are born to provide a sense of security. They aren’t a solitary moon, but a gentle sun; under the sunlight, all things are equal.

And equality meant the right to enjoy the moment without guilt. Ping Yuan kept her eyes closed, the world turning into a dark curtain. She waited patiently, but Xia Chao’s next move didn’t come immediately.

The only sound was the wind, the rustle of the rice leaves, and the click of the bicycle as Xia Chao quietly propped it against a nearby tree.

What requires closed eyes? Ping Yuan continued to guess, her heart harboring a strange, expectant trace of a thought. She didn’t realize that in her quiet waiting, she looked very much like a princess waiting for a kiss.

She didn’t know that the same question was swirling in Xia Chao’s mind.

Xia Chao had originally intended to play a prank, perhaps a light flick on the forehead like Ping Yuan did during her recitations, or tucking a wildflower behind her ear; a childish bit of revenge.

That was until Ping Yuan stood before her with her eyes shut, looking so solitary and cool, like a stalk of reeds in the sun or a handful of snow.

It’s impolite to put wildflowers on a princess’s head. Xia Chao slowed her breathing, her gaze brushing softly over Ping Yuan—over her long, straight lashes, her elegant nose, and her pale pink lips.

In that moment, she made a decision.

“Open up.”

In the darkness, Ping Yuan heard her whisper. The voice was still gentle, possessing a natural, well-bred politeness. But even a polite command can be nerve-wracking when you can’t see; Ping Yuan instinctively stiffened for a second before feeling she was showing weakness. So, in a show of defiance, she opened her mouth slightly without asking a single question.

“Ah.”

It wasn’t a sound she made, but a guidance from Xia Chao. Like a patient dentist, Xia Chao told her when to hold her pose and when she could close her lips in the darkness of the unknown. A soft berry was popped into her mouth—small, with the specific fragrance and slight roughness of a wild fruit. As it was crushed between her teeth, a clear, sweet juice spilled out.

Like a summer kiss.

It was a wild raspberry, freshly plucked from the stem, never having seen the inside of a fridge. It wasn’t cold; it was warm, tasting of the sun. This was what Xia Chao wanted to give her. That day in the kitchen, Ping Yuan had fed her a cherry; this was the return gift.

“You can open your eyes now.”

As Xia Chao spoke, Ping Yuan opened her eyes and looked straight into the younger girl’s smiling gaze.

“What was that?” she asked.

Asking about the origin of food after you’ve already swallowed it is a bit silly, even for someone as composed as Ping Yuan.

Xia Chao continued to smile. Seeing Ping Yuan’s nose reddened by the sun, she decided to tease her a little. “It’s a snake berry.”

“In my hometown, we call them ‘snake bubbles’,” she said in a mysterious whisper. “They say they’re poisonous—like bubbles made from a venomous snake’s spit.”

Ping Yuan: “…”

She fell silent. This girl was truly immature. If she wanted to scare her, shouldn’t she have said that before the fruit went down? What did Xia Chao think she could actually do to her now?

So, she said nothing, merely looking at Xia Chao with an expressionless face. Her “cold face” was usually devastating. Ping Yuan knew this, but she didn’t know why she suddenly felt like using it on Xia Chao.

An apology that ended in being fed a berry was hardly a prank; it was a gentle reprieve. But for some reason, she didn’t want to be “let off.” She didn’t want the childish games, and she certainly didn’t want to be shown mercy. Unable to articulate what she actually wanted, she redirected her vague dissatisfaction toward Xia Chao.

Xia Chao immediately raised her hands in surrender.

The berry she’d fed Ping Yuan was, of course, edible—just a common wild raspberry. Sensing Ping Yuan’s slight displeasure but not knowing the cause, she thought for a moment and offered another one. “Want another?”

She held her palm out, offering the handful of berries she’d gathered. The bright red fruits sat on a white tissue. She looked at Ping Yuan with such earnestness, as if she were offering her the entire summer.

And just like that, Ping Yuan’s mood improved.

“No more,” she said. She reached out and gave Xia Chao’s head a playful pat. Seeing the girl standing there clutching her little berries, looking utterly confused, Ping Yuan couldn’t help but let her lips curl into a smile.

“Weren’t we going for a ride?” she asked. With a graceful turn on the ridge, she looked back with a cat-like challenge in her eyes. “Come on.”

She walked forward with a light step. Under the deep blue sky, the plain stretched endlessly, with a straight road cutting through it toward infinity. The heat shimmered, and her bright skirt spread out like a dandelion seed, like an umbrella ready to fly into the distance.

Xia Chao stood there, chin tilted slightly as she watched her, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m coming.”

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