I Promise to Walk With You for Half of my Life’s Journey - Chapter 22

Three months later.

An Chuxin drove Cheng Sutong back to Mount Qingwu. They did not follow the route from the previous field trip; instead, they took a quiet path on the other side of the mountain.

They walked slowly. Although Cheng Sutong’s physical strength had recovered significantly, An Chuxin still habitually walked on the outside, her hand hovering protectively behind the girl’s waist. The movement was entirely natural.

When they reached the viewing platform halfway up the mountain, Cheng Sutong stopped to catch her breath. An Chuxin took a bottle of water from her backpack and handed it to her. They stood side by side against the railing.

“Two years ago, I caught you right here,” An Chuxin said.

Cheng Sutong gripped the water bottle. “I remember.”

“At that time, I thought this student was truly a handful,” An Chuxin smiled. “A heart condition and always looking at me with those eyes that seemed to see through everything. I wondered how I was supposed to manage her. How was I supposed to save her?”

The wind blew up from the valley, carrying the fresh scent of vegetation.

“Later, I realized something,” An Chuxin turned her head to look at Cheng Sutong. “I cannot save you. No one can truly save another person. All I can do is stay by your side until you find your own reason to want to live.”

Cheng Sutong’s nose stung with emotion. “You found my reason for me.”

“No,” An Chuxin shook her head. “You found it yourself. I just happened to be there.”

She paused and took a small, dark blue velvet box from her pocket. It had no brand name on it.

“Open it and see.”

Cheng Sutong took it and opened it carefully. Inside lay a plain band ring. It was silver and entirely unadorned, except for a line of tiny text engraved on the inner side: 2018.04.07 – ∞

That was the date they first met, and the infinity symbol represented a state without boundaries.

“This is not a promise,” An Chuxin said, her voice falling clearly into the mountain breeze. “This is a beacon.”

Cheng Sutong looked up, her eyes shimmering with tears.

“I am going to leave. For these next six years, you should experience everything you missed: a normal campus life, friends, romance, confusion, and choices. Go and live a complete life. Become the real Cheng Sutong, not just the girl whom An Chuxin saved.”

“What if,” Cheng Sutong’s voice trembled, “after experiencing all of that, I still choose you?”

“Then I will be at the other end of time, waiting for you to run toward me.”

An Chuxin took the ring from the box and threaded it through a thin silver chain. As she stepped closer, they could both feel each other’s heartbeats and breath. Chuxin resisted the urge to kiss her and carefully placed the necklace around Sutong’s neck.

“Wear it. If one day you are certain that your choice has nothing to do with gratitude, dependence, or habit, and that you simply want to spend the rest of your life with me,” An Chuxin’s fingers brushed lightly over the ring, “then bring it and come to find me.”

Cheng Sutong’s tears finally fell. She grabbed An Chuxin’s hand and held it tightly.

“Six years is too long,” she choked out.

“It is not long,” An Chuxin wiped away her tears with her thumb. “In the context of a lifetime, six years is merely the prologue.”

She took another item from her backpack: a thick sketchbook. On the title page, she had written in neat handwriting:

To Cheng Sutong: Please use your eyes to get to know this world again. Then, draw it for me.

Cheng Sutong flipped it open and found six blank postcards tucked inside. The front of each card featured a different landscape: a snowy mountain, the ocean, a desert, a starry sky, a forest, and a city nightscape. On the back, a small line was printed:

Year One: _____ Year Two: _____ Year Three: _____ Year Four: _____ Year Five: _____ Year Six: _____

An Chuxin said, “Every year on your birthday, pick a card, fill in your coordinates for that year, and mail it to me. You do not have to write much. Just tell me where you are and what you have seen.”

Cheng Sutong touched the smooth surface of the paper as tears splashed onto it one by one.

“But what if I,” she could not finish the sentence.

“If you fall in love with someone else,” An Chuxin finished for her, “then just mail the ring back to me and live a good life. I will be happy for you.”

Cheng Sutong shook her head violently. “I will not. That is impossible.”

“Do not rush to a conclusion.” An Chuxin cupped her face, resting her forehead gently against the girl’s. “These six years are your freedom, but they are also my answer. I want to be certain that when all the identities, responsibilities, and gratitude are stripped away, what remains is the truth.”

The mountain wind grew stronger, tousling their hair. A bird chirped in the distance, its song echoing clearly through the valley. Cheng Sutong closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, her tears had stopped.

“Fine. Six years,” she said. She looked directly into An Chuxin’s eyes. “And then, I will come looking for you. I will come to find you wearing this ring and bringing the person I have become over these six years.”

An Chuxin also shed tears. She nodded and drew Cheng Sutong into her arms. The mountain forest was silent, and the world stood as their witness. After a long moment, they pulled apart. An Chuxin took out the final item from her backpack: a portable music player and a pair of wired earphones.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

Cheng Sutong complied. She felt An Chuxin gently tuck one earphone into her right ear while placing the other in her own left ear. She pressed the play button.

Music began to flow. It was a piano piece, simple and clear. Cheng Sutong had heard this melody before. During those nights after her surgery when she was in too much pain to sleep, An Chuxin would often hum it softly in her ear. There were no lyrics, only the tune.

“What song is this?” she had once asked.

An Chuxin replied, “It does not have a name. My mother used to hum it to soothe me to sleep when I was little. She said it was passed down from her grandmother.”

Now, that melody had been recorded, becoming their first and final secret. When the song ended, An Chuxin pressed the stop button and removed the earphones.

“This melody is our code. If you ever hear it in some corner of the world, it is my way of saying that I am still waiting.”

Cheng Sutong opened her eyes and looked at the woman before her. She suddenly felt that An Chuxin looked as beautiful as a miracle. She was a miracle that belonged only to her, one that remained steadily bright despite the passage of time and the boundary of life and death.

As they walked down the mountain, they held hands. They did not say words of farewell; they simply walked in silence.

When they returned to the parking lot, just before An Chuxin opened the car door, Cheng Sutong suddenly called out to her.

“Wait.”

She ran back to the entrance of the mountain path and picked a simple, tiny white wildflower. It was an unknown flower with five petals. Then she ran back and carefully pinned the flower to the strap of An Chuxin’s backpack.

“The coordinates for Year One: Mount Qingwu, beside a white wildflower.”

An Chuxin looked at the flower and then looked up at Cheng Sutong with a smile. It was a smile that Cheng Sutong would remember for the rest of her life. It was clear, gentle, and full of faith.

“Okay,” An Chuxin said. “I have received it.”

The car started and slowly drove away. Cheng Sutong stood by the roadside, watching the white car grow smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared around the bend of the winding mountain road.

She did not cry. She simply raised her hand and gently gripped the ring hanging against her chest.

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