You Said You Liked Me, Didn’t You? - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Time had entered May, and it was already the very tip of spring’s tail. However, it remained quite cool in the mountains, there was even a lingering chill.

Li Canglang pushed open the window, and the morning air, carrying a hint of moisture, rushed toward her. After standing there in a daze for a moment, she slowly shuffled to the wardrobe and added a jacket.

Walking downstairs, she ran into her grandmother. The elderly woman waved and said with a smile, “I was just about to call you. Come quickly and eat.”

Breakfast consisted of two bowls of ordinary noodles with an added egg, the taste was unremarkable.

With nothing to chat about, the grandmother and granddaughter finished their meal in silence. After Li Canglang washed the dishes, she sluggishly packed her bag and came back down. Her grandmother rose from her stool and asked, “Are you heading back today?”

Li Canglang nodded. She pulled a roll of cash she had prepared long ago from her pocket and stuffed it into her grandmother’s hand. “Take this and use it.”

“I don’t want yours. We still have money on hand; keep it for yourself to spend.” Her grandmother refused to accept it and shoved it back into her pocket.

After a bit of back-and-forth, Li Canglang let out a weary sigh, placed the money on the table, and said, “It’s not much. I don’t have many expenses where I am now. Grandfather is getting older, tell him to stop going to the construction sites.”

She turned and grabbed her bag. Having finished speaking, she quickly walked out. Her grandmother hurried after her, shouting anxiously, “Wait a moment! Let me pack a few pounds of preserved eggs for you to take.”

Li Canglang didn’t stop. With her back to her, she waved her hand. “No need. I can’t eat much by myself.”

She walked very fast, too fast to say anything more. The old woman’s lips trembled, and her words of persuasion stuck in her throat. Watching Li Canglang’s thin back disappear into the distance, she lowered her head and wiped the corner of her eye with her finger.

Li Canglang worked as a calligraphy teacher at a private tutoring institution in a neighboring city, teaching a group of children aged seven to twelve. Her daily working hours weren’t long, making it quite a relaxed job.

She wasn’t a calligraphy major, but her foundation was solid, and she wrote excellent regular script. Even though her relevant qualifications were only barely related, the boss kept her on after seeing her handwriting.

Naturally, the work was leisurely, so the salary wasn’t high. However, combined with scattered royalties from her writing, it was more than enough for her to live on alone.

With no significant savings but no debts either, Li Canglang was quite happy living such a relaxed life.

Other people’s children were very cute. Watching a group of tiny toddlers go from writing crookedly to writing neatly was very healing.

Outside of work, she had plenty of free time to zone out and daydream. Occasionally, she would sit in the park, or stay home listening to music, practicing calligraphy, and reading casual books.

In this slow-paced life, she felt much better. Those accumulated emotions gradually dissipated, and she began to rediscover the joy of living.

Turning past the familiar big bend from her childhood, she reached a high point. Li Canglang instinctively looked back. In the distance, she saw a hunched figure still standing at the entrance of the village.

The mountain wind ruffled her hair at the temples, dancing before her eyes and blurring her vision.

Li Canglang watched silently for a few seconds. Then, just as she had in the past, she raised her hand and waved twice in farewell before turning to stride away.

The sorrow of parting wasn’t without its impact. Her happiest times as a child were spent in this remote little village. Now, amidst the wild vines and overgrown grass, she came and went all alone, which seemed to make her appear particularly pitiful.

It’s just that people cannot remain children forever, staying in the same place without moving forward. Distance lends enchantment, but familiarity breeds contempt; she didn’t need the elderly woman to speak the unspoken words today to know what they were.

After her mother passed away, she was relieved of a heavy burden, but she also suddenly lost the center of her life. For a time, she was lost and didn’t know what to do.

As the years passed, not to mention achieving nothing, she didn’t even have a goal. She lived aimlessly day after day. While her peers’ children were already old enough to run errands, she was still all by herself, which deeply worried the elders.

But she truly didn’t know what to do. Li Canglang gazed at the distant dark-blue mountains, a flash of confusion in her eyes.

When one reaches a certain age, it seems they must always have a family, following the steps of getting married, having children, and shouldering responsibilities. Even her mother felt she had been a burden before she died and couldn’t forget to nag her about it at the very end.

Unfortunately, her family didn’t know she was a lesbian. Even if, for many people now, the essence of marriage is just making do with someone, she found it very hard to force herself to form a family and spend her life with a “suitable” man.

What she had seen and heard since childhood left her without a shred of anticipation for getting married.

Running off to a neighboring city was, in a way, an attempt to escape the well-meaning inquiries and matchmaking introductions from her elders.

Lately, however, her colleagues seemed very enthusiastic as well, which caused her a great deal of distress.

It was always unavoidable. Li Canglang sighed. As she walked, she used a wooden stick to probe the way, thinking of these things while idly brushing aside the weeds on the path.

As the villagers left to work or study and gradually settled in the cities, the fields became increasingly desolate. With no one to tend them, the wild grass grew exceptionally lush. Li Canglang thought with some emotion that once the remaining few elders passed away, perhaps one would never see a sign of human life here on ordinary days.

She was slightly distracted and failed to notice a non-venomous king snake lying across the road. She nearly stepped on it, which gave her a massive fright, causing her to jump back two steps.

Unexpectedly, the snake was even more terrified than she was. With a “whoosh,” it slithered into the grass as fast as lightning. The grass leaves shook slightly, and it soon disappeared.

Li Canglang stood dazed for a few seconds, clutching her racing heart, but then she couldn’t help but laugh. Meeting by chance like this, the snake had been scared out of its wits by her. It probably hadn’t seen many humans before.

The countryside was full of snakes and insects. She had seen plenty of them on her way to school as a child. Being young and ignorant back then, she would even chase them with a stick, so she wasn’t particularly shocked. Still, she hadn’t seen one in many years. Looking around at the mountain covered in wild grass, she couldn’t help but remark that the ecological environment had recovered quite well.

A small interlude had lightened her mood. Li Canglang continued forward unaffected, thinking of the snake’s reaction. She amusedly pulled out her phone, wanting to share this funny story with a friend.

At her age, she at least had a few old friends she contacted frequently. Lately, their conversations had become even more active.

Opening WeChat, the pinned message account had remained unchanged for many years. The remark name was “Like One in the Water.” The last chat was in early February—polite New Year’s greetings to each other.

Li Canglang’s gaze naturally drifted down. In the upper right corner of the avatar with the remark “Shangguan,” a small red circle marked the number 3.

Talk of the devil, they had sent her a message first. Li Canglang raised an eyebrow and casually clicked open the chat box.

Shangguan: “Holy crap! Those two actually got married!”

Shangguan: “I thought it was over between them a long time ago.”

Between the two sentences was a photo, which appeared to be a phone screenshot.

Li Canglang’s heart skipped a beat. She had a bad premonition. She clicked the image, and the content enlarged before her eyes.

A post from high school classmate Zhou Junzhi’s Moments: “From age five to twenty-nine, and hopefully until ninety-nine. [smile]”

Below the text were several pictures. The leading one showed overlapping marriage certificates—a photo of the couple in white shirts against a red background. Their features were faintly discernible.

Li Canglang came to an abrupt halt.

The mountain wind brushed through the wild grass with a rustling sound. Li Canglang zoomed in on the picture as far as it would go. She stared blankly for a long time before exiting in a daze. She opened her Moments and scrolled for a while before remembering that she had only added Zhou Junzhi on QQ.

She opened the pinned WeChat account. There had been no content for the past three months.

They wouldn’t even notify her of the wedding anymore? Li Canglang thought listlessly. If nothing else, they had once, at the very least, been considered good friends. Had they really become this estranged in just a few years?

She accidentally clicked the chat box, and the input method popped up automatically. Her finger hovered there, not knowing what to do. She instinctively tapped the keyboard but didn’t know what she had typed, so she slowly deleted it letter by letter.

In just a moment, as if she couldn’t hold it steady, her fingers began to tremble uncontrollably.

Forget it. It wasn’t her place to ask anymore. Li Canglang gave a self-mocking smile and turned off the phone screen.

Having walked for so long, her legs felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead, and her back slumped weakly. Li Canglang stood frozen in the middle of the small path, staring blankly into the distance.

Today was a cloudy day. Dark clouds obscured the sun, and the light, which wasn’t very bright to begin with, was further blocked by the bamboo and trees. Looking around at the vast wilderness of rocks and plants, it was very quiet, with only the sobbing sound of the wind. In this world, there seemed to be only her, a lone traveler.

Oh, that’s not right. There were also two lonely graves ahead. Li Canglang curled her lips, but she couldn’t smile.

All sorts of complex emotions welled up, suddenly making her weak and unable to restrain herself. Her body began to feel uncomfortable as well. She took a few deep breaths, feeling as though her chest were blocked by something. Even breathing became difficult, bringing with it waves of dull pain in her heart.

She had never possessed her, yet she experienced the agony of losing her.

The hardest person to lie to is yourself. Li Canglang smiled mockingly at herself. She had actually thought she had moved on, that she had let go, and that as time passed, she didn’t like her that much anymore—that she was just continuing to like her out of habit.

Sooner or later, this day would come. She used to think that and felt she had prepared herself mentally. But when she truly had to face reality, she was still an absolute mess of sadness.

It turned out she still liked her that much. Li Canglang bent down and gripped the collar of her jacket tightly.

The long mountain path felt endless. After a journey of transfers, when Li Canglang got off the bus, it felt as though she had arrived at her doorstep in just a blink of an eye.

She carried her backpack, and with mud stains on her pant legs, she looked travel-worn. Her face was expressionless, and the aura around her was heavy, causing the auntie at the supermarket by the community entrance to steal several extra glances at her.

Li Canglang paid for two cans of beer. She usually didn’t smoke or drink, so she didn’t keep any at home.

It was a one-bedroom apartment where she lived alone. Li Canglang turned on the light. She had cleaned before she left, and in just a few days, hardly any dust had settled. It still looked clean and tidy.

However, under the glow of the cool-toned fluorescent light, it appeared excessively empty and lonely.

“I should change the light one of these days.” this thought surfaced again.

She sat on the sofa and opened a can of beer. The liquid was golden, transparent, and clear—it looked quite enticing—but the taste was very strange, a sort of bitter-yet-not-bitter flavor. she could only manage two sips before she couldn’t drink any more.

The male elders in her family all liked to smoke, drink, and play mahjong, so she hated the smell of smoke and alcohol. She rarely touched them and had always disliked people who indulged in smoke and alcohol to vent their emotions.

But in the vast majority of negative emotions, people instinctively think of them. It is the only form of indulgence. By choking and tearing up from the smoke, by numbing the nerves with alcohol, it seems one can pretend that none of it was their original intention.

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