Two, Right Now
Mu Wan had been given another hour.
She did not spend all of it sitting beside the kittens.
After waiting for a while, Ertong curled up in the bed and fell asleep.
Mu Wan eventually rose and left the nursery.
The living room lights were off.
Only the lamp on the low table remained lit.
A soft circle of light spread beneath its shade, cutting a quiet opening into the darkness.
Inside that circle sat Liu Qianxiu.
Cross-legged before the low table, he was reading.
Silently.
Completely absorbed.
His features were not delicate because they lacked definition.
Quite the opposite.
The lamplight divided his face between brightness and shadow.
One side illuminated.
The other dark.
From his forehead to the arch of his brow and the bridge of his nose, every line was distinct and sharply formed.
But his temperament softened all of it.
However defined his features were, the quietness within him seemed to subdue their edges.
Clear.
Detached.
Still.
Mu Wan’s heartbeat, which had finally slowed, began accelerating again.
She stood where she was and watched him.
Eventually, Liu Qianxiu turned a page.
Then he raised his eyes.
And found her staring.
Caught, Mu Wan parted her lips and pointed toward the kitten room.
“Ertong fell asleep.”
She was bored.
Liu Qianxiu remained where he was.
“Do you want to read?”
“Sure.”
Mu Wan slipped off her shoes and walked over barefoot.
Then she sat cross-legged beside him.
The low table was large enough for one person to use comfortably.
Even with Mu Wan beside him, it did not feel crowded.
She settled at Liu Qianxiu’s side and glanced at the book in his hands.
The text ran vertically down yellowed pages.
The book looked old.
“What are you reading?”
Mu Wan stretched her neck and leaned closer.
Liu Qianxiu handed the book to her.
Her fingertips brushed across the paper.
The texture gave her a strange feeling.
This did not merely look old.
It felt old.
Only after taking the book did Mu Wan begin to notice the rest of the room more carefully.
There were very few objects in Liu Qianxiu’s living room.
Yet everything carried the weight of age.
Nothing looked like a modern reproduction made to appear antique.
The low table in front of them, for example, seemed genuinely old.
From a distance, it was understated.
Up close, delicate patterns had been carved into the wood.
A faint scent of sandalwood lingered around it.
The mural on the load-bearing wall was unusual too.
It did not look as though it had been painted directly onto the apartment wall.
Instead, Mu Wan had the strange impression that it had once belonged somewhere else, had been carefully removed, then embedded here.
Lin Wei had studied fine arts.
Over the years, Mu Wan had picked up enough from her to recognize something of the mural’s technique.
The style was unmistakably classical.
The entire painting possessed a quiet, restrained beauty that seemed to have settled into it over time.
Liu Qianxiu belonged among these things.
Old books.
Aged wood.
Incense.
Faded paintings.
Sitting among them, he looked like an immortal in an ancient figure painting.
Elegant.
Remote.
Almost sacred.
Mu Wan’s attention left the book entirely.
She started staring at him again.
The book he had given her remained open to the same page.
After a while, Liu Qianxiu raised his eyes.
Their gazes met.
This time, Mu Wan did not look away.
She smiled at him openly.
Liu Qianxiu glanced at the Tao Te Ching in her hands.
“Why aren’t you reading?”
Mu Wan had read exactly one page.
Classical Chinese.
Traditional characters.
Dense.
Obscure.
She barely recognized enough of it to understand anything.
So she had given up.
“I don’t understand it.”
Liu Qianxiu lowered his gaze.
He turned a page in his own book.
Through the old yellowed paper, his fingers looked almost translucent beneath the lamplight.
His voice remained mild.
“And you understand me?”
He had caught her staring.
Mu Wan was not embarrassed.
She shook her head.
“No.”
It was the truth.
Liu Qianxiu was a doctor.
He was also a Daoist practitioner.
And sometimes, he seemed like neither.
The more Mu Wan learned about him, the less certain she became that she understood him at all.
He seemed like someone who had hidden himself in plain sight.
The closer she came, the deeper the mystery became.
Yet he was not secretive.
He treated people with straightforward honesty.
He was like a clear pool.
You could look through the surface and see the stones at the bottom.
But seeing them did not mean you knew how deep the water was.
Mu Wan did not mind.
She had time.
She could measure his depths little by little.
Then she added,
“But you’re better-looking than the book.”
Liu Qianxiu looked up.
Mu Wan was smiling.
He returned his gaze to the page.
Only then did he realize he had lost his place.
Mu Wan watched him continue reading.
Before long, boredom returned.
Paper whispered beneath her fingertips.
She rested one arm on the low table, lowered her head onto it, and turned her face toward him.
“Liu Qianxiu.”
Her voice sounded particularly soft in the vast, silent room.
He did not look up.
“Mm.”
The low response seemed to linger inside her ear.
Mu Wan lifted her head slightly and studied his profile.
“You like living alone, don’t you?”
Under the single pool of lamplight, the two of them sat at the low table.
Liu Qianxiu upright and composed.
Mu Wan curved beside him with lazy ease.
“Why do you ask?”
Mu Wan thought about it.
“Because you’re always alone.”
Liu Qianxiu’s throat moved faintly.
His gaze remained on the words before him.
When he answered, his voice was quiet and even.
“Right now…”
He paused.
“In this moment, there are two of us.”
— End of Chapter 12 —
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