translated_Chapter 114

114: Extra 3

Qiu Ci’s front was completely bald, two meters away.

Jing Yueming inexplicably felt sorry for him, then looked at the yellow chrysanthemums in his arms. Compared to Qiu Shi’s, they looked even more pitiful.

Even though no one was watching, Jing Yueming felt awkward and placed them in front of Qiu Ci, adding, “Next time, I’ll bring you bigger and prettier ones.”

Qiu Ci didn’t say anything, just smiled there.

Only then did Jing Yueming realize how different Qiu Ci was from Qiu Shi.

Although Qiu Ci had a male face, his features were harder compared to Qiu Shi, his smile was much gentler.

Maybe it was because Qiu Ci was looking at him.

Jing Yueming pulled out the weeds near the two graves and then fetched a broom to sweep the ground. He kept working until it was dark before finishing.

Returning to the apartment from many years ago, almost ten years had passed, and it hadn’t changed.

Only the residents had grown old, no longer the young people from a few years ago.

Before entering his own apartment, Jing Yueming hesitated and pushed open the door next door.

A choking cloud of dust hit him in the face.

“Cough, cough.” Jing Yueming covered his mouth and nose.

Apart from the dust, nothing inside had changed much.

Jing Yueming wanted to find some more diaries or something to read.

Qiu Ci wasn’t here, so this was the only way he could accompany him.

No one understood the meaning of words better than he did.

A cardboard box in the corner was sealed tightly.

Jing Yueming found a utility knife to open it. Inside was a reddish-orange fabric.

A familiar aura, a familiar design – it was the dress design he had given Qiu Ci back then.

There were also a few scribbled papers inside.

They must have been quite old too.

Jing Yueming couldn’t understand them.

There were notebooks and letters in the display case.

Jing Yueming took them out and read them for a very long time.

Too much time had passed.

There was no more of Qiu Ci’s presence here.

Jing Yueming wondered where else he could go.

Tibet.

Had Qiu Ci been to Tibet?

He found the Finnish notebook again, analyzing the last bit word by word, trying to figure out how Qiu Ci had known about Tibet.

What were the attractions he wanted to visit most?

After vaguely piecing together a route, Jing Yueming bought a high-speed rail ticket and headed there.

It seemed like this would bring him closer to Qiu Ci.

There was no other way; these were the only traces left in the world.

He gazed through the glass window at the dwindling greenery outside.

He traveled from the beautiful Central Plains to the yellow sands of Tibet.

As the altitude gradually increased, Jing Yueming realized he had come in a hurry.

He hadn’t brought oxygen, so he bought an expensive oxygen tank on the spot. Although the high-speed rail provided oxygen, he would need to use it after getting off.

Jing Yueming was extremely uncomfortable with the climate here. It was too dry, and the sun was too strong.

He needed to rest after the long journey.

There were many guesthouses near the high-speed rail station, crowded with tourists all year round, and all were fully booked.

Jing Yueming searched for a long time before finally seeing a guesthouse with interesting decor in a quieter area.

Compared to other guesthouses and hotels that were haphazardly decorated, this place was simple and concise, clearly guided by someone with a good sense of composition.

This feeling was confirmed when Jing Yueming entered and saw the curtains and paintings in the lobby.

The young owner was eating large grapes from a enamel plate and looked up to see Jing Yueming: “Hello, are you looking for accommodation?” His Chinese was fluent, with barely any accent.

“Yes, accommodation.” Jing Yueming stared at the painting, a simple decorative painting of the desert sunset. “Boss, where did this painting come from?” It wasn’t a print, it was hand-painted.

Jing Yueming looked more closely at the signature, “Maple.”

He vaguely felt that it looked like Qiu Ci’s handwriting.

The owner grinned: “This was given to me by the first guest when I opened the shop, a Han Chinese, very artistic, who came to Tibet to pray for blessings.”

“What’s his name?” Jing Yueming seemed very concerned.

The owner took a photo from the drawer: “Here, I have a photo with him. His name is…”

“Qiu Ci!” Jing Yueming widened his eyes in surprise.

“He also called himself Tsering. Eh? Do you know him?” The owner was a little surprised: “When he came, he said he didn’t have any friends or family…”

“Two years ago?”

“He came three years ago. He wanted to walk to Lhasa to pray for blessings. I worked as his guide, and at the end, he invested in me to open this guesthouse. Do you really know him?” the owner asked again.

“I know him. I am…” here for him.

“If you know him, please say hello to Tsering for me.” The owner said amiably, “My name is Langjie.”

Jing Yueming opened his mouth, but finally said, “He’s dead.”

Langjie stood up excitedly: “Ah? Is it really him?”

Jing Yueming nodded.

“Tsering means longevity. I gave him that name.” Langjie sighed regretfully. “But since you’re his friend, I won’t charge you any money. Are you here for sightseeing too?”

Jing Yueming said, “Yes.”

What a deep connection. Walking on the road, he actually found Qiu Ci’s path: “Langjie, I can pay you a lot of money, a lot, a lot. I want to take the same path as Qiu Ci.”

“Oh my god, I really didn’t know that Tsering, oh no, Qiu Ci, had such a good friend.” Langjie sighed. “Don’t worry, since you’re Qiu Ci’s friend, I’ll help you with whatever you need, but he went really far back then.”

“I can do it,” Jing Yueming said definitively.

“Okay, we went to Jokhang Temple to pray for blessings. Let’s buy some Hada scarves and yak butter first. Buy white ones, don’t buy the wrong ones. You can set off whenever you want.”

“Okay.”

Langjie arranged the best room for him and brought him fruits and local snacks.

At night, Langjie knocked on Jing Yueming’s door.

“Hi, um… are you sleeping well?” Langjie asked awkwardly.

Jing Yueming frowned, “I can’t sleep very well.”

Langjie stepped into the room: “We can chat. Qiu Ci couldn’t sleep either.”

Qiu Ci’s insomnia was a chronic problem, Jing Yueming said, “Okay.” Presumably Langjie wanted to talk to him about Qiu Ci.

“Um… may I ask, what is your relationship with Qiu Ci?” Langjie’s clear eyes were full of curiosity.

“I am Qiu Ci’s…” He couldn’t say it, and finally only said two words: “Friend.”

“Oh~” Langjie shook his head: “Three years ago, he came to pray for… um… for his lover. Do you know him?”

Jing Yueming’s oxygen-deprived brain froze even more: “What? His lover?”

If he hadn’t gone to Finland, he might have suspected that Qiu Ci had been in a relationship later, but Qiu Ci hadn’t. He had stayed in Finland alone for five years.

Then who was Qiu Ci’s lover? Jing Yueming didn’t dare to admit it.

“I… I think I know.”

Langjie didn’t suspect anything and gossipingly said: “Do you also like him? Of course, if it’s not convenient to answer, you don’t have to say.”

No, no, Jing Yueming’s heart was beating faster and faster. Qiu Ci was already dead. Even if Jing Yueming liked him, it would purely be torturing himself. No: “We… he was my teacher, actually, a very good teacher, who taught me a lot.”

“Oh, I see. Then I can gossip about him with you. I don’t know if he was together with his lover. He was really good to that person. Oh, right, the real thing is, I have some things he wrote that you can give to that, his lover.” Langjie said, taking out a folded piece of kraft paper from his pocket.