translated_Chapter 85

85: Four Hundred Letters

85: Four Hundred Letters

Seeing the young girl enter, the man with the walrus mustache asked if he could help.

Qiu Ci told him in somewhat rusty French that he was accompanying the child on a visit.

While looking around, he couldn’t help but sigh that the place hadn’t changed in so many years.

The walrus mustache exclaimed in surprise, “I remember you now! You used to come here often to mail letters.”

“Back then, I was mailing Ai La’s letters. She was my… sister.”

Yue Yue didn’t understand French and looked a little lost, watching the adults converse. She picked up a letter from the table and said to the walrus mustache, “Qiu Ci, Qiu Ci, Qiu Ci…”

The walrus mustache frowned and asked Qiu Ci, “She’s saying?”

“She wants to ask if there are any letters for me. I haven’t been here for many years, but the child doesn’t understand. I…”

“Oh my goodness.” The walrus mustache suddenly exclaimed, “Qiu Ci… Qiu Ci…” He didn’t know what the two words meant, but he recognized the pronunciation. “You’ve finally come.”

Qiu Ci didn’t understand yet.

Until the walrus mustache pulled out a large cardboard box from under the table: “Not many people write letters these days. We get a fixed three or four letters a week, all addressed to Qiu Ci. This box is all letters addressed to Qiu Ci.”

Yue Yue and Qiu Ci each took a letter.

The address was written in French, along with the French transliteration of Qiu Ci’s name, and the Chinese characters for Qiu Ci were also written. The envelopes were adorned with exquisite illustrations, and each envelope had a different design.

Yue Yue had seen Qiu Ci’s name and happened to recognize the characters. Waving her hand, she said, “Uncle, come and see.”

The walrus mustache picked out four more of the most recent letters from the pile and tossed them in: “Are these yours? There are already hundreds of them. If no one comes to collect them, I’ll have to get a new box.”

There are so many people in the world with the same name, could they be addressed to him?

“Qiu, Ci, you, good, morning…” Yue Yue directly opened a letter and started reading.

Qiu Ci quickly snatched it away: “Yue Yue, you can only read your own letters. It’s impolite to read other people’s letters.”

The walrus mustache shrugged: “It doesn’t matter. This Qiu Ci hasn’t come to collect them for many years. Why don’t you see if they’re from someone you know?”

After a moment of consideration, Qiu Ci still opened it. He was also called Qiu Ci, and he had the right to take a look.

At least let him know who wrote them.

Qiu Ci, are you doing well?

The bread this morning wasn’t good. I don’t like the way they eat here.

…

The beginning was all trivial things about eating and drinking, more like a diary than a letter.

The end was written with the date and…

The person who wrote this “water” letter was Jing Yueming.

Qiu Ci rummaged through the box for a while and took out a few to compare the handwriting on the envelopes.

They were all the same, but each letter had a different hand-drawn design, some with close-ups of floral watercolors, landscape sketches of near, mid, and distant views, or cartoon characters.

Were they all written by Jing Yueming?

Yue Yue looked at Qiu Ci’s serious expression and didn’t dare to say a word.

The walrus mustache asked, “Are they yours?”

Qiu Ci put the envelopes back: “They’re mine, thank you for your trouble.”

The walrus mustache waved his hand: “It’s just my job. Since that’s the case, take them with you. The earliest ones are from five or six years ago.”

“Five years ago.” Qiu Ci emphasized, any further back, he and Jing Yueming hadn’t separated yet.

Judging from the value of the stamps, most of them were from Europe, so he must have written them in Milan.

His phone started buzzing rapidly.

Su Yuyang roared on the other end, “Qiu Ci, where did you guys go? I can’t find you anywhere.”

“Business school, near the post office.”

Qiu Ci repeated in confusion, “Post office?”

“Yeah.” Qiu Ci gave an affirmative answer.

“Alright, I’ll come pick you up.”

After hanging up, Yue Yue couldn’t wait to ask him, “Uncle, who wrote all these letters to you? You have so many friends who write to you. I want so many friends too.”

Qiu Ci smiled wryly.

They were all written by one person.

The opera house wasn’t far from here, and driving was even faster.

Qiu Ci waited for Su Yuyang by the roadside, holding the medium-sized cardboard box.

“Oh, what did you buy?” Su Yuyang asked curiously, looking at the large cardboard box.

Yue Yue interjected, “They’re letters written to my uncle by his friend.”

Su Yuyang mocked her, “A letter is a small envelope, not a box.”

“I’m not lying to you. The whole box is full of letters written to him.”

“A whole box?” Su Yuyang asked Qiu Ci in confusion, “Huh? Who would write a box of letters?”

“Jing Yueming.”

“Wow~ A whole box, bro, how many letters is that?”

“Hundreds.” Qiu Ci put it in the trunk. The box was very heavy, and his arms and wrists were aching from holding it for so long.

Yue Yue asked again, “Since it’s so convenient to make phone calls and send text messages, why do so many people write you letters?”

“The process of writing a letter is unique. There are a lot of emotions in the words that phone calls and letters can’t convey,” Qiu Ci explained.

Su Yuyang started the car, “Where to?”

“Take Yue Yue home first, then we’ll go look at the apartment.”

Yue Yue was unwilling: “Uncle, aren’t you going to live with us anymore?”

“I’ll come visit you when I have time, okay?” Qiu Ci said goodbye to Yue Yue gently.

After coaxing her for more than ten minutes, Yue Yue finally agreed to Qiu Ci moving out.

It was getting late, and it wasn’t convenient to look for an apartment at this time, so Su Yuyang simply took Qiu Ci to his place: “Sorry, Qiu, I really didn’t have time to pick you up yesterday.”

Su Yuyang had decorated a large flat, and unlike his usual messy habits, the apartment was now extremely tidy, as if someone with OCD lived there.

A grand piano stood on the large balcony connected to the living room.

It looked expensive.

“Does Bern live here too?” Qiu Ci asked him, but he already knew the answer in his heart.

“Damn, how did you guess?” Su Yuyang was about to marvel that Qiu Ci was also suitable for being a detective with Tsukimi Rin, but when he turned around and saw the piano, he smiled embarrassedly: “Is it that obvious?”

Qiu Ci nodded.

There was a guest room.

Qiu Ci was placed in a room with a private bathroom.

A Filipina maid came out to tidy up the clothes that Su Yuyang had thrown around and made a few Chinese dishes.

In the evening, Qiu Ci sat at the dining table with him to eat. He was still curious, since it was all Chinese food, what did Bern eat?

He didn’t ask, but Su Yuyang took the initiative to explain, “Don’t wait for Bern. He doesn’t eat dinner. After we finish eating, we’ll talk about fashion shows or play a couple of games.”

Even if Bern didn’t eat, he would still have to come back to sleep.

He was a little surprised to see an extra person in the house, and after realizing it was Qiu Ci, he was completely delighted: “Mr. Qiu?”

Qiu Ci put down the controller and got up from the sofa: “Long time no see, Bern, your Chinese is much better.”

“Yes, I feel like I’m half Chinese already. I like Chinese culture. I’ve even incorporated some Chinese musical instruments into my recent performances. Of course, it’s all thanks to Sen, I can’t think of these things myself. Most of it is Sen’s credit.”

“It seems she’s learning very well,” Qiu Ci said with emotion.

“Yes, she’s too smart.” Bern didn’t leave out Su Yuyang either: “Su is also great. He helped me design the stage and costumes. We’re all great collaborative friends.”