The car sped along the highway. I leaned quietly against the window, the constant vibrations making my ears tingle. Behind the clear glass, fleeting scenes reminded me of travel.
Ahead lay that city I knew all too well: the overcast sky, the roaring traffic, the flashing neon lights, and the familiar strangers wandering the city. Fragments and images flashed through my mind in an instant, as if something had suddenly touched a nerve…
The car pulled into the station close to noon. After a quick check of the hotel and itinerary, I knew I would have an entire afternoon to rediscover every memory this city had given me. I've always been a nostalgic person, and the long-lost atmosphere entered my brain, which had been numb countless times, instantly becoming a part of my thoughts. I began to flip through every fragment of the past and sketch every familiar or unfamiliar face I was about to encounter…
Sister Yun said … She finished get off work at 5:30 and we had arranged to meet at Yatai on Heping Road for steak. Unfortunately, the usually popular Western restaurant was nowhere to be found this time. On the phone, Sister Yun said she would wait for me at Jin Hans nearby. It's a barbecue and casual dining restaurant with a unique international flavor, featuring house-brewed German dark beer and Turkish kebabs. Behind the large floor-to-ceiling windows, there were neatly arranged exquisite plates and gleaming Western tableware. A huge house-brewed beer machine was placed in the most conspicuous position in the front hall, and a guitarist was lazily singing melancholic urban music in the small orchestra pit on the second floor... Sister Yun said she didn't like having someone sing in front of her while she was eating, as she felt it was disrespectful to the guests. Fortunately, I could barely accept it.
I can't quite accurately describe this woman I call "sister." Her face has sharp features, her hair cascades like a waterfall, and her quiet eyes hold a hint of languor. She might be sitting on a rocking chair on the balcony during her vacation, watching the lilies with dewdrops on the windowsill, holding her favorite book and enjoying the morning sunlight…
…
We sat opposite each other, the attentive waiter skillfully placing various flavors of barbecue onto the plates in front of us. Sister Yun always quietly talked to me about her life experiences. It seemed that in her eyes, I lacked the unrestrained exuberance of someone born in the 80s. I prefer to talk to friends older than me. I don't know why, but I have absolutely no interest in the trendy topics discussed by my peers. I desperately want to refresh my withered soul with other people's experiences, to allow myself to clearly see the last remaining clarity within me. But even that last bit of clarity can be unknowingly covered in dust.
Time slipped away without warning. It was past midnight when we left Jin Hans, and the city lights were just coming on.
Lights are a unique symbol of cities. Despite the light drizzle, the restaurants and shops lining the streets remained brightly lit. I saw Sister Yun off to her car, checked the time—it was still early—and lit a cigarette. I wandered aimlessly through the city's alleyways in the night, feeling as if I were back in my university days, staying up late, seeing off classmates whose senses were numbed by alcohol, and then breathing in the last breath of fresh air, letting my restless heart find peace. This feeling was so familiar.
I don't know how to record my life and every detail of my experiences, but I cherish every fragment that has left me with memories. As my fingers finish typing, I still can't clearly know what I've recorded. I only know that I like to use words to record the images of my life, and then, as time fades, recall them one by one, searching for those memories lost in every city and in my soul…
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