Chapter 18: The Wind and Rain Bridge

“What happened?” Cheng Yun asked. “Such a big piece of land, yet only a few trees?”

“Nobody takes care of it anymore,” Anan replied.

As he spoke, he stepped carefully down the slope and reminded her, “Watch your footing.”

The remaining bayberry trees looked sickly. Their branches were dry and thin, some bending awkwardly as though exhausted. When Anan reached one of them, he gave the trunk a light shake. Several brittle leaves drifted down.

Cheng Yun clicked her tongue.

“This place looks miserable.”

Anan spoke softly. “There used to be many trees. Lots of families in the village grow bayberries. My family did it for a few years too.”

“Did it make money?”

“It was decent.”

Cheng Yun leaned against one of the trees and looked toward the distant mountains. The peaks rolled endlessly, layer after layer fading into pale blue mist.

“If it made money,” she asked casually, “why stop?”

“I’m not home most of the time. My father is often away as well. My brother used to manage the orchard…”

He stopped mid-sentence.

Cheng Yun immediately understood.

“He stopped after your sister-in-law ran away?”

It was clearly a painful family matter, yet Anan’s face remained calm as he recalled it. Cheng Yun couldn’t tell whether time had softened the wound—or whether he had simply always been a person who kept emotions buried deep inside.

For some reason, she hoped it was the former.

After a moment of silence, Anan said quietly,

“My brother loved her very much.”

He paused before repeating, more softly,

“Very… very much.”

Cheng Yun said nothing.

Anan rested his hand on the rough bark of a dying bayberry tree.

“She wasn’t from our village. My brother met her outside. She married into our family, but stayed less than a year. Then one day she left without saying anything.”

He broke off a small twig as he spoke.

“After she left, my brother searched for her in the mountains for days. She never came back. Later the family felt something was wrong, so the whole village joined the search.”

His gaze drifted over the grove.

“When they finally found him, he had collapsed here in the orchard.”

“The villagers took him to the hospital. When he woke up, something in his mind wasn’t right anymore.”

Anan looked at Cheng Yun.

“Usually he’s fine. But whenever someone mentions his wife… he gets sick again.”

He added quietly,

“So the villagers avoid talking about her in front of him.”

Cheng Yun frowned slightly.

“They never found that woman?”

“No.”

“No police report?”

“We reported it. The police said they couldn’t find her.”

Cheng Yun let out a soft scoff.

She pulled a cigarette from her coat pocket and lit it.

“That’s true,” she said slowly, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. “A woman who truly wants to disappear… is very hard to find.”

As the smoke drifted away, her eyes landed on something not far off.

A narrow ditch cut through the hillside. A shallow stream flowed through it, perhaps two meters across.

But what caught her attention wasn’t the water.

It was the structure spanning the stream.

A wooden bridge.

Yet unlike ordinary bridges, this one had a roof. The pointed structure rose above the walkway like small pagodas connected in a line.

“What’s that?” Cheng Yun lifted her chin toward it.

Anan followed her gaze.

“A Wind and Rain Bridge.”

Cheng Yun murmured the name softly.

“Wind and Rain Bridge…”

She turned back to him.

“Have you finished inspecting the trees?”

Anan frowned slightly.

“Why?”

“Let’s go take a look.”

“It’s just an old bridge,” he said. “Nothing special.”

But Cheng Yun had already started walking.

“For your village,” she said casually over her shoulder, “this probably counts as a five-star tourist attraction.”

“…”

She walked neither quickly nor slowly.

Anan watched her retreating figure for a moment before finally following.

---

Although the bridge looked close, the path down the hillside was steep.

Cheng Yun crushed her cigarette underfoot and carefully climbed down, gripping tree trunks for balance.

“Be careful,” Anan called from behind.

“Mm.”

She rolled up her sleeves and slid down the slope using both hands to steady herself on the trees.

Just as she lost her footing near the bottom, she reached out and grabbed another trunk, barely managing to stop herself.

Then suddenly—

A hand appeared in front of her.

Cheng Yun looked up.

Anan had already stepped past her and extended his hand.

“I’ll help you.”

She pursed her lips slightly before placing her hand in his.

Anan was steady on the mountain path. With his support, Cheng Yun quickly descended the rest of the slope.

Once they reached the bottom, he released her.

But she didn’t immediately let go.

The moment their hands connected, she deliberately shifted her weight.

For a brief second, the pressure on his hand doubled.

Then she released him lightly.

Anan raised his hand instinctively.

Cheng Yun looked at him with a faint smile.

He immediately turned his gaze away.

---

The Wind and Rain Bridge stood quietly above the narrow stream.

Just as Anan had said—it was old.

The wooden planks were worn, weeds sprouting between the cracks. It was obvious that few people crossed it anymore.

But to Cheng Yun, it was far from uninteresting.

She stepped onto the bridge and looked down at the flowing water.

For a stream this small, a simple plank would have sufficed. Yet the villagers had built a proper bridge, complete with a roof and complex wooden framework above.

Anan spoke beside her.

“I heard the village elders built it over a hundred years ago.”

Cheng Yun glanced back at him.

“You suddenly sound like a tour guide. I’m not used to it.”

Anan fell silent.

She sat on the railing.

“Relax. I’m joking.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“So what’s the purpose of this bridge?”

“To shelter from wind and rain.”

“Does it actually help?”

“Yes.”

Clouds drifted over the sun, casting a faint gray shadow over the valley.

Cheng Yun leaned against a wooden pillar. Even without high heels, her legs looked long and slender.

She looked at Anan.

“How long has your mother been gone?”

“More than ten years.”

“Your father never remarried?”

Anan gave a quiet hum.

Cheng Yun chuckled.

“Should I say the men in your family are romantics… or just unlucky in love?”

Anan leaned casually against the railing.

“I don’t know.”

Cheng Yun lit another cigarette.

“And you?”

She watched him quietly.

“Are you still waiting for your girlfriend?”

Anan turned his head away.

The mountain wind grew stronger.

Cheng Yun’s hair hadn’t fully dried yet. It lifted in the wind before settling against her lips, dark strands curling faintly.

She waited.

Finally Anan spoke.

“I’m not waiting for her.”

“Then why haven’t you found another woman?”

“There’s no reason.”

“What was she like?”

“…Very beautiful.”

“How beautiful?”

Anan hesitated.

Cheng Yun slowly stood up and stepped closer.

“Compared to me?”

A gust of wind swept through the bridge.

Anan stared stubbornly at the wooden planks beneath his feet.

“She was beautiful,” he repeated.

Cheng Yun said coolly,

“Seven years. You’ve probably forgotten what she looks like.”

He remained silent.

“Tell me something else,” she continued. “I heard she took your money. How much?”

“…Not much.”

“Do you still miss her?”

Anan stared blankly into the distance beyond the bridge.

After a long pause he said quietly,

“She was a photographer. She came to Guizhou to photograph ethnic minorities. That’s how we met.”

“And then she left.”

A simple story.

Cheng Yun glanced at him.

“An artist.”

She reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair behind his ear.

His ear twitched instantly.

He turned his head.

Their faces were suddenly close.

Cheng Yun’s hand remained there.

Her scent lingered between them.

“In the past seven years,” she whispered softly, “have you been with any other women?”

Anan lowered his head again.

Silent.

“You don’t look for women,” she said lightly, “because you can’t forget her?”

After a long moment he said quietly,

“That woman… is poisonous.”

“What?”

“That woman is poisonous.”

The words sounded strange.

Yet within them lay resentment, helplessness… and perhaps something else.

Cheng Yun didn’t care.

His past meant nothing to her.

Her attention was somewhere else entirely.

Her fingers slid down his hair again, touching his ear.

Immediately—

His hand caught hers.

His palm was large and warm.

Cheng Yun looked down at their hands.

Then at his eyes.

“You’re hurting me,” she said calmly.

Her expression never changed.

But his grip tightened.

His hand trembled.

He stared at her intensely.

She met his gaze without flinching.

Heat beneath the earth cannot remain hidden forever.

Dark clouds cannot press down on the sky forever.

One day there will be eruption.

One day there will be rain.

Cheng Yun suddenly smiled.

She leaned closer and whispered softly in his ear.

“So hard…”

“So hard.”

Your hands.

Your body.

Everything about you.

So hard.

In an instant—

Anan pushed her against the pillar.

His body pressed against hers, breathing rough and uneven like a caged animal struggling for air.

Their bodies were tightly pressed together.

Cheng Yun tilted her head back.

Anan bent down close to her face.

His breath brushed her neck, warm and uneven.

She could smell him.

Unexpectedly clean.

Cool.

Like the scent of snowfields beneath winter sunlight.

Have you ever seen fresh snow?

A smooth, untouched expanse.

Soft and shining.

Waiting for the first footprints.

How thrilling it must be to step onto it first.

To imagine the pattern beforehand…

and then carve it into the snow with each step.

How thrilling.

Cheng Yun gently rubbed her cheek against his hair.

The stiffer he felt—

the softer she became.

Warmth slowly spread through her body.

She wrapped her arms around his waist.

But just as their bodies moved closer—

He suddenly pushed her away.

Not far.

The pillar remained behind her.

He stepped back several paces.

Breathing hard.

His face dark.

His lips tightly pressed together.

He stared at her as if struggling to understand something.

Cheng Yun leaned against the pillar.

“Go on,” she said quietly.
“What do you want to say?”

Anan remained silent for a long time.

Then he shook his head slowly.

“I don’t understand.”

His jaw tightened.

He looked at her and said hoarsely,

“You’re more ruthless than her.”

The mountains were silent.

The river flowed quietly beneath the bridge.

And in that vast stillness—

His words lingered.

You’re more ruthless than her.

For nearly two minutes Cheng Yun said nothing.

Finally she nodded.

She buttoned her trench coat and said softly,

“Let’s go.”