The White Olive Tree

Chapter 3

Song Ran's jet lag hadn't reversed, and at three in the morning, sleep was elusive.

Outside the window, the night stretched endlessly, accompanied by the soothing sound of rain.

She sat by the wooden window, lit a desk lamp, and began organizing her travelogue and scrapbook of sketches from this journey.

Writing in reverse chronological order, she reached the entry for June 3rd, the day when she took a flight from Gamma to Guangzhou and then transferred to return to Liangcheng. When the plane landed at Tianhe Airport, cheers erupted among the passengers.

Using a reflective style, she documented the experiences of that day, and when she came to the man called 'A Zan,' she paused.

In the quiet of the night, she looked up and gazed out of the window. The window was an old-style louvered wooden one, with wooden edges dividing it into neat little squares, each filled with glass secured by white lime and nails. At this moment, the night rain tapped on the wooden window, leaving winding water trails on the glass.

She tried to find words to describe his appearance but ended up writing only one line: 'He has a pair of pitch-black eyes.'

Struggling to recall more about him, she heard the sound of a glass breaking downstairs. She went down to investigate.

After returning home, she had opened the windows for ventilation, forgetting to close one before the storm arrived. The wind and rain knocked over a cup of water with a money plant on the windowsill. She closed the window, grabbed a bowl to catch the water, and placed the small plant back inside, tidying up the remnants on the floor.

The months in Dongguo were too dry, and returning to Liangcheng coincided with the rainy season, where the air was humid as if soaked in water. Due to the rising tide, everything from the floor, walls, and furniture was damp.

Song Ran thought that after the rainy season, she would need to hire a renovation company to add moisture-proof layers to this old house. It was a typical local characteristic old house in Liangcheng, a two-story building constructed with red bricks and cement. The exterior walls exposed the red bricks, while the interior walls were painted white, with about a meter-high green skirting at the corners, creating a clean and fresh color contrast. The house faced north and south, with large windows and doors for good ventilation. The backyard had a kitchen, and the front yard was filled with flowers, plants, and trees. The second floor had an outdoor staircase and a spacious balcony.

This was her grandmother's house. A few months ago, the elderly woman passed away, and Song Ran moved here from her father's house. Her father lived in a unit in a high-rise building, a two-bedroom apartment that was old and small. She and her half-sister, Song Yang, squeezed into a room of just over ten square meters for more than twenty years.

Coming from a modest background, her father worked to support a family of four on his salary. As economic development in Liangcheng rapidly increased, property prices surged, with the average exceeding three thousand yuan per square meter, making homeownership a distant dream for ordinary families.

As Song Ran lay down to sleep, the wind and rain outside intensified. At this rate, the flowers in the courtyard were at risk of being battered down.

She slept until noon the next day, and the orange tree leaves— washed by the rain, appeared tender and green. Pushing open the window, the refreshing scent of post-rain soil greeted her, but there was no sign of rain stains on the beams or treetops.

Outside the wall, along a bluestone alley, a few women who had just finished work carried groceries and chatted as they walked by. School children from nearby schools were also out, walking with their heads down while playing mobile games.