The Blossom We Found under the Cherry Tree

Chapter 5: Paths Diverge

"I am still me and you are still you. We always have been. We only glamoured ourselves into this role set upon by people who rule over us. But we are still us, aren't we?" His voice trembled with the weight of the words, each syllable a plea for understanding, for connection. He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and despair, searching her face for any sign of the woman he once knew.

She sighed deeply, the conflict within her evident in her gaze. "If only it were that easy," she replied, her voice a whisper against the silent night. "I want to be selfish and just leave this all behind and run away with you. So please don't make me choose between dream and responsibility."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. "I hate this," she whispered. "I hate that we have to sacrifice so much for a future that's never guaranteed. I hate that I can't just be with you."

—Excerpt from Bird and Storm, Fenghuanese Version by Shan Yinghua

     The late autumn breeze rustled the golden leaves, creating a symphony of nature's whispers. Yinghua sat alone in a humble gazebo on a hill, overlooking the serene landscape of the Green Terraces of Lufeng. The air was crisp, and the buzzing of autumn cicadas filled the quiet afternoon.

     As she sat there, the breeze gently ruffled her red hair, and her thoughts wandered back over the past few turbulent months. The crisp air and the serene landscape of the Green Terraces contrasted sharply with the whirlwind of events that had brought her here. She remembered the vibrant campus of Zhuyun University, where she had buried herself in studies to escape her troubled heart. The nights in Zhe Yuan's trailer, filled with clandestine conversations and stolen moments, felt like a lifetime ago. The unexpected return to Kiyonara, marked by the grandeur of the Crystal Palace and the suffocating weight of her family's expectations, lingered like a bittersweet memory.

     Her journey to the Green Terraces was a chaotic blur of trains and boats, each step a deliberate attempt to distance herself from the life she once knew. She had boarded a train to Tsukihara, a coastal city in Arashi, and then a boat to Haiyuan in Fenghuang. The nights spent in cramped train compartments, the endless hours of travel, and the constant hum of the engine had been exhausting, but they were a necessary part of her escape. Each mile that separated her from the familiar noise of the cities brought her closer to the tranquility she desperately sought.

     Now, her once urban life felt distant, replaced by the soothing symphony of nature that calmed her restless soul. Here, in the heart of Lufeng, no one recognized her. She was free from the prying eyes and judgmental whispers that had followed her. The anonymity was a precious gift, allowing her to live quietly and find solace in the simplicity of her new life.

     Yet, despite the serenity of her surroundings, Yinghua could not completely escape the shadows of her past. News from the parliament occasionally reached her, carried by travelers or glimpsed during random scrolling on her phone. The reports of internal and external turmoil in Arashi and Fenghuang were a constant reminder of the chaos her departure had left behind. She tried to push these thoughts aside, focusing on her new life and her work, but some nights, the guilt was too much to bear.

     She would wake up in a cold sweat, her heart pounding and her mind racing with thoughts of what might have been. The faces of those she had left behind haunted her dreams—her parents, Zhe Yuan, and even her grandfather. She wondered if her actions had inadvertently caused more harm than good, if the political and social upheaval was, in part, her doing. The weight of this guilt gnawed at her, a constant reminder of the responsibilities she had tried to escape.