Running away from the Love-Brain

Mango Umbrella

Tonight is especially hazy. At the end of the street, amidst rain and neon lights, there are darting cats and the thick scent of toffee... Everything feels like a chaotic spring night illusion.

Chi Buyu feels as though two pairs of shoes are stopping right in front of her.

One pair is from the beginning of spring.

On a rainy night, flip-flops made of cotton, light gray with slightly darker vertical stripes, gently resting on the footrests of her wheelchair.

Logically, they should be spotless, not a speck of dust on them. But now, rain keeps falling, hitting the shoe's surface, blurring it, and the shoe is splattered with some muddy stains that have soaked in.

And the other pair is from just before summer begins.

On a summer night in Hong Kong, Chelsea boots, black, covering a third of her calves, with shiny surfaces that seem to reflect the moist neon lights on the street. As the gleam slides off the shoes, Chi Buyu rubs her eyes, only to realize that these shoes aren't as clean as she thought; they are actually covered with black ashes, remnants of something that has burned.

The owner of the shoes stands silently in front of her, watching her for a long time without saying a word.

She doesn't know whether she is in Chengdu or Hong Kong. It feels as though she is squatting on the asphalt road, hugging her knees, and looking up in confusion. In that moment, she feels like a shaky water balloon, quietly "pop" in her heart.

As the balloon bursts, her gaze lands on a pair of low, dark eyes.

All the water spills out uncontrollably, flooding around her, seeping into her heart and lungs, her throat, her eyes. Dazed, she shakily calls out, "Cui Muhuo?"

"Chi Buyu." Cui Xijin calls her name and then assesses her condition. After a moment, she furrows her brow slightly and asks, "What's wrong?"

Chi Buyu squats on the street in Hong Kong, like a bird without feet. Tears flow down her cheeks, soaking her neck and staining her beautifully styled hair. For no apparent reason, she says, "I can't afford egg waffles, squid ink, scrambled eggs, toast, pineapple buns, and strawberries."

Cui Xijin clearly doesn't understand what she is saying. Her eyes behind the glasses are a bit blurred, but Chi Buyu thinks there's confusion and shock there.

She expects Cui Xijin to ask her in bewilderment, "What are you talking about?" But Cui Xijin doesn't.

Instead, Cui Xijin suddenly starts to laugh, her laughter light and airy, like a child, illuminating her face with the glow of the neon street lights, swaying like a leaf brushing past her ear.

Once she stops laughing, she slowly reaches out her hand, hovering above Chi Buyu's head for a moment, then gently tilting aside to help her remove a flower leaf that has fallen into her hair, murmuring, "Then I'll take you to buy them, okay?"

Thus, in that hazy summer night in Hong Kong, Cui Xijin really took her to buy egg waffles, squid ink, scrambled eggs, toast, pineapple buns, and strawberries.

Even though Chi Buyu always had big eyes but a small appetite, and Cui Xijin should know this about her.

Still, she bought everything on the list.

When Chi Buyu is unhappy, she likes to eat. And in emotional turmoil, she thinks she can devour a whole cow, but in reality, she can only manage a little of each dish, yet she longs for everything.

Cui Xijin tells her she's wasting food, asks if she's going to babble about having seven or eight stomachs again, teases that her makeup looks terrible with her mouth full, and insists that if she keeps buying, she won't have any hands left, and she won't help her.