Love Finds Its Time - Chapter 34

“What brings you two benefactors here?”

The old monk still maintained the traditional courtesy of welcoming pilgrims, pressing his palms together in a Buddhist greeting. His beard was already streaked with white, and there were wrinkles at his brow—he was clearly advanced in years.

“Hello, we’re from the village over there. We came to look for something, and we were wondering if you could allow us?” Shi Qingqiu stepped forward as she spoke.

The old monk studied the two of them for a moment, then shifted to the side and sighed. “Go on then. But though this temple may be in ruins, the Buddha still resides in the heart. I hope that while you search, you’ll take care and act with caution.”

The two women nodded in agreement and entered the temple. Splitting up left and right, they began to carefully check the places where something might be hidden—recesses, cracks, and corners—moving as lightly as possible.

But even so, when they came out, their hands were empty.

Wen Qinghan let out a quiet sigh and walked toward the temple gate.

The surge of excitement that Shi Qingqiu had felt earlier, thinking their task was about to be completed, had also cooled. She turned back toward the Buddha statue, its gold paint peeling in many places, and reflected that since she had come here seeking something, she must surely have disturbed the peace as the Buddha’s teachings warned. She set aside her thoughts for the moment, knelt down on the neatly cleaned prayer cushion, and bowed three times with sincerity. On the last bow, she slowed, resting her forehead against her palms and staying there for a long while before rising again.

It was only because she paused that she noticed something strange—the floor tile before her seemed a little off.

Wen Qinghan stood with her back to the Buddha statue. When she heard no sound for quite a while, the old monk called out to her, “The shadows between this benefactor’s brows do not disperse—your heart must be heavy with worries. Why not draw a lot?”

Wen Qinghan turned her gaze slightly, lips parting as she was about to reply, when behind her Shi Qingqiu suddenly exclaimed, “Qinghan, I found it!”

“Forgive me.” She gave the old monk a small apologetic smile, then hurried over to Shi Qingqiu. “What is it?”

“I found it—look, the program envelope.” Shi Qingqiu handed the envelope to Wen Qinghan. “It was hidden beneath the floor tile in front of the prayer cushion, sealed very tightly. If I hadn’t just happened to lower my head and notice the slight bulge, we might never have found it.” Before Wen Qinghan could respond, Shi Qingqiu asked, “By the way, you were about to draw a lot earlier, weren’t you? Did you?”

Wen Qinghan shook her head. She crumpled the slip of fortune paper she had held, her eyes soft, lips curving faintly as she said in a low, gentle voice, “No. Fate lies in our own hands. Whether it is victory or defeat, joy or sorrow—what difference would drawing a lot make? It would only create needless worries.”

Her words seemed to carry a deeper meaning. Shi Qingqiu didn’t know why she suddenly gave such an explanation, but since Wen Qinghan did not elaborate and showed no unusual expression, she only heard her say, “Qingqiu, let’s go back. The sun will set soon.”

Shi Qingqiu nodded with a soft “Mm.” The two of them thanked the old monk and left the temple.

This time, Shi Qingqiu and Wen Qinghan were the first to return to the village chief’s house. The others only trickled back by dinnertime.

Yu Shushen and her daughter looked as relaxed as ever, chatting and laughing. Lu Sizhou and her sister, along with Xu Zhi and her close friend, looked somewhat tired. The most disheveled of all, however, was Qin Wang. He came in covered in coal dust, complaining loudly, “What kind of hiding spot is that? They actually put it under a pile of coal! Good thing I’m brave and fearless—if it had been one of you little girls, you’d have been black from head to toe!”

“All right, go wash up and change clothes for dinner.” Ji Lan couldn’t help laughing and crying at once, her concern outweighing other emotions. She herself was still clean—Qin Wang had rushed ahead and handled it all.

The host clapped his hands and lifted the loudspeaker. “Everyone’s worked hard! Go get washed up, then eat your fill. Rest well tonight—tomorrow you have a big mission waiting.”

After exchanging a few words, the group dispersed, each returning to their rooms to wash. Not everyone was as filthy as Qin Wang, but the weather was hot, they had all been outside all day, and even without dirt, they were sweaty and sticky.

At dinner, everyone brought out the envelopes they had found and shared the contents. Among the five groups, some laughed it off, some began to ponder, and some looked troubled. The host eventually announced that it wasn’t yet time for that part—the next stage would be tomorrow.

As an insider in the industry, Shi Qingqiu stayed chatting a bit longer with friends and seniors at the table. When she finally looked around for Wen Qinghan, she realized she was no longer there.

Excusing herself, she went out into the courtyard and saw Wen Qinghan bent slightly, speaking with a child from the village chief’s household. As she walked closer, she caught just a smile and a quiet “All right, thank you” from Wen Qinghan, before the child scampered away.

“Qinghan.”

“Mm?” Wen Qinghan turned. “Why did you come out?”

Shi Qingqiu tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and walked over with a smile. “The conversation was about done, and I noticed you weren’t there. What were you talking about with that child?”

“Nothing much, I just asked a question or two.” Wen Qinghan lowered her eyes, pressing her lips together, then looked up with a trace of hesitation. “Qingqiu, would you like to see the stars?”

“Hm? What?”

Wen Qinghan repeated, “I mean, closer to the stars. Do you want to?”

Seeing the earnest look on her face, Shi Qingqiu nodded curiously. “Sure. How?”

“Come with me.”

Wen Qinghan led Shi Qingqiu to a small house at the edge of the village chief’s property. A bamboo ladder leaned against it, easy to climb up to the roof. The roof, as she had confirmed earlier, could indeed be used for resting in the cool evening.

Wen Qinghan climbed up first, checked that it was safe, then extended a hand to Shi Qingqiu, who was climbing after her. “Slowly now, hold my hand.”

Shi Qingqiu hadn’t expected that “seeing the stars” meant this. When she reached the last step and took Wen Qinghan’s hand, she couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

That laugh distracted her, and she missed her footing. Wind roared in her ears as if she were already falling, her cry following right after her laugh. But Wen Qinghan reacted swiftly, gripping her hand tightly and pulling her close with her other arm around her waist.

In the midst of the fright, Wen Qinghan’s calm voice sounded beside her ear. “It’s all right, don’t be afraid. You’re safe now.”

Shi Qingqiu hadn’t yet recovered from the scare, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that it terrified her. She lowered her head, gasping heavily for breath, and tightly returned the grip of Wen Qinghan’s hand, while her other hand had already, without thinking, wrapped around Wen Qinghan’s body. It felt as if this person were a branch at the edge of a cliff that could save her life, and the fierce sense of reliance grew wildly like a seedling nourished by water.

Warm breath brushed against Wen Qinghan’s ear, hotter than the summer breeze itself. She lowered her head, trying to ignore the growing heat in her ears. Biting her lip, the fingertips of the arm that held Shi Qingqiu trembled slightly as they pressed against her waist—unmoving, unrelenting.

In a gentle whisper, she soothed Shi Qingqiu’s fear. “Qingqiu, it’s all right. You’re safe now.”

Shi Qingqiu closed her eyes to steady her emotions, unconsciously resting her chin on Wen Qinghan’s shoulder. She felt Wen Qinghan’s body stiffen at her touch. She opened her eyes, lips parting as she softly asked, “Qinghan, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Are you all right?”

“Mm, I’m fine now. Thank you.” Shi Qingqiu let go of her hand, only then realizing that Wen Qinghan’s embrace had grown tighter. Yet the moment she released, Wen Qinghan let go too.

Wen Qinghan stepped back a few paces and sat down where she stood.

Shi Qingqiu went over to sit beside her. Tilting her head up at the vast sky unobstructed by rooftops, she turned to her with a smile. “So this is what you meant by stargazing?”

“Mm. As close as we can get. Compared to the tall buildings back home, I think without a roof overhead it feels more comfortable.” Wen Qinghan looked at the starry sky, her brows and eyes softening with a smile. “What do you think? I remember you used to love stargazing when you were little.”

“It’s true, it’s more comfortable without a roof. The view feels much broader.”

For a while, neither spoke. Shi Qingqiu pulled up her knees, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin there. In a quiet tone, she said, “Today was really close. If we hadn’t found it, we’d have lost, and then the production team would have given us a punishment task, far worse than the ones decided beforehand.”

Wen Qinghan turned to her, lips curving faintly. “But we did complete it, didn’t we?” There was something deeper in her gaze as she looked at Shi Qingqiu’s serene profile under the moonlight. Then she added, “Even if we lost, it wouldn’t matter. Next time, we could win it back. Who ever said losing means you can’t turn things around?”

At her words, Shi Qingqiu felt her heart lightly stirred. She looked again at Wen Qinghan, at this person who had always seemed cold and indifferent, who now often smiled and often spoke to her on her own initiative.

This person seemed just a little warmer than the one in her memory.

Shi Qingqiu smiled. Only a little warmer—just a little, not much.

She looked at her and asked a question that had lingered in her heart for a long time. “Qinghan, if there were something you knew you had no certainty of winning, would you still do it?”

Wen Qinghan’s eyes were calm. She remained silent for a long while, gazing at Shi Qingqiu, then answered with a question of her own. “Why not?”

Shi Qingqiu blinked in confusion, staring at her in surprise.

She had thought that Wen Qinghan, who wasn’t even willing to waste time on love and dismissed such things as pointless, would surely answer “no.” But the answer she received was entirely unexpected.

Moonlight could not illuminate things clearly enough; Shi Qingqiu could not quite make out the emotion in Wen Qinghan’s eyes. She only saw the faint smile at her lips and heard words laced with quiet warmth. “If it’s something I want to do, then my joy and sorrow, my gains and losses—none of that matters more than doing it. If I win, then even in the last moment of my life, I will be grateful that I tried.”

Shi Qingqiu instinctively tightened her hold around her legs. Her eyes seemed to glisten faintly, but she forced them open wider to look at Wen Qinghan, and with a small laugh, she asked, “Then what if you lose?”

“Lose?” Wen Qinghan echoed softly, as if musing, then smiled. “If I lose, that’s fine too. I’d have no regrets.”

Only, it would hurt—hurt so deeply it would feel like dying.

Shi Qingqiu sensed something off. Wen Qinghan had said “I’d have no regrets,” as though she were borrowing the topic to express something else. Otherwise, her words would not have ended in that way.

After these days together, the discomfort of their initial marriage registration had slowly faded. By now, Shi Qingqiu had grown used to being close to Wen Qinghan. Even when sharing the same bed at night, she no longer deliberately kept her distance, so now they sat very near each other.

Wen Qinghan felt a sting in her nose, her eyes aching slightly. She blinked a few times to ease the burning sensation.

This time, when she reached for Shi Qingqiu’s hand, she did not hesitate. Her cool fingertips slipped gently between Shi Qingqiu’s hand and her leg, closing softly around her fingers.

“You two, if you’ve got sweet words to say, save them for your room. It’s late, the wind is strong—come down now.”

Yu Shushen’s voice rose from below. Shi Qingqiu snapped back to herself, and Wen Qinghan answered, “We’re coming down.”

The two of them quickly stood. Wen Qinghan never let go of Shi Qingqiu’s hand. “Come on, let’s go to bed. We have to get up early tomorrow.”

A breeze stirred. The moment of panic when she climbed up, and the instant comfort that followed, flowed gently through her heart. That warmth, which had extinguished all her fear in an instant, still lingered—in her palm, right beside her, within reach.

Shi Qingqiu looked at Wen Qinghan, her lips curving slightly. “All right.”