Chapter 14: Company Trip (Part 2)
On a bustling snack street, she bought two large servings of braised chicken rice. Amid the waitstaff’s surprised glances, she ate calmly, paid, and then went next door to buy two small mousse cakes.
Fu Yuan walked along the street. Not far ahead stood the Dujiang Bridge, crowded with passersby, with a few cars weaving through the throng.
The bridge was wide but short, about twenty meters in length. Below, the river rushed impatiently, dividing the two shores. Along the banks, wetland trees stood tall, and above them, a railing where vendors leaned, calling out their wares.
It was late October; the weather had turned a bit cool.
A gust of wind swept across the bridge. Fu Yuan squinted and caught sight of a familiar silhouette.
Leaning blankly against the railing, dressed in an autumn school uniform, the girl’s coat flapped wildly in the wind.
It was the girl from her dreams.
The breeze lifted the girl’s hair, revealing a youthful yet stubborn face. At a glance, Fu Yuan recognized her.
The girl raised her hand, her legs tensed as if ready to climb over the railing and jump into the river.
Recalling the sorrowful tears of that girl in her dream, Fu Yuan quickened her pace.
“Miss, don’t do anything rash,” she called out urgently. Not having exercised in a while, her sudden jog flushed her cheeks and quickened her voice.
Fearing the girl might jump, Fu Yuan grabbed her sleeve.
The girl snapped her head around, meeting the eyes of an unfamiliar woman. Her gaze darkened slightly, her expression clouded, “I’m sorry… You’ve misunderstood. I just wanted to get a little closer to see the river.”
Fu Yuan frowned; her doubts remained, but she released the girl’s sleeve.
“Why are you apologizing?” she asked softly, resting her hands on the railing like before.
The girl glanced up briefly, then quickly lowered her head, voice uncertain. “I don’t really know. I just felt I made you worry, so…” Her voice trailed off into a whisper, almost inaudible.
Fu Yuan sighed.
Together, they silently watched the river, its current unceasing, like the sun rising from the east and setting in the west each day.
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“I’ve just been a little tired lately… Watching the river, I feel like my troubles might be carried away with the flow,” the girl murmured.
At that moment, a flock of birds startled in the woods, and she looked on enviously. “Sometimes, I really envy the creatures of this world. Even if I became a bird, I could soar freely in the sky.”
She seemed to have no memory of their encounter in the dream.
Fu Yuan’s embarrassment eased a bit.
Perhaps wary of a repeat of recent events, she looked at the fragile girl—delicate as porcelain—and unusually spoke more. “Look at this river. Though it rushes endlessly, it’s confined by its banks and can’t go wherever it pleases.”
Pausing, she met the girl’s eyes. “You envy the birds because they fly freely. Maybe those birds envy us for walking on solid ground.”
She sighed deeply, mimicking the girl’s tone, “Sometimes I envy us two-legged beasts, who don’t have to rise early or endure hunger; a little labor spares us a day’s hardship.”
The girl laughed.
After a while, she sighed softly again. “But I still want to be a bird, to live without overthinking—just for today…”
Fu Yuan knew the girl’s suicidal thoughts were momentarily quelled but didn’t expect to fully dissuade her.
Having seen many patients, she tended to see everyone as someone in a psychiatric hospital.
“Ah… it’s windy here,” she said, tugging at her coat, suggesting they move to a more sheltered spot.
The girl followed timidly. “Sister, what’s your name?”
Fu Yuan smiled and looked back. “Fu Yuan.”
It was just a name, nothing secret. She patted her pockets for a business card but found none, so she said aloud, “I work next door at Jiang City’s Wuyou Psychiatric Hospital as a psychologist. If you have time, you can come talk to me.”
The girl finally smiled, a clear, bright sound: “Sister Fu Yuan.”
She cautiously studied Fu Yuan’s expression. Seeing no objection, she continued, “My name’s Fu Siqiao. We even share a surname—what a coincidence. Actually, I didn’t have this surname before; it’s my mother’s. My parents divorced, and she remarried. I miss my real father a lot…”
Speaking softly, she shared stories from her childhood. Fu Yuan listened quietly, occasionally murmuring affirmations, showing she was attentive.
She was experienced in the art of listening.
They walked along the river’s railing for some time. Suddenly, the girl’s eyes widened, fists clenched, and she shouted, “To hell with Zhang Chenxi! I refuse to be a substitute!”
Then she ran to the railing’s edge, cupped her hands like a megaphone, and yelled down at the river below:
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“I refuse to be a substitute! From now on, I want to be beautiful on my own—”
Noticing the curious stares of passersby, Fu Yuan’s social awkwardness flared again.
But knowing few people in this city, she prioritized calming the girl’s mood. Pulling her coat tighter to partially hide her face, she stepped forward and gently patted the girl’s shoulder. “Yes, that’s right. Shouting it out helps.”
Still, if she truly suffered from depression, medical attention was urgent.
Fu Yuan looked at the girl’s youthful face, now free from sorrow and full of energy, but she held back her next words.
The girl finished yelling, cheeks flushed pink, and bounced back to Fu Yuan’s side, reaching out to hold her hand. “Sister Fu Yuan, I have so much more to tell you.”
Fu Yuan blinked.
Not accustomed to physical contact, she hesitated but saw the girl’s newfound vitality. It seemed wrong to dampen her spirits now, so she let her hold her hand.
Perhaps because they were strangers, or because Fu Yuan seemed trustworthy and discreet, the girl poured out all her recent troubles.
Fu Yuan listened, rarely commenting.
At one point, she asked casually about nearby affordable, filling restaurants and secluded scenic spots. The girl answered each question eagerly and even offered to personally show her around if she stayed longer.
Fu Yuan: “Your school has Monday off?”
Seeing the girl’s expression, she didn’t press further and simply nodded.
As evening deepened, the sunset’s glow spilled over the golden river like scattered silver fragments.
Seeing the girl’s heart seemingly unburdened, and having gained much useful information, Fu Yuan bought four cups of milk tea—two each.
The girl looked surprised, saying she only needed one.
Fu Yuan took the other three.
They waved goodbye, promising that when the girl got into university, Fu Yuan would come to Jiang City to celebrate with her.