Fine fragments of light left mottled shadows on the ground, summer wind lightly brushed past treetops, dewdrops on tender green leaves swaying on the verge of falling.
When the first evening primrose bloomed, Wen Xian slowly opened her eyes.
Light apricot-colored ceiling and small black wall lamp, in the not too big not too small room there was still a faint scent of incense.
Everything was in the appearance she was familiar with.
Wen Xian stretched her body, lazily stretched a waist on the bed, then lazily yawned once, but before she closed her mouth, the cat squatting by her pillow whipped her face full of fur with its fluffy tail.
Wen Xian frowned and used tissue to wipe for quite a while before she wiped it clean.
“Ah—”
Wen Xian let out a long sigh.
At this moment it was seven in the morning, Wen Xian from this day officially became an unemployed drifter. Because yesterday she attended Licheng University’s graduation ceremony, officially bidding farewell to four years of university life.
Graduation season, the whole school was lively, emotions of joy and sorrow all complete.
And all these had nothing to do with Wen Xian.
Because she did not need to take photos with family, nor did she need to take commemorative photos with friends. After all, these four years in school she had always been alone.
But even so, there were still people who came looking for her trouble.
Right when Wen Xian was about to step out of the school gate, someone called out to her, Wen Xian did not hear clearly who it was, she turned her head following the voice to look over.
Standing not far away was her classmate Feng Qingying. Beside her stood a man, that man’s appearance was delicate and pretty, looking at her with eyes that seemed to carry some subtle emotion, faintly hidden was also a trace of expectation.
What this meant was already self-evident.
Feng Qingying stood under the shade of a tree and waved at her, as if the two of them were very familiar, “Wen Xian, is it convenient for you to come over for a bit?”
Wen Xian stood in place without moving, expressionlessly said two words: “Not convenient.”
Feng Qingying’s expression instantly changed, she bit her lip and glared at the man beside her, deliberately raising her voice to say: “This is the kind of girl you like, not even a bit of manners.”
The man beside her lifted his eyes somewhat distractedly to look at Wen Xian.
She was clearly wearing the simplest white T-shirt and black jeans, but still stunningly beautiful.
Sunlight shone her snow-white skin until it was bright and translucent, her pitch-black long hair casually draped over her shoulders.
Those pair of clear and pretty deer eyes clearly held no emotion, but just by her lightly sweeping past with one glance, his heart uncontrollably started to pound violently.
He scratched his head, helping Wen Xian explain: “Maybe she’s just not in a good mood.”
Feng Qingying fiercely glared at this man, turned around and walked back to her sister group. Even though Wen Xian had already turned around preparing to leave, she could still hear the sounds coming from behind, they were discussing her without any scruples behind her back.
“I heard the Wen family went bankrupt four years ago, she still thinks she’s some kind of young miss?”
“Exactly, putting on what kind of airs here with us?”
“But I heard Wen Xian has a fiancé, ah, it’s that Qin family’s youngest son, Qin Song.”
“Really or fake? Qin family?”
“What does the Qin family fancy about her?”
…
What does the Qin family fancy about her?
Wen Xian herself also wanted to know.
She stared blankly at everything in front of her, only then realizing that four years had already passed.
Coming back to her senses from chaotic thoughts, Wen Xian let out a faint sigh. She patted her own hair with heartache, always feeling that she had become a girl gradually turning bald.
After Wen Xian got up, she prepared to fold the quilt, but as soon as she tugged on the quilt corner, she felt a resistance. She raised her eyes to look towards the foot of the bed.
A fat, chubby golden gradient was squatting on the quilt with two paws tucked in, unmoving like a mountain.
Seeing her looking over, it called out in a sweet and coquettish voice: “Meow~”
Wen Xian tugged the quilt again, trying to reason with it: “Qiuqiu, don’t make trouble.”
Qiuqiu just stared at her with watery, glass-like eyes, then called at her again in a sweet and clingy tone, its fluffy tail swaying, a posture of ‘if you don’t hug me I won’t get up.’
The next second, Qiuqiu was scooped up into a pair of slender, fair hands. The owner of the hands skillfully scratched its chin, Qiuqiu squinting its eyes in comfort, “Meow~”
But not long after, it was mercilessly tossed onto the single sofa by Wen Xian. Qiuqiu lay on the soft sofa with a completely dumbfounded face, four paws up in the air, snow-white belly exposed outside.
After folding the quilt, Wen Xian opened a canned food for Qiuqiu. Only when this little fat cat obediently puckered its butt and started eating the canned food did she walk into the bathroom to prepare to wash up.
She opened her phone and clicked on the video she had listened to for four whole years. A familiar voice came from the phone: “The density and sparseness of lines, the changes in tilt direction, the combination of different lines, the speed and slowness of brush strokes all produce different visual effects…”
Actually, Wen Xian could already recite it, but she still couldn’t learn to draw well. God not only shut all the doors and windows for her regarding drawing, but also heavily pasted a cement wall on the outside, locking her tightly inside.
After washing up, Wen Xian walked to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for herself, but when she opened the refrigerator and saw it completely empty, she remembered she hadn’t gone to the supermarket for several days. Recently she had been busy with graduation matters.
Wen Xian had no choice but to call out towards the air: “Yu.”
The moment her voice fell, a tattered-looking, full-of-scratches fountain pen broke through the air, the sharp pen tip carrying a fierce wind sound flying straight towards Wen Xian’s face, looking like it was about to stab into Wen Xian’s face.
But Wen Xian didn’t even blink, in her indifferent eyes written were two big characters: Ruthless [无情].
The pen stopped at a distance of still one millimeter from Wen Xian’s eyes.
Seeing Wen Xian not reacting, this pen drooped down dispiritedly, even curling its body, circling around Wen Xian a few times, trying to attract her attention so she would say a few more words to it.
Qiuqiu, who had been burying his head eating canned food, raised his chubby little head at the sound. He stepped his little short legs chasing after the pen flying in the air, even pawing with two claws trying to catch it down.
Wen Xian stretched out her hand, palm fair and tender facing upward. That pen bounced in the air for a while on its own before obediently lying in her palm.
Wen Xian frowned. She held this pen and drew a crooked apple in the air, after finishing drawing she let out a light sigh.
She then stretched out her left hand, and the next instant, a twisted-looking red apple appeared out of thin air and landed in her hand.
Wen Xian casually tossed this ordinary-looking pen into the air. Yu, seeing Wen Xian ignoring it, flew around the whole room to play, and Qiuqiu followed behind it running all over the room.
The origin of this pen could be finished in just a few sentences.
Four months after Wen Tianlin and Chang Shuang passed away, Wen Xian turned eighteen. In the past, on her birthdays there would always be countless people gathered at the Wen family, and she was the moon surrounded at the center by stars.
But that year, on her birthday, Wen Xian was all alone. The only one contacting her was Wen Tianlin’s lawyer. He said Wen Tianlin had left her some things. As long as she signed, she could take the key and go to the bank’s safe deposit box to retrieve them.
When Wen Xian opened the safe deposit box, she only saw inside a photograph and a worn-out black fountain pen.
In the photograph were Wen Tianlin and Chang Shuang, they were holding young Wen Xian by the hand. Wen Tianlin was handsome and tall, Chang Shuang gentle and beautiful, and on the face of Wen Xian who was being held, there was full of innocence and cuteness.
But such a time was like a shooting star, fleeting in an instant.
Wen Xian calmly looked at this photograph, only the tip of her finger trembled slightly.
She knew, in the life from now on, only she herself would remain.
At first, Wen Xian did not know what use this worn-out fountain pen had. She merely kept it by her side; after all, it was the last thing her parents had left her.
At that time, when she used this pen to take notes in the classroom, Feng Qingying had even mocked her, but she paid it no mind.
Wen Xian noticed something was wrong about a month later.
Because the ink of this pen seemed to never run out. She tried to open up this pen to see how much ink was left inside the ink reservoir, but no matter what, she could not open it.
At that time, Wen Xian did not think much of it. Until one day in class, she drew a string of ugly-looking grapes in her notebook. If she did not say, no one would ever think those were grapes.
Wen Xian had been craving grapes for a long time already, but she could not spend money recklessly. After buying a less than one hundred square meter single apartment, the money in the trust fund was already almost used up. What’s more, she had to pay high maintenance fees every year.
The next second, Wen Xian’s expression froze.
She saw something unbelievable. In her hand, there suddenly appeared a bunch of grapes, but this bunch of grapes was uneven in size, as if different grapes had been pieced together.
Exactly the same as the ones she had drawn.
Clearly still sitting in the classroom attending class, Wen Xian felt as if she was in a dream.
That night, Wen Xian carried that bunch of grapes home. She sat on the sofa with furrowed brows staring at that tempting bunch of grapes for a long time, finally tentatively plucking one and stuffing it into her mouth.
Wuwuwu, it was real grapes, and even sweet!
Wen Xian glanced at that worn-out fountain pen in her bag. She took out this pen and carefully looked it over from top to bottom. She had never looked at this pen so seriously before.
With her movements, the pen body slowly rotated.
Suddenly Wen Xian’s hand stopped. On the pen body, there seemed to be a blurred character. She recognized it for a long time before she could tell what character it was.
On that damaged pen body was carved one character: Yu.
[聿; Yu, a classical term referring to brush or writing instrument]
Wen Xian instinctively murmured aloud: “Yu…”
It was precisely this moment, the pen in Wen Xian’s hand floated into the air as if it had come to life. Wen Xian stared blankly at the pen in the air, time seemed to stop flowing.
From that day on, Wen Xian possessed a completely new world, a world entirely created by herself.
Recalling up to here, Wen Xian lowered her head to glance at the apple in her hand, casually thinking, what would the taste of today’s apple be like?
She stuffed the washed apple into her mouth and took a bite.
Her chewing motion stopped, she immediately wrinkled her little face and covered her cheek, so sour. Yu had this one bad point, the taste of the food it drew was unpredictable.
She always felt like she was unwrapping a surprise egg.
With a cold face she thought: Ah, life is so wonderful.