[The Wandering Earth] Short Story Collection: The Age of Roses

World War II AU

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It was a very long summer for each of us.You may be surprised that I use the word "long" because it signifies leisure, and [-] was, in every sense, a very sad year for all walks of life.The fire ignited half of the sky. Cruisers and frigates set off from Nagasaki and Okayama, and were continuously sunk in the Pacific Ocean. The only exchange was the elusive bombing of American planes.Domestic materials were requisitioned, and all supplies were restricted according to wartime standards.Sometimes, we had to wait ten and a half months to get a hammer the size of a palm or a pack of nails in order to repair the holes in the balcony or corridor that had been blasted by shells.

I still live in this house now.Before the war, it was the residence of a well-known local painter. It is located on the hillside, with a solemn and elegant roof exposed from the surrounding clouds of pines and cypresses.Entering the cedar gate, a long corridor is built between the big house and the east wing in the yard.This is one of their favorite places, those two Chinese gentlemen, I have seen them kiss each other here.

They are Chinese stranded in Japan.similar appearance.Black hair, black eyes, yellow skin, about the same height.One is older and the other is younger.They belonged to a Chinese organization, and the younger one was a student in Kyoto when the war broke out.

I was grateful to them for letting me live here, and I am still grateful to this day.Most Japanese insisted that the emperor waged a just war, and only a few reflected on the meaning of doing so after the blood, pain and death.We killed a lot of people, especially the Chinese.

The house is large, with a dedicated piano room and studio, both on the second floor.The latter became a clear water room after being remodeled by them.I lived with them on the north and south sides of the house, and we basically didn't see each other except for meals.They treated me very politely, and I once asked the older gentleman why he took me in alone.He thought for a while, then smiled and told me that maybe he just didn't have enough time to cook for another gentleman, and I happened to be at the door of this house.Hearing what he said, the young gentleman stopped eating.He put down his chopsticks, said something to the older man in a language I couldn't understand, hooked his fingers, and the older man glanced at him, got up and went out with him.The two then fought in the yard, intermittently, for half an afternoon.

I thought they were really close, but they weren't like that when I first moved in.On the south side of the third floor, there were often deafening beating sounds accompanied by shouting.Sometimes it feels like the wardrobe fell down, and sometimes the vase fell with a "snap".I dare not breathe out.

This kind of situation is not very many, and it is getting rarer and rarer as time goes by.Generally speaking, after half an hour the older gentleman will come down to pour water, and I will prepare my lunch and he will bring it up.Sometimes his shirt is torn, sometimes his face is painted.

"Do you need my help, sir?" I asked him.

"Not for now, thank you."

He always replied to me like this, with the gentleness that Chinese people are used to in his eyes.Once their movement was so heavy that I couldn't resist going up to the third floor.They communicated in their native language, with the younger gentleman shouting in the older one's direction.The older gentleman always answered him with the same sentence.I recognized a word in it, "Father," and the older gentleman kept repeating the word, but I couldn't understand what he meant.

Then the shouting died away, and I heard the young gentleman sobbing.

During breakfast, my husband asked me if I would like to take a short trip to Arakawa. The two gentlemen wanted to visit the parks in Arakawa District before the end of summer, and they were willing to take me with them.

The park in Arakawa District is very famous, but even it has long since ceased to be full of tourists in front of the station during the war.Arakawa is not a city, it is cleaner and tidy, and the air is filled with the unique aroma of summer.

The smell reminded me of my hometown, and I walked around the park a few times alone.The sky changed from light blue to azure blue, and sparse lights were scattered in the shadows of the trees.I looked for the figures of the two gentlemen and found that they were under a big tree not far away.The older gentleman is sitting with the younger gentleman pillowed on his lap.

The young voice asked, "Do you love me?"

He said it in Japanese, and I understood it.

The older one didn't speak for a while, only the sound of the wind blowing the weeds was left.It was a long time before he answered.

"Let's go back."

He said so, but none of them understood.Standing behind the tree, I couldn't see anything, but I seemed to see the young gentleman staring wide-eyed at the older gentleman, whose hands stopped brushing his hair.

"Do you love me?"

"Let's go back."

"Do you love me?"

The young gentleman asked a third time as if he didn't understand.This time, the older gentleman said nothing more about going home.He pulled the young gentleman up and pressed a kiss to his lips.

I couldn't help but took out a handkerchief and wiped my eyes.In the breeze, I heard him say softly, "Love."

His tone was very light, as if he could be blown away by the wind at any time.

I remember very well the day when the young gentleman began to be absent.It was also summer, and it was the end of summer.

The older gentleman had been out the day before.The young gentleman did not come down at dinner, nor did he appear at breakfast or lunch next day.

"Sir, don't you need to prepare lunch for that gentleman?" I asked when the older gentleman got up after finishing his work.

He stopped, and pressed his fingers on the table.

"...No, he's home."

"Go home?" I said in surprise.Isn't his home right here?

Mr. shook his head, "No," he said, "Liu Qi is the child of a friend of mine. It was not convenient for his father to take him with him, so he sent him to stay with me for a while. Now that the war is over, he is naturally going home."

"But…!"

I covered my face, tears streaming down my fingers.what do you doYou love him so much.

But I can't say it.There was something in his expression that I couldn't understand, determination or loneliness or both.

"Is that gentleman going to be okay?" I asked softly as the gentleman went upstairs.

He turned around and smiled for the first time in two days.

"Yes," he said, "he will be happier than all of them."

Now I live alone in this house, and it echoes all the time and everywhere that three people lived.Sometimes I see them kissing in the hallway, their overlapping lips stained with tears.But when I looked closely, they both disappeared again, leaving only the wind pouring in through the holes created by the bombing, accompanied by the calls of resident birds.

After that, Mr. quickly handed over the house to me and left alone.He refused to tell me his destination, but I think his ticket must have Kyoto written on it.Over the years, I occasionally received one or two postcards from him, which were written in neat and elegant handwriting comparable to that of a calligrapher, and the content was often just happy new year and wishing me good health.

In a year with very little rain, Kyoto University experienced a blast in the summer.These are what my neighbors told me.One of those killed was Chinese.I thought about asking my husband the next time I wrote, but after that, I never heard from him again.

【End】