The Story Continues 6

November 11, 2013, Tuesday, 5 PM. I stood nervously beside the old Baishui Yangtou restaurant on Xisi Street, gazing at the ancient bluestone bricks around me. My heart pounded with a mix of unease and joy; in half an hour, I would see her again. I tried to suppress my emotions, repeatedly rehearsing my reaction to seeing her again. But as 5:30 drew closer, my anxiety grew. I kept glancing around, wondering if I had made a mistake with the location we had agreed on yesterday. I wanted to call her, but hesitated. As 5:30 approached and she didn't appear, my impatience intensified, and I forced myself to resist the urge to call.
When the clock struck 6:30, she still hadn't appeared. My heart felt as if ancient frost had been shattered on a blazing fire, leaving me utterly cold. I slumped down, head bowed, my mind blank. I felt she would never come. I just squatted there under a large tree, like a frost-bitten eggplant.
November in Beijing already carried a hint of winter; the wind was harsh and cold, but it couldn't chill my heart. Dazed and disoriented, I didn't know how long I'd been squatting. When I finally stood up, my legs were numb. Head down, I numbly stumbled northwards. After only a few steps, I suddenly heard a suppressed sob. I glanced around blankly, and in the streetlight's glow, I saw a black trench coat emerging from the corner of an alley ahead.
It was a long trench coat, reaching past her calves, revealing black boots on her exposed calves and feet. She wore a black beret and black glasses. The only visible features were her slightly pale lower face and pale hands. My heart skipped a beat. It was her. She had come after all. I looked at her, and she looked at me, sobbing softly. My nose stung with tears. For a good two minutes, I strode towards her. She seemed flustered and tried to avoid me, but didn't move. Standing right in front of her, I looked directly at her face and asked how long she'd been there. She lowered her head and replied that she'd arrived just after five o'clock. Seeing me, she hesitated, wondering whether to see me again, yet reluctant to leave, and so it had continued until now.
I couldn't say anything, and she remained silent as well. After a while, I asked if she'd eaten. She shook her head, still without speaking. I took her hand; it was icy cold. She tried to pull her hand away but couldn't resist the strength of my grip. I held her hand and asked what she wanted to eat. She said dumplings. I took her to a taxi and we went to Jinmao Dumpling City. The entire ride in the car was silent, quite somber.

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