Old Song's philosophical discourse continued:
"So they're easily satisfied, or rather, they might've been shrewd to begin with, but once their heads get hot, they stop caring about everything. Whether you've got money or not, whether you're successful or not—it all becomes meaningless..."
Zhang Shutong wanted to say that Gu Qiumian definitely didn't care whether others had money—her own family had plenty—but Old Song was clearly talking about his ex-girlfriend. Zhang Shutong was quite curious about his romantic history and didn't mind listening.
"My girlfriend and I were like that. When we met, we weren't much older than you kids—seventeen or eighteen, maybe eighteen or nineteen. We were so poor that when we went to see a movie, we'd only buy one ticket. I'd have her run in first, then a few minutes after the show started, I'd slip a cigarette to the old man at the door, swap into a security uniform, and sneak in. Guess how we drank our beverages? Jianlibao was considered a luxury. Back then, they sold powdered malt extract in bulk. I'd bring it from home in a thermos. I'd drink from the bottle, she'd drink from the cap, and we could even toast with it. You think they didn't find this embarrassing? But they were willing."
Old Song kept going on about "women this" and "women that." Zhang Shutong suddenly felt this was familiar—it was just like Qingyi, except that guy went on about "men this" and "men that." Maybe one day, if Qingyi grew up crooked, he'd end up just like Old Song.
"So like I said, you've got to chase girls. If you don't chase them, how will they understand your feelings? Plus, this kind of thing depends a lot on natural chemistry. If they find you appealing, they find you appealing. If not, they don't. First impressions are set—no matter how hard you try afterward, you can't change them."
Old Song seemed to have gotten into the groove. He lit another cigarette, talking while playing with the frog on the dashboard. He hummed smugly, "You kids always think your teacher is a total slob now, but I'll tell you the truth—back in my day, I was a dashing young man. I had that slicked-back hairstyle like the Heavenly Kings, shoes polished to a shine, riding my motorcycle to the dance hall with my beloved girl sitting behind me. Every time we got off, her hair would be windblown and she'd smooth it back for me. Was she being gentle? Wrong again! Actually, she was just vain about appearances. So your teacher was kept on a tight leash back then, but now I've gone crooked again."
Zhang Shutong had been listening with interest at first, but seeing Old Song in his wrinkled white shirt with both arms exposed, arms covered in hair—just another washed-up man—it seemed he and that ex-girlfriend had ultimately been defeated by life. Even naive girls eventually become shrewd women.
But if this continued, they'd still be chatting past midnight. Though the atmosphere around them was quite romantic—raindrops striking the metal car roof with crisp sounds, the glowing ember of a cigarette in the darkness, wisps of smoke drifting before being washed away by the rain until nothing remained.
But now clearly wasn't the time for heart-to-heart talks. Zhang Shutong decided to deliberately provoke him a bit.
"Where is your wife now, Teacher Song?"
Zhang Shutong asked quite innocently, while flicking the frog with his finger. Bulbasaur grinned with its wide mouth, sending a silent mocking laugh toward the man in the driver's seat. Squirtle and Pikachu couldn't achieve this effect—in a certain sense, it really was the right purchase.
But while it laughed, Song Nanshan's smile froze on his face.
The cigarette butt was tossed disinterestedly onto the ground and extinguished. Song Nanshan silently rolled up the car window.
Zhang Shutong thought, "Sorry, once I'm done with all this, I'll buy some beer and we can sit down and chat, master and disciple. I'll definitely listen to you boast all night." Then he fastened his seatbelt, waiting for Old Song to start the ignition.
However, the car didn't start. Song Nanshan just stared at that frog. After a long while, he finally said:
"She passed away."
Zhang Shutong's hand froze in mid-motion while fastening his seatbelt. He wanted to laugh and say something like, "Old Song, can't you be more straightforward? Don't badmouth the girl just because you broke up—how immoral..." But he knew that was impossible. In the darkness, he saw the man's expressionless, resolute face, heard his voice with so little emotion:
"It was the day I bought this frog. I didn't take her home that night. She got hit by a car. By the time I found out the next day... you should understand.
"So I'm telling you, don't let go of something when you still have the ability to hold onto it. One day you'll regret it."
He opened his mouth at this point, wanting to say more, but couldn't get anything out. He simply turned on the radio. The silver panel of the radio was already peeling. Playing inside was still that disc Gu Qiumian had picked out. They didn't know how long they'd been chatting—long enough for the songs to loop back around. It had been "Like Smoke" at the start, and it was still "Like Smoke" now.
Amid the crisp raindrops, Zhang Shutong heard the lyrics clearly:
At age seven, I caught that cicada;
Thinking I could catch summer itself;
At age seventeen;
I kissed her face;
Thinking we could be together forever...
They were listening to a summer song on a winter rainy night.
"Damn it, what shitty lyrics. As if you could catch summer by catching a cicada." Old Song laughed once, then turned off the radio and started the ignition. The engine of the small car was getting old too—it shuddered violently, like that aging Bulbasaur also trembled. The man flicked the frog listlessly. "She's gone. Just you, you ugly thing, keeping me company."
But that frog seemed determined to defy him—every few wobbles, it would stubbornly return to its original position. Zhang Shutong looked at that yellow-eyed knockoff Bulbasaur, wondering just how many years it had stayed here alone. From first year to fourth year of junior high was at least four years, or was it longer?
The car's interior was cracked and worn everywhere, yet it remained the newest, most spirited object there—more spirited even than the man sitting beside it. But Song Nanshan wasn't in a hurry to leave. Instead, he suddenly spoke again:
"Shutong, actually what I wanted to tell you wasn't this.
"This matter isn't quite appropriate to tell you—it's someone else's family business. By rights, as a teacher, saying this is unethical. But I think you should know. When I called Qiumian's father at noon, I heard a woman speaking next to him, calling him 'darling.'
"Who do you think that was? What do you think her father left the island to do? Do you think Gu Qiumian knows?"
His questions swept past like a string of bullets. Even the raindrops couldn't mask the silence inside the Focus.
Then Song Nanshan lit a cigarette, breaking the silence:
"Qiumian's mother passed away long ago."
Smoke gradually filled the car. Zhang Shutong suddenly understood why she'd never seen the rainbow cotton candy beneath the Ferris wheel. He turned his head toward the car window. The ghost face drawn on it had faded considerably. Zhang Shutong wiped away the ghost face. Outside was still pitch black—nothing could be seen clearly.
That's right—they were on a small island now, and this was the most remote place on the entire island. Perhaps the four-story detached villa was brilliantly lit inside, but if you looked out through the glass, you could never see the glowing giant outline of that Ferris wheel.
It must be very lonely.
...
"Alright, anyway, now you know everything you need to know. Handle things however you see fit from here on."
Song Nanshan shook his head and opened the car door:
"I'm going to take a piss. Wait here. After we eat, we'll head to Commercial Street. Your teacher will accompany you young people for one heroic rescue..."
Zhang Shutong sat there silently, just nodding to show he'd heard.
But unexpectedly, Song Nanshan took a long time to return. His expression was grave:
"I just went to look at her backyard. Something really seems to have happened..."