Chapter Five: "Truly Unlike Reality"

The rendezvous with the young nurse was set at a chic café on the north campus of Jiangnan University. By chance, they both arrived at the door at the same time. Her gentle, luminous eyes met Ren Qian’s, and, like a kitten startled by a sudden caress, she shyly avoided his gaze.

Ren Qian was, in truth, over forty. He no longer carried those youthful, boyish sentiments. Instead, a peculiar sense welled up in him: at last, he could act the gentleman and invite a beautiful woman into a café.

He held a great fondness for the nurse—not only had she cared for him in his direst days, but she had also helped him overcome the bewilderment that followed his crossing into this world.

Such a remarkable woman—ideally, she would become family.

“I thought you’d take me to a teahouse to sip tea and listen to storytelling,” she murmured, “I never expected a café. It all feels a little strange…”

Ren Qian was taken aback by her gentle grumbling. It took him several seconds to realize—the empire’s Zhongyuan-centrism ran deep, and there was little admiration for anything foreign. Few enjoyed coffee. So, it was only natural she would find a café date rather unexpected.

“I heard a wonderful song today—let me sing it for you!” Without waiting for Ren Qian’s reply, her face bloomed with a sweet smile, dimples flickering, and she began to sing.

“The iron pot weeps, calling out to the patched pan…”

Ren Qian nearly choked. The girl’s voice was high, yet she forced it low, and the result was disastrous—a failed imitation. Imagine a stunning beauty singing like a clanging, battered kettle—how thoroughly world-shattering!

For a fleeting moment, Ren Qian wanted to drag out the composer of “Sinking the Corpse to the Bottom of the Sea” and beat him—he’d ruined not just his song, but his beloved nurse as well.

He wished to stop this catastrophe, but she was utterly lost in her performance, repeating the same line again and again. Only when the waiter brought two steaming cups of coffee did she pause, coughing delicately.

Ren Qian was speechless.

“That’s your song, you know~”

“I know. You sing it well—just a hair’s breadth shy of the original.” Without a hint of hesitation, Ren Qian launched a barrage of flattery. Compliments cost nothing, after all, and women always responded well to praise.

As expected, the nurse’s quiet smile deepened, her dimple appearing and vanishing like a ripple. Ren Qian found himself momentarily dazed, quickly lowering his head to stir the cup with his spoon.

The coffee was fragrant, its aroma swirling in the air.

“This is my first date with a girl. I was so nervous—I carefully chose this café. Look, it’s nearly empty, but it has a unique foreign atmosphere. It shows my exceptional taste, and there’s no third wheel to disturb us.”

She snorted with laughter. The ambiguity in Ren Qian’s words was not lost on her; she wanted to feign annoyance, but his self-satisfied tone made her laugh despite herself, her wispy bangs falling like waves across a pristine shore.

Ren Qian told himself he was not the sort to fall for every woman he met, but the nurse could be gentle and demure as a lark, yet mischievous as a sassy siren. Ah, what an enchanting girl.

“What are you staring at?”

“Nothing…”

He scratched his nose sheepishly, a mischievous thought flickering in his mind—was it improper for the soul of a forty-year-old man to pursue such a young woman?

Li Jian has a song, poetic in its melody, called “Before Sunset”:

“Thought I’d left my youth behind,
Believing my heart could no longer stir,
Yet when you appeared in my life,
I found myself filled with longing and sorrow once more—

When I held your hand again,
I was moved as deeply as the first time—”

To write of an old man wooing a young beauty with such freshness and charm—none but Li Jian could accomplish it. The song, with its endless resonance, grew richer with every listen, perfect for quiet, romantic evenings.

“You seem in good spirits—hard to believe you’re the same man who lay in a hospital bed for days, barely clinging to life. I’m glad you’ve recovered! I miss those nights sitting by the plaza, listening to you sing. Such a genius…”

She took a sip of strong coffee.

Ren Qian’s mind conjured the scene: beneath the scattered lights of the plaza, a band poised for performance, the beat of the drum falling, himself surrounded by admirers, singing song after song… And the nurse, sitting not far away, cradling her face in her hands, lost in the music and the starlight.

“I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have such a devoted fan.”

His gaze was tender, lingering long on her.

“You’ll never find another like me—someone willing to stay by your side through your darkest days. Don’t you think you should write a song to thank me?”

Delighted with herself, she shook her head, her dimple flickering.

Ren Qian suddenly realized that, in his forty years, he’d never truly understood what it meant to be stunned by beauty—yet today, he’d been awestruck several times.

They chatted idly, time slipping away until dusk.

Acting as any gentleman would, Ren Qian escorted her home. In a quiet corner of the residential garden, he looked up at her radiant smile, and suddenly the whole world seemed dreamlike—he had crossed the river of time, and now encountered such a blossom of a woman.

“Would you like to hear a song?”

“I would~”

“This one’s called ‘Truly, It’s Not Real.’ It’s just for you. Listen closely—because of you, I was able to find myself again.”

“Looking at your face,
It’s like gazing upon a flower,
The fragrance seeping in,
Time suddenly grows light,
And the great city floats away,
Perhaps only because I’m hearing you breathe—”

Beneath the seemingly ordinary melody lay a tenderness that reached the soul. One could picture a man in love, cradling his beloved’s face in the moonlight, murmuring words as soft as silk.

“Looking at your face,
Feels like coming home,
Will the night light a lamp?
Perhaps it’s because I believe in love,
And yet I fear to trust in love,
Perhaps because in one instant, I see a lifetime—”

Here lies the truest love—how wonderful it would be if the beauty before him could become family! The singer, unable to restrain himself, is swept away in emotion.

This section flowed as gently as a mountain stream, endlessly tender and intoxicating.

“Even the clouds at the horizon turn to gold in your eyes,
Above your brow, a silent avalanche,
I can vaguely sense this is fate,
And I admit it’s fate,
And I understand that every meeting must have its reason—”

Ren Qian gazed at her softly, his song seeming to melt her. Her cheeks were tinged with blush, her large eyes sparkling, her lips faintly parted, her dimple as alluring as a cup of fine wine.

“To spend a lifetime loving one person,
Is like chasing a single dream for all my days,
Even if the future is far away,
Tonight it feels within reach,
For when I met you, the world faded away,
To wonder if one can love a single soul for life,
To wonder if three words can last a lifetime,
May the future come swiftly,
Can this moment linger forever,
And as I kiss you,
It’s wondrous, for it hardly seems real—”

The climax was not dramatic, but the surge of emotion was powerful, and Ren Qian found himself entirely immersed in the gentle melody.

His heart was much like the song’s—after living twice, he could capture its sentiment perfectly. He understood that blend of disbelief and determination that comes with meeting the right person. Thus, his performance drew her quietly into the warmth of a mature man’s affection, without ever becoming cloying.

“Well, do you like it…? Such a tender love song—did you fall for it?”

A teasing smile played at his lips as he saw her cheeks flush a deeper red. He knew her heart was pounding wildly, though she dared not show it.

“I’ll write out the lyrics for you next time.”

Waving, Ren Qian turned and walked away. Lyrics penned by Lin Xi would more than suffice as a love letter! Even if love letters were out of fashion in this era, when one is handsome, everything seems romantic.

The nurse took a few steps, then turned to watch him leave, secretly.

There had been so many nights when she’d listened to him sing with his band in the plaza, falling hopelessly for him. How foolish—but the rebellious spirit that had led him to forsake traditional music had captivated her completely.

Now that rebelliousness had only deepened. Again and again, he broke with the mainstream to compose, write, and perform his own way—and succeeded!

The melodies were beautiful, the singing enchanting, the lyrics sublime—proof that he was not merely reckless, but creating with confidence and vision.

Each new surprise drew her ever more to his maturing, rebellious charm.

“Such talent, such maturity, such wit—and at his core, a hint of that otherworldly solitude…”

Clutching her head, she darted into the house, her heart in utter chaos.