Life: A Black and White Film (一生一世，黑白影画)

The End (Part 1) - Those of the World Shall Remain with the World

Half a year later, Moscow.

An old air-conditioning remote control in her hand, Wen Han continuously switched the air-conditioning on and off, trying to get it to work again. This year was practically Moscow's highest temperatures. Thirty-six degrees Celsius. Her forehead was damp with perspiration while she said in her mind, Hopefully the air-conditioning upstairs is all fine...

Her attempts at adjusting were fruitless. Tossing the remote control onto the counter, she sat herself back down on the small chair.

She could still distinctly remember how, after she saw that female innkeeper looking at this stack of postcards, she had also studied them for a long time, and how Cheng Muyun had picked them up, handed over the money, and bought them. At the time, he had called her his wife... As she lay with her upper body sprawled on the counter, she pressed two fingers against the top edge of the postcard, balancing it so that that thin card stood upright in front of her, and stared at the Dhamek Stupa on it.

That day, if she could have had a bit more time to search around the Sarnath site some more...

Wen Han shut her eyes.<>Please support this translation at hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com instead

Were it not for this stack of postcards and the tattoo on her back, she would have wondered if these were her hallucinations. Wang Wenhao had already been put away in prison. Agnesa and Roman both believed that when they were being detained and guarded over in Nepal, Wen Han had also been isolated away in some place, just like them. And as for her adoptive parents, their notions were even more simple and innocent, merely thinking that her Buddhist pilgrimage had been extended by a month and some more. She had just graduated at the time and had not been working anyway, so it did not matter if she had taken a bit of extra time for some additional fun.

Other than Wen Han, nobody knew about those many things that had occurred from Nepal to India.

The door was pushed open. The wind chimes that hung in the doorway tinkled gently and, in passing, brought in a clammy wave of heat that was intermixed with car exhaust... Someone drew near and placed his hands on the counter.

Two bills of money were set on the counter. "May I trouble you? I need a room."

A jolt went through Wen Han's entire body. Slowly, almost as if her soul had left her body, she lifted her head. It was a man with fair complexion and a slightly effeminate appearance. Following in behind him was an adolescent-age youth wearing headphones and listening to music...

"Miss Wen Han." Fu Yiming narrowed his eyes and gave a low laugh. "You can now answer that last question of mine. If one day Cheng Muyun were to leave you, would it pain you so much you would not want to live?"<>Copyright of Fanatical, hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. Translated with the express permission of the author for hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. If you are not reading this from hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com, the translation has been taken without consent of the translator.

The searing sun filtered through the dense leaves and branches and fell into the courtyard of a derelict temple.

On a small, concrete platform, cracks were everywhere, and all over it, scatters of dried bits of dirt and debris could be seen.<>Copyright of Fanatical, hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. Translated with the express permission of the author for hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. If you are not reading this from hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com, the translation has been taken without consent of the translator.

Because the weather was too hot, Cheng Muyun's upper body was unclothed, and he wore only khaki-coloured pants as he sat cross-legged with feet bare. He appeared to be very patient while he noddingly listened to the two people by his side chatter on about the gossip in the nearby village.