The morning bell of the temple rang out once more, and the incense sticks in Zhou Yan's grip trembled slightly. Amidst the curling wisps of smoke, he had a fleeting vision of Xiaoman standing on tiptoe to hang a votive plaque on a red string, her apricot-colored skirt caught by the mountain wind, the jasmine scent in her hair mingling with the sandalwood to brew a jar of bitter wine within his memory.
Their first meeting, seven years ago, had also taken place at a temple. At that time, Zhou Yan had just emerged from the design institute after working overtime, his design—revised eight times for a client—having been rejected yet again. Standing before the Great Hall, gazing at the endless stream of pilgrims, he could only feel a sense of absurdity. Then a crisp "excuse me" broke his train of thoughts, and a girl with a top knot squeezed past him holding three sticks of incense, the ends of her hair brushing against the back of his hand, carrying the faint scent of orange soda.
"You don't even believe in Buddha, yet you still came?" Xiaoman asked, turning to look at this exhausted man in a tailored suit after inserting her incense. Zhou Yan raised an eyebrow, on the verge of retort, only to see the girl's eyes sparkle as she pointed to the donation box: "Well, since you're already here, tossing in some incense money might just bring you some good luck!"
Chapter 164