Sunlight streamed through the southern floor-to-ceiling grid window, falling on her small trinkets. That was the first gift Zhōu Shíyì gave her before they started dating, brought from Belgium.
She looked around the room, and when her gaze passed over the oil painting on the wall, she froze.
It turned out the day he returned to the Boston house, he had gone to retrieve this windmill oil painting.
Because of the things packed and brought back, sooner or later they would have to be dealt with.
When she returned to China, she didn’t dare take the painting.
So she left it in that home.
The painting matched the style of the Boston study and was a well-known piece; even if the house had a new owner someday, it wouldn’t be discarded.
Maybe it would continue to hang there, or be passed on to an auction.
This painting had witnessed their four years together.
Early in their relationship, during a meal, she mentioned her small-town life and how as a child her father sent her to art classes.
She lacked talent but really wanted to paint windmills. After years of trying, she never got it right, not even when copying.
She had said it casually at the time.
Later, he bought this oil painting, saying it was probably the windmill she’d wanted to paint but never could.
***
The sky was vast and high.
In the foreground, a river wound around wooden houses; the deep blue windmill in the lush grass reflected in the water.
The whole painting was warm and healing, with rich colors.
It was exactly the kind of windmill she had tried but could never paint.
“Zhong Yì?” Zhōu Shíyì called from the hallway.
“Awake?”
Zhōu Shíyì came looking, saw her staring at the painting, but said nothing.
Zhong Yì still looked at the painting on the wall. “I’ve decided to forgive you halfway.”
In truth, she couldn’t quantify forgiveness, couldn’t equally divide the lingering hurts of the past three years; sometimes even she didn’t know exactly what she resented him for.
Sometimes, in resenting him, she resented herself too.
Why did he have to hurt her with careless words?
Why, despite loving him so much, did she also lash out with careless words?
At this moment, seeing the gift she cared about most in their new home, it felt like everything had come back.
Zhōu Shíyì’s phone rang; he glanced at the caller ID and answered.
“By China time, you should be picking up the bride now, right?”
“Got her.” Zhōu Shíyì checked his watch. It was already midnight there. “Still not sleeping?”
The caller laughed, “Waiting to send my blessings to you two. How could I rest?”
“Didn’t you bless us last night?”
“That was last night. Not the same. Your wedding shouldn’t be so rushed. I can’t even come back.”
When Zhōu Shíyì told him the wedding date, he had confirmed he’d attend the global semiconductor industry conference in those days.
As a special guest, he had to speak and couldn’t miss it, regretting he’d miss Zhōng Yì’s wedding.
“Just wishing you two no more conflicts and to stay together until old age.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m always accurate with my words. Everything I predicted about Zhong Yì has come true.”
“What did you say about her?”
The caller chuckled, “That I can’t tell you.”
Seven years ago, at a school reunion, he learned Zhong Yì’s boyfriend was a high school classmate studying in the country. He shot down her hopes:
“Junior, not trying to be a downer, you’re only in sophomore year, it’s too early to return. Besides, you might not come back. Long-distance relationships don’t work.”
“Don’t bother the newlyweds. See you when you come back.”
Zhōu Shíyì hung up, passed the blessings to Zhong Yì, and motioned her downstairs. “The photographers are waiting.”
“Okay.”
They left the study together.
Zhong Yì glanced sideways, asking, “Did we hire an officiant?”
Zhōu Shíyì said, “No. I’m officiating.”
Zhong Yì had attended few weddings and didn’t know if anyone officiated for themselves.
Still on the stairs, she heard Chén Chén’s excited voice: “Auntie!”
Chén Chén was nibbling on Yingtaomianbao, bouncing at the stair entrance waiting for her.
Zhong Yì’s steps quickened. The little one wore a beautiful princess dress today.
“Gugu!”
Chén Chén shouted excitedly, holding candy in her other hand, saved specially for Zhong Yì.
Coming down the stairs, Zhong Yì scooped up Chén Chén.
Only then did she notice the small bag on the little one’s shoulder, matching her dress.
“What’s inside?”
Chén Chén: “Flowers.”
The little flower girl’s mother had filled a small bag with rose petals and told her to only sprinkle them on Auntie, no one else.
The photographers were waiting for the family portraits. Zhōu Sùjìn took Chén Chén from Zhong Yì.
Though tired and sleepy, he carried his daughter the whole time.
After the family photos, the photographers took a set of Chinese-style wedding outfit photos of the bride and groom alone.
Zhong Yì felt like they had caught up on years of photos in one day.
Zhōu Shíyì looked at her and said, “There’s still a set of wedding dresses to shoot at the hotel.”
“Where did that come from?” she blurted.
“I ordered it for you. Where else?”
***
On the night the two families met, her mother had said she liked a wedding dress but it was too complicated to be ready in time.
He heard and couldn’t resist buying it for her.
Back home, he had Jiān Liáng contact the brand. He personally discussed for hours with the designer, finally deciding on the cut, ensuring it would be finished and air-shipped to Beicheng within ten days.
Among the two suits he had gifted her, the other gray one perfectly matched the new light veil.
“Did our cousin use many photos for the wedding?”
On the way to the hotel, Zhong Yì asked.
By now, she had changed into the light veil.
The design was simple and sharp, perfect for her short hair. Zhōu Shíyì also changed into another suit—the gray set she had customized.
Zhōu Shíyì replied:
“One.”
“Why not more? Cousin was working until midnight restoring them.”
“Mǐn Tíng said one is enough.”
He hadn’t been there; Mǐn Tíng decided alone to only use one.
That morning, Mǐn Tíng went to the hotel to adjust the photos personally and told the wedding coordinator not to play the others.
Curious, Zhong Yì asked, “Which one did you use?”
Zhōu Shíyì: “I don’t know.”
He asked the coordinator, who said, “Mr. Zhōu, you should see it yourself. It’s more meaningful than what I can say.”
At the hotel, her parents were already waiting.
Zhōng Zhuóhuá had already taken several photos under the Huabiangqiang welcome wall. The gradient floral wall was decorated with 99,000 white roses and blue hydrangeas.
Even she, who preferred intense flowers and disliked pale ones, was impressed and wanted to take more photos.
The three brothers-in-law had told her during the Jieqintuan that the whole family had worked all night at the hotel, confirming countless details.
It was no easy task to create wedding photo masterpieces.
The eldest cousin also chimed in: “Sanxian, bring more dresses for Zhong Yì, and you and San Shu bring more outfits too. From the flower wall to the banquet hall, everything is a photo opportunity.”
She took two more photos for memories, then turned to her husband: “You picked a good son-in-law.”
Another checkpoint passed in her eyes.
Jiāng Jìngyuān said, “If I could propose a marriage alliance, there was obviously a reason.”
He gestured to his wife: “The little bastard is here.”
Zhong Yì quickly approached and hugged her mother, but her eyes were drawn to the towering gradient flower wall several meters away.
In the middle of the wall were their names, not in pinyin abbreviations, but boldly written:
周时忆
钟亦
Even the font was exactly the same as the one they used on their bookmarks before.
Zhōng Zhuóhuá looked at the names too: “Hydrangeas don’t last long. Setting up overnight, mistakes are inevitable. But the sounds match perfectly—I think it’s even more romantic.”
Zhong Yì said, “The names are right. We used to write them like this all the time.”
She turned to Zhōu Shíyì, “You still remember this?”
Zhōu Shíyì nodded, “I remember.”
Zhōng Zhuóhuá patted her daughter: “We’ll take photos here later. No rush. Let’s first see the photos Mǐn Tíng restored for you.”
Outside the banquet hall, Zhong Yì already heard her laughter from inside.
She was puzzled, quickening her steps to the doorway, where several large screens simultaneously displayed one of her candid shots.
It was taken during a break from the beach wedding photos by an assistant photographer with a phone.
In the video, her chin rested against Zhōu Shíyì’s chest as she looked up and asked with a smile, “I have two cans of Honey Red Beans—will you marry me?”
Zhōu Shíyì had been quietly looking down at her but suddenly let out a silent chuckle at her words.
Her clear laughter followed.
The video stopped.
Then, it played again on loop.
Zhong Yì had never expected her cousin to restore this candid shot.
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