You on the other side of time

The evening breeze lifted the girl's skirt as she ran forward, panting heavily, until she saw one person after another strolling along the street coming towards her. Only then did she feel a little safe. After stopping, the girl leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.

She remembered the boy on the bridge and unconsciously twisted her wrist, as if she could still feel his strength. The crookedly sewn little rabbit fell out of her bag and rolled into the grass by the bridge, but she didn't dare to turn around to pick it up.

The girl glanced behind her to make sure no one was following, then turned into a narrow alley. At the end was a small bungalow, No. 3, Lane 45, Jiuyanqiao Street, with rusty doorknobs. She inserted the key into the lock, and with a "click," the door opened.

As soon as she entered the room, a small animal pounced on her, wagging its tail and circling around her. It was a pet the girl had picked up; its right leg was slightly lame. Because its fur was soft and fluffy, she named it Nian Gao (Rice Cake). The girl tiptoed, opened the top cabinet door of the shoe cabinet, took out the last can of food, pulled the metal tab, and squatted down to bring the can closer to Nian Gao.

It barked twice, rubbed its face against the girl's hand, glanced warily at the sofa, and then began to enjoy its meal.

The girl placed her schoolbag on the coffee table and softly called out "Tangyuan." Another round, chubby creature slowly got up from the sofa and obediently curled up beside her. She gently stroked its fur.

"Having both a cat and a dog is better than being a god." The girl stretched and lay back on the sofa, her mood finally calming down a bit, but she still couldn't help but feel a little resentful about the boy she met that night. How could there be such an annoying person drunk and lying on the street? He gave her a big fright and even made her lose the rabbit her friend gave her.

Tangyuan curled up on the sofa armrest, making soft purring sounds. Nian Gao finished his canned food and was licking his paws with his tongue. Hearing footsteps at the door, he looked up at her, his tail lightly brushing the ground as he followed behind the girl.

The girl walked to the door, reached for the wooden stick behind it, and gripped it tightly in her hand. The footsteps approached from afar, then receded again. Only when the footsteps completely disappeared did she release her grip and let out a long sigh of relief.

Then, she took out several pairs of slippers from the shoe cabinet and placed them by the door: one large pair, one medium pair, and one small pair. She took out a feather duster, dusted off the slippers, and gently bent the tops of the slippers to make them look like someone had just worn them.

This was a method she learned from a book, which was said to prevent thieves from stealing.

Actually, there wasn't much to steal from this dilapidated house. The refrigerator was empty, and there were only a few old clothes in the closet. The only valuable thing was the textbooks in the closet.

Grandma sat on the bedside table, smiling kindly. The girl knelt down and whispered, "Grandma, I went to memorize my lines again today. During the audition, the teachers there said I didn't perform well; my thinking was too active, and I didn't follow the lines properly—I didn't seem like a narrator!"

The girl paused, then added, "Grandma, I'll pass the exam to become a docent at the Jinchuan Museum. You think I can do it, right?"

No one answered her.

She walked to the window, lifted a corner of the curtain, and the aroma of butter wafted from the hot pot restaurant in the distance, making her stomach rumble again. The girl glanced at the rice cakes and glutinous rice balls, went into the kitchen, turned on the tap, filled a pot halfway with water, and put it on the stove to boil. She weighed the bag of noodles in her hand, took out a handful, thought for a moment, and then put half of it back.

The water boiled, and the noodles were put in and rolled around a few times. She scooped them out and put them in a bowl.

There were many bottles and jars on the stove. The girl picked up a plastic bottle, unscrewed the cap, and poured the contents into a bowl. The bowl was empty. She then shook a few other glass bottles and put them down. She then picked up a salt and sprinkled a little into the bowl, stirring it with chopsticks.

The noodles were bland, a little salty and a little bitter. She finished them in a few bites and licked the salt off her lips.

The living room light flickered, hurting the eyes, and it had been like this since last night. The girl found a chair, placed it directly under the light, then put a small stool on the chair. She shook the chair and the stool to make sure it was stable, then turned to her grandmother and smiled, "Grandma, don't worry, I won't fall."

After turning off the lights and disconnecting the power, the girl slowly knelt and climbed onto the stool, then slowly stood up, turned on the light bulb, but accidentally got dust falling from the hanging wire onto her face. She then climbed off the stool again, wrinkled her nose, and muttered to herself, "According to Song Wanxi's Tenth Law, a flickering light is just a bad connection, not a broken bulb."

Sure enough, when the switch was turned on again, warm yellow light shone down, filling the cramped little room completely.

The girl shook the dust off her hands, smiled at the mottled mirror on the wall, revealing a pair of shallow dimples. In the mirror, a tuft of brown hair near her right ear was particularly noticeable, and she quickly covered it with her black hair.

Next to the mirror was a yellowed piece of paper with a line of words written in pencil: "Jinchuan Museum Part-time Guide Interview, June 20th." Beside the words was a drawing of a crooked tree with a bird perched on it. The bird's wings were painted gold, drawn by her using scraps of gold foil she had collected.

The schoolbag wobbled on the table and suddenly fell. The girl picked up the guidebook and spread it out on the table; it was covered with annotations. She could recite every artifact in the Jinchuan Museum by heart, and even point out details not in the guidebook, such as the bird on the sacred tree, which the guidebook said was used in ancient Jinchuan rituals.

The girl thought the bird was going home.

After washing up, the girl folded and packed away her Jinchuan No. 7 Middle School uniform. This was the last time she would wear it today. Starting tomorrow, she would simply be Song Wanxi, a poor student obediently waiting for her college entrance exam results…