The car glided through narrower, more colorful streets, leaving behind the bustle of the main avenues to enter a corner of southern Cancún that pulsed with a different, more authentic rhythm. Lysandra watched Ruby, who gazed out the window with genuine curiosity, her green eyes absorbing the life unfolding before them.
"This neighborhood has a particular charm," Lysandra commented as the car slowed down. "A lot of local people come here. The food is excellent, and each place has its own soul."
And it was true. Getting out of the car in front of a row of small restaurants with facades painted in bright hues—sunshine yellow, turquoise blue, bougainvillea pink—Ruby was visibly impressed, not by the luxury, but by the vibrant energy emanating from the place. It was as if each establishment had its own soundtrack. From a nearby restaurant came the cheerful and nostalgic sounds of a mariachi band, their trumpets and guitarrones creating a festive atmosphere. In the distance, the muffled echo of an electric guitar and drums could be heard, hinting at a morning rock rehearsal.
The restaurant Lysandra had chosen was a little more discreet, with a bougainvillea-shaded terrace and a rustic, cozy interior. But just as they crossed the threshold, they were greeted by the melancholic and passionate melody of a troubadour. A middle-aged man, holding a guitar and his heart in his voice, was singing a romantic ballad about impossible loves and eternal longings. The music was beautiful, but in the context of the unspoken conversation between them and Fernando's ambiguous introduction of Ruby, it was almost comically awkward.
Lysandra felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks and saw Ruby also suppressing an amused smile. Their eyes met, and they both laughed softly, a moment of unexpected complicity at the absurdity of the situation.
"It seems the universe has a peculiar sense of humor today," Ruby murmured, her green eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Definitely," Lysandra agreed. "A table for two, please," she said to the waiter who came to greet them.
Once seated at a rustic wooden table, with the troubadour continuing his serenade in the background, and after Lysandra ordered the famous buffalo meat dish to share (despite Ruby's polite but clear initial reluctance, who eventually gave in to her hostess's curiosity and kind insistence) and some tropical fruit agua fresca, Ruby seemed to have made a decision.
She placed her cloth napkin on her lap and looked at Lysandra with a candor that disarmed her. "Well, since we're spending the day together and you're probably wondering what I'm doing here besides being an 'acquaintance' of your brother," she began, a faint wry smile playing on her lips, "perhaps I should tell you a little about myself."
Lysandra nodded, her full attention on her.
"My main occupation, if you can even call it that," Ruby continued, "is being a... seeker. A researcher of the intangible. I'm involved in comparative philosophy, but not from a purely academic perspective. I'm interested in deep beliefs, forgotten cosmologies, the different ways cultures have attempted to answer the big questions: the purpose of life, the nature of consciousness, and, most of all, what lies beyond death."
Lysandra listened, fascinated. This explained many things: the depth in her gaze, her air of mystery, her presence in China.
"I met Fernando in the strangest and, I must admit, slightly embarrassing way for me," Ruby continued, a faint blush staining her cheeks, making her look surprisingly vulnerable for a moment. "It was a monumental mix-up on my part. I was in Shanghai, researching some ancient Taoist practices on transcendence, and I was using a popular social network there to connect with scholars and study groups. I saw a profile with a blurry photo and a name I thought I recognized as that of a Sinologist I'd been recommended to contact. I sent him a message, somewhat formally, asking about his research."
She paused, and a genuinely amused smile spread across her face. "It turns out the profile wasn't of the learned Sinologist, but of your brother, Fernando, who was in Shanghai for one of his construction projects and was using that network to... well, socialize and practice his Mandarin, I guess. Seeing my profile pictures—which he apparently found more interesting than my questions about the Tao—instead of clearing up the confusion, he decided to play along. He answered me evasively, acting mysterious, and then he simply started insisting that we meet in person. For two weeks, Lysandra. Two weeks of daily messages, invitations to coffee, proposals to Show me 'the real Shanghai'! It was as persistent as a monsoon rain."
Lysandra couldn't help but smile. That sounded exactly like Fernando when something or someone caught his interest.
"Finally, out of pure curiosity and, I admit, a little bit of intrigue he'd managed to spark with his wit and audacity, I agreed," Ruby continued. "And well, the rest is a story of endless philosophical debates, shared discoveries, and, yes, a lot of laughter. I told him about my passion for these profound subjects, my search for answers about life after death, which was the main reason for my extended stay in China, exploring not only Taoism, but also certain branches of Tibetan Buddhism and ancient folk beliefs."
Her green eyes shone with a quiet fervor. "Fernando, at first, thought I was a little crazy, of course. But he listened. And in his own way, he participated. I remember once, when I was talking to her about reincarnation and the different cultural interpretations, she made a terrible joke. She said, in all seriousness, that if her grandmother Matilda, who had been a very stingy woman in life, was reincarnated, she would probably do so as a cow, so that at least she could continue producing something useful, like milk, and not just hoarding money!
Ruby laughed softly, and Lysandra joined her, imagining the scene, Fernando's irreverent humor colliding with the seriousness of the topics Ruby was researching. The story was strange, yes, but also endearing, and it explained the ease, the familiarity between them. But it still didn't fully explain the depth of that silent connection Lysandra had sensed. The word "acquaintance" still felt like too thin a veil to hide what truly lay between them. And Lysandra's need to understand, to know more, grew even stronger.