She had to admit that from the beginning of this relationship, she never made long-term plans. She harbored a slight intention to end it.
One night, Ding Zhitong had a dream.
In her dream, she returned to Gan Yang’s place, lying with him on the floor of his room. Time lost its sense of reality. Sometimes, he propped himself up on his elbow, smiling at her. Other times, they kissed passionately. The dreaming Ding Zhitong watched these scenes from a distance, observing the actions of the dream figures and the sunset gradually sinking outside the window. The sky slowly turned deep blue, and the pink-orange twilight at the horizon faded.
Though nothing had happened, the feeling was indescribable. When she woke in the morning, she lay in bed for a long time, unusually reluctant to get up, allowing her phone alarm to ring twice.
The calendar had turned to December, her last month in Kang Village. All her courses, exams, and thesis defenses were over.
The winter graduation ceremony was scheduled before the Christmas holiday. After donning the cap and receiving her certificate, she would pack up and leave.
The following half-month break would be perfect for moving. After New Year’s Day, she would start a ten-week full-time training at M Bank. She could live in the company-provided serviced apartment and use that time to find a place in New York.
Then, her journey to strike gold would officially begin.
All these plans were clear and set. She had rehearsed them in her mind many times. Only Gan Yang was an unexpected branch in her life.
As if making up her mind, she bought a three-pack of Trojan condoms and put them in her backpack for unexpected needs. Then, feigning nonchalance, she told herself: “Ding Zhitong, consider this your graduation gift. If it happens, it’ll be a beautiful memory. When it ends, don’t be too sad.”
Years later, after seeing a therapist for a while, she mentioned her thoughts from that time.
The therapist, unfazed, replied: “Indeed, some people do this. When they’re anxious about something that might happen, they tend to make it happen.”
“So this is normal behavior?” Ding Zhitong asked.
But the therapist didn’t judge normality, only saying: “It’s a manifestation of obsessive-compulsive disorder.”
Another day passed, and Ding Zhitong still went running with Gan Yang, enjoying the racing heartbeat, urgent breathing, muscle soreness, the extra endorphins produced in the cold, and the sweaty post-run stretching on the yoga mat.
With the previous experience, this routine became more intimate.
Gan Yang held her ankle, folding one of her legs against her chest, then pressing his whole body close. The indoor heating was strong, and after running five kilometers, both were sweaty, sticking together.
Ding Zhitong, slightly out of breath and doubting whether this was still stretching, joked a bit too far: “If this were in the gym, wouldn’t it count as sexual harassment?”
“But we’re not in the gym…” His lips were very close to hers, his gaze deep, as if considering the right angle for a kiss.
She suddenly realized he must have prepared for this too.
Though it was part of her plan, her face felt on fire, her heart racing so fast that the pulsing of her blood vessels sounded like a speeding train roaring past her ears.
The therapist from years later was probably right. At that moment, she threw caution to the wind and made the first move to remove his clothes. He reciprocated, taking off her T-shirt. Her skin, exposed to the room’s air, wasn’t cold but trembled slightly. The atmosphere was so tense it felt like a fight was about to break out. She froze, unsure what to do next, and when he tried to undo her sports bra, she pushed him away, pretending to be experienced as she suggested: “How about we take a shower first?”
It was a reasonable request, but Gan Yang saw through her bravado. He deliberately held her tight, lying on top of her and laughing, his shoulders shaking. Breathless under his weight, she hit his back a couple of times, asking if he was crying from excitement. He agreed jokingly, then got up and carried her to the bathroom.
Seeing each other naked for the first time, she initially didn’t dare look, but once she did, she couldn’t look away. Those who had practiced eight-person single-oar rowing indeed had beautiful bodies, even there. In the end, it was he who blushed under her gaze. He turned on the overhead shower, letting steam fill the space. They kissed as if in a tropical downpour, exploring each other’s bodies with hands and lips, every inch of their skin craving the other’s touch, igniting passion with the help of shower gel.
After drying off and moving to the bed, he was still nervous. He put the first condom on backward, clumsily ruining it, and hurriedly opened a second one.
Wrapped in a towel, she watched him, resting her chin on her hands, and said, “Want me to help?”
“No,” he said, sitting with legs apart and focusing on the task, clinging to his last shred of masculine dignity. “I’ve got it, just a moment.”
She thought he was a bit silly.
Silly, but cute.
But once they truly began, everything changed.
She had to admit she was only pretending to be experienced, and so was he. Neither knew where to put their hands or feet, relying on instinct and bits of knowledge picked up from somewhere. The intimacy felt good – kisses, caresses, friction – even if clumsy, made them eager for more. But the actual moment of joining was completely different from what she had imagined, causing her to tense up instantly, her back covered in cold sweat. It hurt, and it didn’t last long. However, as their fingers intertwined, as she watched his Adam’s apple move, as he observed her furrowed brow showing both endurance and intoxication, their hearts melted. The psychological pleasure built up layer upon layer until the final moment of overflow.
Night had fallen without them noticing, and the room was unlit. They lay embracing for a while. Ding Zhitong looked around the bedroom, neither obsessively tidy nor messy enough to warrant close inspection. Everything was just right. That feeling from her dream returned, both enticing and frightening her.
Finally, he pulled her closer and asked, “How… how was it for you?”
Ding Zhitong didn’t answer, instead returning the question: “What did you think?”
“Hmm…” Gan Yang pondered, “It was different from what I expected…”
“You didn’t like it?” she asked.
“Did you like it?… I’m worried you didn’t.”
“Was this your first time?” she finally asked.
He nodded.
She had asked the question but found the answer hard to believe. Though they hadn’t discussed it explicitly, his words suggested he’d had a girlfriend before.
Gan Yang, however, didn’t mind and casually mentioned he’d had 1.5 girlfriends.
1.5? Ding Zhitong turned over to lie on her stomach, asking him to elaborate.
Gan Yang explained that one was his high school classmate, also a Chinese international student. Like him, she was studying abroad alone, without parents. Both feeling lonely, they got together in 11th grade.
“You were in America, the land of freedom, democracy, and openness. Why didn’t you try?” Ding Zhitong couldn’t understand.
“We were young then. Don’t think guys can’t be scared too,” he explained earnestly. “Besides, it was Junior year! The toughest year in American high school! English wasn’t my first language, and AP U.S. History and English Literature nearly killed me. Add to that extracurriculars and SAT prep. Without a green card or family alumni connections, and with higher standardized test score requirements for Asians, our admission rates were much lower…”
The conversation had successfully shifted from ex-girlfriends to a litany of grievances.
“I didn’t know you went through that phase too,” Ding Zhitong said, laughing. “Then what happened?”
“We went to different colleges and broke up in our freshman year,” Gan Yang replied.
“Where did she go to school?” Ding Zhitong asked.
“California. We occasionally like each other’s posts on Facebook now,” Gan Yang answered calmly and briefly. As he’d said before, he didn’t discuss relationships with third parties.
She objectively thought this was a good quality, but still pressed on: “What about the 0.5?”
Gan Yang confessed honestly: “An American girl I dated for about two or three months in sophomore year.”
“Why did you break up?”
“Her friend asked her why she was dating me. She said she was curious and wanted to know what it was like to be with an Asian. When I heard that, I thought it was meaningless, so I ended it.”
“What?” Ding Zhitong exclaimed.
Gan Yang thought she was indignant on his behalf and was about to say: “I know, right? Isn’t it racist? Awful?”
But Ding Zhitong had a different concern: “If you didn’t sleep with her, what would she and her friends think?”
Realizing she was teasing him, Gan Yang remained unbothered. With his hands behind his head, he said self-mockingly: “I guess I let Chinese men down.”
Ding Zhitong laughed along but then heard him say: “I don’t want to prove anything. If I don’t like someone or the feeling isn’t there, doing it just for the sake of it is pointless.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She felt the same way. But had their feelings reached that level? Wasn’t it just attraction and desire?
Gan Yang didn’t let her dwell on it, turning the question back to her: “What about you?”
Seeing his sincere and expectant look, Ding Zhitong answered honestly: “Same as you.”
She watched as he smiled silently and lay back without a word.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
He replied: “I’m just happy. You don’t mind, do you?”
She shook her head and continued honestly: “I’m happy too.”
He turned her to face him, smiled, and hugged her tightly, looking content.
That evening during dinner, Ding Zhitong told Gan Yang about the cactus story.
She and her ex-boyfriend were both seniors applying to graduate schools. She saw a potted ivy plant at Carrefour for just five yuan. It looked like it would last a long time and had a nice symbolic meaning, so she bought it as a gift. In return, her ex gave her a small cactus, also costing just a few yuan and presumably more durable.
Neither knew what the other had bought beforehand, so it was a case of great minds thinking alike between two frugal people. But she didn’t like the cactus, and it eventually died from lack of watering.
She knew she shouldn’t have mentioned this, just as she shouldn’t have asked about his ex-girlfriend in bed.
Song Mingmei had once discussed this with her: “Do you know when the best time to bring up an ex is?”
Recognizing the rhetorical question, she played along: “When?”
“Never,” Song Mingmei revealed the standard answer.
Yet here she was, broaching this dangerous topic on the very day they had become intimate.
She had wanted to mention it ever since Gan Yang showed her the tomatoes and greens he was growing.
Long after, when Ding Zhitong reflected on this moment, she had to admit it wasn’t just a thoughtless slip of the tongue but contained a degree of deliberate intent.
She had always believed that most people in the world were incapable of love, neither deserving it nor willing to give it freely. Like the cactus she had let die, which looked like a limp you-know-what, it became the lasting impression of her previous relationship. This wasn’t meant to blame her ex; she was self-aware enough to know she was just as stingy. But Gan Yang was different. As they grew closer, she discovered more and more lovable qualities in him, and he wasn’t at all hesitant to give. She believed he would have a good life with anyone. She had just gotten lucky to meet him at this time.
Sabotage, transitive verb, to deliberately destroy.
Jeopardize, a transitive verb, to put in a dangerous situation.
Whenever she thought back to that time, these two GRE vocabulary words would come to mind. She had to admit that from the very beginning of this relationship, she had never made long-term plans and even harbored a slight intention to end it.
But Gan Yang’s reaction defied all theories. When she suddenly mentioned her ex and the ivy plant she had given him, he simply asked, “Then what?”
Ding Zhitong said, “Then he gave me a cactus.”
“Was it a coincidence?” Gan Yang asked.
“What do you mean?” She didn’t understand.
Gan Yang explained, “Did you both happen to choose potted plants as gifts?”
Ding Zhitong still couldn’t follow his train of thought.
Gan Yang clarified, “You and I are the same type, remember? We’ve done the personality test twice.” He then added, “Don’t tell me what you’re buying for the New Year. I want us to have the same idea by chance.”
Just like that, he had changed the subject, avoiding any awkward moments like digging deeper, comparing who was better, or asking how they broke up and if they were still in touch.
However, she did notice another similarity between them: both had ended previous relationships due to long-distance issues. She believed this was also related to their personalities; neither was the type to endure long-distance relationships. She couldn’t help but think once again that she would be leaving soon, while he wouldn’t graduate until next year. They had never discussed his plans.