The boy’s expression was serious. The warm amber light inside the room cast a soft glow over him. His eyes were fixed on her, steady and unblinking.
After a long moment, Lin Tao moved her lips — the chin he was cradling lightly in his hand shifted with the motion.
She said: “Okay. We will always be together.”
At her words, Jiang Yan held her in his gaze for a long beat, his thumb tracing slowly against the place where his fingers rested on her chin. Something moved through his eyes that she couldn’t quite read.
A quiet pause followed — broken by Lin Tao’s phone suddenly buzzing. The boy came back to himself and let go, rubbing his nose with a trace of self-consciousness, and stepped away.
The call was from Meng Xin. The moment it connected, Lin Tao heard her testing the waters with a tone somewhere between probing and hopeful: “I’m not interrupting you and the school delinquent, am I?”
“……” For no particular reason, Lin Tao felt a flash of guilt. She covered the receiver and said quietly, “No, you’re not. What is it?”
“Nothing much, just wondering if you’re heading back tonight.” Meng Xin tapped away at her keyboard, asking with a grin: “What are you and the school delinquent talking about in there?”
Lin Tao thought about what they’d just been talking about, and her ears instantly burned. She glanced at the time — it was already past ten. She got to her feet. “Let’s go. We can head back now, I’ll tell you on the way.”
Meng Xin let out a quick sound of agreement, snapped her computer shut without hesitation. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
“Okay.”
When she hung up the phone, Jiang Yan walked over. He stood in front of her, his tall, lean frame blocking out half the light. “Should I take you back?”
Lin Tao raised an eyebrow, her lips curving. “You’re settling into the ‘boyfriend’ identity pretty quickly.”
Jiang Yan said without missing a beat: “I adapt fast.”
“……”
Lin Tao laughed.
“Come on, I’ll walk you down.” He rose, and his arm reached across. Long, elegant fingers hooked around her shoulder and drew her in toward him, his voice carrying a smile. “Let’s go, girlfriend.”
The winter night outside was deep with darkness, the lights scattered and bright across the scene. The two of them headed downstairs one after the other, the light and shadow stretching their silhouettes long behind them.
Downstairs was lively. Meng Xin was standing at the front counter, chatting and laughing with the little front desk attendant about games — nothing like the head-to-head standoff they’d been having earlier.
Jiang Yan walked them to the mouth of the alley to catch a ride.
The only remaining streetlamp in the alley had given up early due to aging wiring. The narrow, dark lane borrowed only what light it could from the illuminated high-rises across the way, barely enough to make out shapes.
The three of them walked abreast.
In the darkness, fabric brushed against fabric with a faint, quiet sound. The boy’s arm drew close — the backs of their hands met by chance.
Lin Tao stiffened for just a moment, fingers curling slightly.
The next second.
He lifted his hand, and his little finger hooked around her middle finger.
Then, within a few short seconds, the grip shifted — his long fingers threading through the gaps between hers, warm palm pressed flush against warm palm.
In the darkness, every instant of this sequence was magnified.
Lin Tao held her breath for a few seconds, feeling the soft pad of his thumb graze her hand lightly against the base of her thumb. Her spine locked up straight. Her fingernail pressed into the back of his hand.
A few seconds later.
A quiet, almost inaudible laugh. He repeated the gesture again.
“……”
Meng Xin couldn’t see well in the dark, and with the light so poor, she’d already stumbled into several potholes in the few steps she’d taken — nearly tripping.
After losing her footing for the umpteenth time, she let out a little cry of alarm, then steadied herself, pulled out her phone, and switched on the flashlight. The bright beam swept down the alley.
It lit up the path underfoot — and also lit up the two hands clasped together beside her.
Meng Xin: “……”
What do I even need a flashlight for. I might as well be my own light source.
In the car, Meng Xin couldn’t wait to start prying. “Taotao, have you and the school delinquent been sneaking things along behind everyone’s back?”
“……”
That particular choice of words was so unusual that even the driver in the front seat turned around for a look.
Lin Tao covered her face. “Your Chinese language teacher — if they ever found out you used that phrase this way, they’d wake up at night from the sheer aggravation of it.”
“Then… you’ve borne fruit?”
“It’s a bit too early to ‘bear fruit’ — what we’ve done, I’d say, is more accurately described as——” Lin Tao thought for a moment, then reached for a more fitting expression. “Set sail on the river of love.”
Meng Xin laughed despite herself, leaning back against the headrest with a heartfelt sigh. “I genuinely cannot believe you and the school delinquent actually ended up together. The thing is, the school delinquent never had any rumors attached to him with any girl, ever.”
She leaned over toward Lin Tao, eyes sparkling and full of mischief. “Taotao, give me the inside scoop — what’s the school delinquent like when he’s dating someone? Is he like guys in novels — distant and cold with everyone else, but all clingy and devoted the moment you’re around?”
Lin Tao smiled and pushed her head away. “Nothing like that. Nothing so exaggerated. Just — doesn’t seem as unapproachable, and a little gentler.”
“Right, I’m officially declaring myself a jealous wreck.” Meng Xin flopped back into her seat at that, releasing a long, envious sigh. “Ahhhh… I want to fall in love too. When will sweet, sweet romance ever come to me?!!!”
“Didn’t someone from another class give you a love letter?”
At the mention of the love letter, Meng Xin couldn’t help rolling her eyes, with the look of someone completely done with life. “You think someone who writes a love letter pointing out every single one of your flaws and then tells you they don’t mind those flaws — you think there’s any chance of sweet romance with that person?”
“……”
Lin Tao and Meng Xin didn’t live far from each other — just one street over. They got out at the intersection in between and each walked to their own building.
The winter night was cold, the wind biting.
After Lin Tao got through her complex’s gate, she started running — a distance that usually took about ten minutes, she covered in five.
She punched in the code, stepped into the stairwell, and was enveloped in layers of warmth.
The phone that had been sitting in her pocket gave a faint buzz.
Lin Tao took it out to look — she hadn’t noticed the message yet, but what she saw first was the battery bar. Nine percent remaining. She let out a small oh, picked up her pace to the elevator, and hurried home.
The apartment was still empty. Lin Tao didn’t bother removing her shoes, went straight to her room, and only once she’d plugged her phone in to charge did she tap open that message:
Jiang Yan: You home?
Lin Tao typed back two words:
Just got here.
After replying, she set the phone aside, grabbed her pajamas, and went into the bathroom. About ten or fifteen minutes later, she came out.
Lights off. Into bed. Phone picked back up. Three unread messages:
Okay.
……
Okay?
……
Asleep?
Each spaced about five or six minutes apart.
Lin Tao felt the urge to laugh. She tapped out on the keyboard:
Not asleep. Was in the shower.
Jiang Yan replied quickly:
Got it, get some rest early then —
…… —?Still awake? —
Going to sleep! Right now!
The next second he sent a voice message — just two seconds long.
“Goodnight.”
His voice, low and warm, carrying a smile.
Lin Tao held the phone against her ear and listened once through. Her ear practically tingled. She rubbed at it with her hand, then, unable to stop herself, hit play again.
Her heart was doing acrobatics. She rolled around in her blanket a few times before finally going still — then peeled the hair away from where it had stuck to the side of her face, steadied her breath for a beat, cleared her throat, and pressed the voice message button. Said two quiet words: “Goodnight.”
Jiang Yan didn’t reply after that.
Lin Tao lay in bed and turned over the events of the day in her mind, still feeling vaguely like she was dreaming.
She picked up her phone and went back through their chat history.
They hadn’t actually talked that much. During the day at school, they were always right there in front of each other. In the evenings they didn’t get out until after nine, and by the time you got home and sorted yourself out it was already late. The chat history was quick to scroll through, and most of it was pretty low-effort back-and-forth.
When she reached the top, Lin Tao closed out of WeChat and noticed the familiar app icon on her home screen. She tapped into it.
Her thread was right there on the front page — the title in large bold letters, with a little golden “Featured” tag beside it. The reply count and likes had both already crossed thirty thousand.
She read through the comments for a bit, then tapped the edit button in the top right corner and updated her post:
He said: no “if.” We will always be together.
The update had been live for barely a minute.
And the comments exploded —
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god what did I just read!!!! —
Quiet!! The teacher’s coming — someone’s getting caught for early romance!! —
Anyone want to date? Pick me, I’m very sweet —
Other people’s love suits any season of the year. Mine suits none —
I am officially today’s jealous wreck.
…… —
Approved, go get married, we all consent —
The lemon tree bears lemon fruit, under the lemon tree, only me 🙂 —
Sunglasses on, caring about no one —
waaaaaaahhhhh my teen CP!!!!!!!! —
Borrowing a little luck waaaahhhh.
……
Lin Tao scrolled through the comments, smiling the whole time, hitting like after like.
When she’d first posted this call for help, she’d never imagined it would reach so many people. Recording her and Jiang Yan’s story, these strangers’ comments had become a treasure all their own — something no one else had.
Time slipped quietly by.
Close to midnight, Lin Tao heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. She pulled the blanket aside, ready to get up and go out.
A sharp voice cut through the air and stopped her mid-motion. “Lin Yongcheng! How can you do this to me — to our daughter!”
“Yisong!” Lin Yongcheng’s voice carried a weariness impossible to fully name. “You know — I’m the only son the Lin Family has!”
“My mother said so before she passed, and you know it!”
Fang Yisong said: “The ideas your mother grew up with — can you really compare them to now? What’s wrong with just one child? Does one child not belong to the Lin Family? Does one child not carry Lin blood?!”
“Yisong……”
The sounds of argument gradually gave way to the sound of Fang Yisong crying.
In the dark, Lin Tao’s movements froze where she sat. The room was warm — the heating was full on — and yet she felt as though she’d plunged into a pool of ice. Cold crept through her, everywhere.
The phone had fallen onto the bed. Its screen was lit. She looked at the time:
00:10
Seeing that time, Lin Tao actually felt a small, strange flicker of relief — that this terrible thing hadn’t happened yesterday.
That day had been so beautiful, so worth holding onto forever. It didn’t deserve an ending like this.
At three in the morning, Jiang Yan came back to his room and saw the last voice message Lin Tao had sent him.
He turned off the light, leaned against the headboard, and played it. The girl’s soft, light voice filled the quiet room.
“Goodnight.”
He had sent his own goodnight voice message and then left his phone upstairs to charge.
Now that he’d seen the message, staying true to the principle that a girlfriend’s messages should be replied to no matter when they’re seen, he typed out three characters and sent them:
See you tomorrow.
After putting his phone back on the nightstand, he was about to look away — then paused for a second.
WeChat has a feature: when someone is in the process of typing or recording a voice message, the label in the contact display name area updates to show that the person is in the process of doing something.
Right now, Jiang Yan watched as the word “girlfriend” shifted over to: the other party is typing…
“……”
Jiang Yan checked the time. Three-twenty in the morning. His girlfriend had said goodnight and said she was going to sleep at eleven-twenty. That was four hours ago.
He raised a hand and rubbed at his brow, then waited quietly for her typing status to stop. He waited another full minute, and got nothing — not a single message from his girlfriend, who had very clearly claimed she was asleep and had even sent a goodnight but was apparently still very much online.
First-time-at-love Jiang Yan fell into deep contemplation. After half a minute of thinking, he determined that thinking wouldn’t get him anywhere — better to ask directly.
The biggest mistake in a relationship was for one person not to ask and the other not to say. Excellent Jiang Yan had decided he would both ask and say, and cut that particular mistake completely out of his relationship path.
He sent a message:
Still not sleeping?
Lin Tao replied quickly:
How did you know I wasn’t asleep?? —
Instinct —
……
Jiang Yan let out a quiet laugh, his long fingers tapping at the keyboard. In the dark room, only this corner near the headboard held any light.
Why are you still awake? —
Can’t sleep…… —
Want to talk for a bit? —
Sure.
Lin Tao had assumed “talk for a bit” meant just texting back and forth. But the next second a voice call prompt appeared out of nowhere, its jarring ringtone making her jump.
Lin Tao rubbed her face and sat up. Maybe afraid her parents would hear — her voice came out very low. “Calling at this hour — are you even planning to sleep?”
“More or less.” Jiang Yan turned on his bedside lamp, picked up a book from the shelf, and lay back down. “Why can’t you sleep?”
“Just… can’t……” There were some things Lin Tao didn’t know how to put into words. She changed subjects. “Maybe because it’s the first time I’ve ever dated someone. I’m a little wound up. Aren’t you?”
“I am.” Jiang Yan opened the book and found where he’d left off, fingertip pressing against the spine. “But no matter how wound up you are, you still need to sleep. Tomorrow’s Monday.”
“Is it not also Monday for you tomorrow?”
Jiang Yan gave a quiet laugh, his head resting back against the wall. “I can skip class.”
She let out a sigh. “I want to skip class too.”
And skip out of this home, this place.
The two of them talked in an unhurried, wandering way for over half an hour.
Jiang Yan put the book away. He’d indulged her long enough. “Okay. You need to sleep. Go to bed — tomorrow morning I’ll bring you breakfast. What do you want?”
“That small wonton place from last time?”
“I’ll get it. And don’t be late.”
“Mm.” Lin Tao lay back against her pillow. She thought about what she’d heard tonight, and raised a hand to cover her eyes. Her voice was very small. “Jiang Yan — why are you so good to me?”
Jiang Yan was quiet for a moment, then answered: “Because you deserve it.”
Lin Tao swallowed the sting behind her eyes and let out a small laugh. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
The call ended.
Lin Tao wiped at the corner of her eye. As she set down her phone, two more messages came through from him:
When you’re unhappy, tell me. I’m your boyfriend — not someone else. —
Goodnight, sweetheart.