◎ My One and Only Deep Love ◎

— “She was the one who walked away first — and I still want a future with her.”

Those two lines fell like a heavy stone against her chest, shattering inside her ribcage.

Yunque held her breath, staring at those words that filled nearly the entire screen of her phone — and her eyes went red without warning.

She had never once imagined that Lu Rangchen — cold and proud and untouchable to the outside world — would have written this much, this raw, about her, on a platform like this where strangers could see.

And it had been two months ago.

Two months ago, they hadn’t even crossed paths yet.

She hadn’t yet worked up the courage to appear in his life uninvited and without reason — and yet even so, Lu Rangchen had already surrendered completely.

Completely and utterly.

Emotion surged through her in an instant, unstoppable as a tide. Yunque drew in a breath through her nose, and a torrent of guilt and admiration and something that felt like being unmade swept through her all at once.

But Lu Rangchen’s answer was nowhere near finished.

Her fingertip barely touched the screen, and the page scrolled down another long stretch.

Below a horizontal line, a new date had been marked — as a dividing line for his additional update —

“I’ve read through a lot of the replies, but some questions are too personal — I’m not going to address those. I’ll just pick out a few simple things to clarify.

First — this isn’t a performance or an attempt to attract attention. These years without a girlfriend — that’s simply the fact. Having a girlfriend isn’t exactly a novelty for me. There’s too much worth doing in this life, and my ambitions aren’t confined to that. Love takes a certain feeling in a certain moment — and at the very least, I haven’t felt that with anyone else in all this time.

Second — I haven’t been in contact with her during these years. For me, no matter how much you miss someone, you still owe yourself some self-respect.

Finally — if she came back, what would I do? Honestly, this is something I’ve been genuinely turning over in my head these past few days. Not because anyone asked — but because she has actually come back. She’s back in Nancheng, and we’ve even crossed paths. It was a rather fortuitous encounter one evening. Neither of us expected it. All in all, her reaction was bigger than mine. When she left, she came over and asked for my number. I could see very clearly — her eyes had gone red. Though I’m not sure whether she actually wanted my number, or just needed it because I’m a student’s parent. She’s always been like that. I’ve never been able to read her clearly.”

After that passage came another long line — a break before the next entry, which he had written a few days later —

“She’s a teacher. That career suits her. Still no contact — I didn’t give her my number. Some of the comments seem to have got the wrong idea. Just because someone never stops thinking about a person doesn’t mean you fall over yourself to run to them the moment they turn back around. What you’re describing is a dog — no memory for anything but the reward. The way I see it: wanting me back is fine, but I’m not something you can call for whenever you like and dismiss when you’re done. There’s no such arrangement.”

Reading this, Yunque couldn’t hold back a subtle twitch at the corner of her lips — a faint, quiet smile. She thought: his arrogance really was bone-deep; even writing a simple answer he managed to come across like he was standing on a stage.

But then she thought again and realized: she really had been rather naïve at the time.

Lu Rangchen had known everything all along — right from the start.

He had understood that she still wanted him. He had just been at war with his own pride.

Perhaps invading someone else’s privacy has a way of pulling you in deeper the further you go. Yunque’s fingertip kept scrolling, and she quickly found the next section —

“Been busy with work the past few days, haven’t had much time to check my phone. Quick update.

Some commenters were right — I did see her these past few days. At the dumpling shop in the building below my complex. She was there with a friend. I spotted her first, but I didn’t say anything. I acted like nothing was happening, picked up my takeaway, and left. I’d thought she might see me. I hadn’t thought she’d follow. She’s the type who never shows what she’s thinking. I don’t know what was going on in her head — but when she saw me, she just followed me into the elevator. The funniest part is, she’d obviously come in because of me, and yet she insisted on pretending she was going upstairs for a home visit with a student’s family. She couldn’t even look me in the eye when she said it. Did she really think I was that oblivious? Anyway, I didn’t say much after that. It just felt like there was nothing to say. Seeing her again — it hurt and it felt good at the same time. The emotions were too complicated, and I really couldn’t bear it — so I said nothing and left. But thinking about it afterward — honestly, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I genuinely don’t know what she’s doing, coming and going like that. She kept me up the entire night. (laughs) That’s all for now. I’ve got work to do.”

“…”

For reasons she couldn’t quite name, reading his words, Yunque could feel the exasperated, helplessly amused state Lu Rangchen must have been in when he wrote them.

And then there was the contrast — between the way this man wrote and the impression he projected in person — which made the whole thing feel startlingly, endearingly human.

Yunque bit the inside of her cheek and smiled without meaning to.

She thought of her own shameless, brazen approach at the time — that headstrong, nothing-to-lose energy — and suddenly felt that those mortifying moves of hers had, perhaps, been worth it after all.

At the very least, she had kept Lu Rangchen up for an entire night because of her.

He really did fall for that kind of thing.

Without quite realizing it, she felt she understood another small facet of him — and a warm, honey-colored light rose in her eyes. She kept reading patiently.

Then she found that several more days had passed before Lu Rangchen posted again — and because of his answers, the thread’s popularity had climbed higher and higher.

The comments below had swelled to several thousand.

Out of curiosity, Yunque tapped in to look — and the top comment, to her surprise, was dripping with sarcasm:

BigFlatfish_99: 【Can’t say if he’s performing or not, but I’ll bet the guy isn’t even remotely good-looking. If he were, would the girl keep going back and forth like this?】

HerbLover_Hang: 【Exactly — and all these girls clicking over to his profile thinking some random photo in another thread is him, then volunteering to be his girlfriend — calm down, everyone. If he were that great, running a club, rich, good-looking, why on earth would she dump him? Is she blind?】

ziper: 【This is all his own version of events. He’s painting himself as this devoted romantic, but if he were truly a good guy, she’d have clung to him and never let go.】

Strawberry_Ziyi: 【Right? Good men are so rare these days. If he were genuinely one of the good ones, she’d already have been dragging him to the registry office.】

AimeeGem: 【You’re all pretty harsh, but as a man myself, I think there’s reason to question his account. Women don’t decide to leave for no reason. Whether it’s right to get back together, and whether they’re truly compatible — she’d know the answer to that better than anyone.】

…

That comment had ignited a growing argument below.

Some were demanding that Lu Rangchen keep writing. Others were telling the girls in the comments to come back to their senses and stop daydreaming — he might not even be real.

Yunque followed a thread and clicked on Lu Rangchen’s profile — and found that he had once posted an article in his column about the Chendust Club. The article included a few group photos.

In one of them, standing right at the center, was Lu Rangchen.

It must have been taken a couple of years ago — his hair was slightly longer than now, his outfit loose and stylish in that effortless way of his. He stood with his hands in his pockets, at the heart of the group, his striking face wearing no particular expression. His proportions were otherworldly.

That unruly, devil-may-care air — frankly, it set something stirring even in Yunque, looking at it now, not just in the strangers online.

She didn’t have many full-length photos of him, she realized. So she simply saved the picture to her phone.

She’d been about to go back and leave a comment — something to the effect that yes, Lu Rangchen really was exactly this good-looking — but before she’d even started typing, the content of the main thread pulled her back in.

There was still a substantial section of his writing remaining, chronicling their interactions in the time since — growing more and more frequent —

“Ran into her at the courier pick-up station. She was with a man — came upstairs to collect a parcel. The man was attentive, waiting downstairs, helping carry things. Anyone could tell they weren’t just ordinary friends. She was still the same — gave me one cool, unreadable look. I had no idea what was going on in her head. (laughs) As for why I thought they weren’t just ordinary friends — I overheard the name she gave to collect the parcel. ‘Mr. Chen.’ Probably the man downstairs has the surname Chen. I suppose I was being presumptuous again. She clearly hasn’t thought about reconnecting with me at all. If that’s the case, this thread probably won’t be updated anymore.”

“…”

Reading this, Yunque felt something in her chest catch and pull, as if the words had hooked something and drawn it up — her emotions suddenly caught in a quiet, cloudy undertow.

He had been thinking that? He had actually thought there was something between her and Xiao Qingyu? How was that possible? How could Xiao Qingyu possibly compare to him?

And then there was the name “Mr. Chen.”

Yunque found the whole thing simultaneously heartbreaking and laughable.

She thought: she had clearly been sneaking glances at him more than once, and yet he hadn’t caught on even once.

Of course, the most remarkable thing was the comments below from that day.

Just as she’d expected, many people were clamouring: No, don’t give up, keep writing — what if this “ex-girlfriend” still has feelings for him?

Others were saying it must have been deliberate on her part.

And if it was, they said — imagine how good the rest of this thread was going to be.

For every hopeful voice there was a discouraging one.

Another portion took the opportunity to mock Lu Rangchen, saying he was deluding himself with wishful thinking, and advising him to let it go before he started harassing the poor girl.

Even Yunque — who was, by nature, emotionally steady and rarely rattled — felt her blood pressure tick up.

But thankfully, those comments were in the minority. Most of them had been promptly argued down.

Based on the comment thread, it looked as though Lu Rangchen had written something new afterward that thoroughly proved them wrong.

So Yunque went back and kept reading.

And she found the passage that moved her most deeply of all —

“Sorry to report — I’ve come back to be proven wrong. Wrong about myself.

You were right. She doesn’t have a boyfriend.

Just last night, I saw her again. Another teacher invited us both out — his birthday, lots of people, she was included.

I think the intention was to match the two of us up.

I expected her to speak up against it. She said absolutely nothing the whole time — just sat there like a child who’d done something wrong.

I was genuinely furious in that moment.

I couldn’t stop thinking: why? She was the one who walked away without looking back — so why did she get to sit there looking like she was the most wronged person in the room?

I hadn’t been that angry in years.

And truly — only she could push me to that.

But by the time I’d calmed down, it was too late. I’d said a lot of ugly things, in front of everyone — said I didn’t take back what I’d thrown away — and then I left.

I walked out, and she followed.

She blocked my car at the entrance of the complex. She was close to crying.

She explained a lot of things. But honestly, none of that was what really mattered.

I don’t even know what it is I truly want.

I just — want to be looked at by her. With intensity. To be loved by her. Clearly and without reservation.”

To be looked at with intensity. To be loved clearly and without reservation.

Two plain, unadorned sentences — no special effects, no embellishment. And yet they were seared into Yunque’s mind.

She thought: so that was all he’d ever needed. Something this simple.

She thought: even after saying all those cruel things, for Lu Rangchen it had been nothing more than a childish outburst.

And she had never understood that.

She seemed to owe Lu Rangchen so very much.

The thought settled over her mind like a soft fog, and before long, Yunque had read through everything Lu Rangchen had written — every last entry of his.

Every word, every sentence — it was all about her.

He had struggled, and been tangled up, and suppressed himself, and suffered — all because of her.

But in the end, the outcome was good.

In the final update, Lu Rangchen had written: “This answer doesn’t need any more updates. We’ve registered our marriage.”

Below those words, he had attached a photo — taken in a car — of their marriage certificate.

The same photo he had posted on his social media.

And then, at the very end, one last addition: “You all saying to burn the certificate was a bit extreme, so I simply mailed both copies away instead. Where to, I haven’t told her — she probably still thinks they’re in the cabinet.”

The moment people read that final line, the comments erupted.

Readers everywhere gave collective screams of joy, all of them saying: they actually got married — we witnessed love, we really did.

There were still a few sarcastic voices, of course. But that no longer mattered.

What mattered was only this: the person who had written this answer had waited eight years, and in the end, had gotten the person he’d been waiting for back.

For reasons she couldn’t quite explain.

By the time Yunque read the last line, she felt as if her heartbeat had become something soft and warm, like a freshly steamed egg —

touch it, just barely, and it would melt.

She had even forgotten, for a moment, that she was the woman this whole piece had been written about.

It was only when Lu Rangchen called that she came back to herself.

He probably had only meant to give her a nudge — so he hung up before she even had a chance to answer.

Yunque closed the Zhihu thread and found that Lu Rangchen had, in the meantime, sent her quite a string of messages.

Lu Rangchen: 【Done reading?】 Lu Rangchen: 【? Where are you】 Lu Rangchen: 【Just took the kids to do a fitness test, got back a minute ago. What are you up to?】 Lu Rangchen: 【No drinking events tonight. Should be able to come home early. What do you want to eat — I’ll cook.】 Lu Rangchen: 【……】

Those final six ellipsis points — that was probably the moment his patience truly ran out, which was what had prompted the call.

Thinking of this, the corner of Yunque’s mouth curved up involuntarily.

She suddenly felt that this life she was living, right now — was very happy.

Once, wherever she went, she had been entirely alone. No purpose to her days, no sense of direction, no one who cared about where she was.

But now, someone would check in on her every now and then — wondering where she was, what she was doing, what she wanted to eat that evening.

Most importantly, that someone was Lu Rangchen.

The Lu Rangchen she had been in love with since she was seventeen.

And all these years, they had never truly strayed from each other — and in the end, they had given each other a home.

A scorching rush of tears pressed suddenly at the corners of her eyes. Yunque drew in a slow, quiet breath, and felt, with a sudden certainty, that she wanted to make a promise to Lu Rangchen — the best one she could give, and the one he had wanted most.

So, two minutes later.

Across the city, in the club’s meeting room, Lu Rangchen was seated on the sofa half-listening to the meeting going on around him — when his phone buzzed.

The familiar vibration.

For some reason, it drew his attention with unusual force.

He raised an eyebrow, picked up the phone — and found that “My Lady Wife” had sent him several messages:

My Lady Wife: 【Just finished reading your thread.】 My Lady Wife: 【I want fish. And stir-fried pork.】 My Lady Wife: 【Also — Lu Rangchen.】 My Lady Wife: 【I promise. From now on, I will never put on a front with you again. I will look at you with intensity, always. And love you without reservation.】 My Lady Wife: 【Because you are my one and only deep love.】

She didn’t know.

When those messages arrived.

Lu Rangchen’s poised, seasoned heart lurched as if something vital had rushed back into it.

The corners of his mouth curved into a deep, moved smile.

He looked down at the screen for two quiet seconds.

Then he typed back:

Lu Rangchen: 【I know.】 Lu Rangchen: 【You’re mine too — my one and only deep love.】

Author’s note: Been updating Zhi Yun Que – Chapter titles recently — don’t mind the changes~