When Yan Sishi found a free moment, he paid a visit to Wen Shubai’s home.

Wen Shubai’s parents had heard that Yan Sishi had returned to the country, and had been pestering Wen Shubai about it, asking him to invite Yan Sishi over for a meal.

Back in middle school, whenever Yan Sishi and Wen Shubai finished playing basketball after class, he would often drop by Wen Shubai’s home for dinner on the way.

Wen Shubai’s mother was exceptionally warm and had committed every dish Yan Sishi loved to memory. Freshly picked cherries from her hometown, brought all the way to Beicheng by relatives who’d personally carried them on the plane — only about ten jin or so — she’d still set aside half for him to take home so his family could enjoy the treat.

During that time, Wen Shubai had held quite a grudge against him, calling him the most insufferable kind of “other people’s child.”

Because of the warmth he remembered from the Wen family, Yan Sishi had mentally prepared himself before accepting this invitation.

When they met, Wen Shubai’s mother naturally fussed over him with all manner of concerned questions, and Yan Sishi answered each one, remarkably without feeling the slightest irritation.

He was certain Wen Shubai had spoken with his mother beforehand — her questions, though enthusiastic, never once crossed any boundaries.

After chatting for a while, Wen Shubai’s mother rose and headed to the kitchen, saying she needed to keep an eye on the soup herself — only she could judge the precise timing of the seasoning, and after simmering premium ingredients all afternoon, she couldn’t afford to let it all come to nothing at the last moment.

Wen Shubai shrugged and said, “My mom’s always like this — goes on and on.”

Then Wen Shubai realized he’d said the wrong thing. That kind of dismissal, in another person’s ears, might come across as an unconscious form of showing off.

He glanced at Yan Sishi, couldn’t bring himself to apologize outright, and awkwardly changed the subject.

Wen Shubai’s father was a fairly easygoing man outside of work — which was precisely why Wen Shubai could be so informal with his family.

In their circle, Wen Shubai was virtually the one exception: parents who adored each other, a family that was whole and complete.

Behind closed doors, every other family had their own messy ledger of grievances.

That affection between the couple showed at the dinner table, too — the first bowl of soup that was ladled out was always handed to Wen Shubai’s father first by his mother.

Yan Sishi took a sip and offered a genuine compliment.

Wen Shubai’s mother beamed, unable to contain her smile. “Xiao Yan is the thoughtful one.”

Wen Shubai: “Oh, so that means I’m not thoughtful?”

“You, thoughtful? Year after year all you know to give me is Hermès, just switching the patterns around, not an ounce of originality.” Wen Shubai’s mother turned to boast to his father, “Guess what Xiao Yan brought me today? A jadeite brooch — genuine ice-type vivid green. The craftsmanship and clarity are simply beautiful. I’d been worrying just the other day that the suit I’m wearing to the tea gathering needed a little something extra.”

Yan Sishi said, “As long as you like it.”

“Like it? Of course I like it.” Wen Shubai’s mother smiled contentedly. “No wonder girls have always been drawn to Xiao Yan since he was little — just that thoughtfulness in choosing gifts alone, who can compare — oh, Xiao Yan, do you have a girlfriend now?”

Yan Sishi hadn’t even registered how the conversation had taken such an abrupt turn. “Not yet, Auntie.”

Wen Shubai cut in at that point: “Mom, don’t go getting any ideas about setting him up with someone. You know what Yan Sishi’s like.”

Wen Shubai’s mother shot him a look. “Am I the sort of person who meddles in other people’s business? I can’t even be bothered to manage you. Just look at you — drifting around all day long, who knows what you’re actually doing. Three days of work, two days of slacking off. There’s a girl you like and you don’t even have the nerve to pursue her. When your father was your age, you were already born…”

“…” Wen Shubai had been struck right where it hurt and fell silent.

He glanced at Yan Sishi, hoping to redirect the fire, only to find him quietly focused on his soup, not making a sound.

After dinner, Yan Sishi accompanied Wen Shubai’s mother for tea and conversation, then played several rounds of chess with Wen Shubai’s father.

At half past nine, the visit came to an end.

Wen Shubai’s mother walked Yan Sishi all the way to the front gate of the courtyard.

She smiled with warm affection and said, “All this time I’ve only known of your situation through Shubai. Seeing you with my own eyes today, I can finally set my mind at ease. Come by for a meal whenever you have time — just give me a call ahead.”

Yan Sishi accepted the invitation. “Thank you for having me today.”

“Don’t mention it. You and Shubai are both children I watched grow up. It’s only a pity…” Wen Shubai’s mother patted his arm, swallowed the rest of whatever she’d been about to say, and simply smiled. “Take good care of yourself, and make sure you eat properly — that appetite of yours worries me.”

After saying goodbye to Wen Shubai’s mother, Yan Sishi turned and walked ahead to get his car.

He glanced back. At the gate, Wen Shubai’s father had come out and draped a shawl over Wen Shubai’s mother’s shoulders, then put his arm around her and led her inside.

With a soft creak, the tall black lacquered double doors swung shut.

The warm amber glow from inside the small courtyard was cut off in an instant.

Perhaps because it was a weekend and the night was still young, the road home was completely gridlocked.

Red taillights filled the entire field of view, strung together into a slow-moving river of light.

Yan Sishi felt his patience beginning to fray, just slightly.

He reached for his phone from the center console storage compartment and tapped the avatar — a simple stick-figure fish.

The last message in their conversation was from the day of his birthday.

Since then, up until today, he had not run into Xia Li even once in the office park.

He was a habitual coffee drinker, went downstairs at fixed times each day, and there was only one Starbucks in the entire park — it really shouldn’t have been this much of a coincidence.

His finger hovered over the message input field, suspended over the virtual keyboard that had popped up.

In the end, he typed nothing. Instead, he tapped on her avatar again and opened her Moments feed.

The most recent post was from three days ago.

It was a video — a highlight reel from a wingsuit flying competition, with a sports camera brand as the sponsor at the end.

Scrolling further back, the one before that had been posted a week ago.

A nine-photo grid: the interior of an airport, streets along the way, the first meal after landing…

The caption read: Eating and then getting straight to work [cheering emoji]

No location tag, but Yan Sishi recognized at a glance that it was New York.

Only then did he realize she’d gone on a business trip.

He returned to the message interface, did a quick calculation of the time difference, and sent a message.

Xia Li had spent the entire morning in a recap meeting with Jerry and the others, reviewing the promotional campaign. It was only at lunchtime that she found a casual restaurant near her hotel, ordered a wrap, and sat down to eat while working through the backlog of WeChat messages that had piled up all morning.

Scrolling through her conversation list, she was somewhat surprised to discover a message from Yan Sishi — sent an hour and a half ago.

YAN: Went on a business trip?

Xia Li hurriedly took a few bites of the wrap, set it down on the plate, wiped her fingers with a napkin, and replied.

Sherry: Sorry, I was just busy.

Sherry: Yes. On a business trip in New York.

After sending the messages, she thought to calculate the time difference — it would be around twelve forty in the morning back home, so Yan Sishi had most likely already gone to sleep.

Yet barely a minute after her messages sent, Yan Sishi replied.

YAN: Your work seems to involve a lot of travel.

Xia Li paused.

How did he know? Had he been looking through her Moments?

Sherry: It does. I’ve practically become a part-time personal shopper for my friends.

YAN: In that case, I’d like to ask this personal shopper a favor.

Before Xia Li could reply to that, Yan Sishi’s next message had already come through.

YAN: Which hotel are you staying at?

Xia Li replied with the hotel name and the street it was on.

A moment later, Yan Sishi shared a location pin.

YAN: There’s a bookstore near your hotel, about five hundred meters on foot. If it’s convenient, would you be able to pick up a book for me?

To make it easier to identify, he’d also attached a photo of the cover.

Xia Li switched to her browser and searched the title.

It was an academic work on computer science and neuroscience, released just last month — not yet available in mainland China.

Sherry: No problem.

YAN: Sorry to trouble you.

Sherry: Don’t worry about it~

After lunch, Xia Li made her way to the bookstore at the address Yan Sishi had shared — only to find it wasn’t there.

She searched on her map for other bookstores; the nearest one was 1.5 kilometers away. Not wanting the trip to be a complete waste, she called the number listed on Google Maps to check, was told they had it in stock, and decided to walk over — might as well let it count as a post-meal stroll.

Once all the wrap-up work was done, Xia Li flew home and arrived back in the country on Friday.

The jet lag had thrown her sleep schedule into disarray. She couldn’t fall asleep that night, and by the following afternoon she finally gave in and took a long nap, waking only at dusk.

She reached for her phone from the pillow, sent Yan Sishi a message to let him know she’d returned, and said she’d bring the book to him on Monday when she went into the office.

YAN: You’re at home?

Sherry: Mm.

YAN: I’ll come by to pick it up. Let me take you to dinner while I’m at it.

In truth, Xia Li would normally turn down an invitation this impromptu.

But perhaps because Xu Ning wasn’t home and the apartment was too quiet, or because she’d slept too long and felt a heavy, sunken grogginess — like she’d sunk to the bottom of deep water — she had glanced at the window left slightly ajar, watching the gauze curtain rise and fall in the breeze, a sliver of tranquil evening light cast across the floorboards.

For some reason she couldn’t quite name, she typed back a single word: “Okay.”

After setting down her phone, the silence made Xia Li’s eyelids grow heavy again.

Just ten more minutes, she thought…

She jolted awake — she’d dreamed of tumbling down a flight of stairs.

She blinked open her eyes in a daze, only to discover that her phone was vibrating and the room was completely dark.

She scrambled for the phone. It was a call from an unfamiliar number with a Beicheng area code.

When she answered, she happened to glance at the time — she hadn’t realized it was already seven thirty in the evening.

She’d sent that WeChat message at barely six o’clock.

“Hello…”

“Xia Li?”

The voice on the other end was, impossibly, Yan Sishi’s.

Xia Li froze, then finally came fully back to herself and rushed to say, “I’m so sorry! I fell back asleep right after sending the message! My sleep schedule is still a bit off from just getting back…”

“It’s fine. As long as you’re alright.”

Over the phone, Yan Sishi’s voice carried an even greater quality of absolute stillness.

She put him on speaker, switched to WeChat, and checked.

Three unread messages from Yan Sishi: the first said he’d arrived, the second asked if something had come up, and the third was a missed voice call.

He’d probably thought something had happened to her.

Xia Li rarely dropped the ball like this, and she felt a flush of embarrassment. “I’m sorry — I don’t usually go out of contact like that without a reason…”

Yan Sishi said again: it’s fine.

Xia Li asked, “Have you headed back already?”

“No.”

That voice, as ever, gave nothing away.

“Then where are you…”

“Outside your complex.” A brief pause. “Get some rest — I’ll head—”

Xia Li cut him off: “Wait for me — I’ll be right down.”

No time for anything else. Xia Li pulled on the first thing she grabbed — a long knit dress — and threw on her trench coat.

She glanced in the mirror. Her hair, unwashed out of laziness the night before, was a disheveled mess from sleeping on it. She ran a wide-tooth comb through it a few times, then fished out a beret and put it on.

She grabbed the bag with the book, pocketed her phone and keys, stepped into a pair of flat shoes, closed the door, and jogged down the stairs.

She ran all the way to the entrance of the complex, and sure enough, Yan Sishi was there at the roadside.

He was wearing a black structured-fabric trench coat, standing with one hand tucked into a bag strap, his figure lean and composed, his hair tousled slightly by the spring breeze.

Perhaps hearing the sound of footsteps, he turned to look.

Xia Li hurried the last few steps toward him, still catching her breath, and apologized again: “I’m really sorry…”

Yan Sishi said, as before: “It’s fine.”

She held out the paper bag. “Your book.”

Yan Sishi took it, said his thanks, and looked down at her. “Did you get enough rest?”

Xia Li nodded, thoroughly embarrassed. “Let me treat you to dinner.”

“I’ll treat.”

Yan Sishi said it and turned toward the parking area without further discussion.

Xia Li had no choice but to follow.

The complex entrance only allowed brief stops, so Yan Sishi had parked in the lot of a nearby shop — a five-minute walk.

Xia Li took off the beret that had nearly slipped off earlier, repositioned it, and settled it back on her head. Then her hands paused, because a thought had suddenly occurred to her. “You have my phone number?”

Yan Sishi: “I asked a few classmates.”

“Who?”

“Wang Chen, Tao Shiyue.” His tone was perfectly casual.

He’d gotten Tao Shiyue’s WeChat through Wang Chen and added her directly.

Tao Shiyue had her WeChat but not her phone number, so she’d helped ask around among classmates from Class 7.

After going all the way around that circle, they’d finally tracked it down.