The next day, Song Cong didn’t show up. In the afternoon, he sent a message saying he had a cold and felt weak all over, so the dinner was postponed to the third day.

At the most popular big plate chicken restaurant near the school gate, Huan Er endured both the restaurant owner’s urging and the cold stares from the queuing crowd while waiting, before Jing Qichi and Song Cong finally arrived leisurely. Just as she was about to complain about the hardship of waiting, Jing Qichi started chatting with some girls in the queue. The girls immediately forgot their previous complaints, their animated conversation and fluttering expressions making Huan Er’s scalp tingle.

“Such a butterfly,” Chen Huan Er muttered with a pout.

Song Cong laughed, “He’s been up for two nights straight, nearly driven mad by the project. Let him flutter around a bit.”

“How did you two end up together?”

“Just ran into each other,” Song Cong answered briefly, his voice nasal from the cold.

Huan Er called the waiter for a cup of hot water and asked, “Where’s Qi?”

Before Song Cong could answer, Jing Qichi sat down casually between them saying “I’m starving” and started devouring his food. His hair was disheveled against his scalp, his eyes bloodshot from staying up late, and his clothes hadn’t been changed for who knows how many days. There was a cigarette smell about him, and the label of his T-shirt was sticking out at the back of his neck. Huan Er reached out to pull at the label, “Did you turn it inside out because the front was dirty?”

The person in question half-turned his head to look, squeezing three words out of his food-filled mouth: “Didn’t notice.”

Huan Er and Song Cong started discussing professional matters. Their medical disciplines overlapped, and with Song Cong at the top university, he was exposed to cutting-edge theories and the latest viewpoints. From graduation theses to research topics, the two chatted enthusiastically. Huan Er envied him but knew she would never become like him. While effort determines height, talent breaks through it. Once this talent had manifested in good grades and excellent performance; now it transformed into broad horizons, divergent thinking, and exceptional ambitions. He loved medicine, purely and persistently. Whether in research or on the front lines, he was destined for greatness.

The post-90s generation, once described as greenhouse flowers growing up smoothly, had all grown into fine young adults. They were about to be thrust into society’s torrents, sharpening their knives, their dreams burning bright.

Jing Qichi was the first to put down his chopsticks, still chewing while looking at his phone as he rushed out, “I’m leaving first, you two pay the bill.”

It was rare to see the usually casual person so focused on work.

Huan Er sighed, picking up the chopsticks that the hastily departing person had knocked to the floor, “What exactly is he working on?”

“I’m not entirely sure about the details,” Song Cong shook his head. “Seems to be about artificial intelligence applications in medicine. He asked me a bunch of questions about pathological image lesion detection during the day. The project has quite a bit of interdisciplinary content, it’s quite challenging.”

People had grown up, but their hearts remained in that small world of the residential compound. In the end, none of them had left this big circle.

As they were eating, the person who had just left returned, accompanied by someone else whose face showed extreme displeasure.

Jing Qichi awkwardly tapped the table, “Well, Qi Qi is here.”

Huan Er and Song Cong both stood up, one turning around and one looking up.

Huan Er stood because she keenly noticed Qi Qi’s poor expression, while Song Cong’s face showed genuine confusion, “Why are you here? Didn’t we agree I’d pick you up after you finished?”

Qi Qi glanced lightly over the dining table, “Are you done eating?”

Song Cong tried to speak but was cut off by Huan Er, “We’re done. You two go ahead, I’ll pay.”

“No, let me,” Jing Qichi said but pushed Huan Er along with him toward the cashier.

Qi Qi left without another word, and Song Cong exchanged a glance with his friends before quickly following.

After they left the restaurant, Jing Qichi took a deep breath, “Seems like the situation isn’t good.”

“Obviously.” Huan Er didn’t know the cause and effect, but asked him in a lowered voice, “Did you call Qi to come?”

“How could I? Haven’t contacted her in ages.” Jing Qichi continued paying without looking up.

That made sense. In their senior year, he had cut off contact with almost everyone to focus on studying. After graduation, being in different cities meant they only rarely gathered during holidays. Moreover, after Song Cong and Qi Qi became a couple, Jing Qichi kept his distance out of propriety.

He continued asking, “Who else knew about us three having dinner?”

“Lu Er, Du Man…”

“Du Man?”

Huan Er nodded, “We were chatting today, and I just mentioned we three were having a big plate of chicken tonight.”

“Mystery solved,” Jing Qichi put away his wallet. “Let’s go, can’t escape trouble now.”

The restaurant exit is connected to one of the school entrances. This side was packed with supermarkets, nail salons, and various eateries, constantly bustling with students. Across the street, separated by a wall, was the affiliated elementary school with just a pedestrian passage. Now Song Cong and Qi Qi were facing off across the street, and before Huan Er and Jing Qichi could cross over, they could hear moderate sounds of argument.

“Now I need to ask others to know where my boyfriend is and what he’s doing,” Qi Qi looked at the person in front of her, suppressing her anger. “Is that right, Song Cong?”

Huan Er approached wanting to explain but was pulled back by Jing Qichi, who shook his head silently.

“Let’s talk about this when we get back,” Song Cong rubbed his brow, his tone softening. “Okay?”

“I had plans with friends, and you said you weren’t feeling well and didn’t want to go. Fine.” Qi Qi showed no sign of backing down, questions coming one after another. “But then you come here to eat? And why couldn’t you tell me about having dinner with these two? Am I an outsider? Is your circle of three so exclusive it can’t include anyone else?”

“I told you, you were going drinking and singing, and I thought it would be too noisy, that’s why I didn’t want to go,” Song Cong felt some irritation. “No one treats you like an outsider, I just came to have a meal with them, that’s all.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Is it necessary… do we need to report everything to each other at all times?”

Qi Qi’s eyes reddened, “You think I’m monitoring you? Am I being a burden?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Song Cong put his hands on her shoulders. “Calm down, can we talk about this when we get back?”

“My friends asked why you didn’t show up even though you were here. Song Cong, I wanted to introduce you to them, but what about you? Do I exist in your life? Do you want to be part of my life?” Qi Qi’s tears fell, but she paid no attention to them, persisting with that question, “Do you?”

Students passing by to return to school all turned to look, everyone unconsciously giving them a wide berth as they passed. Seeing this, Song Cong moved a step to shield Qi Qi from those gazes, while quietly letting out a sigh.

Huan Er tried to move forward but was again held back by Jing Qichi, who pulled her by the wrist toward the campus. “Don’t get involved, they’re not five-year-olds.”

Huan Er walked backward a few steps before turning around, “What’s going on with them?”

Three days out, two big fights – this wasn’t normal for a couple.

“Old Song said…” Jing Qichi paused, “He can’t meet Qi Qi’s expectations.”

“Expectations?”

“All kinds.” Jing Qichi looked at her. “You should know, Qi Qi… she didn’t grow up like us.”

Huan Er suddenly remembered the scene from attending that birthday party years ago. Qi Qi’s house had two floors, with just the living room being as big as an entire apartment in their compound. The ceiling was high, crystal chandeliers sparkled, and the walls were covered in framed calligraphy and paintings, though even after seeing the seal signatures, she hadn’t known who the creators were. The person Qi Qi called “Auntie” rarely spoke but was constantly busy, sometimes washing fruit, sometimes cooking, and sometimes cleaning up their scattered mess. But back then, Chen Huan Er wasn’t mature enough – she knew “Auntie” was an occupation in Qi Qi’s family, but she hadn’t been able to comprehend what kind of material or even class differences this occupation revealed.

Now, Jing Qichi’s words made her suddenly understand. Whether it was plane tickets, hotels, or those small bottles of shampoo with handwritten labels – things that held no weight for children who grew up in the compound might have been firsts in Qi Qi’s life.

Perhaps all of this had shaped Qi Qi’s companionship personality – abundance in one aspect leading to scarcity in another. Qi Qi needed companionship and was willing to accompany others. Huan Er particularly remembered those years of being like conjoined twins, when Qi Qi would want to link arms with her even when going to the bathroom.

“Yes, I know,” Huan Er looked back, but the arguing couple had disappeared.

In their teenage years, wearing the same uniforms, going to the same cafeteria, doing the same homework – too many similarities had made them unaware of the vast differences in their growing environments that created those “differences,” just like how Qi Qi would always turn at a different corner to go home – because her home was in the city center’s most expensive villa district. How would fifteen or sixteen-year-olds notice these things?

“So,” Jing Qichi mused, “how could Song Cong not know?”

Without a doubt, Song Cong had always been the smartest among them.

Huan Er let out a soft “Ah.”

She thought for a moment and asked him, “Is there anything we can do?”

As Song Cong’s best friends.

“That year when Aunt Hao had trouble,” Jing Qichi touched his neck, “what did we do?”

Back then it was a conflict among adults, beyond their reach, and they could not help. Only after Song Cong transferred schools did the three gather at their base one day, where Huan Er earnestly told her friend that if there was anything they could do, he must tell them. Jing Qichi had added, we’re not joking. That was all, because they didn’t know what else they could do, they could only wait for requests and then give their all in response.

Huan Er immediately understood his meaning, but thinking about all this suddenly brought up an inexplicable sadness, “Qi Chi, I hope Song Cong will be okay.”

Jing Qichi rubbed her head, “Me too.”

They weren’t maintaining friendship – the bonds of growing up together didn’t need painstaking maintenance. Even separated by thousands of miles, even with mountains high and roads far, even as the years turned and everyone changed, some feelings stored deep in their hearts remained ever fresh and endless.

How fortunate, that in this life I met you, all of you.