Jiang Du stared at him blankly, like a little lamb. Her permed curls were large and voluminous, puffed out like an exploding cloud.

Wei Qingyue was asking her something.

A tornado had come. She stood in the eye of the storm, strangely still — but all around her, school uniforms were being flung into the air, along with dust, the cabinet at the end of the hallway, the trees outside the library being torn up by their roots, a black plastic bag shooting suddenly skyward, and the deep-fried chicken from the cafeteria smelling wonderful. The entire world from her past was spinning wildly around Jiang Du.

How strange — they were clearly sitting in a proper Hong Kong-style restaurant.

Jiang Du stayed stunned for a full ten or more seconds, adrift in the pleasantly hazy warmth of a dream — she felt as though she had fallen inside a dream, a very deep one, and Wei Qingyue was talking nonsense.

“Do you need some time to think?” His hand actually reached over — bold as anything — and lightly brushed her fingers. Jiang Du snapped back to herself with a start. Her face was scalding hot. She stared at Wei Qingyue in confusion. “Don’t tease me.”

The next second, of course, came the classic social-anxiety defensive maneuver: she quickly snatched up the cup beside her and gulped down a long drink of tea.

“I’m not teasing you,” Wei Qingyue said, pulling his hand back with a look of mild frustration. There was a slightly bitter edge to the smile in his eyes. “Am I being frivolous? Do I look like I’m teasing you?”

Jiang Du, this little lamb, flustered and flurried, made to refill her cup, but Wei Qingyue pressed it back down without hesitation. He said: “Look at me, Jiang Du. I’m not teasing you. I want to be in a relationship with you. Is that clearer?”

Wei Qingyue was acting as though he were seizing her by force, and she wanted to laugh and also felt her heart about to leap right out of her mouth and land in front of him — at which point all her secrets would be exposed.

Her heart beat scarlet red, and with every pulse it said: Wei Qingyue, I want to be in a relationship with you too.

Jiang Du felt dizzy and lightheaded. People often say you can be so happy you faint — she very nearly did, which only proved how little she was worth.

Her mouth felt numb and fuzzy. Stumbling over her words, she said: “Then… let me think about it.”

What was there to think about? Wei Qingyue smiled and nodded. “Aren’t you curious what I did this afternoon?”

He was that kind of person — coy about it, really. He clearly wanted to tell her himself, but had to push the initiative onto Jiang Du.

Jiang Du was all ears, though her heart was a mess inside, weeds sprouting in every direction. Wei Qingyue seemed like a different person. It was all too strange. Twelve years of silence, and then he suddenly appears and says: I’m so happy to have seen you. I want to be in a relationship with you.

He was so like a madman.

How could anyone be this way?

The dinner stretched on and on. Wei Qingyue described the inauguration ceremony in meticulous detail, and technical terms flew in all directions; Jiang Du listened as though peering through fog — until he suddenly broke into a sly grin:

“I have some videos online. Popular science stuff. You haven’t watched any of them?”

Jiang Du shook her head honestly. “Not a single one.” She looked entirely sincere — not a trace of deception.

This caught Wei Qingyue completely off guard. Those sharp dark eyes of his slid toward her, and he asked: “Huang Yingshi was going to interview me — you should have known about it in advance.”

Jiang Du shook her head again: “I didn’t know in advance.”

The smile on Wei Qingyue’s face went still, like a river that had stopped flowing. He studied her with a probing look, as though trying to know her for the first time.

He felt this exchange was not quite right — unacceptable, even. But time was still moving forward; this wasn’t a TV drama where the actors could do another take.

Then, in the very next second, Jiang Du gave a shy smile. “You’re actually that easy to fool, are you?” Her voice was very small, but the atmosphere lightened slightly. Wei Qingyue was stunned for a moment, and then he broke into a knowing laugh.

He wanted to ask her — you knew I was in this city all along, yet you didn’t reach out. You could always have found me if you’d wanted to, if you’d been willing.

After dinner, he went to settle the bill and handed her his jacket: “It’s cooler outside.”

That was how early autumn was — hot at noon, cool at both ends of the day, the air dry. Jiang Du took hold of the lapels and wrapped herself inside it. The two of them walked side by side, and on the ground below, their shadows fell very close together.

When they got back into the car, Wei Qingyue made no move to start it. Instead he spoke into the darkness of the seat: “Jiang Du, may I ask you about some things from the past?”

Jiang Du took out her phone; the light from the screen fell on her face. She checked the time, and though she didn’t have the heart to stop him from speaking, she needed to make a call.

“I told my grandmother I’d be home by ten tonight, and it’s already nine thirty-eight. I want to let them know first.”

He had been too eager. Today’s reunion, and already he wanted to say everything he had saved for a lifetime.

Realizing this, Wei Qingyue found a moment of composure. He said: “Let me take you home first. We don’t want your grandparents to worry.”

The residential compound was somewhat shabby and somewhat new. Wei Qingyue thought he was dreaming — the road was the same, the osmanthus fragrance was the same; even the security guard hadn’t aged, permanently looking about forty.

He slowed his steps, taking in the compound he was entering for the first time, and then suddenly said: “I’ve been here before — wait, no. How is this place exactly like your old home?”

How could he ever forget Jiang Du’s home? Though he had only visited twice.

Jiang Du, clutching his jacket, smiled. She said: “I didn’t rent an apartment — I only chose this compound because it looked so much like our old home.”

What Wei Qingyue said next surprised her: he was silent for a very long time.

He stood there, a solitary shadow pooled on the ground like a heavy blot of ink. Jiang Du looked at him and wanted to cry. All these years, whenever she thought of Wei Qingyue standing alone, she felt as though another piece had been gouged out of the hollow in her heart.

“Wei Qingyue?” Jiang Du had already started walking away, but she turned back, walked to his side, and called his name with careful, quiet hesitation.

Wei Qingyue still had a smile on his face. He said: “I’m genuinely afraid this is a dream. Many times, I’ve dreamed of you, and when I woke up, you were gone. Just now, discovering that the compound you live in is the same as where you lived more than a decade ago — it startled me so badly, my heart nearly stopped. I started to wonder whether I was dreaming again.”

The sorrow inside Jiang Du was like tides — the sea rising wave after wave, crashing and crashing, expanding the boundaries of its flooding reach, until her whole heart was completely submerged.

This day, he had been passionate and direct — and yet now, his eyes were clouded with bewilderment and a kind of dull incomprehension: “After I got to America, I reached out to Zhang Xiaoqiang. She said you wanted to wait until after the college entrance exam to contact me — which made sense, I thought. You didn’t want it to affect your studies. So I waited until the summer of 2009, and Zhang Xiaoqiang told me again that you’d said you wanted to test me — that you were afraid I’d never come back to China, and that if I still wanted to be in contact after I finished university, you’d reach out too. In 2015, I finally came back to China, and by then, Zhang Xiaoqiang told me she’d lost contact with you — that she couldn’t find you either. What the hell kind of nonsense is this?”

At that, Wei Qingyue gave a self-deprecating, resigned laugh. “Were you all messing with me? I was furious at you — nearly out of my mind with anger. I thought: I was like an undercover cop in Infernal Affairs — the deal was three years, and after three years, another three, on and on without end.”

Look at that — Wei Qingyue with absolutely no restraint swearing in front of her. He had never been a refined, genteel sort of person. He had a rough edge to him, even if the years of society had worn him into a more guarded version of himself. But he had long since thought of Jiang Du as someone he could say anything to. Was it only longing he felt for her?

No. There was also resentment. Resentment that she wasn’t a decent person about it.

You were the one who came and stirred things up — writing me letters, sharing everything in them, hinting that I should dress warmer when it got cold, hinting that I shouldn’t let life’s hardships knock me down, that a person with good health could always start over… Every roundabout turn in your letters, I understood completely. I’m not a block of wood. You were the only person who cared whether I was being beaten. Wei Zhendong can’t land a blow on me anymore — but you can’t be a person like this, you know. You said your blessings were with me every day, every minute, every second, and then you disappeared?

Either don’t come stirring me up at all, or take full responsibility for me.

That thought had sustained Wei Qingyue through three years and three years again. Four rounds of three years — longer than the decade of undercover work in Infernal Affairs.

And he hadn’t even gotten anywhere yet, but Wei Qingyue was already tied up in knots of awkward confusion.

Hey, wake up — Jiang Du hasn’t even agreed to be with you. Whatever happened to that passionate pursuit? He heard a small voice shouting somewhere inside his heart.

The shadows on the ground thawed. Wei Qingyue was about to speak when he heard a faint “I’m sorry” from Jiang Du.

She was crying.

She offered no explanation for any of it — only cried.

Fine, then, he thought. Wei Qingyue was surprised by how quickly he forgave her. He said on his own initiative: “Was I too harsh just now? I didn’t mean to be harsh with you.”

Jiang Du shook her head. Tears had wetted her face.

“Would it help if I held you?” Wei Qingyue’s heart was being kneaded and wrung out, suffused with tears. Having said it, he stepped forward and took Jiang Du in his arms. Girls are so soft, he thought with surprise — soft, and fragrant, and impossibly light. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and the heat crept gradually up to the tips of Wei Qingyue’s ears, burning there.

Jiang Du leaned against his chest, her heartbeat thundering up to her ears. The garment on her shoulder had slipped half-off; Wei Qingyue settled it back into place, wrapping her entirely — frail and delicate as she was — and pulled his arms tight. Wherever he gripped, the jacket creased in folds.

The world was dark. She caught that dreamed-of scent of orchids again. Jiang Du closed her eyes. Both hands clutched at his shirt. Her nose — greedy as a small dog’s — breathed in deeply, drinking in the scent of him.

Once, she had not dared even to look at him. But now, Wei Qingyue was holding her.

“Have you held anyone else?” Jiang Du’s voice surfaced from somewhere in his clothing, trembling faintly along with the rest of her.

Having asked it, she buried her face and hid even her breath.

Wei Qingyue felt his chest grow damp. His eyes held the dim light that fell from the street lamp; his voice was equally hushed and shadowed: “No. I only hold you.”

No one but Jiang Du was worth drawing close.

A direct declaration. Jiang Du heard it. She thought she could die at any moment now without regret. Of course, she didn’t want to die — she absolutely refused to die. She wanted to be properly in a relationship with Wei Qingyue, and then get married, and then have children, and then grow old together, and then — at the very thought of death, Jiang Du began to cry again.

She didn’t want to be separated from Wei Qingyue ever again. No, that would not do — she would have to die first. But no, no, no — if that happened, Wei Qingyue would be alone again.

“Wei Qingyue,” Jiang Du was struck by a wave of osmanthus fragrance drifting over, the dense, heady scent making her shiver. She lifted her face a little, but her eyes still dared not meet his — the way they always had — only her eyelashes flickering wildly. “You might not know this, but I have so many faults. I hate talking. I’m not good at socializing. I don’t earn much money. I get lost easily — I’ve been in this city for years and I can still take the wrong subway line. My cooking isn’t good. At home there are only two elderly people, getting older and older. Do you know — not long ago, a colleague’s boyfriend broke up with her the moment he found out her father had suffered a stroke… I’m not young anymore, but I’ve only grown older in years without growing much in wisdom. I’m plain and ordinary. The world is not worse off for having me, nor better off for lacking me. I’m not being pessimistic, and I’m not putting myself down — I’m just telling you about myself now, very objectively, very rationally. What I’m trying to say is —” Taking a long breath and driving herself to look Wei Qingyue in the eyes, she looked like a small, mournful lamb. “Do you still want to be with me? If you’ve had second thoughts, you can take it back. I can understand how a momentary impulse might lead to a wrong decision.”

She quickly bowed her head again.

“Miss Ghostwriter,” Wei Qingyue took hold of her chin, fingers moving to pinch both sides of her mouth so her cheeks bunched up adorably, and he frowned at her. “Listening to you, your qualities really don’t seem like much. Have you ever done one of those matchmaking sessions? Never mind, you’d probably sit there like a statue — already aged into quite the spinster, though just look at the coincidence: I have a terrible temper, a sharp tongue, a cold heart, I’m not good at accepting favors from people, and I too am quite the aging bachelor. My only redeeming quality is probably that I still manage to make a modest living — enough to raise a couple of kids. If you think that’s barely passable, well — shall we make do?”

His tone was teasing, but his gaze was intent, as if he wanted to look straight through to the back of her eyes.

Jiang Du’s face was still wet with tears, but at his words she was crying one moment and laughing the next. She couldn’t help a small smile breaking through. Her nose was painfully, achingly tight — and yet sweet and honeyed, like a little bee that had tumbled into a sea of flowers.

“All right then, I’ve made up my mind,” she said slowly. Because he was pinching her face, she looked adorable and comical.

Wei Qingyue looked at her deeply and let go, and in the instant he leaned down, Jiang Du blocked him with one hand. In a panic she said: “You — what are you doing?”

Wei Qingyue didn’t answer. He pressed his finger to her parted lips, played with them gently, then cradled the back of her head with one hand, tilted his head, and kissed her.