She pushed open the door, and a wave of warmth greeted her from inside, mingled with the sweet scent of an orange flameless diffuser.

Xia Li kicked off her ankle boots, slipped on house sandals, shrugged off her coat, and hung it on the rack by the door, then called out toward Xu Ning’s half-open bedroom door.

The music inside paused. Xu Ning shuffled out in her slippers and took the bento box from her.

Xia Li went to her own room and changed into loungewear, then padded to the small kitchen, took an apple from the fridge, washed and sliced it, and carried the plate out.

She sat down across from Xu Ning, took a slice for herself, and pushed the plate to the center of the table.

“At the convenience store by our tech park. I rode back with him.”

“…Is that really your reaction?”

“Oh…” Xia Li laughed. “I guess I should be acting more excited.”

She had always been someone whose inner world ran far richer than what showed on the outside.

Before she had ever crossed paths with Yan Sishi again, she had already walked through her own emotional rollercoaster in her head. By the time the actual moment arrived, it felt more unreal than anything — not enough to send her into a frenzy.

“He’s back in China?”

“Yes. Turns out we work in the same park — he seems to be doing something in AI algorithms.”

“What’s he like now?”

“The same, more or less. Harder to reach than before, maybe.”

“So does he have a girlfriend?”

“…I didn’t ask that. Who asks something like that the moment they meet someone after years apart?”

“Aren’t you curious?” Xu Ning gave her a look that was somewhere between amusement and a smirk.

“Professor Xu, you were never this nosy before.”

“What can I say — after reading about your little teenage heartache, I feel oddly invested.”

“…Please don’t bring that up. I’ve been cringing about it ever since.”

“Did you add each other on WeChat?”

“Yes.”

Xu Ning nudged her along: “Go check his Moments.”

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious.

Xia Li took out her phone. In the list of pinned conversations, right below the File Transfer Assistant, was the chat with Yan Sishi — first on the list.

[I’ve accepted your friend request. We can start chatting now.]

She tapped his profile picture to open his Moments page. Xu Ning leaned in beside her to look.

The cover photo was also an expanse of ocean — a nighttime sea, dark blue shading to near-black.

Below the cover photo, two grey horizontal bars framing a single dot in the center.

“He’s set it to private.”

“Honestly, that tracks with his personality.” Xu Ning remained optimistic. “But at least you’ve got each other on WeChat now, and you work in the same park — plenty of chances from here on out.”

“Chances for what?” Xia Li smiled softly. “It’s not like I’m planning to pursue him or anything.”

“Don’t like him anymore?”

“I’ve let it go. If I hadn’t, I’d never have had the nerve to show you something that embarrassing.”

Xia Li glanced at the grey bars and the expanse of white beneath them.

That was all she now knew of the current Yan Sishi.

Which amounted to more or less nothing.

Perhaps, all those years of drawing nearer from one side only had already spent every last bit of energy she had.

The thought of starting all over again from the beginning felt beyond her.

She didn’t believe she still had the reckless courage she’d had as a girl.

Back then, everything had been so pure.

A single tiny spark, and she would have dared to fall for the wind in a gale.

Unafraid of burning down to nothing.

The next day was Valentine’s Day.

For Xia Li it was just another ordinary workday, made slightly more frustrating by the fact that the promotional resource exchange plan she’d presented during a meeting was rejected outright by her direct supervisor.

She left the conference room, grabbed her lanyard, and headed downstairs to buy a coffee to help clear her head.

As she closed the door, a voice called out from behind her: “Wait up!”

Her direct supervisor — Song Qiao’an, the project team leader — took two quick strides forward and pushed the glass door open with one arm, stepping out alongside her with a smile. “Coffee run?”

“Yes.”

“My treat.”

“No need.”

“Already in a mood?” he said, grinning at her.

“I’m not. Work is work.”

The two of them headed downstairs together. As they walked, Song Qiao’an began working through the reasoning behind his rejection.

“If the decision is already final, there’s no need to keep discussing it, Song — I’ll revise it according to your feedback and bring a new version to the table. Besides, this is my break time right now. I just want to drink my coffee in peace.”

Song Qiao’an laughed. “And you say you’re not in a mood?”

“I’m genuinely not. We’ve been working together long enough — you know this is just how I am.”

The two of them walked into the Starbucks outside the park. Xia Li ordered an iced Americano.

Song Qiao’an stepped ahead of her and held out his payment code before she could, covering the bill.

She didn’t argue. She just looked down at her phone and sent him a transfer for the exact amount.

“…” Song Qiao’an was momentarily at a loss. “You really think I’m going to accept that?”

“I transferred it either way.”

Song Qiao’an shook his head with a resigned look. “As your supervisor, buying you a cup of coffee — and you’re keeping tabs this carefully.”

The two of them moved to the pickup area to wait.

Xia Li stood with her hands tucked into her coat pockets, idly eyeing the limited-edition seasonal mug Starbucks had placed on the table nearby.

Song Qiao’an watched her, then rapped his knuckles lightly on the counter and asked, in a fairly offhand tone: “Not working late tonight — want to grab dinner? A friend recommended a Japanese restaurant.”

“I already have plans with my roommate. We’re going for barbecue.”

“Bring her along.”

“That wouldn’t work so well. She doesn’t know you — it’d be awkward for everyone.” Xia Li declined pleasantly. “Another time.”

Song Qiao’an didn’t push it.

A moment later, their two drinks were ready.

They walked to the door. Song Qiao’an handed her his drink to hold. “Wait here a sec — I forgot something.”

Xia Li stood holding two cups of coffee, stepping into the shelter of the building’s facade to get out of the wind.

She’d come out without a scarf; her coat was open. The wind was getting to her, but both hands were full, so she could only lower her head slightly, hunching her shoulders a little against the cold.

Just then, she caught sight of a figure approaching from ahead.

He wore a long black coat, its cut giving his silhouette a clean, upright elegance — the kind that made people look twice without knowing why.

In the pale, ink-washed grey of an early spring afternoon, his appearance was genuinely striking.

Yan Sishi slowed as he noticed her too, offered a brief greeting, and came over.

“Coming for coffee?” Xia Li smiled.

“Yes.”

Yan Sishi glanced at her. She was still wearing the same coat as the day before, but today’s inner layer was a white sweater, which gave her complexion a luminous, snow-soft quality.

He hadn’t yet asked whether she was waiting for someone when the glass door behind her swung open and a man walked out, a Starbucks shopping bag in hand.

Xia Li turned.

Song Qiao’an walked over, glanced at Yan Sishi, and asked with a friendly smile: “And this is?”

“A high school classmate of mine.” Xia Li flicked a glance toward Yan Sishi — sensing he likely had no particular interest — and didn’t bother introducing Song Qiao’an in the other direction.

“Pleased to meet you —” Song Qiao’an looked Yan Sishi over, then asked lightly: “Also working in the park?”

“Yes.”

Yan Sishi remained expressionless throughout.

Xia Li was getting genuinely cold. She pulled her coat tighter around herself and said with a smile to Yan Sishi: “I’m heading back up — still have work to do.”

Yan Sishi gave a brief nod.

As Yan Sishi pushed open the door to go in, he glanced back.

The man was holding out the Starbucks bag toward Xia Li, passing it to her free hand.

Xia Li asked: “What’s this?”

“You were just staring at that mug, weren’t you? You looked like you liked it.”

“…I was just spacing out looking at it.”

“Well, it’s already bought — can’t exactly return it now.”

“You can return it.”

“Too much trouble. Throw it out if you want…”

Yan Sishi didn’t catch the rest. He let go of the door, and the glass panels swung shut behind him.

Back at the office, Xia Li sent Song Qiao’an a transfer for the price of the mug and firmly insisted he had to accept it — otherwise she would send it directly to his Alipay.

Song Qiao’an looked thoroughly exasperated.

Xia Li unpacked the mug and set it next to her computer monitor.

She stared at it with a slight sense of irritation.

Not even pretty. A complete waste of money.

The WeChat icon on her desktop screen flashed.

Xia Li clicked it open. A message from Yan Sishi.

This was the first message between them on WeChat.

YAN: Which mug did your boyfriend get you?

YAN: For gift reference.

Sherry: He’s not my boyfriend [exasperated emoji]. He’s my supervisor.

Sherry: Are you buying it for a girlfriend? My advice — don’t bother. It’s pretty unattractive.

YAN: For a colleague.

Sherry: …In that case, are you open to second-hand? Pristine condition, receipt and packaging included.

Sherry: Just kidding.

Sherry: It really is quite ugly though. Find something else.

To make her case more convincingly, she took a photo of it and sent it over.

YAN: …

Sherry: I just saved you some money. You’re welcome.

YAN: Thank you.

Xia Li sat there for a few seconds, not sure what else to say, and left it at that.

The next few days were a blur of frantic work. Following Song Qiao’an’s direction, she put together a revised proposal that made it through the meeting, then synced it with Jerry, after which she went department by department to coordinate and implement.

The brand campaign was a joint initiative between them and the U.S. marketing team, aimed at further promoting the company’s flagship action camera model launched the previous autumn — positioning it around the concept of “always ready, boundless reach.”

The campaign involved a collaboration with a sports drink brand, using the camera as the primary handheld recording device for athletes, following and documenting an extreme sports challenge event throughout the year.

This was a flagship project for the first half of the year, tied directly to her key performance metrics and her year-end bonus.

She kept at it all the way through to Friday evening.

After eating her takeout, Xia Li went to the break room to make herself a cup of hot tea, then returned to her desk to keep going.

When she unlocked her screen, she found new WeChat messages waiting for her.

From Yan Sishi.

YAN: Working overtime on Sunday?

YAN: There’s a gathering — come if you have time.

Sunday.

Xia Li tapped open her calendar and blinked.

Sunday was February 19th.

Sherry: Sunday evening?

YAN: Yes.

Sherry: That works for me.

YAN: You can bring Xu Ning too.

Sherry: It’ll mostly be your friends, right? She probably won’t want to come — she’s not great in settings with a lot of strangers.

YAN: Sunday evening at seven. I’ll pick you up.

The gathering had been Wen Shubai’s idea, organized on Yan Sishi’s behalf.

When Wen Shubai first proposed it, Yan Sishi had declined. This wasn’t a surprise — the man had never been someone who enjoyed social occasions, and after all these years, he had developed something of a reclusive streak.

But half a day later, Yan Sishi had messaged back and changed his mind.

Wen Shubai asked why. He said there were old friends in Beicheng — it would be good to see them.

Wen Shubai had always been the center of gravity in their social circle, so it took only one word from him to get everyone on board.

Some of them hadn’t even known Yan Sishi was back in China, and when they heard the news, they all wanted to come and catch up.

Wen Shubai had been deliberate about keeping the numbers down. He knew that if he threw Yan Sishi some massive party, the man would walk straight back out the door.

He trimmed the guest list down and then trimmed it down again — settling on seven or eight people at most, all of them old friends going back many years.

On Sunday, Yan Sishi drove from his apartment to pick up Xia Li.

By the time they’d agreed to meet, a message came through on WeChat asking him to wait an extra ten minutes — she’d had something come up with a colleague at the last minute.

The car sat parked on the side of the road with the hazard lights on, bare branches casting their shadows across the front windscreen.

Yan Sishi sat in the dim car, one arm resting along the steering wheel, glancing at his wristwatch from time to time.

He wasn’t in any hurry. He had more than enough patience.

Until, fifteen minutes later, a figure appeared at the gate of the complex, hurrying toward the car at a light jog.

Yan Sishi watched through the window, his gaze following her until she reached the car.

The passenger door swung open. She ducked in, already apologizing: “I’m so sorry — you must have been waiting forever!”

Her voice carried the slightly breathless quality of someone who had just been running.

“It’s fine. I haven’t been waiting long.”

The moment she got in, Yan Sishi caught the scent that drifted through the space — subtle and fresh, like the faint bitterness of tea leaves blended with something citrus.

He glanced over. Her hair was lightly damp, as though she had washed it but hadn’t had time to dry it fully.

She was wearing a light camel-colored coat. Like the past two times, only a touch of light makeup — nothing deliberate, nothing overdone.

Like a green plum steeped in clear water in a white porcelain bowl on a summer day in the hills — quietly, cleanly beautiful.

Once she’d settled in, Xia Li held out a small black gift bag.

“Happy birthday.”