For Song Qiao’an, her decision came as something of a surprise. By all accounts she had been performing very well at the company — her year-end bonus had been respectable enough. He didn’t have any personal feelings toward her at this point, but as her direct supervisor, there were still a few professional questions worth asking.

Xia Li was perfectly at ease. She smiled and said: “I got headhunted.”

Song Qiao’an went through the customary motions of trying to retain her: “It’s a shame to leave now. When we spoke to HR about year-end bonuses, the head of our department had already flagged you for a pay increase. If there’s anything you want, you can raise it now — I’ll take it up the chain on your behalf.”

Xia Li laughed. “Teacher Song, I’ve had my eye on your position. If you hand it over to me, I might reconsider staying.”

That made it clear enough — she had made up her mind. Song Qiao’an matched her joking tone: “That would require my boss handing his over to me first.”

The resignation approval came through quickly, but she still had to stay on for two more weeks to hand over her work.

Xu Ning wasn’t planning to find a new roommate. She had a screenwriter friend whose roommate was also planning to change jobs come April — when that happened, she’d give up the current lease and move in with that friend.

Xia Li had lived in this rental apartment for three years, but she’d always been restrained with purchases, so she didn’t have much to take. After going through everything and clearing out what she didn’t need, there was even less.

The books were the trickiest — once boxed up, Yan Sishi came by in his car and took them all in one trip to store temporarily at the Taoyue Lane apartment.

During the weeks of handing over her work, Xia Li finally had no more overtime to deal with. She was free to clock out on time every day and have dinner and spend time with Yan Sishi.

She started staying over at Yan Sishi’s place more and more often, until eventually she simply moved in.

A few days before her last day, on a Friday, a small group of colleagues she was relatively close to arranged a farewell dinner for her.

They booked a private room at a Japanese restaurant and spent the evening eating and chatting.

This wasn’t a company team-building event, so the atmosphere was naturally much more relaxed.

Lin Chiyu from the design department was there too. He raised his plum wine and clinked it against Xia Li’s grapefruit-flavored sparkling water, saying with a smile: “I was actually pretty surprised when I heard you were leaving.”

Xia Li smiled back: “Switching jobs isn’t really the kind of thing you go around announcing, is it.”

“True. Though I suppose for now you probably can’t say which company it is.”

Xia Li was perceptive enough to know that Lin Chiyu had feelings for her — but by the time they’d had any chance of getting to know each other better last summer, she and Yan Sishi had already gotten together over the National Holiday.

There had been one occasion after that when Xia Li had run into Lin Chiyu outside a convenience store.

She had been with Yan Sishi that day and had quite naturally passed her half-finished tea drink to Yan Sishi to hold.

Lin Chiyu had seen it and understood. After that, he never sent her any WeChat messages that weren’t work-related — not even the art exhibition recommendations he used to share with her occasionally.

Lin Chiyu drained his plum wine in one go. “Then here’s to wishing Xia Li all the best in what comes next.”

At the farewell dinner, no one actually drank very much — but somehow, by the end of the night, Song Qiao’an appeared to be halfway drunk.

Outside, Song Qiao’an caught up with Xia Li and asked if she could spare a few minutes for him to say something privately.

Xia Li felt a flicker of wariness, but they were standing right at the busy entrance of the restaurant — she didn’t think Song Qiao’an would say anything inappropriate.

She kept a couple of steps of distance between them and asked with a smile: “What did you want to say, Teacher Song?”

Song Qiao’an looked at her. “I wanted to apologize.”

Xia Li had no idea where that was coming from.

Song Qiao’an gave a rueful smile. Whatever was behind his slightly blurred words, the real emotion was difficult to pin down. “…I realized when it actually mattered that I’m pretty spineless. Didn’t dare say a thing… Your boyfriend is good — he’ll take good care of you. Wishing you happiness.”

Xia Li felt a mild twinge of irritation.

She rarely let herself get worked up over things like this in social situations — especially since she was already leaving the company anyway.

She smiled, and with quiet sincerity, corrected him: “He’s not just good. He’s wonderful. Thank you for the blessing — I think I will be.”

Just then, Xia Li noticed a car pulling up to the curb, its hazard lights blinking.

She recognized Yan Sishi’s car at a glance. She turned to Song Qiao’an with a smile and said: “My boyfriend is here to pick me up. I’ll be going.”

Song Qiao’an didn’t say anything. He gave a brief nod and glanced over in the direction of the car.

Xia Li walked over, pulled open the door, and got in.

Once they had driven away from the restaurant, Yan Sishi looked at her and asked calmly: “What were you two talking about just now?”

Xia Li took the opportunity to vent. “He apologized to me out of nowhere. Said he was spineless, that he never dared to speak up when it mattered. Said it like it was because of him being spineless that you managed to ‘pick me up.'”

Yan Sishi considered this. “I think what he was apologizing for wasn’t that.”

Xia Li turned to look at him immediately.

Yan Sishi briefly recounted what had happened that spring of the previous year — what had taken place in the restroom during the cross-departmental team-building event.

Xia Li’s eyes went wide as she listened.

She had never seen Yan Sishi get into a confrontation with anyone, but she knew this was exactly like him: if someone said something insulting about Tao Shiyue or Lin Qingxiao — people he knew — he would do the same thing without a second thought.

She imagined the scene in her head, and felt a very real pang of regret that she hadn’t been there herself.

The image of him pressing someone’s head into a sink with cool composure — that must have been quite something to witness.

“…I had no idea any of that happened. No wonder Song Qiao’an’s whole attitude toward me shifted after that,” Xia Li said.

Yan Sishi said: “He’s a better man than I gave him credit for, at least. He still remembered to apologize to you.”

“He was practically a rival of yours at one point, and you’re saying something decent about him.”

“Rival or not, a fair assessment is a fair assessment.”

Xia Li was just about to say something about how magnanimous Yan Sishi was, when he added, without missing a beat: “Though of course, it’s a relief that he won’t have any more occasions to take you to dinner.”

Xia Li burst out laughing.

She loved seeing him be jealous while pretending not to be.

The car went straight to Yan Sishi’s apartment.

When Xia Li walked in, she saw that the study door was open. The room was a little more cluttered than usual — stacks of books, magazines, and printed materials piled on and below the desk.

Yan Sishi explained that he had been sorting through some technical documents, had stepped out briefly to pick her up, and hadn’t had time to tidy up yet.

He asked her to entertain herself for a bit, or take a shower first — he might need a little more time to finish wrapping things up.

Xia Li showered, poured herself a glass of water, and wandered into the study.

Yan Sishi was facing the desktop computer screen. At the sound of her approach, he turned to look.

She said: “Don’t mind me — I just wanted to have a look.”

She sipped her water and idly flipped through the stack of books on the desk — then stopped short.

She set down her glass and pulled out two identical copies of the same English book, held them up toward Yan Sishi, and said with a smile: “You’d better have an explanation for this.”

It was an academic work on computer science and neuroscience — the very same book that Yan Sishi had once asked her to purchase for him while she was in New York.

Yan Sishi said: “As you can see.”

“You already had a copy, and you still had me buy another one.”

“Otherwise, how would I have had an excuse to see you.”

Xia Li couldn’t think of any explanation that could have satisfied her more than that. She let out a delighted little laugh. “…All right, I won’t disturb you. Carry on.”

She held her water glass and continued quietly flipping through his journals and magazines, then couldn’t help glancing over at him again.

The soft, pale light fell across his face. That complete, unaffected calm — for some reason it brought to Xia Li’s mind the video Wang Chen had once shared in the group chat, of Yan Sishi delivering remarks at an academic forum.

It was exactly the same — that cool clarity and focus whenever he was in the realm of his expertise.

She stood there, glass in hand, a little dazed.

Yan Sishi noticed. He looked away from the screen and asked, “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

Then her gaze traveled, one by one: the open collar of his white shirt with two buttons undone, the faint outline of his collarbone just visible, the lean tension of his waist — only she knew, in the world, what lay beneath that shirt, the muscle at exactly the right measure, the faint lines of tension that extended from his abdomen downward when he moved, what that felt like beneath her palms and how utterly impossible it was to stay rational.

Then to the slight turn of his forearm where his sleeve was rolled up, the wrist with its watch, the hand resting on the white keyboard, and the silver ring on his finger…

Xia Li set down her glass.

The soft sound of it being placed on the desk made Yan Sishi turn to look at her again.

Xia Li asked: “Will I be a disturbance if I stay in here?”

“No.”

“But you’re being a disturbance to me.”

The way she was looking at him held the faintest shade of something almost like grievance.

Yan Sishi paused. “…How am I disturbing you.”

Xia Li moved closer. Her knees pressed against his leg. She gave the rolling desk chair a push backward, creating just enough space for her to swing one leg over and settle across his lap.

Yan Sishi looked at her, and his gaze began to darken.

She caught hold of his hand and guided it beneath the hem of her sleep dress.

She held his gaze, the skin behind her ears already a faint shade of rose, her voice quiet and carried with a forced steadiness. She said to him, like that. His knuckle, through the layer of cotton fabric, met warmth that was already seeping through.

“…What were you just thinking about?” Yan Sishi’s voice had gone slightly husky. His own ears were starting to turn red — perhaps he was the one fighting harder to maintain his composure.

Xia Li buried her head against his shoulder and shook it. She said no more.

This was the limit of what she could bring herself to say.

“You know I still have work to do.”

The voice that fell against Xia Li’s ear was cool and faintly darkened.

She hesitated — just about to get up, when Yan Sishi’s palm pressed against her back and stopped her.

“…Which is why I need to make the most of the time we have.”

Xia Li was very fond of the four-piece bedding set she had chosen herself for the master bedroom.

It had arrived just a few days ago — washed and tumble-dried, and now on the bed.

A beautiful shade of mountain-mist blue: the color of mountains veiled in thin cloud after rain clears, on a spring afternoon.

Now, freshly showered, she lay wrapped in that expanse of blue, propped on her elbows, flipping through a magazine.

Yan Sishi was still working in the study next door. She had chosen not to go back in.

She had already been disruptive enough. The formal trousers had been completely ruined; the “making the most of time” had ended up taking at least half an hour; she had said it would be fine if she took the lead, but her energy had given out in minutes and she’d had to hand control back over to him. And to make things worse, they had knocked over the water glass.

Yan Sishi had very calmly salvaged the keyboard — but after that, she was no longer permitted back in the study for the rest of the evening.

Xia Li skimmed through the entire magazine, then took out her laptop and pulled up a film.

She had assumed Yan Sishi would be working well into the night, but when the film had about a third left to go, he came out from the study.

“Still awake?”

“Mm. I wanted to finish the film first.” Xia Li hit pause. “Are you done?”

Yan Sishi nodded and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “There’s actually something rather serious I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

That measured, earnest tone made Xia Li sit up properly too. “…What is it?”

Yan Sishi looked at her. “Could you manage two to three months of long distance?”

Xia Li was caught off-guard.

Yan Sishi continued: “There’s still some preliminary work that needs finishing up. It will probably be late May or early June at the earliest before I can move there.”

She had just begun to respond when Yan Sishi added: “I’ll come to see you every week. Also — I’ve already had someone look at a place there. It’s close to your office, a two-bedroom apartment. You can move in whenever you’re ready. If you’d prefer your own space, there’s also a one-bedroom I’ve seen…”

Xia Li finally had a moment to cut in. “How have you already arranged everything?”

Yan Sishi paused. “I’m sorry — should I have discussed it with you first?”

“Who wouldn’t love walking in with nothing but a bag.” Xia Li shook her head, sat up straight, and wrapped her arms around him. “…It was me who decided to go to Bincheng without talking it through first, and then let you work around me every step of the way.”

Yan Sishi’s hand settled against her back. He tilted his head and pressed a kiss to her ear. “Because it’s me who wants to share a life with you.”

She didn’t know why, but her eyes went warm at the edges. “…Then it’s settled — just three months of long distance. You already know — I don’t want to be apart from you for even a single second.”