It had started with messages backed up to a SIM card. Later transferred using a data migration tool. And then, when she switched from an Android phone to the fruit-branded one and got a new number along with it, she had simply forwarded all those old texts from the old phone to her new number.

Today, setting up the new phone and clearing out her data, she found these long-buried messages at the bottom of her inbox.

She wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling. She hesitated for only a moment, then selected them one by one and sent them all to Yan Sishi.

He had said he’d be back very late, so she expected he wouldn’t have time to look at them just yet.

But she hadn’t anticipated that barely ten minutes after sending them, she would hear the sound of the keypad lock on the front door being disengaged.

Xia Li froze, then turned to look toward the entrance — and indeed, Yan Sishi had come home.

Yan Sishi didn’t answer her. He didn’t even pause to take off his shoes, walking straight toward her.

Xia Li only felt that the embrace he came with as he leaned toward her carried a rush of wind — so urgent, and needing no words at all.

It made her heart clench for reasons she couldn’t explain, a faint, quiet ache.

If these messages hadn’t been lost in time and space for so many years — if they had been delivered to him when they were sent — he thought, the long-night stretch of his life might not have been so painful.

“…You got them.” Xia Li said softly, a little dazed.

Like water that had sunk to the bottom of the sea, rising through evaporation, returning to the clouds above.

And one day, falling again for him as a torrential rain.

Thursday was Xia Li’s birthday.

It happened that Wen Shubai had also come over from Beicheng and would be staying in Bincheng for a stretch of time. Yan Sishi was handling more of the technical side of things, while many other responsibilities fell to Wen Shubai.

Wen Shubai enthusiastically organized a gathering, saying this was the perfect occasion to celebrate together.

Not sure whether Xia Li would enjoy that kind of festivity, Yan Sishi asked her opinion first.

Xia Li had no objections, naturally.

There were some tasks Xia Li pushed to the following day, so she didn’t stay late that evening.

After work, she and Yan Sishi stopped by the apartment first to change, then headed to the KTV private room Wen Shubai had booked.

Inside, aside from Wen Shubai, were two long-tenured members of their company — one was a former MIT classmate of Yan Sishi’s, and the other was a middle-school friend he and Wen Shubai shared.

They had been invited only after asking Xia Li’s opinion first.

Xia Li hadn’t invited any of her own colleagues. She did have classmates in Bincheng, but since it wasn’t the weekend, none of them could free up the time to come.

That was fine too — too many people tended to be noisy.

Wen Shubai queued up a string of songs more or less at random from the charts, turned the volume down low, and let it run purely as background music. The group settled in together, drinking and chatting.

As an observer to all of this, Wen Shubai genuinely felt that since returning to the country, over the course of this past year and more, Yan Sishi had changed enormously.

Right after he’d come back, at gatherings like this one — even when the guests were all mutual friends or classmates from their shared past — Yan Sishi would rarely speak. He’d just drink quietly on his own.

Now that they were building a company together, Yan Sishi had taken on a great deal of the work of persuading talented people to come on board. Even at casual private gatherings like this one, as long as he was within his comfort zone, he would now actively take the lead in some of the conversation.

But if Xia Li was also present, his attention was almost entirely on her — refilling her drink, fetching fruit, and even while someone else was talking, remembering to skewer a slice of watermelon and hold it out within her reach.

Wen Shubai said teasingly, “Why doesn’t Xia-classmate come work at our company?”

“That depends on what position Director Wen has to offer, and the salary.”

“You name your price. Whatever goes over budget, I’ll have Director Yan cover it out of his own pocket.”

Xia Li laughed. “Then I might as well just have him hand over his paycard directly — why go through an extra step?”

“…” Wen Shubai rather regretted asking a question that had only served to feed him secondhand displays of affection.

The conversation drifted for a while, then turned to the AI model they were preparing to build — based on a neural network architecture, with the eventual aim of enabling intelligent text processing.

Wen Shubai asked Xia Li, “Guess what the model’s codename is?”

Xia Li thought about it seriously before answering: “Y40?”

Yan Sishi: “…”

Wen Shubai burst out laughing. “It’s called SHERRY.”

Xia Li glanced at Yan Sishi. His expression was perfectly composed, as though using his girlfriend’s English name as the project codename was the most unremarkable thing in the world.

Xia Li said with a smile, “I’ve heard that training an AI involves feeding it enormous amounts of material for it to learn from, right?”

Yan Sishi’s MIT classmate said, “In the general sense, yes, that’s a fair way to put it.”

Xia Li then said to Yan Sishi: “Let SHERRY rest. SHERRY is already exhausted. She genuinely cannot study anymore.”

Yan Sishi let out a soft laugh.

After a round of conversation, Wen Shubai asked Xia Li if she wanted to sing.

She pondered for a moment. “As the birthday girl, I suppose I’ll reluctantly make a humble offering of one song.”

She didn’t let Wen Shubai pick — she set down her water glass and went to the song selection panel herself.

Yan Sishi clinked glasses with someone, took a sip of his drink, and looked over at her.

She had already made her selection and was sitting on the round stool in front of the panel, microphone in hand, eyes on the screen.

He had never heard her sing properly. He found himself rather curious.

The intro played, and the title appeared on screen: A Love That Will Never Lose Signal.

Yan Sishi curled the corners of his lips.

“Dearest, where are you daydreaming, what’s weighing on your heart that you haven’t been able to let go…”

Her voice came out slightly tight, a faint tremor to it, and only settled into its rhythm by the second line.

“…You’ve given me the kind of love I never want to lose signal from, believe that the path love takes is the sea of stars…”

At that line, she turned her head and looked at him through the slowly rotating lights — then, just before their eyes could meet, quickly turned back.

As though she was unaccustomed to expressing her feelings so openly in front of others.

Yan Sishi held his glass lightly in his fingers, swallowed a sip of the iced drink, and watched her without looking away.

She had gone back to the apartment earlier and changed into a slip dress — white satin, with a gather at the waist perfectly placed, making her waist look as though you could circle it entirely in one hand. The high heels she had bought on impulse had finally found their occasion, now on her feet, the line from ankle to instep slender and graceful.

No one suited white more than she did — like moonlight touching fresh snow, vivid and gentle and lovely all at once.

Impossible to look away from.

She wasn’t a technically polished singer, but every line came from somewhere entirely sincere.

As sincere as she herself was.

“…You are the love I never want to lose signal from for the rest of my life. Even if your breathing is thousands of mountains away — please believe, the love I give is worth your love in return.”

When it ended, everyone applauded generously. Xia Li stepped down from the stool and made her way back to Yan Sishi’s side, fanning herself with her hand and saying she was warm.

She knew her flushed face had nothing to do with the heat.

Yan Sishi picked up her water glass from the coffee table and handed it to her. She took a sip, then looked up at him and said, with studied casualness: “Was it okay?”

Yan Sishi didn’t answer directly. He simply let his arm settle around her waist, unhurried and unobtrusive, and leaned down close to her ear, murmuring quietly: “They’re all watching. Otherwise…”

Xia Li’s face grew warmer still.

Later, they cut the cake, and when the time came, everyone said their goodbyes and the gathering broke up.

A taxi pulled up in front of the apartment complex, and the two of them got out and walked in.

The high heels Xia Li was wearing were beautiful, to be sure, but the heels were tall and thin, and genuinely not suited for walking. And expensive as they were, they still rubbed. A beautiful nuisance.

Yan Sishi noticed she was walking with some difficulty, stopped, and said: “I’ll carry you on my back.”

“There’s no need…”

“Then I’ll carry you in my arms.”

Before she could respond, he bent down and took hold of the heel of her white shoe.

Xia Li stepped out of them almost instinctively. Yan Sishi held the shoes by their heels, straightened up, looped one arm around her waist, used his other arm to catch the backs of her knees, and lifted her in a single motion.

People nearby cast glances their way. Xia Li buried her face against his neck. “…I really can walk on my own. I could just go barefoot.”

Yan Sishi said: “And if your feet got dirty?”

So, without any further acknowledgment of her protests, he carried her the entire way to the building’s entrance and into the elevator.

His hands were occupied, so he told her to press the button herself.

They waited a moment. The elevator arrived at the ground floor, and the doors opened.

A couple came out, took one look at the two of them, and smiled — the kind of warm, knowing smile that said ah, the young.

Xia Li recognized them — the couple from the floor below.

She very much wanted to pretend she hadn’t seen them.

They finally reached the door. Xia Li wriggled, and Yan Sishi relented and set her down.

Inside, Xia Li checked her heels in the entryway mirror. They were red, but hadn’t broken the skin.

She swapped into slippers, gathered her long hair and held it up loosely, and walked toward the wardrobe adjoining the bedroom.

As she reached for the sleep dress laid on the changing bench, Yan Sishi came in.

Xia Li glanced in the mirror. Yan Sishi was looking at her reflection too.

Neither of them said anything.

In the next moment, Yan Sishi stepped forward, took the sleep dress from her hands and tossed it back onto the bench, then caught her wrist.

She was pulled forward one step, falling into his arms.

The white dress shirt and the white slip dress were never quite removed, through all of it. The air conditioning was turned up full, but even so, it could not dispel the kind of heat that felt as if it might dissolve a person entirely.

They looked in the mirror — what was real and what was reflection blurring and intertwining, a dream more beautiful than anything wrought from flowers in a mirror or the moon on water.

Yet it was not a dream.

Xia Li’s gaze came slowly back into focus. She looked up at the light on the ceiling, the air carrying a faintly mingled warmth that she didn’t mind at all — it felt to her like a particular kind of evidence, the evidence of being accomplices in something.

She turned and looked at Yan Sishi lying beside her. His dark hair was damp with sweat. His expression after being sated held a faint, languid ease — that quality of something almost dissolving into indulgence, a subtle suggestion of ruin, and she found that she loved it.

She loved that he lost himself for her.

“It’s my birthday today — can I make a wish to Yan-classmate?”

Yan Sishi opened his eyes. “Mm?”

“Sing me a song. Wen Shubai says you sing well, but I’ve never heard it.”

“…You really want to hear it?”

“Yes. I already sang — you should return the gesture.”

Yan Sishi didn’t look troubled by the request. His hesitation likely lay in a slight shyness about it.

But after a moment, he reached out and drew her close, one arm around her shoulders, and said: “Just two lines.”

Xia Li nodded.

“You are loved, and you are priceless. Because of your incomparable worth…”

(You are loved / you are beyond all price / because of your incomparability)

His breath drifted past her ear like mist, raising the faintest, delicate tingling. His voice was clear and cool, melodious, like a morning breeze moving low through a mountain valley — soft and slow and quiet.

“Know that the dawn will come for you, know that peace will come for you…”

(May you know that the dawn will come for you / may you know that peace will also come for you)

“Know that your love will be with you…” he had said just two lines, yet sang through the whole passage, “…Always.”

The sensation in Xia Li’s ear grew too ticklish to bear, and she laughed and tried to pull away. Yan Sishi held her close and wouldn’t let her escape.

Who kissed whom first — it no longer mattered. They fell together, toward a deeper depth.

Xia Li had Yan Sishi go shower first while she lay there a little longer.

After all the warmth had evaporated from her skin and the sound of water from the bathroom had gone quiet, Yan Sishi came out and called to her, said he was done, and asked in a considerate tone whether she needed him to carry her there.

“…No, thank you.”

Yan Sishi gave a quiet laugh and stepped out.

Xia Li finished her shower, changed into a cotton sleep dress, and dried her hair.

Coming out of the bathroom, she noticed her phone, left on the foot of the bed, vibrating continuously.

Curious, she picked it up and looked — and froze.

Text message replies from Yan Sishi.

“Hi. Yes, I’m heading back to Beicheng. I wanted to say goodbye to you — please also say goodbye to Wang Chen on my behalf.”

“Hi. I’m sorry, I’m not in a position right now to tell you exactly what happened at home. And please say goodbye to Tao Shiyue for me as well.”

“Hi. I’m sorry. There may be quite a long period where I won’t be able to receive your messages.”

Xia Li leaned back against the bed and slid down to sit on the clean floor. She didn’t know why her vision had gone blurry. She simply stared at the new messages as they came in, not too fast, not too slow — one reply arriving after another.

“Hi. How did your last mock exam rankings come out?”

“Hi. Can you share the list of films you want to watch? I’d like to use it as a reference.”

“Hi. It feels like I haven’t stepped outside in a very long time. If I can, I’ll try to go to a bookstore.”

“Hi. Not yet. I’m not in a very good state. I may need to wait until summer break to decide when to go abroad.”

“Hi. Of course I get nervous. You could try chewing a piece of gum right before the exam starts?”

“Hi. Wishing you all the best in the college entrance exam. Don’t be nervous — you’ll be fine, I know it.”

…

“Hi. It’s all right. Just go up and try talking to them. Even if it doesn’t go well, it doesn’t matter — they don’t know you.”

“Hi. From the looks of things, today doesn’t seem to be the end of the world after all. I slept through the entire day, and waking up didn’t feel particularly good.”

Xia Li reached up and wiped at the drop of moisture that had fallen onto the screen.

She didn’t manage to wipe it away cleanly. That small damp trace remained, refracting the vivid, shifting light of the electronic screen.

“Hi. Congratulations on the offer — it sounds like it wasn’t an easy process. Are you going to celebrate?”

“Hi. The weather forecast says snow is coming here, but it hasn’t fallen yet. The snow scenery at Tanzhe Temple is quite beautiful. Go take a look if you have time. It’s cold — stay warm.”

…

“Hi. I apologize — I’m not at Caltech. I’m at MIT. I wonder if there was a miscommunication somewhere. When are you leaving the United States? If you have time, I can come by and take you to dinner.”

“Hi. A pity. But Singapore has opened the S.E.A. Aquarium. I think — if we have the chance someday, we could go together.”

“Hi. I’ve always had trouble sleeping, and it seems like it’s been many years since I’ve dreamed at all. Is your fever down? If it doesn’t get better soon, make sure to see a doctor.”

“Hi. Thank you for caring about me all this time. Thank you for your blessing. For a very long stretch of time, my life was as dark as a long night — but I can see the light of dawn now. I think you are the moon that has been holding a light for me.”

Xia Li pressed her hand against her forehead and tried very hard to keep herself from making any sound as she wept.

She hadn’t known a person could hold so many emotions at the same time — heartache, sorrow, regret, release, completeness — all of it pressing heavily against her chest at once, so that tears were the only possible response.

She was getting ready to stand.

Then the phone vibrated once more, and another message appeared along the left edge of the screen:

“Hi. I’m getting ready to come back to the country. I’m hoping to run into you in Beicheng.”

“Hi. I’m sorry — I think I may have made your birthday a rather unhappy one.”

“Hi. I ran into you and one of your colleagues. Please forgive me for being unable to restrain my jealousy.”

“Hi. I had some drinks today. But it seems that alcohol, cigarettes… all the things that drive ordinary people to addiction — none of them can be my remedy. I won’t pretend otherwise: there is only one thing I want. I want to see you.”

“Hi. Thank you for finding me.”

…

“Hi. This is the last message I’m sending you.

I don’t know how to say this — I’m afraid you’ll feel it’s all too fast. But please believe me: I have never made a decision rashly. I’ve turned it over in my mind many times, and there are no other words that can capture how I feel right now. Everything else is too oblique, too hedged.

I only want to say: Li Li — please marry me.

Of course, a text message doesn’t feel quite formal enough. Please come to me. I want to ask you this in person.”

Xia Li hurriedly raised the back of her hand and scrubbed at her eyes. She stood up, and walked quickly toward the door.

She opened the bedroom door, and looked up — and saw Yan Sishi standing on the balcony, both arms braced against the railing.

Out in the night, the bay reflected the glow of high-rise lights.

A brilliance that would never go dark.

Yan Sishi wore a white T-shirt, its hem lifting in the breeze.

He turned and looked at her, his gaze clear and ardent.

Always the boy she remembered from her past.

And she — and she.

The first time, and every time since, always the same feeling:

Wind rushing toward wind. Night fleeing into night.

I run toward you.

The End