Feng Ning was gently shaken awake. She rubbed her eyes, and a piece of clothing slipped off her shoulder.

A bit dazed, she picked it up to look, then raised her head.

The driver shouted toward the back, “Hey, you two back there, it’s the last stop, aren’t you getting off?”

Only after getting off did she realize how much the outdoor temperature had dropped. Feng Ning handed the jacket back to Jiang Wen. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

He was only wearing a short-sleeved shirt, shivering slightly from the cold.

Feng Ning stood aside waiting for him to put his jacket on, checking the route on her phone. “The last stop is half an hour from your place, an hour and a half from mine. It’s only eight now, so I’ll get home around ten.”

On the return bus, Jiang Wen glanced over casually and noticed Feng Ning setting an alarm. He asked, “What are you doing?”

Feng Ning muttered, “Setting an alarm, in case you deliberately miss your stop again and waste another two yuan of mine.”

“……”

He nearly jumped up. “What do you mean ‘again’? Who deliberately missed their stop?”

Feng Ning said matter-of-factly, “You did — otherwise why would we be at the terminal right now?”

“You’re the one who overslept, and you’re blaming me?” Jiang Wen struggled to keep his composure, his face darkening slightly. “Besides, I’ve never taken a bus before, how would I know.”

“Fine, fine.” Feng Ning didn’t argue with him further.

Young Master Jiang’s little romantic scheme had been thoroughly wrecked by the unromantic Feng Ning. He turned his head, staring at the window on his right, ignoring her for a good while.

Feng Ning was already used to Jiang Wen’s spoiled little temper — he wouldn’t calm down without some sweet-talking. She lowered her voice, coaxing him meekly, “It’s this lowly one’s fault, young master, please don’t be angry. This lowly one was only joking — please be the bigger person and let it go.”

There was wind at night; the window was cracked open a little, and a breeze slipped through the gap.

“Hey.” Feng Ning bumped him with her shoulder.

At that single nudge, Jiang Wen nearly toppled over. He hurriedly grabbed the handrail, snapping at her, “What’s wrong with you!”

“Why are you so fired up.”

Feng Ning crossed her arms over the seat back in front of her, resting her chin on them lazily, smiling as she looked at him. “Thank you, by the way.”

A voice came from the speakers: Dear passengers, welcome aboard Bus Route 425. Please be seated and hold on. The next stop is Xingxi Road; passengers getting off please prepare in advance.

“Oh… you’re welcome.”

“Also, that song was really nice.”

He choked for a moment, his expression turning slightly awkward. “You weren’t asleep?”

“Take the earphone out.” Feng Ning checked her watch. “Five minutes to the stop — let me share my favorite song with you too.”

She opened his phone, searched for the song.

When the piano intro started playing, Feng Ning asked, “Know what this song is?”

Jiang Wen shook his head.

…

I can’t find a good enough reason

To block out all this closeness

…

“This is the theme song from It Started with a Kiss.”

Letting the song play in the background, Feng Ning turned the phone screen off, set it aside, and described happily to him, “Every time I rewatch It Started with a Kiss, it’s always in summer. So whenever I hear this song, my mind automatically jumps to summer — the weather outside sweltering, and me hugging a big watermelon, with the AC blowing, curtains drawn, dim lighting, curled up in bed watching the show. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

…

I suspect this chance encounter is just a prank

I think I’ve slowly come to like you

I’ll willfully throw myself into the prank you’ve given me

…

Jiang Wen realized. “Jiang Zhishu, Yuan Xiangqin?”

Feng Ning laughed, surprised. “Yeah, you’ve watched it?”

She leaned sideways against the window sill; Jiang Wen’s gaze shifted back to face forward. “I haven’t watched it, my sister used to watch it.”

“There’s a line in it that’s really sappy — I still remember it.” Feng Ning held her hand to her chest. “I love you so much that I’m willing to do anything for it.”

Jiang Wen mocked her. “What kind of nonsense is that.”

“Come to think of it, you’re actually a bit like Jiang Zhishu — same surname Jiang, both smooth-sailing, aloof top students since childhood. When someone confesses to you, you both just walk right past them.”

As she spoke, Feng Ning playfully stuck out her hand. “Hello, classmate Jiang, nice to meet you, I’m Feng Ning from sophomore Class 9.”

He kept a straight face. “Boring.”

Feng Ning made a tsk sound.

Before she could withdraw her hand, Jiang Wen grabbed it without warning.

The people in the row behind, watching the little interaction between the two high schoolers up front, sighed inwardly, thinking, ah, youth really is beautiful.

Truly beautiful.

Jiang Wen’s fingers curled slightly, his fingertips brushing the skin of her wrist. Both their hearts pounded like drums.

Meeting Feng Ning’s eyes, he said, “I’m Jiang Wen.”

The bus arrived at the stop; Feng Ning waved goodbye to him. The doors closed automatically, and Route 425 dutifully continued on to the next stop, leaving a trail of exhaust behind.

The sky had turned completely ink-blue. Jiang Wen stood with his hands in his pockets by the warm yellow streetlight. The bus quickly vanished into the distant night.

The song in his earphone looped back to the start—

I think I’ll start missing you,—

But I just met you.

The second we part, I’ll start missing you.

Time flipped like the pages of a book, past spring rain, past summer thunder, past maple leaves, past falling snow. Another year passed. Qi Lan returned home to stay a few times in between, but there was never much improvement, and by October she moved back into the hospital.

Feng Ning would normally take two days a week for part-time work; whenever Jiang Wen was on break, she’d study with him at home. The rest of the time was spent at her mother’s bedside.

Saturday was Jiang Wen’s birthday. Zhao Binlin, Xi Gaoyuan and the others started calling him from eight in the morning.

Jiang Wen was woken by their calls, in a bit of a mood, his hair a mess, and he sat at the foot of the bed for a while. He opened WeChat — at one in the morning, Feng Ning had sent him a happy birthday message.

He’d asked her to come out for lunch today, but she still hadn’t replied.

Jiang Wen tossed his phone aside irritably, pulled open the closet, and started picking out today’s outfit. He’d just taken off his pajamas when his phone buzzed; he immediately grabbed it to check.

Zhao Binlin: [Hurry up, everyone’s waiting for you]

Slightly disappointed, a bit annoyed, he replied with just an “oh.”

A large group of people came to celebrate Jiang Wen’s birthday today, some bringing others along, quite a few of whom he didn’t even know.

Zhao Binlin had begged his older brother to borrow a limited-edition supercar. Not daring to be too flashy, they planned to head to a reservoir in the suburbs for a barbecue.

Close to ten o’clock, Xi Gaoyuan went to pick up the custom cake ordered the day before.

Jiang Wen sat in the passenger seat, his hand brushing against the phone in his pocket, and out of habit pulled it out, glanced at it for a moment, then put it back.

Zhao Binlin glanced sideways. “Waiting for whose call?”

“What.” “I asked who you’re waiting to hear from?”

He answered absentmindedly: “No one.”

Zhao Binlin wore a knowing, sly grin. “You’ve checked your phone how many times just in this little while?”

“Can’t I just be bored?” Just as Jiang Wen finished speaking, his phone buzzed again. He glanced down — it was a Tencent news notification. He leaned back against the seat without moving, the air around him growing colder.

“Pei Shurou asked me the other day, said she hasn’t seen much of you lately.” Zhao Binlin adjusted the rearview mirror. “I didn’t tell her you and Feng Ning are together.”

“Time really flies, huh.” Zhao Binlin suddenly sounded a bit sentimental. “We’re all seniors now in a blink.” “Is Feng Ning coming today, since it’s your birthday? Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her in a while either.”

Jiang Wen said nothing, looking out the window with a hint of frustration.

After a moment of quiet, Zhao Binlin wanted to say more, but turning around, he saw Jiang Wen answering a call, pushing the door open to get out.

“Hey, Jiang Wen! Where are you.” The voice on the other end sounded a bit bouncy.

Jiang Wen, still annoyed, stood at the busy intersection and threw one of his young-master tantrums. “You know it’s my birthday today, right.”

“Didn’t you check your phone?” Feng Ning’s voice sounded a little breathless. “Didn’t I say happy birthday?”

Jiang Wen’s anger cooled a bit. He said quietly, “You didn’t check your phone at all — none of my messages got replies.” He kicked a stone at his feet. “Where are you, I’ll come find you.” “Do you have friends with you?”

Jiang Wen hesitated a moment, catching Zhao Binlin’s nosy gaze, and said, “No, just me.”

“Oh, good, come then. I can hand you your present in person, still nice and warm, hehe.”

He caught something off. “Are you running?”

“Not telling you — I’ll send you an address, hurry up and get here.”

Xi Gaoyuan hummed a tune, carrying the cake, opening the car door and getting in. He made a surprised sound. “Where’s Jiang Wen? Where’d he go?”

“How would I know, he suddenly said he had something to do and told us to go ahead.” Zhao Binlin looked in the mirror, touching the stubble growing on his chin. “My guess is he went to find Feng Ning.”

Jiang Wen hadn’t expected the location Feng Ning mentioned to be the finish line of a marathon.

It was nearly eleven now; people had started trickling across the line one after another. A few people nearby had collapsed and were being carried off by ambulance.

People crossed the finish line one after another. He grew a bit anxious, searching for Feng Ning in the chaotic crowd, calling her phone without success. Just as he was dialing a fourth time, someone slapped him hard on the shoulder.

Jiang Wen turned around; she wore a sun hat, breathing heavily.

“What’s this?” Jiang Wen gestured up and down at her.

“Can’t you tell?” Feng Ning raised her chin proudly. “Feng the heroine just finished running a marathon!”

Jiang Wen feigned anger, jeering, “Here I thought Heroine Feng was going to win me a championship as a present.”

She laughed while still catching her breath. “Bro, those are all professional marathon runners out there. I’m just a high school girl! You’re overthinking this.”

Infected by her happiness, Jiang Wen held out a hand. “Weren’t you going to personally hand me my birthday present?”

“I gave it to you already.”

“What?”

Feng Ning smirked cheekily, chugged a big mouthful of water, and wiped her mouth. “The marathon spirit! Life never gives up, persistence is victory. Today I personally ran it for you to see — well, moved yet?”

Jiang Wen: “Not particularly moved.”

Feng Ning tossed her empty water bottle into the trash, reached behind her back, and tore off her race bib. “Here, this one’s for you.”

Jiang Wen took it, froze.

A square piece of fabric, printed with four numbers: 1118.

— His birthday.

Feng Ning signed something with the staff, took her bag back. She pulled out a thin blanket from the bag, draped it over her shoulders, wiped away her sweat with a towel, and glanced at him lightly. “So, is this present sincere enough? I ran three-plus hours to finish it.”

Looking at the person so close before him, Jiang Wen’s breath caught. “Thank you.”

“No need for thanks between us — alright, let’s go.”

Feng Ning’s words cut off abruptly; her eyes dropped, landing on the hand Jiang Wen had taken hold of.

The person holding her hand clearly lacked confidence in his own move — the grip was so light that if she pulled away even slightly, he’d surely let go.

Even without seeing it, Feng Ning could picture exactly what Jiang Wen must look like right now. Undoubtedly nervous, yet his face probably still frozen like ice.

Feng Ning laughed to herself inwardly, wiggled her fingers, and Jiang Wen’s arm stiffened. She gripped his hand back, tightly, and his footsteps stopped along with hers.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice carried a teasing smile.

“You…”

Feng Ning scrunched her lips and nose together in an exaggerated expression. “What about me.”

Jiang Wen went blank for a moment, then tightened his fingers a bit more. “We…”

“Shh shh shh.”

After all this time together, day after day, though neither had said it out loud, the ambiguous feelings had long since wrapped around them both.

Pure and innocent as middle schoolers, they walked hand in hand, slowly, through the crowded throng of people.

“Where to now?” Jiang Wen looked ahead, not daring to look at Feng Ning.

“Back to my place, how about it?”

“Sure, up to you.”

The bus arrived, and Feng Ning pulled her hand back.

Jiang Wen’s palm suddenly felt empty; he felt a bit at a loss, and a bit annoyed. “What.”

“What what.” Feng Ning pulled coins from her pocket. “I need to get the fare.”

After dropping the coins in, Feng Ning took the initiative to hold Jiang Wen’s hand again, pulling him toward the back.

They sat in the back seats again, their clasped hands too intimate, resting between them. Feng Ning’s hand was very small; Jiang Wen could easily wrap it entirely with his five fingers closed.

The bus started moving; they sat in silence, shoulders occasionally bumping together.

“Jiang Wen, are you really nervous? Your palm’s all sweaty.” She smiled, tilting her head to look at him.

He talked tough: “That’s your sweat.”

Feng Ning pulled Jiang Wen into the kitchen again.

But he was already a regular here by now, putting on the apron without any resistance.

“What are we doing?”

“Making you a cake!” Feng Ning pulled flour, eggs, and milk out of the fridge. “Let me show you what a manual egg-white whisker looks like.”

Her focused expression while working, completely absorbed in her own world. Jiang Wen watched her intently, his heart feeling as though it had softened in water.

Midway through, Xi Gaoyuan called. “Hey, top dog, where are you, everyone’s still waiting for you.”

Jiang Wen stood in the courtyard on the phone, indifferent. “I can’t make it today, you guys go ahead and have fun, put it on my tab.”

The big yellow dog, recognizing him, happily circled around his feet.

Xi Gaoyuan on the other end grew a bit displeased too, raising his voice: “What the hell, it’s your birthday today, you’re not coming, and you’re leaving a whole group of us hanging here? What are you even up to?” After grumbling for a while, he suddenly went quiet, then asked suspiciously, “You’re not with Feng Ning right now, are you, you son of a bitch?”

Zhao Binlin, more in the know, grabbed the phone and said directly, “Where are you and Feng Ning? I’ll come pick you two up.”

“Get lost.” Jiang Wen refused without a second thought. “Go have your fun, don’t bother me.”

“……”

Feng Ning bent over, focused on piping cream onto the cake, glanced at him. “What, something wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jiang Wen’s tone was casual as he silenced his phone.

He walked closer and found she’d nearly finished the cake decoration. Jiang Wen’s expression suddenly changed.

A familiar chibi-style tipsy little peacock, tail feathers spread, its tiny pointed head topped with a crown, leaning against a large wine bottle.

Feng Ning set the piping bag aside. “Alright, all done!”

Jiang Wen stared at the cake she’d made with her own hands, a little dazed.

Feng Ning went to rinse her hands under the faucet. “What’s wrong?”

“You still remember.”

She glanced at him, smiling, “Of course I remember — it’s the apology note I wrote you when we first met.”

Feng Ning crouched down, found the thin candles, stuck them into the cake, and lit them with a lighter.

Jiang Wen said, “Ever since I met you, my life’s been turned completely upside down by you.”

The big yellow dog slipped in through the gap in the door, lying down lazily. Feng Ning stood up, facing him.

She put her hands behind her back, tilted her head up slightly. “Alright, little prince, stop complaining, close your noble eyes for a second.”

Jiang Wen’s heart trembled; he obediently closed his eyes.

Perhaps from nerves, even his breathing seemed irregular.

But nothing happened for a good while; he opened his eyes to find Feng Ning’s gaze full of teasing. She laughed. “What, thought I was going to kiss you?”

Jiang Wen, caught out, his throat bobbed. He was silent for a few seconds, then said in a lowered voice, “Why’d you have me close my eyes then.”

“Oh, that.” Feng Ning gestured at the cake with her chin. “Make a wish, blow out the candles.” Feng Ning stood beside him, watching him blow out the candles, curious. “What did you just wish for, so devoutly?”

Jiang Wen still wore an earnestly devout little expression: “If I say it out loud it won’t come true.”

She coaxed him: “It’s fine, tell me.”

“I want…” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Feng Ning didn’t catch it. “Want what? Speak up.”

Jiang Wen’s eyes darted around, settling elsewhere.

Finally, as if he’d made up his mind, he leaned down and kissed her lips lightly.

A brief touch, then gone.

Feng Ning didn’t dodge; the corner of her mouth even curved up slightly.

In that instant, his heart pounded almost unbearably. Somewhat awkwardly, he said, “That — I wished for you to be a little better to me.”