The phone vibrated with an incoming call from an unknown Beijing number.

Cheng Wanyue lay on her bed watching the screen light up, then fade to darkness.

She knew the caller wouldn’t try a second time. After saving the number to her contacts, she went about her evening routine as usual—listening to music while applying a face mask, blow-drying her hair—and only before bed did she use the newly added phone contact to find his WeChat account.

They weren’t friends yet, so she could only see his profile picture and WeChat name.

His profile picture was simple: just a black crescent moon against a pure white background.

His WeChat name was equally simple: lune.

Cheng Wanyue clicked “Add” and then turned off the light to sleep.

During her middle school years, she had been a champion at staying up late. Going to bed early and rising early was a good habit she’d developed over the past two years. As long as the neighbors upstairs didn’t make too much noise, she generally slept well.

Cheng Yanqing had stayed up late working on a proposal last night. In the morning, Cheng Wanyue was the first to wake. Her foot could now bear weight normally. After brushing her teeth, she closed the kitchen door and began toasting bread. She also fried two eggs. Cheng Yanqing didn’t like milk; he always had coffee in the morning.

He ate quickly, rushing off to work, telling Cheng Wanyue to leave the dishes in the sink for him to wash when he returned.

Cheng Wanyue bit into half a slice of toast and picked up her phone to open WeChat. She saw that he had accepted her friend request at 2:16 in the morning.

She had gone to bed at ten.

The chat interface showed only a system notification: “I’ve accepted your friend request. Now we can start chatting.”

She sat on the sofa and began browsing his Moments page.

There was nothing there except medical articles.

Cheng Wanyue finished her toast and selected an emoji from her phone to send to him.

…

Zhou Heng had rushed out the previous night for some unknown business and returned in the morning smelling of cigarettes and alcohol.

He had originally planned to take a shower and go to sleep, expecting to sleep until the afternoon at least. But when he saw that Qing Hang had made porridge, he decided to have some breakfast first.

The two talked about hospital matters. While the hospital leadership kept telling them to prioritize patients, they also insisted on research. Promotions now require published papers. Qing Hang had submitted an article two months ago, and Zhou Heng asked about its progress, but Qing Hang was distracted.

For Qing Hang, a phone was just a communication tool for making calls and receiving messages. He normally only cared about the latest medical research developments, hardly ever went online, and certainly didn’t have any internet addiction.

Yet today he had brought his phone to the dining table and was checking it every few minutes.

“Why do you keep looking at your phone? Is there something new with your patient?”

“No.” Qing Hang put his phone away, somewhat like a thief covering his tracks, but Zhou Heng had returned hungover and wasn’t mentally sharp enough to notice anything unusual.

“I’m going to catch up on sleep,” Zhou Heng yawned as he returned to his room. “No need to call me for lunch or dinner either. I’ll sort myself out when I wake up.”

Today was the weekend. The child upstairs, doing homework, had already started crying, and would probably begin practicing piano soon. But these noises hardly affected Zhou Heng—he was the type who could sleep through a thunderstorm.

The phone vibrated once.

Qing Hang turned off the faucet and picked up his phone without even drying his hands. Her profile picture was just a photo of her holding a cat and smiling happily. She had also posted this photo on her Moments three years ago. Based on the caption, the cat probably belonged to Zhou Yu and Cheng Yuzhou.

The kitchen faced south, and the sun was already shining on the sink. Half of Qing Hang’s body was bathed in sunlight as he stared at the red circle with the number 1 in the upper right corner of her profile picture for a long time before tapping it.

She had sent a yellow Teletubbies on a swing emoji.

His hands were wet, making the touchscreen less responsive. Before he could reply, she sent another message: “Hello, Qing Hang.”

Qing Hang typed back: “Hello.”

They were as polite as two strangers who had never met before.

He kept making typing errors, deleting and retyping. A simple six-character sentence somehow took him a full minute.

Lune: How’s your foot injury?

Y: It doesn’t hurt anymore. Can you return the dress I left at your place today?

Lune: Yes.

Y: What time would be convenient for you?

Lune: I’m off today, so I’m free anytime. Whenever works for you.

Y: 7 PM?

Lune: That works.

A few minutes later, she changed the time: 6:30?

Lune: Mm-hmm.

Y: Actually, let’s make it 6.

Lune: All right.

Cheng Wanyue didn’t explain the missed call from last night, and Qing Hang didn’t ask.

The kitchen was stuffy, and his forehead was already beaded with sweat. After cleaning the dishes and drying his hands, he returned to his bedroom and placed the neatly folded dress in a clean paper bag.

Despite having done many things already, a glance at the clock showed that it was only nine a.m.

…

Cheng Wanyue was very typical in her tendency to tire of old things and fancy new ones. Even if she liked a piece of clothing when she bought it, she would stop liking it after wearing it just a few times. Although she had brought only one suitcase when she came to Beijing, in less than two months, her wardrobe was already nearly full.

After changing into clothes she was satisfied with, she began selecting shoes. She owned several pairs of flats and would sometimes wear slippers for brief outings. The doctor had advised her not to wear high heels, but she still chose a pair of black high heels.

While applying makeup, she called Cheng Yanqing.

“Brother, I won’t be home for dinner tonight. You should go have drinks with your colleagues.”

She had been cooped up at home all week, and Cheng Yanqing had been coming straight home after work, turning down several dinners with colleagues. In his profession, such social engagements were unavoidable. If he kept making excuses, people would think he was putting on airs.

“Going on a date?”

“Yes.”

Cheng Yanqing simply reminded her to be careful. “Keep your phone turned on. No matter how late you stay out, make him escort you to the front door.”

“He might not listen to me.”

“Win him over. Tame him.”

Cheng Wanyue said, “All right, I’ll try.”

She selected a white bag and sent Qing Hang a message before leaving: “I’m heading out.”

Qing Hang sent his location—somewhere nearby.

Cheng Wanyue had only walked a short distance from her building when she spotted him. She slowed her pace and lowered her head to look at her phone.

The locust trees on both sides of the path were beautiful, casting dappled shadows on the ground that swayed slightly with the evening breeze.

This was a pedestrian walkway, but someone seeking a shortcut was approaching from behind on an electric scooter. That person was also looking at their phone. They were about to collide, but she seemed completely unaware and made no move to avoid it. Qing Hang ran over in a few quick steps, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her to the inside of the path.

She was startled, momentarily frozen. Only after the electric scooter had ridden far away did Qing Hang release her hand.

“It’s dangerous to use your phone while walking. Pay attention to the road.”

Cheng Wanyue smiled. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Qing Hang said nothing, but looked down at her high heels and frowned slightly.

She took the paper bag and opened it for a casual glance. “You even washed it clean for me.”

He said, “I washed it along with my clothes.”

“This fabric isn’t easy to clean,” Cheng Wanyue closed the bag. “It’s just about dinner time now. Let me treat you to a meal—hot pot.”

Qing Hang nodded without much consideration.

He took the paper bag back from her and carried it himself.

The two walked along the tree-lined path. When other people passed by, he would move a little closer to her, occasionally brushing against her hand.

Cheng Wanyue recalled her school days, when the stairways would be crowded after the Monday morning flag-raising ceremony, just like after evening study sessions. People would be all around—in front, behind, to the left, and right.

He would walk silently beside her like this, secretly slipping notes into her hand.

Nobody knew except her and him.