The “Retro Era: 1950s–1980s Treasured Antiques Exhibition” opened at the Jingdezhen Heritage Museum. The moment one stepped inside, a rich sense of historical atmosphere came rushing forward.

The display cases held object after object from a bygone era — small as a single button, large as a film projector — covering every kind of antique from the 1950s through the 1980s.

The vintage, historical feel was certainly there, and the ambiance of those distant decades came through vividly. The dazzling array of old artifacts was genuinely interesting — but also… genuinely tedious!

Rong Qian simply could not figure out why, when she had a perfectly good graduation trip to spend however she liked, she had to come to a museum of all places. Wouldn’t off-roading, rock climbing, or bungee jumping have been so much better?

For entertaining thoughts like these, Rong Qian’s retro-obsessed companion, Yuan Xiaojie, expressed the most severe disapproval.

As a wholehearted young person of the modern age, one must never forget the nation’s hardships, and must strive to revitalize the motherland — how could she spend all her time thinking about having fun?

Hearing this, Rong Qian shot her a sideways glance and drawled with exquisite indifference: “Sis, I got into the police academy. If I don’t have fun now, when exactly am I going to get another chance to run wild like this?”

Yuan Xiaojie was speechless. She immediately switched to her most adorable and coaxing manner, tugging at Rong Qian’s sleeve and swaying, mimicking the delicate tone of Lin Daiyu: “Oh, Rong ge~~ please just keep me company.”

“Alright, alright, enough! Don’t pull that on me — no matter how handsome someone looks, I’m still a woman, you know.” Rong Qian tossed her cool, cropped hair and lifted her chin slightly, revealing an exquisitely defined jawline.

To be fair, it wasn’t that Yuan Xiaojie thought of her as anything other than a woman — it was simply that she was so incredibly cool. Loose white T-shirt, tough military-green cargo pants, a style even edgier than most boys. Her face was fair and bright, lips red and teeth white — at a quick glance, one might genuinely mistake her for a boy. Fortunately, a certain playful spark between her brows still betrayed a girl’s spirited nature.

Yuan Xiaojie knew that praise worked on Rong Qian better than pressure. Even if she wasn’t thrilled, she was only complaining out loud — and so she went off contentedly to take photos.

For ending up with a literary-minded girl who was obsessed with all things vintage, Rong Qian could only count herself unlucky.

In the dream, Rong Qian wandered idly through the exhibition with nothing better to do. It was by pure chance that she noticed a camera sitting on top of a display counter — a very retro model.

Since it wasn’t inside a display case, Rong Qian assumed it was something that could be handled. She picked it up and weighed it in her hand — heavy, solid. After fiddling with it for a moment, she discovered it could actually take pictures. On a whim, she pointed it casually in a random direction, thinking she’d press the shutter just to try.

At that exact moment, a man stepped into the frame.

Rong Qian paused. The man was turned slightly sideways toward her, his head tilted gently upward — he appeared to be looking at the old photographs mounted on the wall. Yet even just a side profile was enough to make her catch her breath. Was there actually a man out there more handsome than she was?

He stood well above 185 centimeters, with long, straight legs and the build of a runway model. His clothes, however, were completely wrong for the season.

It was graduation season, the height of scorching July, yet he wore a vintage British-style deep brown trench coat layered over a white turtleneck sweater — looking, in every way, as though he had just walked out of a cold winter day.

Without even realizing it, Rong Qian pressed the shutter.

Click. A bright flash burst, and Rong Qian nearly jumped out of her skin. That sound was far too loud.

Then a soft whirring came from inside the camera — the photo appeared to be developing. Rong Qian studied the camera, wondering which slot the photo would come out from.

After a short while, a photograph slowly emerged.

Rong Qian stared at it. It was still blank — it seemed as though it needed to be shaken for the image to appear. She thought: just what era was this old camera from, anyway? It was taking forever to develop.

But before she could investigate further, a sudden gust of wind tore through from outside — carrying with it the biting cold of ice and snow, howling and fierce.

Yet the gust came as strangely as it vanished. In what felt like the span of a single breath, she blinked, and the wind was gone. Rong Qian frowned in bewilderment and looked around. The photograph was gone — blown away by the wind?

She had just begun to search for it when an elderly man in a Zhongshan suit came hurrying over, his expression flustered and anxious. With great care, he lifted the camera from her hands. “Oh my goodness, young miss! This camera is a genuine antique, decades old — please be careful not to drop it!”

“Decades old? And it still works?” Rong Qian asked in astonishment.

The old man couldn’t help but laugh. “How could it possibly? It broke down long ago.”

“Broke down?” Rong Qian said quickly. “But I just used it to take a photo!”

The old man only thought she was confused. A camera that worn-out and aged couldn’t possibly function. Rong Qian wanted to prove it — but when she looked closely, she realized the camera had changed.

The vintage style was the same, but it was older, more worn, more faded — clearly something that had been sitting untouched for decades.

Rong Qian was stunned. By reflex she looked up, hoping to find the man who could confirm that she had, in plain sight, pointed the camera at him and taken his picture. But no matter how she scanned the room, he was nowhere to be found.

Then something occurred to her, and Rong Qian shivered. She muttered under her breath: “Don’t tell me I’ve been possessed.”

“Qianqian!” Yuan Xiaojie came running over just then. Seeing Rong Qian’s vacant, shaken expression and the poor color of her face, she asked in concern, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Something completely bizarre just happened. It’s just… ugh, never mind, it’s nothing.” Rong Qian had been about to explain, but thought better of it. Given Yuan Xiaojie’s nerves, she decided not to scare her.

Yuan Xiaojie was puzzled, but since Rong Qian insisted it was nothing, she didn’t press the matter. Instead, she excitedly grabbed Rong Qian’s arm and pulled her along, saying she had spotted an old photograph with a man in it who was incredibly handsome.

Rong Qian followed along absentmindedly. Then Yuan Xiaojie pointed at a gold-framed old photograph inside one of the display cases, and Rong Qian’s gaze drifted over involuntarily.

The man in the photograph wore a vintage 1970s British-style coat and a white turtleneck sweater. His features were like something painted — refined, cultured, elegant. His head was tilted slightly upward, as though he were admiring the old photographs mounted on the wall.

Rong Qian’s pupils instantly widened. Wasn’t this the photo she had just taken? How did it end up here? Were her eyes playing tricks on her?

“What do you think? Isn’t he incredibly handsome?! There’s even a signature here, but I can’t make it out — it looks like there’s a ‘Long’ character, but I can’t read the first word…” Yuan Xiaojie chattered on, and Rong Qian stared at the photograph before suddenly speaking two words: “Wei Long.”

“Wei Long? Is that his name? He really is so, so handsome~” Yuan Xiaojie had completely dissolved into admiration.

Rong Qian swallowed. She felt a chill shoot straight from her feet to the top of her head, and she shuddered. She said to Yuan Xiaojie: “I think we should go. This place… there’s something off about it.”

“But I haven’t finished taking photos yet——”

Before Yuan Xiaojie could finish her sentence, Rong Qian had already grabbed her and started walking.

After they got back, Rong Qian fell ill.

She ran a high fever for several days. When she finally recovered, she had forgotten the whole incident entirely.

“And then what?”

Leaning against the pillows on the bed, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and reading a book, Shen Yi turned a page with unhurried calm.

“Don’t you think that’s incredible?” Rong Qian hugged his arm and nestled against him. She had just told him all of that, and this was his reaction?

Shen Yi thought for a moment, then asked her: “Didn’t you say you forgot after you got sick? How did you suddenly remember?”

“I think that’s strange too — it just came back to me out of nowhere. Don’t you have any memory of it at all?” The incident was so long ago that Rong Qian couldn’t even tell anymore whether it had been a dream or something that had really happened.

Shen Yi shook his head. “No. But I can look it up.”

With that, Shen Yi set down his book and picked up his phone — he had grown quite practiced at using it by now.

He searched for a while, and when he actually found the photograph, even he paused for a moment.

Rong Qian leaned over to look, and exclaimed: “It wasn’t a dream! It was real!”

“If that’s the photograph, then I do remember something.” Shen Yi said thoughtfully: “It must have been when I was twenty-four. I went to attend an art exhibition, and at some point I seemed to wander into an exhibition hall — I assumed it was something organized as part of the art show, so I didn’t pay much attention.”

“And then? And then?” Rong Qian asked eagerly.

Shen Yi turned to look at her and murmured quietly: “So it was you, all along.”

“Hmm?”

“A’Qian — it turns out that somewhere across time, I had already met an earlier version of you.” Shen Yi recalled how, upon hearing the sound of the camera’s shutter, he had turned his head.

He had seen a girl who looked very much like a boy — and Shen Yi had noticed immediately that her features bore a striking resemblance to his A’Qian.

He had been about to go over and say something to her, but at that moment, a fierce gust of wind had blown in from outside, and by the time he came to his senses, he found himself back at the art exhibition.

At the time, Shen Yi had found it strange but hadn’t thought much of it. It was only years later that he discovered just how far across time his connection to her had reached.

Rong Qian couldn’t help but ask: “Do you think — why were we able to travel through time and space, and still end up together like this?”

Shen Yi considered this, then said: “Perhaps because the longing was too deep.”

“Whose longing?”

Someone said, with absolutely no shame: “Mine.”

“Is that so? But if you hadn’t known me to begin with, where would the longing have come from?” Rong Qian poked holes in his logic.

Shen Yi only smiled, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then said: “If I had never met you, I would have remained unmarried my whole life — alone, solitary, growing old with no one beside me.”

“A’Qian — I have always been waiting for you.” He gazed at her with deep tenderness and quiet devotion.

Rong Qian had absolutely no defense against this. Whatever he said was right.

Still — if it truly was longing that had brought them here, Rong Qian thought, then her own share of it must have counted for something too.

And this made her suddenly think of the words engraved on the ring: The mortal world is too shallow; the longing, too deep…