Together, they edited the photos and captions, then pressed send simultaneously.

After refreshing their Moments feed, two almost identical new posts appeared one after another.

Cat Avatar: Posted by my girlfriend [photo]

Another Cat Avatar: Posted by my boyfriend [photo]

Lin Zhexia liked his post.

She was about to say, “Now I’m the first person to like it.”

But when she turned her head to look at Chi Yao’s phone screen, she discovered that, as if by tacit understanding, he was also liking her post.

On their way back to school, her phone kept vibrating.

After getting together with Chi Yao, this was the first time they had officially posted an announcement-type moment. Before, neither had deliberately posted anything, mainly because they were too familiar with each other, and those who needed to know already knew, so there was no particular need to make an announcement.

Lin Zhexia opened her Moments notifications and scrolled through the comments.

The first to comment was He Yang: [Thanks, I’m full.]

Then came childhood friends, as well as Xu Ting and others.

Xu Ting: [????]

Xu Ting: [Damn, is my internet too slow…]

Tang Shuxuan: [Wow, congratulations!]

…

Among the pile of comments were four from parents.

Lin He: Don’t take photos next time, you’re not as good-looking as him, and you look ugly in photos together.

Wei Ping replying to Lin He: Our daughter is quite pretty, they’re a perfect match.

Chi Hanshan replying to Lin He: Nonsense, our Chi Yao is the ugly one, always wearing a sour face, makes people feel unlucky just looking at him.

Bai Qin replying to Chi Hanshan: Though he does look unlucky, don’t say it out loud, leave some face for our son.

Lin He replies to Bai Qin: …

Lin Zhexia looked at this string of comments, returned to her dorm, and lay on her bed laughing for a long time—

Time after the winter break suddenly became very fast, as if the transition between seasons was always too quick to grasp. Spring passed briefly, then a dry wind blew through, followed by the first faint cicada calls.

In the blink of an eye, summer had arrived.

Everyone shed their heavy coats, and in this heat, the entire campus seemed to have more vitality.

That day after class, Lin Zhexia went to watch Chi Yao play basketball at the court.

Chi Yao had eventually been dragged by his former roommates to join a basketball club, while she had hesitated over choices and in the end simply hadn’t chosen any.

“Forget it,” she had said to Chi Yao in frustration at the time, “I won’t join any this year, we’ll see next year.”

Chi Yao neither agreed nor disagreed.

She had added, “Actually, this is good. I can use the extra time to study more.”

“Makes sense,” Chi Yao had replied with a slightly mocking tone, “after all, the clumsy bird needs to start flying early.”

“…”

As if she were, like in high school, deliberately setting a plan for herself.

The basketball court, which had been seldom visited in winter due to the cold weather, was once again packed with people.

Boys wearing T-shirts or jerseys crowded the court.

“Brother Yao, nice shot—”

Someone shouted, and then the youth who was the center of attention raised his hand to pull at his collar. Standing under the sun, even his hair strands were illuminated by the strong sunlight, and his light-colored pupils seemed to be filled with light.

Lin Zhexia had a bottle of water placed beside her.

Her seat was well-shaded by trees, not too sunny.

The first half quickly ended. When Chi Yao came off the court and walked past others towards her, she felt this scene was very familiar.

Chi Yao crouched in front of her, his hair damp with sweat, and he naturally reached for the bottle of water beside her.

Lin Zhexia looked up, staring at his Adam’s apple moving as he drank, and suddenly said: “I used to bring you water before, too.”

“You had such a bad personality back then,” she thought of high school and couldn’t help but accuse, “you even said you were allergic to other people’s water, and got discussed in forum posts.”

Chi Yao never visited forums.

As the center of such topics, he was completely indifferent to the “topics” themselves.

He asked: “What did they say about me?”

Lin Zhexia remembered clearly: “They cursed that you didn’t deserve to drink water.”

“…”

She continued: “But you were a bit excessive at that time.”

Chi Yao screwed the bottle cap back on and countered: “I was excessive?”

“Weren’t you?”

The second half was about to begin.

Someone in the center of the court called Chi Yao’s name.

As he stood up, Chi Yao tossed the mineral water bottle back into her arms: “I only wanted to drink water brought by the person I liked, how is that excessive?”

Lin Zhexia instinctively caught the water bottle with both hands, holding it to her chest.

Then she sat there in a daze, only realizing what he meant after he had returned to the court.

She remembered that back then, he already liked her.

So… he just wanted to drink water that she brought, but he couldn’t say it out loud, and didn’t know how to make the request.

His “liking” for her had always been in countless details that she overlooked—

Summer temperatures continued to rise, and cicada calls grew more intense.

After nearly a year at school, most people had thoroughly adapted to campus life, living and studying at Lian University free from the constraints of parents and teachers.

Free from constraints, everyone entered a stage where they could freely fall in love, and quite a few people successfully ended their single status during this period.

The second person in Lin Zhexia’s dorm to stop being single was Lan Xiaoxue.

Her personality was originally more outgoing; she often came and went like the wind, acting on impulse. After joining the skateboard club for a few months, she returned to the dorm announcing: “Friends, let me tell you some news, I’m no longer single.”

Lin Zhexia casually asked: “Who is it?”

Lan Xiaoxue: “It’s the skateboard club president, you’ve all met him before.”

“I don’t even want to comment on your taste anymore,” Qin Lei lifted the curtain, poking her head out, and said, “I just hope he’s a good person. After all, if he hurts you later, our entire dorm combined couldn’t beat him up for you.”

Lan Xiaoxue waved her hand: “He’s not that kind of person.”

Qin Lei: “He’d better not be that kind of person.”

In the end, Lan Xiaoxue’s relationship turned out differently from everyone’s expectations.

Two months later, she announced their breakup: “Friends, let me tell you another piece of news, I’m single again.”

“…”

Lin Zhexia, sitting at her desk, raised her head from a pile of assignments and asked: “Reason?”

Lan Xiaoxue sighed: “Love fades too quickly.”

“…”

Qin Lei: “Please speak human language.”

“We entered the cooling-off period,” Lan Xiaoxue said, “I felt it became boring, so we broke up.”

Lin Zhexia put down her pen: “Cooling-off period?”

The three words “cooling-off period” were unfamiliar to her.

She and Chi Yao had been dating for so long, and she had never considered this issue.

Lin Zhexia calculated the time and said: “But you’ve only been… together for two months.”

Lan Xiaoxue didn’t look heartbroken at all. Instead, she seemed relieved, flopping onto her bed: “Two months is already very long! A full two months, sixty days, enough time for the hormones sparking between people to completely dissipate.”

“…”

Lan Xiaoxue didn’t think there was anything strange about this: “Isn’t this very normal? When two people first meet, they always have lots to talk about, everything feels fresh, and even asking what takeout the other wants to order can lead to an animated conversation. But as time passes, the novelty wears off, you enter a cooling-off period, and there’s not so much to talk about anymore.”

“From about last week, our WeChat conversations became much less frequent,” Lan Xiaoxue recalled. “I tried to find topics, too, but later discovered that besides skateboarding, we had no other common ground. And even skateboarding together—club activities don’t happen every day, and there’s a lot of time outside of club activities. I found it boring, so I suggested breaking up.”

“He didn’t try to keep me either. We both understood, so we broke up.”

Lin Zhexia made an “oh” sound, and then before bed that night, she couldn’t help wondering if she and Chi Yao would have a cooling-off period.

She and Chi Yao had been together for so long, and they knew each other too well.

Would there be a moment when he would feel “bored” too?

…

Lin Zhexia fell asleep with these random thoughts.

The next day was the weekend, and she went to stay at Chi Yao’s place.

“Want to go out?” Chi Yao asked her.

Lin Zhexia shook her head: “It’s too hot. Making it here was already difficult enough.”

After a brief discussion, they decided to watch a movie at home.

She chose an old film with high ratings that she hadn’t seen before, then turned off the living room lights.

The air conditioning at home was set very cold, so she covered her legs with a blanket.

As the movie began, following the light source projected from the TV, Chi Yao habitually reached for her hand.

He leaned back slightly, appearing to watch the movie, but his hand never stopped moving, interlocking with her fingers, sometimes tightening, loosening to squeeze her knuckles. As if compared to the movie, her hand was a bit more interesting.

After playing for a while, he lowered his head to look at the hand nestled in his palm.

Lin Zhexia didn’t have the habit of wearing nail polish.

Her nail beds were clean, trimmed neatly and rounded, her fingers slender, even somewhat soft to the touch.

Lin Zhexia watched the movie while her head filled with what Lan Xiaoxue had said last night. So, with a testing intention that even she couldn’t fully understand, she discreetly withdrew her hand.

After a while, Chi Yao captured it again.

She pulled away once more.

This time, when he reached for her hand, he held it even tighter.

Lin Zhexia struggled a bit, trying to pull away again, but couldn’t free her hand.

She looked up at Chi Yao and found that he had been watching her the whole time.

With the living room lights off and curtains drawn, it was very dark, making his gaze seem very deep.

After a while, he spoke: “Do you have ADHD?”

“…”

“No.”

She confessed: “I heard that couples who have been together for a long time go through a cooling-off period. I wanted to see if you’re getting cold towards me.”

Rather than wanting to see, it would be more accurate to say she feared Chi Yao might enter a cooling-off period with her.

Chi Yao glanced away: “I take back what I just said, you don’t have ADHD.”

Lin Zhexia nodded, about to say, “Of course I don’t have ADHD.”

Immediately after.

Chi Yao’s next sentence was: “You have a brain problem.”

…

That was even worse than ADHD.

Chi Yao truly wanted to pry open her skull to see what was inside.

Lin Zhexia also felt her testing had been stupid and wanted to pretend nothing had happened. She tried to change the subject by pointing at the TV: “The main character is fighting someone, this part is important, I think we shouldn’t miss it.”

But no sooner had she finished speaking.

“Click.”

Chi Yao directly turned off the TV.

After the TV shut off, the entire living room became even darker. In the dim light, some kind of invisible pressure surged through the air.

Chi Yao held her hand, moving it downward, stopping at a certain position, his eyes locked on her: “Didn’t you want to see if I’m cooling off?”

Lin Zhexia’s hand suddenly became very hot. She wanted to pull back, but found herself unable to move.

Unlike winter, summer clothing was very thin. The light fabric couldn’t hide the temperature underneath, making the sensation in her palm even more intense. No matter how low the air conditioning was set, the temperature of their bodies kept rising.

“Let’s test how cool it is.”

Lin Zhexia tried to scoot to the side, saying softly: “…I don’t want to test anymore.”

“…”

No matter how much she said she didn’t want to “test,” she was still pressed against the sofa and “tested” once.

Her final impression of that day was Chi Yao stopping at a crucial moment to ask beside her ear: “Am I cool towards you?”

Not cool.

Not cool at all.

Lin Zhexia’s eyes reddened at the corners, her hand resting limply on his shoulder, only able to whimper, unable to speak a word.

Afterward, Chi Yao held her in his arms. Beneath the sofa were several crumpled tissues, the air filled with their intertwined scents. He didn’t move her again, but instead lowered his head to kiss the top of her head, asking: “Why would you think I might be cool towards you?”

“Because,” her voice was still a bit hoarse, “we’ve known each other for so long, and been together for so long…”

“Others say many people go through a cooling-off period after being together. So I’m afraid that one day, you might also feel that being with me isn’t like it was at the beginning, that maybe starting from some day, you’ll find it boring too.”

Chi Yao didn’t answer directly, instead asking: “How long have we known each other?”

Lin Zhexia counted, starting from when she was seven years old.

“Twelve years.”

They had known each other for twelve years now.

A full twelve years.

“In these twelve years, I’ve never found being with you boring, so even after another twelve years,” Chi Yao’s voice came from above her head, “and twelve years after that, I won’t find it boring.”

“Perhaps in the future I’ll find many things in this world gradually becoming less interesting—except for you, never you.”

Lin Zhexia stared up at Chi Yao in a daze.

She had forgotten.

They were different from everyone else.

When she was little, the cartoons she loved to watch, she no longer watches now. The mobile games she once obsessed over, even begging Chi Yao to help her sign in, had been abandoned unconsciously, and she never logged into that game account again.

A dessert shop had opened at the entrance of their residential area. At that time, she loved eating the taro bread there, thinking she would never tire of it even if she ate it for her whole life. But after dragging Chi Yao there for seven consecutive days, she declared she never wanted to see taro again in her life.

She also remembered how Chi Yao loved playing with Rubik’s cubes when he was little, but later never touched them again.

He had a phase where he was particularly fond of modifying things, but that enthusiasm barely lasted three months.

…

And countless other similar small things.

In the process of growing up, they indeed gradually found many things becoming “less interesting.”

Except for each other.

Just as Chi Yao said, they had already walked through such long years, and even if there were another twelve years, there would never be a day when they cooled off.