CS - 65

Had you never thought it would be you?

...

Had you never thought that the person you kissed, the person you liked, was me all along?

Lin Zhe Xia stood stunned by these few words.

“You... kissed me?”

For a moment, Lin Zhe Xia’s mind went blank, then slowly started working again: “When? How did I not know?”

A group of people walked over from the back street, their laughter growing closer.

But these voices seemed to be separated by an invisible barrier. All Lin Zhe Xia could hear was Chi Yao’s voice.

The young man said in a low, cold tone:

“The day I left.”

Lin Zhe Xia’s memory followed his words back to more than a year ago.

That day, she had told Lin He to wake her up at all costs, but still overslept. By the time she woke up groggily, Chi Yao had already left.

Her impression of that day was just an empty room. An empty afternoon.

“The day you had a fever and were lying in bed, and I didn’t wake you up.”

As he spoke, Chi Yao released his grip on her chin.

He originally wanted to use this opportunity to tell her that he had liked her for a long time.

Unexpectedly, this person had been lost in thought, making him reconsider their relationship.

Upon hearing it was that day, Lin Zhe Xia became even more confused: “You took advantage of me while I was asleep and kissed me secretly?”

Chi Yao answered without the slightest embarrassment.

It took her some time to process these two pieces of information before asking: “Where did you kiss me?”

“Forehead.”

“...”

“You seem disappointed? I originally wanted to kiss somewhere else,” Chi Yao paused, “but then I thought better of it. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

After all, they hadn’t confirmed their relationship.

It would be inappropriate to take advantage of her unknowingly.

Moreover, that day he was too nervous, being very careful and reluctant to touch her.

Lin Zhe Xia was a little angry: “Who’s disappointed? I’m still condemning you for doing something inappropriate!”

Chi Yao: “Hmm, I retained a bit of conscience in the end.”

What made Lin Zhe Xia angrier was that her “first kiss” with Chi Yao happened when she was asleep. She had no memory of it at all.

Such an important event.

And she had no idea whatsoever.

“I was asleep when you kissed me,” she complained, her face flushed, “Why should only you remember? Doesn’t that mean I’m at a loss here?”

Chi Yao asked indifferently: “Then what do you want to do about it?”

...

How would she know what to do?

While Lin Zhe Xia was immersed in regret over missing her first kiss with Chi Yao, Chi Yao, who had just let go and slightly pulled back, leaned close to her again. Chi Yao was taller than her, so it was easy for him to lower his head and get close to her. Then, a light kiss landed on her forehead.

It was such a simple gesture.

He kissed her forehead, not any other place.

But from this feather-light kiss, she felt a sense of being deeply cherished.

The young man’s kiss was light and restrained, almost reverent.

His eyelashes lowered, casting a shadow beneath his eyes.

Lin Zhe Xia’s reactions had become slow since he spoke those few words. She blinked, then remembered she hadn’t asked him another question: “Back in high school, was the person you liked… me?”

Chi Yao didn’t answer directly.

After a moment, he straightened up and said before stepping back: “Tomorrow is the weekend. If you don’t have any other plans, I’ll take you to a few places.”

“Once we’ve been there, you’ll know.”

The first time Lin Zhe Xia escorted him back to the boys’ dormitory, Chi Yao didn’t let her walk all the way to the building. When they were still two paths away from the dormitory, he suggested walking her back instead.

“You don’t need to see me off,” Lin Zhe Xia found it troublesome. “This back-and-forth escorting feels silly.”

“Besides, the campus is very safe. It’s not late yet, and I can manage to get back on my own.”

Chi Yao let go of her hand: “Send me a message after you get to your dorm.”

Lin Zhe Xia waved at him: “Got it, hurry inside.”

On the way back to the girls’ dormitory, Lin Zhe Xia still felt her forehead inexplicably hot.

After returning to her dorm, she first sent Chi Yao a message saying, “I’m back in the dorm.” After washing up, she wondered where Chi Yao would take her the next day.

She couldn’t think of anything.

What kind of places would lead to her knowing the answers?

Before going to bed, she tapped Chi Yao on WeChat:

• Can you give me a hint?

• I’m afraid I won’t perform well tomorrow.

• Let me prepare in advance.

Catface only replied with two words:

• Sleep.

Lin Zhe Xia: … Oh.

But too many things had happened today, and she couldn’t fall asleep right away.

From shattered dreams and nearly breaking up, to discovering that the person she liked also liked her all along.

She turned over in bed and thought, Chi Yao actually liked her back in high school.

That person, always acting like a jerk.

Every day, annoying her, arguing with her.

But as she thought about it, she realized that Chi Yao had always been good to her.

And… it seemed that from a long time ago, he had only ever been good to her.

Lin Zhe Xia thought a lot. Finally, out of boredom, she stared at Chi Yao’s cat profile picture for a while and searched online for similar avatars. There were plenty of cat pictures like that online, and she found one of the same breed, saved the image, opened her own profile picture, and changed it.

Her original avatar was a simple cartoon ghost face she had set when she first activated WeChat.

After changing to the new avatar, she reviewed their chat history again.

All cat faces.

They looked like they belonged together.

The next day, Lin Zhe Xia woke up early.

Lan Xiao Xue and the others were still in bed, discussing ordering breakfast: “Let’s order together, it’s too lazy to go to the cafeteria. What do you want to eat, Xia Xia?”

She suddenly remembered Lin Zhe Xia might go out to eat: “Are you eating with your brother? By the way, did you resolve your argument from yesterday?”

“It’s sort of resolved,” Lin Zhe Xia tied her hair into a ponytail and said, “…It was a misunderstanding on my part. He’s probably, uh, not a jerk.”

Lan Xiao Xue: “He doesn’t look like one. Can you imagine a standoffish jerk who doesn’t even let anyone add him as a friend? It’s hard to imagine how such a person could be a jerk.”

“…”

In fact, she couldn’t imagine either.

What she hadn’t expected was that she had been jealous of herself yesterday.

“Are you going out today?” Lan Xiao Xue saw her tying a scarf around her hair and asked, “Do you want me to do your makeup?”

“No need,” Lin Zhe Xia thought about how their last date with Chi Yao wasn’t long ago, and if she dressed up heavily today, it would seem excessive. “…Besides, today isn’t exactly a date.”

She ate with Chi Yao at the school cafeteria, then took a car to the school gate.

At first, she didn’t know where they were heading, but since they were taking a taxi, it shouldn’t be too far, at least within the city.

“How long will it take?” she asked.

“Two hours.”

As Chi Yao spoke, he added, “If you’re sleepy, you can lean on me and rest.”

“Forget it, I’ll review some vocabulary,” Lin Zhe Xia’s intense focus on studying from her senior year of high school continued until now. Recalling a previous ride with him, she said, “I don’t want you calling me a pig again.”

Chi Yao suddenly said: “That time, I was the one who let you lean on me.”

“…?”

Chi Yao added, “My shoulder.”

Lin Zhe Xia thought about that day, when she felt something lightly touch her in her sleep—it wasn’t a dream: “So why did you frame me? You’re really despicable.”

Halfway through the journey, the scenery outside the window became familiar.

Lin Zhe Xia lifted her head from the vocabulary app, spotting the famous landmark in Cheng’an District in the distance.

She had lived in Cheng’an District for so many years and was extremely familiar with the nearby roads and some iconic buildings.

She didn’t expect Chi Yao to bring her back to Cheng’an: “…Why are we here?”

“You’re not taking me home, right?” Lin Zhe Xia said. “My mom is working today, and Uncle Wei isn’t home either.”

Chi Yao didn’t specify where they were going, only saying: “I’m not taking you home.”

They were still ten kilometers away from their destination.

Lin Zhe Xia stared out the window and noticed that their car had been turning corners all along, finally entering a road she could walk with her eyes closed.

The road outside the car window seemed to stretch endlessly according to her memories—familiar road signs, brick paths, the school gate, and the words “Cheng’an No. 2 High School” visible from afar.

Lin Zhe Xia, dressed in her casual clothes with her hair tied up, stood in front of her high school, feeling somewhat dazed.

She watched as Chi Yao greeted the security guard, asking if graduates were allowed inside.

The old guard remembered them both and smiled, saying: “Oh, it’s you two—I remember seeing you come to school together every day. Go ahead. But today’s the weekend, so no classes are being held. If you want to see your teachers, make sure they’re on campus first.”

Chi Yao said: “Thank you, sir.”

It felt strange to return to Cheng’an No. 2 High School as university students.

Back in Cheng’an, students were required to wear uniforms.

Every day was spent sitting in classrooms preparing for the college entrance exam.

There were countless school rules.

Lin Zhe Xia clutched her shoulder bag tightly. As they passed by the bulletin board, she glanced at it and noticed a new list of incoming freshmen posted there.

Even on weekends, a few students could still be seen walking around the campus.

“Hurry up—we have a blackboard competition next week. The neighboring class has already finished theirs, so we need to finish ours today.”

“Got it—”

Though they had just graduated, it felt like an insurmountable distance separated them from their high school days now.

Lin Zhe Xia followed behind Chi Yao: “Where exactly are we going? To the classroom? Why did you bring me here? Did you leave some kind of message on the rooftop too?”

When Lin Zhe Xia mentioned the rooftop, she was referring to a sort of “lawless zone.” There was a white wall up there where people often scribbled graffiti, especially during graduation season when everyone went up to “leave messages.”

“I wasn’t that idle,” Chi Yao said.

Lin Zhe Xia couldn’t help but tease: “You look pretty free to me today.”

Finally, Chi Yao led her into a teaching building. Once inside, he told her: “Close your eyes.”

“So mysterious…”

“…”

She closed her eyes and let him lead her up a few steps, then down a corridor.

Eventually, Chi Yao stopped her in a certain spot.

“Stay here,” he whispered near her ear as he leaned down. “Don’t open your eyes until I tell you.”

Lin Zhe Xia nodded.

While waiting for Chi Yao to give her the signal, she wondered which classroom this might be based on their earlier route.

After a while, the first sound she heard wasn’t Chi Yao’s voice but a crackling noise from faulty wiring.

Following the static, someone casually tapped the microphone.

The dull thud of the tap traveled through the wires, and then a low voice called into the mic: “Testing.”

Then, he said: “You can open your eyes now, girlfriend.”

When Lin Zhe Xia opened her eyes, she found herself standing in the school auditorium.

The No. 2 High School auditorium was just as she remembered it.

Row after row of seats stretched out, with a stage performance area at the front. Red velvet curtains hung on either side of the stage.

Her memories of this auditorium were vivid because many significant moments had taken place here during her high school years—the first time she mustered the courage to participate in a speech contest, the first time she led her class in a poetry recitation during the school anniversary, and the first time… she heard Chi Yao sing on stage.

But unlike those times when the auditorium was filled with people—thousands of spectators seated below, making the space lively—now it was empty.

The only audience member was her.

Chi Yao stood in the center of the stage. He’d somehow found an old guitar and set the microphone on a stand. His fingers pressed across the strings, and the familiar intro melody began to flow.

Just from the intro, Lin Zhe Xia recognized the song—it was Midsummer Night .

Sure enough, as Chi Yao lowered his gaze, the first line he sang was: “Remember that summer when my heart first skipped a beat.”

“You stumbled in / Beyond description”

“…”

“The midsummer breeze / Concealing chaos”

Lin Zhe Xia froze in place.

The scene before her slowly overlapped with her memories.

The boy on stage looked much the same as he did back then. Spotlights shone down on him, illuminating his entire being.

And this time, she was the only one in the audience.

It was as if this person on stage had come here just for her.

Chi Yao’s voice carried far through the vast emptiness of the auditorium.

“And I remain stuck / In the space-time chasing you.”

Chi Yao was responsible for only half of the song, so when his part ended, the music gradually faded.

…

He lowered the hand holding the guitar, but his voice continued. Through the microphone, it echoed clearly across most of the auditorium, reaching her ears: “During the school anniversary program sign-ups, I originally didn’t want to participate. But someone told me they wanted to see me on stage.”

“This song, from the very beginning, was meant for only one person to hear. That person is Lin Zhe Xia.”

Lin Zhe Xia felt an overwhelming sense of unreality, stemming from the overlap of past and present.

She recalled fragments of a distant conversation.

—”Besides, I really hope you’ll go on stage.”

—”...You want to see me perform?”

As Chi Yao spoke, that sense of unreality slowly dissipated, and the two stages merged completely in that moment.

So her earlier feeling hadn’t been an illusion.

The dazzling young man she had secretly photographed from the crowd, hiding among thousands of others, had truly come here for her.

The person she had secretly captured, fantasizing about keeping all to herself…

Had always belonged to her alone.

After a moment, Lin Zhe Xia blinked, pushing back the tears that had welled up unexpectedly: “So this is the place you wanted to bring me to?”

“When I asked you about it earlier, you said it was to showcase your charm on stage.”

Chi Yao: “I didn’t dare back then.”

Lin Zhe Xia: “Didn’t dare what?”

“To say I liked you,” Chi Yao looked at her from the stage. “I was afraid it would make you uncomfortable.”

That certainly would’ve been awkward.

If she hadn’t realized her own feelings for him at the time, they might not have even remained friends.

Lin Zhe Xia opened her mouth to say something, but Chi Yao interrupted her: “There’s another place I want to take you besides here.”

Another place besides the auditorium.

Lin Zhe Xia couldn’t even guess the auditorium, let alone the other location.

She held Chi Yao’s hand tightly as they walked, asking: “Where is it? Tell me secretly, and I’ll pretend I don’t know.”

Chi Yao: “After all these detours, you might as well stay clueless.”

“…”

Their next destination was also quite far away.

The scenery outside the window was unfamiliar, and she could only judge their direction based on the car’s path—they were heading toward the outskirts.

The outskirts… places she and Chi Yao had visited together…

She caught glimpses of fragmented memories but couldn’t confirm anything.

Until she dozed off in the car and woke up just as they arrived at their destination. Looking out the window, she saw the five large characters: “Luo Mountain Botanical Garden.” Only then did she realize it was here.

But why had Chi Yao brought her here?

Was it because they had once made a pinky promise here?

Lin Zhe Xia couldn’t figure it out, and Chi Yao didn’t give her time to think. He opened the car door and led her out. After buying tickets at the entrance, he took her hand and guided her inside.

In the afternoon, there weren’t many tourists at Luo Mountain Botanical Garden.

Lin Zhe Xia passed by the hydrangea bushes at the entrance. This year’s flowers were similar to last year’s but slightly different in color.

She remembered how last time, she had crouched here, and Chi Yao had taken a “landscape photo” of her—which he later used as his phone wallpaper.

“Were you pretending back then too?” Lin Zhe Xia finally caught on. “Pretending to take a landscape photo, but actually, you were so smitten with me that you couldn’t help but capture my beautiful face.”

“…”

Chi Yao glanced at her but didn’t deny it. Instead, he teased: “You’re really good at flattering yourself.”

Lin Zhe Xia: “If you liked me back in high school, then my assumption is entirely reasonable.”

Finally, Chi Yao brought her to the wishing tree.

The tree was covered in red wishing ribbons.

The summer sunlight remained intense, casting vibrant hues over the sea of red ribbons. Countless wishes fluttered in the wind, occasionally rustling softly.

Chi Yao led her to search under the tree for a long time.

There were so many ribbons that even if you remembered the exact spot, dozens were hung in each position. New ones were added daily, so finding the one he’d hung over a year ago was difficult.

“I’ll help you look,” Lin Zhe Xia stood nearby, eager to assist. “I can recognize your handwriting anyway.”

Just then, Chi Yao’s hand paused as he sifted through the ribbons.

Then, using two fingers to pinch one particular ribbon, he turned his head and called her over: “Come here.”

It took Lin Zhe Xia a moment to realize he wanted her to see the wish he had written.

Chi Yao’s ribbon was hung high up. She tiptoed closer, about to read it, when he said: “Even if you couldn’t recognize my handwriting, you’d still find it.”

Almost as soon as his words fell, Lin Zhe Xia saw her own name on the ribbon.

She recognized the handwriting immediately:

—”Lin Zhe Xia, I like you.”

The world spun around her at the sight of those words.

She recalled the day she had tried to find Chi Yao’s wish but failed.

Both of them had hidden their wishes.

This towering ancient tree, filled with countless hopes, had concealed the shy confession of a young boy all those years ago.

After reading the wish, Lin Zhe Xia lost her balance from standing on her tiptoes. Her hand slipped, and the red ribbon fell back into the layers of red ribbons.

She whispered: “So… this was your wish that year.”

Sunlight reflected in the boy’s eyes, casting a fiery glow.

Chi Yao looked down at her: “Confessing to you that day wasn’t part of my plan.”

“It might’ve been a bit rushed,” he said, “but my feelings for you weren’t sudden, nor were they an illusion.”

“If you feel insecure, afraid that my feelings for you are just an illusion, then let me confess to you again, properly.”

His voice carried on the wind: “I like you. I’ve wanted to remove your hair tie for a long time. You’ve been my top priority since middle school. The first time I wanted to kiss you was in Haicheng, when you pulled me into the safety staircase.”

“Coward. In all the moments and instants you didn’t know about, I’ve already confessed to you countless times.”

At this moment, Lin Zhe Xia’s lingering uncertainty finally turned into certainty.

So the hair tie hadn’t been a coincidence.

The “always” she’d been pinned at the top of his contacts list had started way back then.

…

Even their first kiss in the safety staircase had been premeditated.

She gradually stopped hearing the rest of what Chi Yao said—it didn’t matter anymore. Acting purely on instinct, Lin Zhe Xia reached out and tugged at Chi Yao’s collar. He froze for a moment, then obediently bent down, letting her pull him closer.

The next second, her lips met his, silencing the remaining words.

In that instant of the kiss, she thought:

She had finally caught the wind.

And fulfilled the birthday wish she once believed impossible.