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The sound of a vibrating phone rang out. It was an unfamiliar number from Beijing.
Cheng Wanyue lay on the bed, watching the screen light up, then watched it fade.
She knew the caller wouldn’t try again. After saving the number to her contacts, she went about her routine—washing up, applying a face mask while listening to music, and blow-drying her hair. Before bed, she found his WeChat account by adding him as a contact.
They weren’t friends yet, so she could only see his profile picture and WeChat name.
His profile picture was simple: a black crescent moon drawn against a plain white background.
His WeChat name was equally simple: lune.
Cheng Wanyue clicked [Add], then turned off the light and went to sleep.
During her middle school years, she had been the champion of staying up late. Going to bed early and waking up 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 usually slept well.
Last night, Cheng Yan Qing had stayed up late working on a proposal. In the morning, Cheng Wanyue woke up first. Her foot was already able to walk normally. After brushing her teeth, she closed the kitchen door and started toasting bread, frying two eggs as well. Cheng Yan Qing didn’t like milk, so he drank coffee in the morning.
He ate quickly, rushing off to work, and told Cheng Wanyue to leave the dishes in the sink for him to wash when he returned.
Biting into half a slice of bread, Cheng Wanyue picked up her phone and opened WeChat. She saw that the other party had accepted her friend request at 2:16 AM.
She had gone to bed at 10 PM.
The chat interface showed only a system notification: I’ve accepted your friend verification request. Now we can start chatting.
She sat down on the sofa and began browsing his Moments.
There was nothing but medical articles.
After finishing her bread, Cheng Wanyue selected a sticker from her phone and sent it over.
…
Zhou Heng had rushed out last night, no one knew where he had gone. He returned in the morning reeking of cigarettes and alcohol.
Originally, he planned to wash up and sleep, intending to stay in bed until the afternoon. Seeing that Qing Hang had cooked porridge, he decided to have breakfast first.
They chatted about matters in their department. Hospital leadership wanted them to prioritize patients while also pushing them to conduct research. Nowadays, promotions required publications. Zhou Heng asked Qing Hang about the progress of an article he submitted two months ago, but Qing Hang appeared distracted.
For Qing Hang, his phone was merely a communication tool for making calls and receiving messages. He usually only paid attention to the latest developments in the medical field, rarely went online, and certainly didn’t suffer from internet addiction.
But today, he brought his phone to the dining table and checked it every few minutes.
“Why do you keep looking at your phone? Did something happen with the new patient?”
“No.” Qing Hang put away his phone, feeling somewhat like he was trying to deceive himself. But Zhou Heng, suffering from a hangover, wasn’t sharp enough to notice anything unusual.
“I’m going to catch up on sleep,” Zhou Heng yawned as he headed back to his room. “Don’t call me for lunch or dinner. I’ll figure it out myself when I wake up.”
It was the weekend, and the child upstairs doing homework had already started crying. In a little while, they would likely begin practicing the piano. However, these noises didn’t affect Zhou Heng much; he was the type who could sleep through anything.
The phone vibrated.
Qing Hang turned off the faucet and picked up his phone without even drying his hands. Her profile picture was a photo of herself, smiling happily as she held a cat. Three years ago, she had posted this same picture on her social media, and from the caption, it seemed the cat belonged to Zhou Yu and Cheng YuZhou.
The kitchen faced the sun, and sunlight had already reached the sink. Qing Hang’s body was half-bathed in sunlight as he stared at the red circle with the number “1” on her profile picture. After a long moment, he finally opened the message.
She had sent a sticker of a yellow Teletubby swinging on a swing.
His hands were wet, making the touchscreen unresponsive. Before he could reply, she sent another message: Hello, Qing Hang.
Qing Hang typed back: Hello.
Their exchange was formal, like two new internet users who had never met.
He kept mistyping, deleting, and retyping. A simple six-character response took him a full minute.
lune : How’s your foot injury?
Y : It doesn’t hurt anymore. Can I pick up the dress I left at your place today?
lune : Sure.
Y : What time is convenient for you?
lune : I’m free today. Anytime works for me. When are you available?
Y : 7 PM?
lune : Okay.
A few minutes later, she changed the time: 6:30?
lune : Mm.
Y : Make it 6 then.
lune : Alright.
Cheng Wanyue didn’t explain the unanswered call from last night, and Qing Hang didn’t ask.
The kitchen was stifling, and sweat had already formed on his forehead. After finishing cleaning the dishes and drying his hands, he returned to the bedroom, placing the neatly folded dress into a clean paper bag.
Despite having done so much, it was only 9 AM when he checked the time.
…
Cheng Wanyue was the epitome of fickleness—she quickly grew tired of clothes no matter how much she initially liked them. Though she had arrived in Beijing with only one suitcase, her closet was nearly full within two months.
After changing into an outfit she was satisfied with, she began pairing shoes. She owned several pairs of flats and occasionally wore slippers for short outings. The doctor had advised her not to wear high heels recently, but she still chose a pair of black heels.
While applying makeup, she called Cheng Yan Qing.
“Brother, I won’t be eating dinner at home tonight. Go out drinking with your colleagues.”
She had been cooped up at home all week, and Cheng Yan Qing had come straight home after work, repeatedly declining invitations to dinners with colleagues. In his line of work, such social gatherings were unavoidable. Constantly refusing invitations might make others think he was aloof.
“Going on a date?”
“Yeah.”
Cheng Yan Qing simply reminded her to be safe. “Keep your phone on, and no matter how late you stay out, make sure he drops you off at the door.”
“He might not listen to me.”
“Handle him. Tame him.”
Cheng Wanyue said, “Alright, I’ll try.”
She picked a white bag and sent Qing Hang a message before leaving: I’m heading out.
Qing Hang sent her a location—it was nearby.
Cheng Wanyue hadn’t walked far from her building before spotting him. She slowed her pace and looked down at her phone.
The locust trees lining the road were beautiful, their shadows dappling the ground, swaying gently in the evening breeze.
This was a pedestrian walkway, but some people took shortcuts, riding electric scooters from behind. The rider was also looking at their phone and was about to collide with her, but she remained oblivious, neither dodging nor avoiding. Qing Hang rushed over in a few quick steps, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to the inner side.
Startled, she stood frozen. Only after the scooter had passed did Qing Hang release her hand.
“Playing on your phone while walking is dangerous. Pay attention to where you’re going.”
Cheng Wanyue smiled. “Isn’t that why I have you here?”
Qing Hang didn’t respond. He glanced down at her high heels, his brow slightly furrowing.
She took the paper bag, opened it, and gave it a quick glance. “You even washed it for me.”
“I did it while washing my own clothes,” he said.
“This fabric isn’t easy to wash,” Cheng Wanyue closed the bag. “It’s almost dinner time anyway. Let me treat you to hot pot.”
Qing Hang agreed without much thought.
He took the paper bag back and carried it himself.
They walked along the tree-lined path. As people passed by, he moved closer, occasionally brushing against her hand.
Cheng Wanyue remembered her school days. Every Monday morning after the flag-raising ceremony, the stairwells were crowded, much like the rush after evening study sessions ended. People were packed tightly together, bumping elbows and jostling for space.
He used to walk silently beside her, secretly slipping notes into her hand.
Only she and he knew about it.
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