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Before moving to the county town, Qing Hang lived in a village.
In his second year of high school, on the day of Lidong (the beginning of winter), he returned to the village for some matters. Before finishing, he received a call from Cheng Wanyue. She was alone at home and had a fever.
There were no cars available in the village at night, so he walked all the way to the county town, arriving at dawn.
Cheng Wanyue didn’t know he wasn’t in the county town. After calling him, she waited and waited but didn’t see him. She was actually a bit angry.
It was her first time making a cake. The shape wasn’t pretty, the taste wasn’t great, the cream was unevenly spread, and the fruit pieces were unevenly cut. But she had spent a long time on it, wanting him to try a bite. He wasn’t celebrating a birthday, so if she directly asked him to come blow out candles and make a wish, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. That’s why she lied, saying she had a fever—something her friends had once done to her.
That Lidong day was particularly cold. She was woken early the next morning by the doorbell. Already in a bad mood from waking up, combined with the fact that her carefully prepared birthday surprise had fizzled out due to his absence, her temper was especially short.
But when she opened the door and saw his exhausted face, yet still filled with concern for her, all her irritation melted away.
Upon inquiry, she learned he had walked back overnight. The soles of his sneakers were worn out.
He hadn’t slept all night and insisted on taking her to the hospital before resting at home, despite her not having a fever. The cake was thrown into the trash.
One lie required another to cover it up. Back then, she could say anything, and he would believe her.
...
Cheng Wanyue had been leisurely sitting on a tall stool, drinking milk tea and listening to music. After Qing Hang asked her a few questions, she suddenly burst into tears without saying a word.
A tear dropped onto the back of her hand, leaving Qing Hang stunned.
His hands and feet felt stiff. When Cheng Wanyue jumped off the chair and into his arms, the force made him stumble half a step backward, bumping into a nearby chair. The legs of the chair scraped against the floor, producing an ear-piercing sound.
After a long while, he came to his senses and gently patted her back.
He quietly explained, “It’s not that I didn’t want to hurry more, but the roads were congested.”
“I know,” Cheng Wanyue sniffled. The call had been connected the whole time, and she could hear his side. He had gotten out of the car midway.
“It’s already past 10 PM. Should I take you home?”
“He didn’t hit me or touch me, just scolded me a bit. I can’t call the police,” she touched her face. “Look, I’m so pretty, young, and have a bit of money. What if he’s still lurking nearby? Such people, if they have bad intentions, are terrifying.”
Suddenly, the warmth in his arms disappeared. Qing Hang’s hands stiffened for a few seconds before falling to his sides. “Should you stay at my place for now?”
Cheng Wanyue hesitated. “...Isn’t that inappropriate? You only have two rooms, and there’s nowhere for me to sleep.”
Qing Hang averted his eyes. “Zhou Heng isn’t here; he’s on a business trip out of town.”
He added, “Wait until Cheng Yan Qing comes back, then you can return.”
Cheng Wanyue picked up her unfinished milk tea. “Alright, then I’ll stay at your place.”
As soon as she extended her hand, Qing Hang instinctively grabbed it. With the other hand, he helped her carry her bag, pushed open the door, and walked out. No matter how slow she walked, he matched her pace, but she still lagged behind, so he had to slow down even more.
The evening breeze at this hour was still unbearably hot. People and vehicles bustled along the road, blending them inconspicuously into the crowd.
“Are you thirsty?” Cheng Wanyue held the milk tea up to his mouth.
There was a faint lipstick stain on the straw. Qing Hang turned his head. “Not thirsty, drink it yourself.”
“I can’t finish it. Drinking too much affects sleep, and throwing it away would be wasteful. It’s only three-tenths sugar, not very sweet.”
The green light had just turned red, and they had to wait nearly a minute. She looked at him, her bright eyes devoid of any flirtation. Qing Hang averted his gaze, slightly lowered his head, and drank the remaining half of the milk tea. There were still a few pearls inside. After laboriously sucking the pearls into her mouth through the straw, she threw the empty cup into a nearby trash bin.
Cheng Wanyue had been to Qing Hang’s place before and knew approximately how far it was. “It’s hard to get a cab here. Shall we ride shared bikes?”
Qing Hang looked at her dress and high heels.
She also realized that riding a bike in this outfit would not only expose her easily but might also result in a nasty fall. “...Never mind.”
The red light ended, and Qing Hang stepped onto the crosswalk, pulling Cheng Wanyue along with him.
They were still holding hands.
Only after getting into the car did they let go.
The driver detoured around the congested road, adding ten extra minutes to the journey.
After exiting the elevator, Qing Hang took out his keys and opened the door.
Cheng Wanyue followed him inside. Qing Hang handed her a pair of slippers—the same pair he had been wearing the last time she visited.
“Why did you go to such an out-of-the-way place?”
“I wanted to buy some late-night snacks; I didn’t eat enough this afternoon.”
Qing Hang walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He had been very busy these past few days, eating both lunch and dinner at the hospital cafeteria. “There aren’t many ingredients at home. I can only make you a bowl of noodles.”
Cheng Wanyue didn’t hold back and plopped down on the sofa. “Am I eating alone?”
“I’ll eat too,” Qing Hang went to his room to fetch a clean towel for her and told her to freshen up first. “You sleep in this room tonight. Just make do for now. Tomorrow, I’ll find time to get your things and some clothes to change into.”
She was silent for a moment before slamming her phone facedown on the table.
“Qing Hang, I’m not sleeping with you tonight. We can kiss, but nothing more.”
The air fell silent.
The last time, when he gave her his shirt, it was just to prevent her from exposing herself, but she ended up taking off all her clothes and putting it on. This time, he offered her the room, and she thought he meant they would sleep together.
Qing Hang closed his eyes briefly, and his low sigh carried a clear note of helplessness. “What I meant was, you sleep on the bed, and I’ll sleep on the living room sofa.”
“...Oh,” she sighed too. “What should I wear after washing up?”
“You can pick something out yourself.”
“Can I wear anything?”
“Mm.”
Qing Hang had already fried the eggs and started boiling water for the noodles, but Cheng Wanyue was still leisurely searching through the wardrobe for clothes. She picked out a T-shirt, and as she reached the doorway, she glanced at Qing Hang’s back. After a moment’s thought, she went back and grabbed a pair of lightweight sweatpants.
The bathroom was small—just enough space for two men who didn’t need much.
On the counter were body wash, facial cleanser, a bottle of hair gel, and a razor. Aside from the body wash, the rest likely belonged to Zhou Heng.
“Qing Hang,” she didn’t open the door but called out to him from inside the bathroom. “I need to remove my makeup.”
There was no makeup remover at home, and there were no stores nearby either.
Qing Hang turned off the stove. “You wash up first.”
Their neighbors were a married couple with whom they rarely interacted. In the year Qing Hang had lived here, he had crossed paths with them fewer than five times.
He disliked troubling others and always found ways to solve problems on his own.
So when the neighbor opened the door and saw it was him, they were a little surprised. When they heard his polite request to borrow some makeup remover, their surprise deepened. He must have felt embarrassed because his ears turned red.
The female neighbor gave him a large dollop of makeup remover and even threw in a sheet mask.
When Qing Hang returned with the items, the sound of running water could already be heard from the bathroom.
He stood by the bathroom door and knocked.
“Just a moment,” Cheng Wanyue hadn’t locked the door. The towel he gave her was only slightly smaller than a hotel bath towel, and wrapped around her, it covered everything that needed covering.
When she opened the door and saw the white cream in his palm, she realized the sheet mask must have been expensive, so the makeup remover was likely high-quality too.
“Where did you get this?”
The bathroom was full of water stains, and Qing Hang avoided her gaze. He simply said, “Just this once. I’ll get your things tomorrow.”
Cheng Wanyue extended a finger to scoop some of the cream. Even without looking at her, Qing Hang could vividly feel the sensation of her fingertip sliding across his palm.
It tickled slightly.
“Leave the mask for now. My hands are wet. Help me spread the makeup remover all over my face,” she opened the door wider and closed her eyes as she leaned closer to him.
The towel was loosely tied, as if it might fall apart at any moment, but she didn’t bother holding it in place.
A drop of water rolled down her elegant swan-like neck, slowing as it descended until it was absorbed by the towel.
Qing Hang didn’t know that she could massage and wash it off herself after he applied it. She didn’t remind him, letting him slowly spread it evenly instead.
The air was filled with moisture, yet his mouth felt dry.
“Alright,” she suddenly opened her eyes, retreating while closing the door. “You can continue cooking.”
Cheng Wanyue took her time showering and eating. Her short hair didn’t require a hairdryer.
She brazenly occupied Qing Hang’s bedroom without the slightest hint of apology.
Qing Hang lay on the living room sofa. Without air conditioning in the living room, he began to sweat shortly after his shower. Cheng Wanyue opened the bedroom door to let the cool air flow into the living room.
She didn’t sleep in much clothing and had removed the sweatpants that were too long for her.
They used the same body wash, its faint fragrance lingering in the air. It was late before Qing Hang finally felt drowsy.
Even with her sleeping right beside him, he still felt it might all be a dream.
In the dream, it was still that muddy, rainy night.
He had waited in the alley for what felt like an eternity, long enough to forget the passage of time, unwilling to give up even the slightest chance. “Just wait a little longer,” he thought. “What if she remembers?” But in the end, she never showed up. Raindrops fell on his body, on his hair, each one pounding against his stubborn heart.
Every second of his longing for her felt like a raindrop hanging from the eaves, pulled downward by gravity yet reluctant to hit the ground.
After that night, he fell ill for half a month.
His grandfather had said to him, “Xiao Hang, the Cheng family has done us many favors. Yueyue is the little princess of the household, spoiled by everyone. She has a bit of a temper and can be delicate, but her nature isn’t bad. She’s a good child. You can indulge her, accommodate her, favor her, and treat her well—but you cannot fall in love with her.”
He had never revealed a single clue, yet his grandfather somehow saw through him.
Cheng Wanyue had completely forgotten about that missed appointment, occasionally trying to coax him. When he ignored her, she began to challenge him. This hidden battle under everyone’s noses dragged on for more than half a year, continuing even after he left Bai Cheng.
But in reality, the moment he began to fantasize about her belonging solely to him, he had already lost.
Unable to let go, yet unable to obtain.
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