Yin Liuguang sat with one hand in his pocket and the other playing with his phone.
His long legs were bent as he childishly rocked his chair back and forth.
Opening his contacts list, the name [Yan Mo] was pinned at the very top.
Their conversation had remained frozen for three years.
Yin Liuguang lowered his eyes and scrolled through it absentmindedly.
At the beginning—
Most of the messages had been from Yan Mo.
Back then, he had just been discovered by a talent scout.
Yan Mo had been so naggy.
Reminding him about his clothes.
Reminding him to eat.
Reminding him not to argue with teammates.
Whenever he ranked first in a vote, Yan Mo would become excited for days.
The phrase he heard most often was:
“Liuguang, you’re definitely going to become famous!”
Obviously.
Yin Liuguang thought impatiently.
Of course I am.
Isn’t that obvious? Why does he keep repeating it? Is Yan Mo suffering from early dementia or something?
How boring.
Yan Mo’s messages looked like endless essays.
Whenever Yin Liuguang felt like it, he would reply with a simple “Mm” or “Got it.”
When he didn’t feel like it, he ignored them entirely.
Later—
He became famous.
His debut was an instant success.
Yan Mo still nagged him.
Reminding him to respect senior artists.
Not to work too hard.
Not to be too stubborn.
Not to lose his temper.
The phrase he heard most often changed into:
“I wish we could meet someday…”
No thanks.
Yin Liuguang answered silently in his heart.
He didn’t want to listen to Yan Mo’s endless nagging.
The messages were already annoying enough.
Meeting in person would probably be even worse.
Yan Mo told him he had saved up enough money to buy a ticket for his concert.
Please.
Yin Liuguang had stacks of those tickets.
He had simply forgotten to give him one.
Yan Mo said he had finally learned how to take a plane.
That he could finally come see him.
Seriously?
What kind of person reaches that age without knowing how to fly? Some country bumpkin?
A mischievous thought suddenly crossed Yin Liuguang’s mind.
What would happen if he pretended not to be in the company building?
What if he deliberately didn’t meet him?
Haha.
Would this guy cry?
So Yin Liuguang stood beside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the company building.
And watched.
He watched Yan Mo sit helplessly on the steps outside.
Checking his phone repeatedly.
Sending messages.
Making calls.
At some point, Yin Liuguang went to sleep.
When he woke up, it was already evening.
Yan Mo was still there.
Seriously?
He sat there all day?
Doesn’t he even know how to find a restaurant or a hotel? Yan Mo is so stupid.
Later, Yin Liuguang watched the young man leave with his head lowered in disappointment.
And laughed until his stomach hurt.
He wasn’t being malicious.
He simply thought it was amusing.
That was just who Yin Liuguang was.
Raised amid excessive pampering and privilege.
Childishly selfish.
Possessing the innocent cruelty of someone who never had to consider consequences.
And—
A person obsessed with appearances.
Yin Liuguang genuinely thought Yan Mo was ugly.
Like an ugly duckling.
After turning on his phone and seeing countless messages and missed calls, Yin Liuguang casually replied:
“Oh, I was upstairs.”
“But my manager said exposing a relationship would be bad.”
“Can’t be helped~”
And then—
Yan Mo really never came to visit him at the company again.
Later still, Yin Liuguang discovered a newly debuted celebrity who was very beautiful.
His conversations with Yan Mo became even fewer.
Beneath countless long messages—
There wasn’t a single reply from him.
Eventually, even Yan Mo’s messages became less frequent.
The long essays became simple encouragements.
The encouragements became awkward greetings.
And then—
The messages stopped entirely.
Three years ago.
The beautiful young celebrity wanted Yin Liuguang to break up with Yan Mo.
Without much thought, Yin Liuguang sent a breakup message.
On the other end, it was as if Yan Mo had finally snapped.
Message after message poured in.
Long paragraphs.
Phone calls.
The young celebrity took Yin Liuguang’s phone.
Others passed it around.
They laughed endlessly at Yan Mo’s sincere and outdated words.
“So cheesy!”
“Hahaha, this is the ultimate simp behavior.”
“Liuguang, he really cares about you!”
They teased him.
Yin Liuguang remained indifferent.
Even a little pleased.
He let them read the messages.
The confessions.
The worries.
The concern.
“Ew, so embarrassing!”
“I’ve got goosebumps!”
The final message—
Like the lingering warmth of a dying flame after fierce emotions had burned out.
Another long essay.
The kind Yin Liuguang hated reading.
Yan Mo asked him:
“Do you know how to take a plane?”
What a weird question.
Three thousand words of pleading and heartbreak.
And the boy he liked replied with only three words:
“So annoying.”
“…”
“…”
From that day onward—
The world suddenly became quiet.
Yan Mo truly stopped bothering him.
The text messages disappeared.
The notifications vanished.
The phone calls never came again.
At first, Yin Liuguang couldn’t care less.
The entertainment industry was full of beautiful men and women.
Why would he chase after an ugly duckling?
He thought Yan Mo would never leave.
He thought Yan Mo would be the first one to reach out.
But after Yin Liuguang quickly grew tired of countless heavily made-up faces—
Tired of overpowering perfume.
Tired of fake smiles.
Tired of the filthy schemes and endless manipulation of the glamorous world—
He finally remembered there had once been someone like Yan Mo.
Opening their chat history again, he discovered something.
Yan Mo was gone.
Embarrassed and unwilling to admit defeat, Yin Liuguang sent him a message.
He assumed Yan Mo would reply immediately.
But he didn’t.
Being the spoiled young master that he was, Yin Liuguang became angry too.
He stopped trying.
He convinced himself Yan Mo was deliberately waiting for him to speak first.
One month.
Two months.
Three months…
“Fine, fine!”
“I admit you win, okay?”
“So annoying.”
Pouting, Yin Liuguang finally called Yan Mo.
The automated message telling him the number no longer existed caught him completely off guard.
At first, he exploded in anger.
He even wore a dark expression during work.
After a period of silence, he began trying to find traces of Yan Mo again.
Then, very suddenly—
As he searched through his memories, he realized something.
He didn’t know any way to contact Yan Mo except through WeChat and his phone number.
He didn’t know where Yan Mo lived.
He didn’t know where he liked to go.
He didn’t know what food he liked.
What movies he liked.
Who his favorite singer was.
He didn’t even—
The confused Yin Liuguang blinked.
He couldn’t remember what Yan Mo looked like anymore.
It had been too long since they had seen each other.
He always felt as though Yan Mo was nearby.
As if turning around would be enough to find him.
But when he thought carefully, the last time he had seen his unattractive boyfriend was outside the company building.
That blurry figure.
Walking away in disappointment.
What did Yan Mo look like again?
Yin Liuguang desperately searched his memory.
But every time he tried, sunlight seemed to fall across Yan Mo’s face, making it impossible to see clearly.
How were you supposed to find someone who had once been close to you—
Someone you no longer contacted—
Someone whose face you couldn’t even remember?
He asked his manager.
“Look at photos.”
“If you were really close before, you must have taken pictures together.”
Right!
Photos!
Master Yin instantly brightened up.
Excitedly, he opened his photo album.
More than a thousand pictures.
He scrolled from top to bottom.
From beginning to end.
And by the time he reached the last photo—
The smile disappeared from Yin Liuguang’s face.