Yan Ting lowered his gaze, staring at the shadow stretched out long by the streetlight on the ground.
Smoke rose from between his fingers, scattering and gathering again in the night breeze.
He thought back to the conversation just now.
Asked about school—she dodged the question.
Asked for a photo—said it wasn’t convenient.
Claimed she wanted to pursue him, but wouldn’t even send a selfie.
Any other time, he would have deleted her already.
But for some reason today, he’d actually replied to every single message.
Yan Ting put the cigarette back between his lips, squinted up at the flickering streetlamp overhead, and exhaled a stream of smoke.
“It’s a girl,” he said.
Shen Xing raised an eyebrow, about to ask how he knew, but seeing the look on Yan Ting’s face, he swallowed the words back down.
He’d known Yan Ting for years. Yan Ting never said anything he wasn’t sure about.
If he said it was a girl, then it was definitely a girl.
As for how he knew, Shen Xing decided not to ask.
Yan Ting stubbed out the cigarette on the handlebar of his motorcycle, swung a long leg over the seat, and pulled on his helmet.
“Later.”
On the third day of summer break, Xu Yuan woke up because of the sun.
Her room faced east, and the curtains were the light cotton-linen ones she’d bought while shopping last year—they didn’t block much light, and she couldn’t be bothered to change them.
Before seven in the morning, sunlight had already spread across her bed like an uninvited guest.
She rolled over, buried her face in her pillow, and let out a whimper.
Then she rolled over again, and finally resigned herself to sitting up.
Her hair was a mess like a bird’s nest, and her face still had the sticky residue from last night’s sleeping mask.
She got out of bed with a yawn, slipped on her slippers, and opened the door.
The aroma of congee was already drifting through the hallway.
Her father, Xu Guojian, was fussing over his plants on the balcony—he’d never quite figured out how to keep flowers alive, though he’d managed to keep quite a few flower shops in business.
Her mother, Sun Huilan, was busy in the kitchen. Without even turning her head, she knew who it was just from the footsteps: “Up already? Go wash your face and brush your teeth, then come eat breakfast.”
Xu Yuan mumbled an acknowledgment and shuffled into the bathroom.
The face in the mirror was a bit puffy, eyes a bit swollen too—the price she paid for staying up late last night.
She squeezed out some toothpaste and brushed her teeth in front of the mirror, her mind still organizing words.
What should I post today?
The last message she’d sent last night was “good night,” and Yan Ting hadn’t replied.
This was already the third day in a row—she sent good night, and he pretended not to see it.
At first she thought maybe he’d fallen asleep, but when he didn’t reply the next day either, that meant he wasn’t not seeing it—he was deliberately ignoring it.
Why deliberately ignore it?
She figured there were two possibilities.
One: he really didn’t want to reply.
Two: he wanted to reply but didn’t know how, so he just didn’t bother.
Xu Yuan leaned toward the second one.
Because she’d noticed something about Yan Ting—if he truly didn’t want to deal with you, he’d just say “get lost” directly. He never beat around the bush.
The fact that he didn’t reply actually meant the word had some effect on him.
Haha, she was so smart.
She rinsed her mouth, then grinned at herself in the mirror, showing two rows of white teeth.
“Hurry up!” Sun Huilan called from outside.
“Coming, coming.”
Xu Yuan washed her face, slapped on some toner and lotion, tied her hair into a low ponytail, and sat down at the dining table.
Xu Guojian washed his hands and came over to sit down, glancing at her. The father-daughter morning eye-contact ritual concluded there.
Sun Huilan walked over carrying a pot of congee, set it on the table, and the moment she lifted the lid, the fragrance of rice hit them in the face.
“Why are you up so early today? Don’t you usually sleep till nine or ten?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Xu Yuan took the bowl of congee, scooped up a spoonful, and blew on it.
Sun Huilan: “Something on your mind?”
Xu Yuan: “No.” Then she asked, “Where’s my brother?”
Sun Huilan pushed a plate of soy-braised beef toward her: “Said he had something planned with classmates, left early this morning.”
Xu Yuan: “Oh.”
She picked up a slice of beef with her chopsticks, and her mind drifted back to that question: What exactly should she post today?
She bit down on her chopsticks, and under the table, her left hand secretly pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and opened her WeChat alt account.
The last message in the chat was her “good night.”
She thought for a moment, then typed a line: [Morning, bro. Today’s you and yesterday’s you have one thing in common.]
The second half of that sentence was “both make my heart flutter.”
She suddenly felt that was a bit too direct—though she’d sent things even more direct than that before.
She deleted the second half and changed it to “both look really good.”
Then she felt the word “good-looking” was too ordinary.
Yan Ting’s face—how to put it? There were plenty of attractive people, but someone as stunning as him, so beautiful it made people afraid to get close—that was the first time she’d ever seen it.
She hesitated for a few seconds, then deleted “both look really good” and restored it to the original version.
Forget it. If she was going to be shameless, she might as well commit.
After hitting send, she flipped her phone screen-down on the table, pretending nothing had happened, and lowered her head to drink her congee.
Sun Huilan’s gaze drifted over: “Eat properly. Don’t play with your phone.”
“I’m not.” Xu Yuan guiltily nudged the phone a little further away.
She’d only drunk half her congee when her phone buzzed. Her reflexes were faster than her brain—she set down her chopsticks, and the phone was already flipped over.
Yan: [.]
Xu Yuan stared at that period, and the corner of her mouth curved up slightly.
He replied.
That meant she still had a chance.
Xu Yuan translated it as: He saw it, didn’t want to admit it, but didn’t want to ignore her either.
Sun Huilan: “Who is it?”
Xu Yuan placed her phone back on the table, screen down. “No one. A classmate.”
“A classmate sends you a message this early in the morning?”
“It’s just… a morning greeting.”
Sun Huilan glanced at her. The amount of information contained in that look was roughly equivalent to the plot summary of a thirty-episode drama.
Xu Yuan pretended not to understand and raised her bowl of porridge to hide her face.
Xu Guojian didn’t talk much while eating. He finished his bowl of porridge in a few mouthfuls, set down the bowl, stood up, and said, “I’m heading to the shop.”
The noodle shop was open for business almost every day, with the busiest hours usually at noon and in the evening. He went to open up and prepare the ingredients every morning, and Sun Huilan would follow later.
The old couple had been working in tandem for over twenty years—they had it down to a rhythm.
“I’ll go too.” Xu Yuan stood up.
“Finish your porridge before you leave,” Sun Huilan said.
Xu Yuan gulped down the rest of her porridge in a few quick mouthfuls, grabbed her phone, and ran out the door.
Her dad was riding his little electric scooter to haul goods, and there was no room for her to sit.
So she walked on her own. The noodle shop was less than a five-minute walk from home.
Once she stepped outside, the breeze in the alley rushed to meet her, carrying that crisp, refreshing warmth unique to summer mornings.
It wasn’t stuffy—just sunlight falling on her skin, so cozy it made her want to stretch.
Xu Yuan walked while looking down at her phone. After that period, Yan Ting hadn’t said anything more.
She thought for a moment, then sent: [Have you eaten breakfast? I had millet porridge, soy-braised beef, pickled cucumbers, and scrambled eggs. My mom cooks so well—I think I can never leave her for the rest of my life.]
A minute later, Yan: [You eat that much for one breakfast?]
Her point was clearly that her mom cooked delicious food, but his point was that she ate a lot.
This guy never caught the point—or was he deliberately missing it?
Wish Upon a God, Might as Well Wish Upon Xu Yuan: [Are you saying I’m fat?]
Yan: [No.]
Wish Upon a God, Might as Well Wish Upon Xu Yuan: [Then what do you mean?]
Yan: [Literal meaning. You eat a lot.]