Winter, 2006 — Linshen City.
Zhou Jingchen collapsed on the icy ground, watching Wen Xi disappear right before his eyes.
Frustrated, he pounded his leg a few times.
He hated his leg—if he could run faster, if he could be steadier, he could have caught up with her.
Amid the crowded throngs, Wen Xi clutched her chest, gasping for air, her heart pounding as if it would burst through her ribs.
Her steps didn’t stop. She glanced back hurriedly—fortunately, he hadn’t caught up.
She didn’t dare hesitate or slow down, only focused on charging forward.
She cut through the bustling commercial district, turned into winding narrow alleys, stepped over a trash-filled stinking gutter, and finally stopped in front of a grimy, old residential building.
The stairwell was cluttered with worn-out cardboard boxes and bicycles. The motion-sensor lights flickered on and off, and the damp smell mixed with oil fumes stung the nose.
Wen Xi leaned against the peeling wall, panting heavily as she climbed to the fifth floor. She pulled out the key, inserted it into the lock, and with a “click,” the wooden door swung open.
The apartment was one bedroom and a living room, small and slightly messy, filled with many pink and white little items, showing the owner’s girlish taste.
This was her temporary refuge. The fifth floor was the top floor, and the rent was cheapest. Once her mother was discharged, she would slowly find a better place to live.
Wen Xi propped a folding stool against the wall, set down her heavy backpack, and casually draped her coat over the chair.
The next second, she sank into the sofa, as if all her strength had been drained.
Closing her eyes, her heart still raced, and the harrowing scene she had just experienced replayed vividly in her mind.
Zhou Jingchen… Zhou Jingchen…
It really was Zhou Jingchen.
He had grown taller and more handsome, shedding the awkwardness of youth, his brows and eyes now showing the charm of a mature man.
If it had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have run. But it was Zhou Jingchen—of course she ran.
She knew he couldn’t catch her, so she ran.
Had his leg… healed?
She hadn’t seen him leaning on a crutch under his armpit.
Why did he have to show up now? Why appear when she was so disheveled?
“Little Princess, there’s a call! Little Princess, there’s a call! Little Princess…”
Her phone vibrated suddenly in her pocket, the ringtone sharp and abrupt.
Wen Xi fumbled to pull it out. Without even checking the contact, she quickly pressed the answer button.
“Hello?”
“You brat! Pay up! Where are you and your sickly mother hiding? Don’t think you can dodge this forever!”
The voice on the other end was coarse and fierce, like sandpaper scraping the eardrum.
Wen Xi furrowed her brow and snapped the phone shut, ending the call.
She rested her arm on her forehead, utterly exhausted.
“Little Princess, there’s a call! Little Princess…” The phone rang again, relentless.
“Will you stop?” Wen Xi snapped, tears suddenly streaming, her voice choked yet harsh:“I already said I’ll pay! I’ll pay! You’ve just…”
“Wen Xi.”
A deep, magnetic male voice suddenly interrupted her outburst:“It’s me.”
Wen Xi immediately sat upright, her tone softening, a little flustered:“Dr. Song? Sorry, I thought…”
Why was Song Xianglin calling her all of a sudden? Her heart sank, fingers trembling:“Is… is something wrong with my mom?”
The man on the other end seemed momentarily surprised, then chuckled lightly, gentle and reassuring:“Nothing’s wrong. Auntie is doing well, the chemo went smoothly.”
Wen Xi’s tense nerves finally relaxed, letting out a soft “oh,” though her eyes grew even redder.
“Auntie even asked me today about how you two are getting along.”
Song Xianglin’s voice carried a trace of helpless amusement:“She doesn’t quite believe it. If you’re free, we could take a few photos together to show her—it would put her mind at ease. A better mood is good for recovery too.”
“Alright, I’ll follow your lead. Thank you, Dr. Song.” Wen Xi sniffled, her voice muffled.
The man chuckled softly and cleared his throat:“Just like when we were kids—call me Xianglin.”
Wen Xi scratched her head, smiling wryly:“Hehe, it’s just… so many years have passed, I’m not used to changing.”
“No worries. I have a night shift tomorrow. How about we take some photos in the morning, then visit Auntie in the afternoon?”
“Okay.”
After hanging up, Wen Xi sat on the sofa for a while in a daze, then dragged her tired legs to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
The next morning.
Before leaving, Wen Xi did a bit of grooming. After all, it was a date for taking photos—she couldn’t show up unkempt.
She applied some moisturizer, a light pink lip gloss, then put on a mask and a beige newsboy cap—not for looks, but to avoid running into anyone on the street.
When she arrived at the agreed restaurant, Song Xianglin was already sitting by the window, waiting.
Wen Xi hurried through the lobby and sat opposite him.
“Catch a cold?” Song Xianglin raised his eyebrow, noticing her bundled-up appearance.
Wen Xi removed her mask, revealing a fair, radiant face, smiling:“No, it’s just cold outside. I’m keeping warm.”
Her reflection in the restaurant window showed a beautiful girl, with curved brows and eyes, like a peony blooming in the morning sun—delicate yet radiant.
“What would you like to eat?” Song Xianglin pushed the menu toward her.
Wen Xi pushed it back, puffed out her chest:“You go first. I’m treating today.”
Song Xianglin opened his mouth to speak but swallowed the words, smiling:“So generous, Little Princess? Well, I’ll gladly accept then.”
He had nicknamed her “Little Princess” after hearing her playful phone ringtone.
Wen Xi laughed awkwardly, waving her hand:“No, don’t call me that—it’s awkward.”
Song Xianglin was considerate and ordered two reasonably priced dishes, handing the menu back. Wen Xi added two drinks and a signature dish.
Song Xianglin was a good person; he had helped her mother at the hospital. She wasn’t stingy with friends.
During the meal, Song Xianglin took a Fuji camera from his bag, smiling at a nearby waiter:“Could you take a photo of us?”
They sat deliberately close, Song Xianglin’s left hand resting just on her shoulder—looking like a semi-intimate couple’s pose in the photo.
“Thanks for thinking of everything,” Wen Xi said.
Song Xianglin laughed heartily:“If I’m helping, I might as well do it properly.”
After lunch, they went to Linshen City Third Hospital.
Waiting for the elevator on the first floor of the inpatient building, a young nurse greeted Song Xianglin:“Dr. Song, aren’t you off today?”
“I have the night shift in the inpatient ward,” he replied.
He was a surgeon at this hospital. Half a year ago, Wen Xi had brought Xiang Qin here for treatment and met her childhood friend, Song Xianglin.
In the ward, Xiang Qin had just finished her IV drip, resting against the headboard. Her loose blue hospital gown made her appear even more frail. Her hair was thin, and silver strands were faintly visible.
Her eyes lit up when she saw them:“Girls, Xianglin! You’re here!”
Wen Xi quickly stepped forward, holding her mother’s hand, softly asking:“Mom, how do you feel today?”
“Much better.” Xiang Qin patted her hand, then turned to Song Xianglin with a gentle smile:“Xianglin, I thought you were off today.”
“Auntie, I am off today. I went out with Wen Xi and stopped by to see you.” Song Xianglin handed her the photo they had just taken:“Look, we took this.”
Xiang Qin examined the photo carefully, her smile growing wider.
She sighed:“Before I die, I’ve seen my precious daughter marry, start a family, have someone to rely on—I can die peacefully.”
“Auntie, don’t say that,” Song Xianglin quickly reassured her:“You’re receiving timely treatment, the surgery was successful. Keep up the chemo—you could live well into your seventies or eighties. By then, you’ll even help Wen Xi raise children.”
Aunt Xiang Qin smiled, happy. She held their hands and chatted for a long time.
After spending the afternoon in the hospital, the sun had begun to set.
Song Xianglin walked Wen Xi out of the inpatient building. They strolled along the path by the artificial lake toward the main entrance.
“Xianglin, really, thank you. You can tell my mom was very happy today.” Wen Xi stopped, looking at him earnestly.
“No need to thank me. My mom and Auntie Xiang have been friends since childhood. By the way…” He paused, looking at her, a casual smile on his lips:“Do we count as childhood sweethearts?”
Childhood sweethearts?
Wen Xi’s heart skipped a beat.
A cold wind swept fallen leaves past them. She instinctively zipped her jacket up to her chin.