It didn’t take long for the zongzi to be ready.
Zhong Nian took a few bites and found the taste just… ordinary. Perhaps the flavor she remembered from before was the best one. People often cherish the tastes of past foods, the places they’ve been, the people they’ve known—but revisiting old places or encountering familiar things again usually only brings the realization: it’s just not the same.
Liang Yifeng noticed the subtle change in her mood and asked, “Not to your taste?”
Zhong Nian shook her head. “It’s… different.”
“Different how?”
“Different from what I remember.”
Liang Yifeng quickly understood. “Well, this isn’t made by the housekeeper.”
Zhong Nian wrapped the zongzi back in their leaves and turned to wash her hands in the kitchen. The sound of water fell softly as she murmured, voice fragmented: “It’s not the taste from before.”
Liang Yifeng said, “These are Jiaxing zongzi. Naturally, they taste different from what you used to eat.”
Zhong Nian turned off the tap and looked at the water droplets glistening in the sink, letting out a small, quiet smile.
The “different” she felt was less about the zongzi and more about how her heart had changed over time. She had grown up—no longer greedy, no longer frivolous. She thought rationally, acted with measure, and handled everything with poise.
Opening the fridge, she was greeted by the aroma of zongzi. Seven zongzi were neatly lined up, like a row of miniature trees. The fridge was organized meticulously: zongzi on the top shelf, vegetables on the second, fruits on the third, eggs at the door, and drinks arranged by height. Everything was orderly, color-coordinated from light to dark.
Zhong Nian rarely organized her fridge—usually, she’d just shove groceries in.
So… had Liang Yifeng done all this? she wondered.
Liang Yifeng had a severe obsession with cleanliness, something Zhong Nian had learned early on in their acquaintance. His kind of fastidiousness was that of a wealthy heir: he couldn’t tolerate dirt, mess, or disorder, yet he didn’t clean himself, relying instead on a housekeeper.
Over the years, his obsession seemed to have intensified—did he now feel compelled to tidy up other people’s spaces too?
She sighed.
Zhong Nian took out some instant noodles from a drawer and peeked into the kitchen, asking, “Can I make noodles?”
The dining room was empty. She carried the noodles into the kitchen.
Liang Yifeng stood on the balcony. Night had fallen, and the balcony light was off. His back faced the living room, and the soft, pale light outlined him like faint moonlight breaking through the clouds.
Zhong Nian waited quietly in the living room for him to finish his call.
When he finally turned, he saw Zhong Nian standing on the same horizontal plane, her eyes distant, her unadorned face clean and serene.
He walked over and called softly, “Zhong Nian?”
Her focus snapped back. “You’re leaving soon?”
A hint of displeasure flickered in Liang Yifeng’s eyes. Expressionless, he asked, “You want me to leave?”
Zhong Nian blinked and raised the noodles, saying, “If you’re leaving, then I don’t need to cook another dinner.”
The annoyance between his brows melted instantly.
He said, “Then stay here and rest a bit.”
She glanced at the night outside. The moonlight poured like water, soft and clear, with no sign of rain like last time. She nodded casually. “Okay.”
Then she added, “Tomato egg noodles okay?”
He said, “Sure.”
Zhong Nian went to prepare dinner while Liang Yifeng turned on the TV in the living room. The clear, professional voice of the news anchor mixed with the sound of the range hood. The soft, warm lighting highlighted the beauty of the Japanese-style interior.
The scent of life and ordinary domesticity filled the room.
But unfortunately, there was no rain today.
He still had to leave eventually.
Suddenly, the phone rang. Unknown number. Liang Yifeng picked up. “Hello—” His voice was cold and distant.
“Hello, is this Dr. Liang Yifeng?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Zeng Yu, a reporter from Tongcheng Evening News. Do you remember the story I submitted to your hospital last time?”
Tongcheng Evening News…
Liang Yifeng narrowed his eyes. “Mm.”
Zeng Yu, surprised by his coldness, continued, “The last report went very well, so this time we’d like to do a feature interview with you. If you have time, could we meet?”
“No,” he said, slamming the phone down.
Zeng Yu on the other end froze; she had never encountered someone so indifferent.
Liang Yifeng twirled the phone in one hand. Soon after, two text messages came in:
“Dr. Liang, I think you haven’t understood my point. A feature interview will help the hospital and increase your visibility.”
“Could you reconsider? I only need ten minutes of your time.”
His eyes remained calm and unshaken; he ignored both messages entirely.
Looking up, he saw Zhong Nian in front of him, hair tied to one side, apron on, holding two bowls of noodles, smiling softly: “Dinner’s ready.”
His Adam’s apple moved. “Okay.”
While finishing their meal, Liang Yifeng asked, “Which newspaper do you work for?”
Zhong Nian said, “Tongcheng Evening News.”
He put down his chopsticks and carefully wiped his mouth with a napkin.
She looked at him. “Why the sudden question?”
He adjusted his glasses. “Nothing.”
Dinner was quickly finished, and he had no reason to stay.
At the entrance, he noticed that the suitcase by the shoe cabinet was gone. Frowning, he left and sent her a text from his work phone:
“Hello, Ms. Zhong, is my suitcase still at your place?”
She replied quickly: “Yes. When would you like me to send it to you?”
Liang Yifeng smirked slightly. He hadn’t replied further, and went straight downstairs.
Once in the car, his phone buzzed again.
He glanced at it: “Dr. Liang, I hope you…” He didn’t even bother reading the rest, immediately blocking the sender.
Meanwhile, Zhong Nian waited patiently on the other end. She thought the person—Jin Xin—was strange.
Contacting her about a suitcase, casually, sending a message only to confirm its location half a month later—it was odd.
Perhaps Jin Xin was naturally unconcerned about details, or maybe there was nothing valuable in the suitcase. In any case, a peculiar person.
·
Dragon Boat Festival quietly arrived.
When Zhong Nian was abroad, she lived with her uncle, Shen Liangyi, who paid close attention to traditional Chinese holidays. As director of the Confucius Institute at University College London, he valued celebrations like Dragon Boat Festival. Zhong Nian, having grown up immersed in this environment, also developed a ritualistic sense toward life and festivals.
During the Dragon Boat Festival holiday, her newspaper sent a box of zongzi.
Zhong Nian was momentarily overwhelmed. She already had zongzi from Liang Yifeng and couldn’t eat them all in time. Bringing them to her hometown might prompt her mother to comment, as homemade zongzi were always generous with fillings. After much thought, she decided to take the box to Sui Yu.
When Sui Yu received her call, he was at a restaurant. Before she could speak, he said, “I’m at the Wanda branch. Do you want to come have lunch?”
Coincidentally, she was near Wanda too. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Alright, I’ll wait.”
She smiled and hung up.
Carrying the box of zongzi toward Wanda, she met Sui Yu just outside Entrance 1. He held two cups of milk tea, glanced at his watch, and said smugly, “Pretty good timing, right?”
She took a cup and sipped. “Why come down?”
“Wasn’t sure you’d find the place,” he said, noticing the box of zongzi. Jokingly: “Why bring a whole box of zongzi? Trying to honor me?”
Zhong Nian gave him a cold glance. “Yes.”
Sui Yu immediately begged, “Don’t talk to me like that! I’m scared! I apologize! I resign!”
She smiled faintly.
“I just can’t finish them, so I brought them for you,” she explained.
He frowned. “You only give them to me because you can’t finish them?”
She looked at him, silently: what else?
He exaggeratedly sighed. “Our friendship isn’t worth buying a whole box for?”
She nodded. “Mm. Not worth it.”
Sui Yu pouted, feeling utterly helpless.
She smiled softly, clinking her cup with his. “You don’t even eat zongzi. What’s the fuss?”
He gulped down a mouthful of icy drink. “Then why did you bring them?”
“To share with customers at the shop.”
Raising an eyebrow: “Recruiting business for me?”
She only smiled.
Sui Yu sighed. “Where else could I find a friend like you?”
“Enough.”
He took the zongzi, examined them, and noted, “Still Wu Fang Zhai. Your newspaper really spared no expense.”
“After all, it’s a first-tier newspaper.”
“Right, right, yes, yes.”
Arriving at the shop, Sui Yu placed the zongzi on the counter with a pile of candies. A young, accomplished man like him looked striking standing at the music restaurant entrance. Tall, stylish, graceful, a noble charm in his posture, with a playful mischievous glint—exactly the type young girls liked.
Sui Yu told the cashier: “These eight zongzi are free for customers, first come, first served.”
“Okay, Mr. Sui.”
Having instructed the cashier, he looked at Zhong Nian. “Have you eaten lunch?”
“Not yet.”
“Here?”
She asked him, “Did you eat?”
“Just got up,” he said, awkwardly rubbing his hair.
“Together?”
“Sure. Private room or outside?”
She surveyed the bustling hall. Probably because of the holiday, office workers and students had all come out; the entire hall was lively.
She didn’t like the crowd. “Private room.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Alright.”
As they turned toward the private room, a lively voice rang out behind them: “Zhong Nian-jie!”
The voice was familiar, but she didn’t think they were close enough to address her like that in public… younger sister?
She turned and saw Liang Zhaozhao at the entrance. She had taken off her white coat, wearing a wine-red cotton top and white high-waisted denim shorts, PUMA classics on her feet. Paired with her baby-faced features, she looked petite, almost like a high school student.
Beside her stood someone in white shirt and black pants, simple yet designer.
Zhong Nian was still thinking about his past attire when Liang Zhaozhao ran up. “What a coincidence, Zhong Nian-jie!”
Zhong Nian: “Mm. Quite a coincidence.”
Sui Yu smirked. “Why are you dressed like a high schooler? Don’t you know your age?”
Liang Zhaozhao rolled her eyes. “And you’re always dressed like a butterfly. Don’t you have self-awareness?”
Sui Yu grinned. “Nope.”
Liang Zhaozhao was shocked by his shamelessness. “You—”
“What?” He replied lazily, glancing behind her.
Liang Yifeng was walking toward them, one hand carrying several bags, the other holding clothes. His expression was calm, without even a trace of a smile.
He stopped in front of Zhong Nian. “What a coincidence.”
Zhong Nian: “Mm.”
Liang Yifeng: “Eating here?”
Zhong Nian: “Mm.”
Liang Yifeng raised an eyebrow. “Together?”
She looked at Sui Yu for confirmation.
His gaze swept between them, then a slight smile curved his lips: “Sure. Everyone knows each other anyway.”
His tone was calm, indifferent, with a hint of casual nonchalance. He led them to the private room.
Eyes curved, yet the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Behind him, Liang Zhaozhao chattered, asking questions which Zhong Nian answered politely.
Zhong Nian’s back, meanwhile, was Liang Yifeng.
Through the crowd and corridor, her hair falling on her shoulders, moving through light and shadow, through people and hallways.
Yet all along, she was in front of him.
Like Kua Fu chasing the sun, spending a lifetime pursuing something forever out of reach.
But the sun he sought was always right there—within reach of his hand and his heart.