Chapter 4

Then she suddenly laughed.

It was a clear laugh, without a trace of mockery.

“That’s right. You are wonderful.”

“You’ve made me realize something.”

I raised my brows and looked at her.

Xia said, “I didn’t fail to win So Yi over because I wasn’t good enough for him. It’s because we weren’t right for each other.”

“Exactly. You two weren’t a match.”

Xia asked, “Then what do you think about you and So Yi?”

Without hesitation, I said, “We’re a great match.”

Xia burst out laughing, completely delighted.

“I kind of want to be friends with you now.”

I deliberately looked at her in surprise.

“Huh? I thought we were already friends.”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

She laughed so hard she nearly cried. Then her eyes drifted past my shoulder, toward the space behind me.

“Hey, this girl is so interesting!”

“You’d better treasure her!”

I froze and turned around.

So Yi was standing about three meters behind me, leaning against his car. I had no idea how long he’d been eavesdropping.

He looked at me, amusement in his eyes.

11

The comedy we saw that day was pretty good. It made me laugh several times.

After the movie, we got into the car. I casually asked So Yi what he thought of it.

“What did you think of the movie?”

His answer surprised me.

“I don’t know.”

Confused, I turned to look at him.

“Hm?”

So Yi kept driving, his eyes on the road ahead.

“I kept thinking about something someone said at dusk, so I was distracted the whole time. I can’t give the movie a fair assessment in this state.”

The “someone” he meant…

I didn’t doubt for a second that he was talking about me.

I turned to look out the window, feeling heat creep slowly up my neck.

He’d heard all of my shameless self-praise and boasting. I felt a little embarrassed.

I stayed quiet, hoping to let the subject pass naturally.

But So Yi wouldn’t let me.

“I think you got one thing wrong.”

I froze and instinctively clenched my fingers.

My cheeks grew even hotter as I frantically tried to remember which of my self-congratulatory remarks had been so outrageous…

So Yi said calmly, “Le Qian, I’m not that considerate. I can’t remember the preferences of someone who doesn’t matter to me.”

It took me ten full seconds to understand what he meant.

I turned in shock and stared at his profile.

“Don’t look at me like that,” So Yi said. “I’m driving. You’re making me lose focus.”

I didn’t know where else to look.

Flustered, I glanced around, then lowered my eyes to the tips of my shoes.

…

The car stopped in the garage. Neither So Yi nor I got out.

The garage was quiet and dim. In that setting, a tense, awkward, faintly ambiguous atmosphere quickly spread between us.

A few seconds later, So Yi was the first to break the silence.

“Would you like me to explain?”

I blinked. “Explain what?”

So Yi turned to look at me. “What I just said.”

Before I could answer, he restated it more directly.

“To me, Le Qian, you’re not someone who doesn’t matter.”

I blinked, staring at him without moving.

So Yi chuckled softly, as if remembering something.

His voice grew very gentle.

“The first time I remembered your name was when I was in eleventh grade. So Ying came home and said she’d made a really good friend.”

“She was especially excited that day. She said her new friend was named Le Qian, and even though you were having a hard time yourself, you’d shared your breakfast with a stray cat. She said your name, ‘Le Qian,’ was beautiful—it sounded like the morning sun, warm just to hear it.”

I froze.

That had happened not long after So Ying and I first met in middle school. I’d long forgotten about it. I never imagined it had stayed with So Yi from that early on.

“After that,” So Yi continued, his gaze seeming to pass through the windshield and travel into the distant past, “I heard her mention you all the time. She’d say what you ate that day, that you’d grown a little taller, that your grades had improved, or that someone had bullied you and she’d gotten revenge for you…”

“So Ying is very picky about her friends, but she really likes you.”

I stared blankly for a long time as I listened.

I should have thought of that sooner.

Knowing So Ying, my name must have come up often in her home.

“I’ve always been grateful to you.”

I looked at him, confused.

So Yi sighed, his tone carrying a trace of helplessness.

“Actually, So Ying has always been rather lonely.”

“Our parents were busy. They didn’t have time to take care of us. And there’s a five-year age gap between my sister and me. There were lots of things I couldn’t say to her or do with her.”

“When she was in tenth grade, she got scolded by our father for dating. She ran away from home in the middle of a snowy night. I searched for her for a long time before I finally found her in a nearby park.”

Remembering it, So Yi chuckled softly.

“You were crouched in front of her, putting a hot roasted sweet potato in her hand. You were wearing thin clothes yourself and jumping up and down because you were cold.”

“So Ying was still angry, but she eventually went home obediently. She was afraid that if she didn’t, you’d freeze.”

His words brought a long-buried memory vividly back to me.

I couldn’t help laughing.

So Yi turned and looked at me, then suddenly asked, “Le Qian, were you the one who added me on WeChat four years ago with the username ‘AAA Happy Mail Carrier’?”

My laughter stopped at once. The smile froze on my face, and I looked up at him in shock.

Four years ago, I was a junior in college.

That June, I went on a study visit to University A with a professor from my school.

I’d earned the opportunity myself.

University A was one of the best schools in the country, a century-old university with a deep academic tradition. It was well worth visiting and learning from.

And So Yi was in graduate school there.

After the academic conference with our professor, he gave me free time to walk around campus.

I had a very clear destination. I immediately headed toward the School of Architecture, where So Yi studied.

I hoped I might happen to run into him, but I couldn’t believe my luck. The department was holding an information session for third-year students considering graduate school.

So Yi was there as a graduate student, answering questions.

I wore a mask and blended into a corner of the classroom.

No one paid attention to me.

It was also the first time I could look at the dazzling So Yi openly and without anyone noticing.

The students’ questions came one after another.

Several other graduate students were there besides So Yi.

He seemed to have somewhere else to be, and hurried off after a little over an hour.

I immediately followed him out of the classroom.

At the end of the hallway, I saw So Yi surrounded by several younger students.

“Senior, your explanation was so good. I have a few more questions. Could I add you on WeChat?”

“Yeah, let’s add each other. What you said today really cleared up a lot for me.”

So Yi didn’t refuse.

He casually took out his phone.

I don’t know where I found the courage, but I practically ran over and scanned his QR code just as he was about to put his phone away.

So Yi paused, then looked at me inquisitively.

I bowed and thanked him.

“Thank you, Senior.”

“You’re welcome,” he said gently. “Tell me your names so I can add notes.”

…

I’d added So Yi on WeChat with an alternate account.

I didn’t tell him my name. I just stayed quietly in his contact list, never initiating a conversation or bothering him.

Sometimes I looked at his Moments posts. Seeing the little details he shared made me feel as though I could touch a small part of his life.

I thought I’d stay that way forever.

But eventually, I couldn’t hold back.

That was March 10 the following year, when So Ying’s maternal grandmother died.

She took three days off. After she came back to school, she was listless for several days.

She said her grandmother was a very kind old woman who used to sneak her candy and could knit beautiful little flower baskets.

She said her brother was even sadder than she was.

“Our parents started their business from nothing. When my brother was little, they left him with our maternal grandparents and went out to build their company.”

“My brother grew up with them. Grandma loved him very much, and he was closest to her.”

My mind wandered. I felt a little distracted.

“Then your brother must be heartbroken.”

“Yeah. For several nights, I heard him crying in his room.”

That evening, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I sent So Yi my first message.

I didn’t know what to say.

I just sent him a sticker of a little sun hugging someone, meant to comfort him.

So Yi didn’t reply.

I didn’t mind. I used my already meager vocabulary to send him a few words of comfort.

My mother had died when I was very young, and my father had never loved me.

I couldn’t truly understand his grief, but I wanted him to feel a little less awful.

For the next few days, I messaged him every day to say hello.

I shared movies I liked.

I shared the warm sunshine and bright starry sky I’d seen that day.

“Someone once said that after people die, they become stars. They gather into a sky full of stars and light the way for those walking through the night.”

“Senior, you don’t need to be afraid of walking at night anymore.”

At last, So Yi replied.

He said, “Thank you.”

I couldn’t help smiling as I read the message. I let out a long breath of relief.

After that, I occasionally chatted with So Yi.

He never asked who I was. We kept talking as online friends for a long time.

Until I heard So Ying say that So Yi might be in a relationship.

My resolve crumbled.

In a moment of impulsiveness, I deleted my alternate account…

Then I came to my senses and frantically tried to recover it, but it was too late.

Returning to the present, I watched So Yi tap his phone a few times.

He held the screen up in front of me.

“Look.”

It was the profile page for “AAA Happy Mail Carrier.”

“Was it you, Le Qian?”

I was genuinely shocked.

“How did you know?”

So Yi laughed as soon as I asked.

“One night, you posted something on Moments. You deleted it right away, but I still saw it.”

I remembered at once.

It was my birthday. So Ying had made a cake for me that looked like a pile of poop.

I’d taken a picture and posted a complaint about that woman who had lost all her humanity, but I’d forgotten to switch accounts.

I deleted the post in less than three minutes.

I never imagined So Yi had seen it.

So Yi said, “So Ying made that cake in front of me. I recognized it as soon as I saw the picture.”

Then his tone shifted.

“Why did you suddenly disappear after that?”

He said, “I waited for you to come online. I waited for quite a while.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I asked him, “Why were you waiting for me?”

So Yi replied casually, “Because I realized So Ying was right. She said her friend Le Qian was clever and kind, like a little sun.”

“Warm enough to make people want to come closer.”

I stared at him blankly.

“I thought… you’d never noticed me.”

So Yi shook his head.

“I’m four years older than you. When you were in middle or high school, any attention I paid you was only because you were my sister’s best friend.”

“Later, you grew up, and I could count on one hand the times we saw each other. I didn’t know what you were thinking, and I was afraid of making you uncomfortable. So keeping an appropriate distance seemed like the right thing to do.”

Until…

I’d been reckless and charged straight through the safe distance between us, breaking the balance.

I hesitated.

“So what you mean is…”

So Yi finished for me.

“I like you.”

I immediately became flustered.

After all those years of one-sided love, I’d suddenly received an answer beyond anything I’d hoped for. The feeling was unreal, and overwhelming happiness crashed into all my senses at once.

I stared at him in silence for a few seconds, then awkwardly changed the subject.

“It’s getting late. We should head back.”

I opened the car door myself and got out, walking toward the elevator.

So Yi followed behind me.

We walked back home in silence.

Click.

The front door opened, and the bright lights came on at once.

I turned to look at So Yi. My heart was beating so violently that it nearly jumped out of my chest.

“Today is November 30.”

So Yi didn’t understand.

“Yeah.”

My fingers curled slightly at my sides.

“That makes today the twenty-eighth day since I officially told you I wanted to pursue you.”

So Yi leaned against the wall and nodded, his eyes smiling at me.

“Yeah.”

“So…” I gathered my courage. “Can I count that as successfully pursuing you?”

“So…” So Yi leaned forward a little and suddenly stepped toward me. “Today is the first day we’re officially in a relationship.”

With that, he bent down and kissed my forehead.

My breath caught. My eyes widened.

Time seemed to stop in that moment.

November 30. I was in love.

With the older brother of the friend I’d secretly loved for so many years.

The days after So Yi and I got together didn’t change as dramatically as I’d imagined.

We still lived in So Ying’s apartment. He was on vacation, I went to work, and our daily lives seemed to run in parallel while still intersecting.

But some things really were different.

For example, breakfast made with love was no longer my one-woman show. Now we both bustled around the kitchen.

So Yi fried the eggs and toasted the bread. I happily cut fruit into all sorts of strange shapes and arranged them on a plate.

He often stood behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and rested his chin on my head as he watched me fiddle with the food.

Sometimes he’d chuckle and say, “Today, Artist Le is working in the abstract style.”

Or take the warm light that was always turned on by the door whenever I came home from work.

Sometimes So Yi was in his study, taking care of a little work. Sometimes he was in the living room watching a movie.

As soon as he heard the door open, no matter what he was doing, he’d come to the entryway at once. He’d take my bag naturally, hug me, and surround me with his familiar citrus scent.

That embrace washed away all my exhaustion from the day.

On weekends, we’d curl up on the sofa and watch one of the science fiction movies he liked or a comedy I liked.

When the funny parts came, I’d laugh without caring how I looked, and he’d laugh along.

His threshold for laughter was pretty high. Eight or nine times out of ten, he was probably laughing at me.

Like any ordinary couple, we’d play rock-paper-scissors to decide what to eat for dinner, then bargain over who had to take out the trash.

Those everyday, ordinary days, so full of life, made me feel that we were truly in love.

Not just living out the happy ending of my long, one-sided love.

Today, I’d finished a difficult project and had to work late.

When I dragged my exhausted body home and opened the door, the delicious smell of food hit me at once.

Only a few warm yellow lights were on in the living room. Fine dishes were arranged on the dining table, with even a small candle in the middle. The flickering flame made the whole scene feel almost impossibly cozy.

So Yi was wearing the apron I’d bought him, decorated with little kittens. He came out of the kitchen carrying the last dish of soup.

When he saw me, the corners of his eyes curved.

“You’re home? Wash your hands and come eat.”