The measure of time is ever elusive.
When slow, it unfolds like a time-lapse, each frame lingering in the senses. Yet once it quickens, it slips through the fingers like shifting sand.
Summer arrived, urged on by the clamorous chorus of cicadas.
As graduation approached, Zhou Ziheng turned down all work commitments, dedicating himself entirely to writing his thesis at school. He had initially felt guilty for neglecting Xia Xiqing, but strangely, Xia Xiqing had also become busy lately, leaving early and returning late almost every day. Their periods of busyness had coincided.
After months of dizzying busyness, he finally completed his thesis defense successfully. Zhou Ziheng now had time to catch up on some previous work. On the last day of May, returning from filming a commercial on Koh Samui, Zhou Ziheng called Xia Xiqing to ask if he was free for dinner that evening.
“Dinner…” Xia Xiqing sounded busy on the other end, his words coming in fits and starts. “I might be running late. Why don’t you pick a place first? I’ll be free after eight and can meet you there.”
Zhou Ziheng hummed in acknowledgment. Glancing at the time as he hung up, it was already past 4 PM. He instructed Xiao Luo to reserve a table at a very private Western restaurant and headed back to his family home. He left for the restaurant at 7:30 PM and waited half an hour in the private room before Xia Xiqing finally arrived.
He looked rushed. “I’m not too late, am I?”
“No.” Zhou Ziheng tugged his hand, noticing a bandage wrapped around his palm. His heart clenched. “What happened? Are you hurt? How did this happen?”
“Just a little cut. It’s fine. It’ll heal in a few days.” Xia Xiqing gave Zhou Ziheng’s ear a playful tug before walking over to sit across from him.
“How did you get it?” Zhou Ziheng asked again.
“Hmm…” Xia Xiqing’s expression hesitated. “Nothing much. Just something with the art exhibition. I accidentally cut myself.”
“Be careful.”
Xia Xiqing blinked, his tone light. “I know.” He habitually propped his face with his right hand, but as soon as he raised his elbow, he switched hands, his eyes fixed on Zhou Ziheng’s face. “You’ve lost weight.”
Before Zhou Ziheng could respond, Xia Xiqing added, “I miss you so much.”
Given his carefree nature, he rarely expressed himself with such sincere directness. Even Zhou Ziheng was momentarily taken aback, unsure how to respond.
He missed Xia Xiqing too, every idle moment filled with thoughts of him.
The two, who hadn’t had a proper conversation in ages, chatted for a while while waiting for their food. Just as the waiter pushed open the door to serve the appetizers, Zhou Ziheng’s phone rang—it was his professor calling.
“I’ll be right back.”
He stepped outside the private room for a ten-minute call, mostly discussing matters like graduate school applications. After hanging up, Zhou Ziheng turned and pushed open the door. Just as he closed it behind him, he saw Xia Xiqing—who had been chatting with him moments ago—now slumped over the table, fast asleep.
His face was buried in the table, his left arm propping up his forehead, his right hand hanging limply. Exhaustion radiated from his entire being.
What on earth had he been doing to tire himself out like this?
Zhou Ziheng moved quietly, approaching his side and crouching down. He reached out and gently unwrapped the gauze bandage from Xia Xiqing’s palm.
As the bandage was unwound layer by layer, the wound in Xia Xiqing’s palm was finally exposed before him. It looked like he’d been cut by something sharp. Though not very deep, it was somewhat inflamed.
Zhou Ziheng felt as if his heart had been gripped by an invisible hand. He wanted to rebandage the wound for him, but then he saw Xia Xiqing’s drooping fingers twitch.
Xia Xiqing had regained consciousness.
He first lifted his head to glance at the opposite side, where an empty chair stood. Then, his gaze turned confusedly to the side. His sluggish eyes searched the air for a long moment before slowly focusing on Zhou Ziheng, who was crouched beside him.
“Why are you here…” His half-asleep voice was softer than usual, his eyes veiled in mist, hazy with moisture.
Zhou Ziheng stood up and ruffled his hair. “Why are you so sleepy?”
Xia Xiqing didn’t speak. He simply pressed his head against Zhou Ziheng’s lower abdomen, wrapping his arms around his waist in a completely spoiled manner. Zhou Ziheng’s broad palm stroked from the top of his head down to the nape of his neck, again and again, with a tenderness that was almost unbearable.
“You sound like you’re petting a cat.” Xia Xiqing’s voice was muffled, tinged with the nasal tone of someone not fully awake, sounding utterly adorable to Zhou Ziheng.
You’re cuter than any cat.
Cuter than any little animal in the world.
The thought that only he could see this soft, willful side of Xia Xiqing—this unique trait so utterly unlike the real Xia Xiqing—was instantly stamped with the label [Zhou Ziheng’s Exclusive]. His mood soared to the clouds.
“Let’s eat first. We’ll go back to sleep soon.” Zhou Ziheng patted his back twice, walked over, pulled a chair beside Xia Xiqing, and moved his own utensils closer. Eating at such a distance had long felt uncomfortable to him.
Xia Xiqing noticed the gauze on his hand being unwrapped, but only lowered his head to carefully reapply it. Zhou Ziheng didn’t ask, so he offered no explanation.
After finishing their meal, the two left the restaurant. Summer had arrived abruptly, its damp, fiery humidity bursting into this arid city. Walking side by side to the parking lot, just as Xia Xiqing opened the car door, Zhou Ziheng suddenly spoke.
“My graduation ceremony is this Friday.”
Xia Xiqing’s hand paused, his face showing no surprise, yet he murmured, “So soon?”
Zhou Ziheng looked puzzled but still walked around to the driver’s side. “I’ll drive. Your hand’s injured.” Xia Xiqing couldn’t argue and walked to the passenger seat himself.
“It feels like you just finished your thesis defense.” Xia Xiqing pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been so busy, I’ve lost track of the days.”
“I have to go on a business trip to the US these next couple of days.” Before Zhou Ziheng could respond, Xia Xiqing added, “But I’ll definitely be back before your graduation ceremony starts. Don’t worry.”
When Xia Xiqing said “don’t worry,” Zhou Ziheng didn’t doubt him.
He really hadn’t been home for several days straight.
On graduation day, Zhou’s mother came to find him specially. Early in the morning, she urged him to go to the school. Even though it was Zhou Ziheng’s graduation, his mother seemed more excited than he was. “I brought the camera especially to record it for you.”
Zhou Ziheng was unenthusiastic, staring down at his phone.
“What’s wrong?” His mother glanced at him while waiting for the green light. “Are you sick?”
“No.” Zhou Ziheng turned off his phone, his head bobbing rhythmically against the seatback.
“Are you waiting for Xiqing?”
Zhou Ziheng froze, stiffly turning his face toward his mother. “How did you know?”
“Do you think you can hide it from me?” The light turned green, and Zhou’s mother pressed the accelerator. “Xi Qing just called me. He said he’d meet us here shortly.”
“Then why didn’t he call me?” Zhou Ziheng clung to his mother’s arm like a child. “What else did he say?”
“Nothing else.” Zhou’s mother focused on driving, then suddenly remembered. “Oh, right.”
Zhou Ziheng’s head snapped up from the seat, expecting news about Xia Xiqing.
Seeing her son’s eager reaction, Mrs. Zhou chuckled. “Not Xiqing. It’s your department head. He just called too. When we get there, go to his office first. He probably needs to talk to you.”
Sighing silently to himself, Zhou Ziheng turned to look out the window. Sunlight spilled lazily through soft clouds, filtering through lush tree canopy and drifting down to rest on his shoulder through the glass, warming his black academic gown.
He yearned intensely for Xia Xiqing to witness this day—a desire that had lingered since long ago. Though he understood clearly that this day held special significance only in his own heart, for Xia Xiqing, it was at most the graduation day of a lover. Yet graduation day signified the smooth conclusion of a chapter, and it signified growth.
Zhou Ziheng hoped to graduate from Xia Xiqing’s heart.
Not to protect him, nor to surpass him—these were neither Zhou Ziheng’s expectations nor Xia Xiqing’s desires.
He only wished to become a lover who could match Xia Xiqing in every way, a mature partner worthy of his affection despite the unbridgeable chasm of time.
Upon arriving at the academy, many graduating classmates approached Zhou Ziheng for photos. Most were unfamiliar faces, likely seizing their final chance to capture memories with their celebrity classmate. Though typically solitary, Zhou Ziheng possessed a nature that couldn’t easily refuse others, so he conscientiously posed for every group photo.
Most attendees were graduating students, with only a handful of fans who had followed Zhou Ziheng all along. He had already mentioned on his secondary account that he didn’t want too many fans at the school, fearing it might disrupt other students.
Watching her son trapped in the photo-taking frenzy, Zhou’s mother quietly reminded him from the sidelines, “Hengheng, don’t forget to find Principal Wang.” Hearing his mother’s words, Zhou Ziheng suddenly remembered. Apologizing, he extricated himself from the crowd. “Mom, are you coming with me?”
“You go ahead. I’ll wait for you here.”
Zhou Ziheng nodded and walked alone to the principal’s office. He found it odd that the principal would summon him on graduation day for any reason, but since his mother had instructed him, it must be important. He knocked on the door. “Principal, I’m here.”
Principal Wang, who had just poured himself a cup of tea, looked up at the door. The moment he saw Zhou Ziheng, a smile spread across his face.
“Ziheng, come in.”
Zhou Ziheng instinctively prepared to sit across from the director, but the director stopped him. “Wait a moment. Let’s keep this brief and stand. I need to escort you downstairs shortly.”
A hint of confusion flashed across his face. The director smiled and explained, “Here’s the thing. You’re an exceptional student who has promoted excellent values for the college. Both the university and the college have always been proud to have outstanding students like you.”
“Thank you, Director,” Zhou Ziheng replied with a polite smile.
“The college is also deeply grateful for your donation. Actually, it’s the first time we’ve had a recent graduate make an alumni donation like this, but…”
Zhou Ziheng froze, furrowing his brow. “Donation? What did you just say, Director? I didn’t catch that.”
Director Wang suddenly chuckled. “Ziheng, why are you playing dumb?” He then snapped back to reality. “You didn’t know? But wait—your name is clearly on that document. Never mind. Come with me.” With that, Director Wang led Zhou Ziheng to the new building. All the way there, Zhou Ziheng replayed the director’s words in his mind.
Donation? He thought of his mother, who had just sent him to see the director. Could it be that his parents had secretly made a donation to the school in his name?
“We’re here.”
The usually empty first-floor lobby was unusually crowded. Hearing the director’s words snapped Zhou Ziheng out of his thoughts. Following the director’s gesture, he looked toward the center of the lobby. Suspended from the atrium-style upper courtyard hung a massive white curtain, encircling the space and draping all the way to the floor. It seemed to have been hung to conceal something.
“What is this?”
“Take a look first. We’ll need to take a group photo later.” Director Wang dismissed the surrounding students and had the curtain lowered. “This exhibit carries a wonderful meaning, perfectly aligning with our academy’s ethos. The faculty handling the donation mentioned it recently won the gold prize at the New York Times Art Exhibition. The academy is deeply grateful for your contribution…”
The moment the word “art” surfaced, Zhou Ziheng’s brain ceased functioning.
He heard nothing more that followed.
In an instant, the white curtains surrounding the space plummeted from top to bottom. Amidst the gasps of onlookers, the mystery donation concealed within was finally revealed.
The second his eyes met it, his wildly beating heart nearly stopped.
It was a modernist public sculpture, appearing about six meters tall. From a distance, its outer layer consisted of countless tiny spheres of varying sizes, mostly blue and gold, gleaming with a beautiful metallic sheen under the hall’s bright lights.
All these microscopic spheres formed an inverted ellipsoid, each trailing a light-like tail. Light emanated from within, seeping through the gaps between countless particles. These particles seemed alive, as if uniformly scattering outward, as if…
“The Big Bang…”
All particles flee from me, rushing toward you.
Zhou Ziheng murmured to himself, his steps guided by a deepening awareness as he approached the massive, majestic exhibit. The view obscured by the crowd gradually cleared, revealing more.
The Big Bang was merely the outermost “shell.” The two scattered halves enclosed a hollow space.
In the lower right corner of the shell, a palm-sized golden plaque bore the creator’s name.
[Creator: Negative particles]
Negative particles.
The phrase delivered a perfect thud to Zhou Ziheng’s heart.
[Donor: Zhou Ziheng]
Below was engraved a message.
［The vast cosmos cannot be privately owned, but it may reside within eyes pursuing ideals.］
Stepping into the center of the “Big Bang,” he felt as if entering a vacuum universe. The clamorous discussions instantly coalesced and vanished from Zhou Ziheng’s ears. His footsteps slowed, his heart deceived by weightlessness, floating upward.
Inside the shell sat a small boy cast in bronze, a tiny rose tucked into his breast pocket. His hands cradled a book whose pages connected two spiraling, ascending filaments—one composed of countless white particles, the other black. These diametrically opposed forces repelled while attracting, clashed while merging.
Positive and negative particles danced entangled across the galaxy.
The boy holding the book lifted his head, and Zhou Ziheng raised his gaze too, following the beautiful spirals upward, inch by inch.
At the very center of the Big Bang, at the peak where positive and negative particles collided and merged, a planet hung suspended.
In Zhou Ziheng’s tender gaze, it shimmered with serene radiance.
“Outstanding graduate of the Physics Department, I’d like to ask you a question.”
A familiar voice came from behind him—the last thing Zhou Ziheng had expected to hear before seeing this sculpture.
Radio signals launched from this vibrant, beautiful space station traversed billions of light-years, parting the drifting, scattered stardust to enter his lonely, silent universe.
Turning his head, his gaze met the spacecraft chasing the speed of light, landing upon a face more beautiful than any nebula.
The suspended heart reached its destination in his smile.
Xia Xiqing extended his right hand, hidden behind his back—the bandaged hand clutching a red rose—and offered it forward. He looked up, pointing at the glowing star, his gaze innocent and gentle.
“Why does it shine?”
Author’s Note:
Recommended BGM for enhanced immersion with this chapter: Sandy Lam’s “Solar System.”
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