The house was empty. The clamor downstairs seemed separated by an invisible barrier. Everything around me was still, as if dead.
I curled up on the sofa, completely drained of energy. My limbs felt weak and lifeless. I wanted to get up, but I couldn’t summon the motivation to move.
The air still carried the trace of Shen Jianqing’s presence. Yesterday he had been sitting here on this sofa, leaning by the window to watch the crowds below, kissing me intimately, looking at me with those moist, searching eyes.
I didn’t dare go back to the bedroom, afraid it would bring back too many memories.
A sense of helplessness enveloped me—helplessness that tasted like regret.
I thought, perhaps I would never again meet someone who could love me like Shen Jianqing did.
Nor would there be anyone else who could stir this kind of flutter in my heart.
I had once grown accustomed to solitude.
I could eat alone, go to school alone, even attend parent-teacher meetings by myself. Solitude had always been a constant companion.
But after experiencing what it meant to have a “home,” after briefly having one, I was being asked to return to that loneliness. It had been too fleeting, and that felt cruel.
It’s okay, Li Yuze. I drew a deep breath, consoling myself. Didn’t people always say time is the best healer?
Perhaps if I endured a little longer, it would all pass.
I collapsed back on the sofa and closed my eyes.
When I woke again, it was already the afternoon. My phone showed it was five o’clock. Somehow, I had slept through my afternoon class.
But that didn’t matter.
The living room lights were off, and the sky outside was gray and heavy. The clouds were dark and low, brewing a storm.
They… should have arrived by now.
I was about to get up when, from the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of bright red on the sofa.
It looked like the only color in a black-and-white film, jarring yet captivating.
My heart skipped a beat. “Honghong?”
Honghong’s front paws drooped above its head. Hearing my voice, its two black eyes turned toward me.
Why was Honghong still here?
Had it been left behind?
Yet when we left earlier, I hadn’t noticed it. Its bright color would have made it impossible to miss unless it had been intentionally hidden.
Honghong lifted its front paws, lazily rubbing its eyes, then crawled toward me.
Tentatively, I reached out my hand, mimicking Shen Jianqing. Without hesitation, Honghong climbed up, rubbing my hand with its slender limbs, sending a gentle tingling through me.
Was it Shen Jianqing’s pet? I probably should return it to him. But… selfishly, I wanted to keep Honghong with me.
If even a trace of memory vanished, how could I prove that someone had once loved me so deeply?
And if Honghong stayed… perhaps Shen Jianqing… might come see me again.
A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, every one tied to the name “Shen Jianqing.”
So this is what it’s like to truly like someone.
My love wasn’t as intense or bold as his—he burned like the brightest summer sun. I had always been the type to avoid confrontation, unsure if I should even seek him out. I kept to the rules, silently hoping he might come back to see me, just like that night when he unexpectedly appeared at my door. Dust-streaked and weary, yet his eyes still held me.
“Do you want to stay?” I whispered, almost to myself.
Though I didn’t expect an answer, Honghong stirred its limbs, climbed into my sleeve, and clung to my clothes, refusing to move.
So… it wanted to stay?
I couldn’t help but smile.
After that, life slowly returned to normal.
Yet I often thought of Shen Jianqing.
Autumn passed, and winter’s first snow arrived. Salt City, a southern city, rarely saw snow, but this year was an exception.
The snowflakes were small, accumulating only a thin layer on the ground, but it caused a huge stir at school. Most students had never seen snow before. The playground was filled with kids, throwing snow at each other with curious, joyous expressions. A few northern students described the frozen landscapes of their home, drawing envious attention from everyone else.
I wondered if Shen Jianqing had ever seen snow like this.
I walked alone past the back lake, brushing against the bustling crowd. The lotus leaves in the lake were gone, leaving only a few withered stalks, silent reminders of summer.
Shen Jianqing had never seen a lotus pond before; he had never even seen a lotus flower.
Oh, and he’d never heard poetry either. That line, “Autumn clouds disperse late with frost, leaving withered lotus to listen to the rain,” he wouldn’t understand. What a pity. If he had stayed another day, he could have gone to a classical literature class… maybe he would have liked it.
I paused on the floating bridge, my thoughts drifting far away. Ahead, a young couple appeared, walking side by side. The bridge was narrow, so I stepped aside.
As they passed, the girl glanced at me and instinctively stopped.
I looked at her, puzzled. She seemed familiar.
“Senpai, it’s you,” she said, brushing her hair from under a black hat, revealing her delicate face.
The hat looked more like a boy’s style.
It took me a moment, but I finally remembered her name: “Zhao Rugu.”
She was holding onto a tall boy, who watched me warily. He furrowed his brows, offering a subtle warning, holding Zhao Rugu’s waist tightly as if to assert his claim.
Zhao Rugu, both helpless and smiling, merely gave him a look, not breaking free.
The boy raised his chin slightly. “Senior Li.”
Zhao Rugu said, “He’s my boyfriend, and also from the Literature Department.”
That made him my junior too.
I remembered the day I had turned down Zhao Rugu. She had looked a little disappointed, but not sad. She once claimed she had liked me for years, but now it seemed that her affection had been nothing more than an appreciation of my appearance, not true feelings.
The boy lowered his head, quietly gazing at Zhao Rugu, his body slightly turned—a protective stance that also partially blocked my view.
Zhao Rugu waved at me with a smile. “We’re leaving.”
The boy let out a barely perceptible sigh of relief.
I watched their figures recede. Zhao Rugu slipped on the icy snow, and the boy immediately caught her waist to steady her.
It seemed she had found her ideal type.
“Ding—ding—ding—”
Just as I was about to continue walking, my phone, tucked in my pocket, rang.