In middle school, when writing essays, students loved piling up fancy phrases, as if adding one more idiom would catch the discerning eye of the grading teacher and earn an extra half point. Chen Yuan Er’s favorite phrase was “time flies like a shuttle” (sui yue ru suo). She would squeeze these four beautiful and rhythmic characters into every essay, even argumentative ones.
She didn’t understand then, but one day, when she no longer needed to write assigned essays, she suddenly got it. Maybe while accidentally looking through childhood photos, or walking to the cafeteria on a cherry blossom-filled April morning, or perhaps upon noticing a white hair on her mother’s coat – anyway, on such a day, the deep meaning of these four characters struck her like an epiphany:
Time flies like a shuttle.
For Yuan Er, this moment came during the graduation ceremony.
She cried, her dormmates cried, and several male students from their department had tears glistening in their eyes. No one knew who started it – everyone had been smiling radiantly while receiving their diplomas, and then suddenly people began crying one after another. The feeling wasn’t like reading a sad sentence or getting emotional watching a movie with the protagonist. If it had to be described, it was graduation itself pulling the trigger, accurately hitting everything soft in everyone’s hearts about these four years.
For most people, this day marked the end of student life. They were officially thrown into the orderly operating society, from now on taking different paths and carrying their futures.
Hui Xin returned to Guangzhou that very evening, not even staying for the farewell dinner. In their limited time together, Yuan Er learned that her mentor was nice, there was frequent overtime, company benefits were good, and she faced many obstacles due to not understanding Cantonese. The pharmaceutical college was small, and everyone roughly knew where others were heading, though on this night perhaps no one realized that their former classmate relationships would soon transform into mutually beneficial partnerships or party A and party B relationships – the future is one of the few words that can be matched with “forever,” as it’s forever unknown.
Huang Lu had already moved her luggage home and was sharing Yuan Er’s bed for the night. The dormitory still had a curfew, but until 2 AM the corridor remained noisy with people crying and laughing. The dorm auntie didn’t come up to stop them, and the junior girls upstairs didn’t come to complain – it seemed outsiders understood this was a final celebration. The two chatted softly, the curtains left open as moonlight slowly flowed into the tiny space shared for four years.
“So fast,” Huang Lu lay flat, eyes fixed on the reachable ceiling, “in the blink of an eye we’re all going separate ways.”
Yuan Er turned to face her companion, “I still remember the day we first moved in, you came down from the bed to talk to me, wearing low-rise denim shorts, showing off those dazzling white legs everywhere. I thought this sister had such a great figure.”
“Haha,” Huang Lu laughed, “You know what I was thinking then?”
“Don’t tell me we hit it off at first sight?”
Huang Lu shook her head with a grin, “I thought Xiao Jing wasn’t bad, tall and handsome – if you two weren’t together, I could give it a shot.”
“How dare you!” Yuan Er glared at her, “So your attention wasn’t even on me.”
Huang Lu also turned to face her, propping her head on one arm, “Yuan Er, Xiao Jing is really good.”
“I know.”
“He’s different from that bastard Tian Chi. Xiao Jing would never abandon you for anything else, because you’re as important to him as himself.” Huang Lu spoke sincerely, “Not everything is like publishing an SCI paper where you need the experiment right, results complete, data and theory all perfect, checked multiple times before daring to submit. You understand what I mean?”
Yuan Er made a sound of agreement.
“What’s the situation with you two now?”
What situation indeed? They often message each other, and have long phone calls on weekends where he talks about work, and discusses her thesis and what her advisor wants her to do, occasionally mentioning friends around them. No one points out taking the next step, yet it seems they’re both using these opportunities to get closer.
The long-maintained relationship transforming into something else they’ve both realized the change.
But… but being so far apart, neither could outline what the future would look like.
Because it was too important, any rash move seemed careless.
“Yuan Er,” without waiting for an answer, Huang Lu quietly posed a question, “Do you like Xiao Jing?”
After a long while, so long the moonlight had faded, Yuan Er nodded.
Huang Lu had already closed her eyes in drowsiness, seeming to feel the slight movement on the pillow, she mumbled, “That’s good then.”
Is it really good?
Yuan Er lay on the bed looking at the moonlight outside, unsure if it could be considered good.
Fifteen minutes or half an hour later, in her drowsy state, her phone vibrated. She opened one eye to check the message. Jing Xi Chi asked, “Are you asleep?”
Yuan Er instantly became alert, as if drawn by something. She carefully climbed down from the bed and walked to the window. Across three floors, she saw someone standing in the moonlight.
Wearing a baseball cap, and white T-shirt, with a messenger bag slung across his body.
Yuan Er wanted to call out, but the night was deep, the whole campus had entered dreamland.
She could only send two words: “Look up.”
Jing Xi Chi looked up just as he received the reply. He waved, then pointed at his phone.
Yuan Er watched him type intently, wondering how someone who should be in closed training and couldn’t even attend the graduation ceremony during the day had appeared before her eyes.
Next message: “Close the window, mosquitoes will get in.”
Yuan Er laughed, leaning half her body out to shake her head at him.
She lay on the windowsill watching him type, also taking the chance to look at him. The T-shirt was big, looking loose even on his broad male frame. His feet were naturally apart, shorts revealing a section of muscular calves. Jing Xi Chi was slightly bow-legged, seemingly a common trait among long-term soccer players, but he inherited his father’s height, and as his features matured his whole face became increasingly handsome – fitting the saying that minor flaws can’t obscure overall excellence.
As for when this rough stone transformed into jade, Yuan Er couldn’t say clearly.
Soon a message came: “Master Jiang let me out a day early, Beijing had heavy rain, flight was delayed three hours. Leaving tomorrow night.”
Before she could reply, another message came correcting: “Today.”
At 3 AM, it was indeed already today.
Yuan Er replied, “Where are you staying?”
“The hotel next door probably. Though I guess many are checking in tonight.”
This guy is homeless yet still in the mood to joke.
The night was too quiet, so quiet Yuan Er didn’t know what to say. She held the warm phone in her hand, steadily gazing at him across three floors. Jing Xi Chi pushed up his cap brim, then seemingly unable to see clearly, simply turned the brim to the back of his head, staring up at her with a silly smile.
This night had the world’s gentlest moon.
He lowered his head again, and then Yuan Er’s phone received a message: “I came back because I wanted to take a graduation photo with you.”
Because I don’t want to miss any important moments – yours, ours.
Yuan Er’s nose stung. It wasn’t some profound probe, nor an earth-shattering promise. She couldn’t say if the tears she was desperately holding back were from happiness or being moved. Jing Xi Chi standing there silently sending such a line of text – just looking at it made her want to cry.