She had to admit that from the beginning of this relationship, she never made long-term plans. She harbored a slight intention to end it.
One night, Ding Zhitong had a dream.
In her dream, she returned to Gan Yang’s place, lying with him on the floor of his room. Time lost its sense of reality. Sometimes, he propped himself up on his elbow, smiling at her. Other times, they kissed passionately. The dreaming Ding Zhitong watched these scenes from a distance, observing the actions of the dream figures and the sunset gradually sinking outside the window. The sky slowly turned deep blue, and the pink-orange twilight at the horizon faded.
Though nothing had happened, the feeling was indescribable. When she woke in the morning, she lay in bed for a long time, unusually reluctant to get up, allowing her phone alarm to ring twice.
The calendar had turned to December, her last month in Kang Village. All her courses, exams, and thesis defenses were over.
The winter graduation ceremony was scheduled before the Christmas holiday. After donning the cap and receiving her certificate, she would pack up and leave.
The following half-month break would be perfect for moving. After New Year’s Day, she would start a ten-week full-time training at M Bank. She could live in the company-provided serviced apartment and use that time to find a place in New York.
Then, her journey to strike gold would officially begin.
All these plans were clear and set. She had rehearsed them in her mind many times. Only Gan Yang was an unexpected branch in her life.
As if making up her mind, she bought a three-pack of Trojan condoms and put them in her backpack for unexpected needs. Then, feigning nonchalance, she told herself: “Ding Zhitong, consider this your graduation gift. If it happens, it’ll be a beautiful memory. When it ends, don’t be too sad.”
Years later, after seeing a therapist for a while, she mentioned her thoughts from that time.
The therapist, unfazed, replied: “Indeed, some people do this. When they’re anxious about something that might happen, they tend to make it happen.”
“So this is normal behavior?” Ding Zhitong asked.
But the therapist didn’t judge normality, only saying: “It’s a manifestation of obsessive-compulsive disorder.”
Another day passed, and Ding Zhitong still went running with Gan Yang, enjoying the racing heartbeat, urgent breathing, muscle soreness, the extra endorphins produced in the cold, and the sweaty post-run stretching on the yoga mat.
With the previous experience, this routine became more intimate.
Gan Yang held her ankle, folding one of her legs against her chest, then pressing his whole body close. The indoor heating was strong, and after running five kilometers, both were sweaty, sticking together.
Ding Zhitong, slightly out of breath and doubting whether this was still stretching, joked a bit too far: “If this were in the gym, wouldn’t it count as sexual harassment?”
“But we’re not in the gym…” His lips were very close to hers, his gaze deep, as if considering the right angle for a kiss.
She suddenly realized he must have prepared for this too.
Though it was part of her plan, her face felt on fire, her heart racing so fast that the pulsing of her blood vessels sounded like a speeding train roaring past her ears.
The therapist from years later was probably right. At that moment, she threw caution to the wind and made the first move to remove his clothes. He reciprocated, taking off her T-shirt. Her skin, exposed to the room’s air, wasn’t cold but trembled slightly. The atmosphere was so tense it felt like a fight was about to break out. She froze, unsure what to do next, and when he tried to undo her sports bra, she pushed him away, pretending to be experienced as she suggested: “How about we take a shower first?”
It was a reasonable request, but Gan Yang saw through her bravado. He deliberately held her tight, lying on top of her and laughing, his shoulders shaking. Breathless under his weight, she hit his back a couple of times, asking if he was crying from excitement. He agreed jokingly, then got up and carried her to the bathroom.
Seeing each other naked for the first time, she initially didn’t dare look, but once she did, she couldn’t look away. Those who had practiced eight-person single-oar rowing indeed had beautiful bodies, even there. In the end, it was he who blushed under her gaze. He turned on the overhead shower, letting steam fill the space. They kissed as if in a tropical downpour, exploring each other’s bodies with hands and lips, every inch of their skin craving the other’s touch, igniting passion with the help of shower gel.
After drying off and moving to the bed, he was still nervous. He put the first condom on backward, clumsily ruining it, and hurriedly opened a second one.
Wrapped in a towel, she watched him, resting her chin on her hands, and said, “Want me to help?”
“No,” he said, sitting with legs apart and focusing on the task, clinging to his last shred of masculine dignity. “I’ve got it, just a moment.”
She thought he was a bit silly.
Silly, but cute.
But once they truly began, everything changed.
She had to admit she was only pretending to be experienced, and so was he. Neither knew where to put their hands or feet, relying on instinct and bits of knowledge picked up from somewhere. The intimacy felt good – kisses, caresses, friction – even if clumsy, made them eager for more. But the actual moment of joining was completely different from what she had imagined, causing her to tense up instantly, her back covered in cold sweat. It hurt, and it didn’t last long. However, as their fingers intertwined, as she watched his Adam’s apple move, as he observed her furrowed brow showing both endurance and intoxication, their hearts melted. The psychological pleasure built up layer upon layer until the final moment of overflow.
Night had fallen without them noticing, and the room was unlit. They lay embracing for a while. Ding Zhitong looked around the bedroom, neither obsessively tidy nor messy enough to warrant close inspection. Everything was just right. That feeling from her dream returned, both enticing and frightening her.
Finally, he pulled her closer and asked, “How… how was it for you?”
Ding Zhitong didn’t answer, instead returning the question: “What did you think?”
“Hmm…” Gan Yang pondered, “It was different from what I expected…”
“You didn’t like it?” she asked.
“Did you like it?… I’m worried you didn’t.”
“Was this your first time?” she finally asked.
He nodded.
She had asked the question but found the answer hard to believe. Though they hadn’t discussed it explicitly, his words suggested he’d had a girlfriend before.
Gan Yang, however, didn’t mind and casually mentioned he’d had 1.5 girlfriends.
1.5? Ding Zhitong turned over to lie on her stomach, asking him to elaborate.
Gan Yang explained that one was his high school classmate, also a Chinese international student. Like him, she was studying abroad alone, without parents. Both feeling lonely, they got together in 11th grade.
“You were in America, the land of freedom, democracy, and openness. Why didn’t you try?” Ding Zhitong couldn’t understand.
“We were young then. Don’t think guys can’t be scared too,” he explained earnestly. “Besides, it was Junior year! The toughest year in American high school! English wasn’t my first language, and AP U.S. History and English Literature nearly killed me. Add to that extracurriculars and SAT prep. Without a green card or family alumni connections, and with higher standardized test score requirements for Asians, our admission rates were much lower…”
The conversation had successfully shifted from ex-girlfriends to a litany of grievances.
“I didn’t know you went through that phase too,” Ding Zhitong said, laughing. “Then what happened?”
“We went to different colleges and broke up in our freshman year,” Gan Yang replied.
“Where did she go to school?” Ding Zhitong asked.
“California. We occasionally like each other’s posts on Facebook now,” Gan Yang answered calmly and briefly. As he’d said before, he didn’t discuss relationships with third parties.