When Chen Feng woke up, the sunlight was already slanting in through the window. He estimated it was still before 2 p.m. He stretched lazily in bed, then sat up expressionlessly, habitually reaching for the cigarette pack. There was only one left.
“Even if only you were left, I’d still smoke it. Because I’m more lonely than you.” He muttered self-mockingly, lighting it and watching the smoke rise. Through that blue-green haze, Xiao Ting’s figure appeared again in his mind—the girlfriend from college, peacefully separated after graduation, later seen in Moments leaning in the arms of a boy on the other side of the ocean. He could only smile bitterly; everything had been put at ease.
Out of sheer boredom, I turned on the computer. On QQ, all the avatars were gray. Just as I was about to open the browser, a notification suddenly popped up in the lower right corner: You have received a message in a bottle.
He had wanted to turn it off, but his hand honestly tapped it open. The message read: Male, lonely single, energetic tomorrow, mature women and married women interested are welcome.
Chenfeng chuckled and replied with a teasing remark. The other person actually started chatting. They went from mutual jabs to testing each other, the language becoming increasingly explicit. Chenfeng initially intended to kill time but gradually found himself attracted by the other's directness and wit. Later, the other person revealed herself: in her early forties, a mature middle-aged woman, husband often away, passing time online out of boredom. Coincidentally, they were in the same city.
In the days that followed, they talked a lot. From daily trivialities to each other's loneliness. Chenfeng found himself developing a peculiar dependence on this woman he had never met. She was mature, direct, yet not frivolous. And Sister Ping regarded him as a big boy she could speak to with peace of mind.
They really met on an ordinary weekend.
Sister Ping invited him over to her place, saying her computer was broken and asking him, a computer science major, to take a look. When Chenfeng arrived, she was wearing a casual robe at home, her hair casually tied up, little to no makeup on her face, yet her charm was hard to conceal. A woman in her early forties, her skin well-maintained, her figure kept in good shape, her chest full, her waist still curvy.
The computer issue was actually minor—just a loose memory module. Chenfeng fixed it quickly. Sister Ping handed him a glass of water, and the two sat on the sofa chatting idly. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, and the atmosphere gradually grew ambiguous.
Somehow we ended up close together. Cheng Feng’s head rested on her thighs, and his nose was full of the faint natural scent from her body. He lifted his eyes; the neckline of her robe was slightly open, revealing deep cleavage and the edge of black lingerie.
"What are you looking at? You're this big already and still want to nurse?" Sister Ping smiled and patted his forehead, but she didn't pull her clothes back into place; instead, because of the movement, she tugged them open a little more.
Chen Feng's arm encircled her waist, his palm resting on her lower abdomen. It was still flat and smooth. His other hand boldly moved upward, grasping the soft weight through her underwear. Sister Ping's breath hitched, but she didn't push him away immediately.
"Sister Ping, let me take a look." he said in a low voice.
"Didn't you already watch it?" she reminded him. She had shown him the video once before.
"The camera resolution is too poor."
Before the words faded, his fingers had already slipped into the robe, directly touching warm skin. Sister Ping took a light breath, her body tensing slightly, but gradually softening under his palm. He pulled open the robe, pushed aside the underwear, and the mature breasts were fully exposed to the air. The nipples were already slightly erect, showing an enticing deep color.
Chenfeng lowered his head and took one side into his mouth, his tongue circling the areola before gently sucking. Sister Ping's fingers tangled in his hair; at first, she tried to push him away, but later it turned into holding him down. His other hand had already explored between her legs, feeling obvious wetness through her panties.
"Xiaofeng... we can't do this... I'm already over forty..." Her voice was panting, but there was no real refusal.
He did not answer. He simply pushed her panties aside and directly slipped his fingers into that already muddy opening. Tight, warm, layers of soft flesh immediately wrapped around him. Pingjie raised her neck and let out a long sigh. He added more fingers, carefully opening her up, while his thumb pressed against the little bud that had already peeked out. Pingjie's waist twisted uncontrollably; the robe fell completely open, and her mature body was fully exposed before his eyes.
When she climaxed for the first time, her inner walls spasmed violently, a surge of heat rushing onto his fingers. She cried out his name, her body arching and then heavily falling back. Chenfeng withdrew his fingers, unfastened his pants, and his painfully hard member sprang out. He had Sister Ping turn over, hands braced on the sofa, her buttocks raised high.
The glans pressed against the entrance, slowly and firmly pushing in. Even with ample lubrication, the feeling of being completely filled made Sister Ping let out a satisfied moan. He held her waist with both hands and began rhythmic thrusts. Each time he went in to the deepest point, his scrotum slapping against her buttocks, making a crisp sound.
Sister Ping's moans of pleasure gradually shifted from suppressed to wanton. She looked back at him, her eyes glistening with moisture, yet full of desire. Chenfeng quickened his pace, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh particularly clear in the quiet afternoon. He reached around to the front, kneading her swaying breasts, his fingertips pinching and gently pulling her nipples. Sister Ping's inner walls instantly clenched tight—clearly she was about to climax again.
He did not give her a chance to rest, continuing deepening into her on the lingering afterglow of the climax. When he ejaculated for the second time, he left everything inside. Thick semen filled her cavity, and the excess trickled down her thighs. Pingjie lay limply on the sofa, only her buttocks still raised high, accepting his last few deep thrusts.
Afterward, the two leaned against each other, panting. Sister Ping’s nightgown hung messily on her body, her hair was disheveled, and her face was still flushed from climax. She turned to look at him and suddenly smiled.
"You brat... you’re even fiercer than I thought."
Chenfeng kissed her shoulder, 'Sister Ping, you're squeezing me so tight I can't take it either.'
She reached out and tapped his forehead, but she wasn’t really angry. After cleaning up, the two of them sat on the sofa for a while longer. The sun gradually slanted westward, and only each other’s body heat and lingering scent remained in the room.
From that day on, this relationship became fixed.
Sister Ping's husband often went on business trips, so she was frequently home alone. Chenfeng would go over after work, sometimes for dinner and chat, but more often they'd end up directly in bed. The body of a mature woman possessed a charm that young people couldn't match—soft yet strong, sensitive yet durable. She knew how to please herself and would actively teach him how to please her even more.
Sometimes they would do it in the living room, curtains drawn tight, the city's traffic flowing outside, but inside was the decadence of flesh. Sometimes in the bedroom, she would actively ride him, controlling the rhythm herself, her full breasts swaying before his eyes. Sometimes in the bathroom, hot water washing over their joined bodies, the sound of water masking all other noises.
Sister Ping rarely talked about her marriage. Only occasionally, after intimacy, would she lean against his chest and softly say, "This is pretty good too." Chenfeng didn't ask either. Two adults, both clear that this relationship had no future, yet both indulged in it.
One afternoon a month later, the two of them had just finished once. Sister Ping lay in his arms, lazily tracing circles on his chest with her fingers.
"He’s coming back to stay for a while next month." she suddenly said.
Chen Feng's hand stopped on her waist. 'Then we...'
“We’ll see then.” She turned around and took the initiative to kiss him. “At least right now, you’re still here.”
Desire was ignited once again. This time they took it slower, deeper. As if trying to carve every memorable sensation into their bodies. When semen shot into her for the third time, Sister Ping held him tightly, not letting go of her legs either.
The sunlight outside the window had already shifted westward. In a certain corner of this city, a lonely mature woman and a young man filled each other's emptiness with their bodies. No vows, no tomorrow, only the most real body warmth and panting of this moment.
And as long as loneliness persists, this secret entanglement will continue.
During the period after her husband returned, the two tacitly stopped meeting.
Sister Ping's messages became brief and restrained. Sometimes it was just "At home, not convenient," sometimes a photo of a home-cooked meal with the caption "Made braised pork today." Chenfeng would reply with an emoji, saying no more. He knew where the boundaries were. For a woman in her forties, marriage was the backdrop of her life, and he was merely a bold stroke of ink occasionally bleeding into that backdrop.
Half a month later, her husband went on another business trip.
The message came out of nowhere: "Free tonight? Want to eat that sweet and sour pork ribs you made."
After work, Chenfeng went directly to the supermarket. Ribs, vinegar, sugar, cooking wine—he prepared everything one by one. By the time he arrived at her place, it was completely dark. Sister Ping opened the door wearing the familiar robe he remembered, her hair still damp from washing. They looked at each other for a second, exchanged no extra greetings, and he entered the kitchen with the bags.
The aroma of the dishes gradually filled the air. Sister Ping leaned against the doorframe watching him work, then suddenly walked over and hugged him from behind, her face pressed against his back.
“I missed you.” She said it very softly.
Chenfeng turned off the stove and turned around. Their kiss came naturally and urgently. The robe's belt was undone, and her mature body was exposed to his touch again. This time, they didn't make it to the bedroom; it happened right on the kitchen counter. Sister Ping sat on it, legs spread, and he guided himself inside. The cold, hard marble contrasted sharply with her scorching body. Her back pressed against the wall tiles, and each time he thrust deep, she let out suppressed moans.
Afterwards, the ribs had already gone cold. The two of them sat side by side at the dining table, using the same pair of chopsticks to finish the cold dishes. Sister Ping suddenly laughed: “Feels like a pair of adulterers sneaking around.”
“It just is.” Chen Feng replied.
She kicked him, but he caught her ankle and pulled her into his embrace. The second time happened on the sofa, slower and more detailed than the first. He had her straddle him, holding her waist with both hands, watching as she rode him up and down. Her nipples swayed before his eyes; he opened his mouth, took one in, and sucked hard. Sister Ping's fingers dug into his hair, the rhythm of her body gradually losing control. When she climaxed, she bit his shoulder, her inner walls clenching tight and intensely.
For a month after that, the frequency of their meetings became somewhat exaggeratedly high.
Sometimes going straight over after work, sometimes on weekend afternoons. Sister Ping would prepare simple food in advance, or prepare nothing, opening the door and leading straight to the bedroom. Their physical默契 had reached a point where words were unnecessary. He knew she liked her hair pulled when taken from behind; she knew he would suddenly speed up and thrust deep just before cumming. Sometimes after finishing once, she would lie lazily, letting him continue with fingers or tongue to prolong the afterglow until she came again.
One night, the two lay in bed smoking. Sister Ping's head rested on his arm, smoke slowly dispersing under the ceiling.
"Sometimes I feel very lowly." She suddenly spoke up.
Chen Feng turned to look at her.
“You’re already in your forties, and you’re still sneaking around like a little girl. As soon as your husband goes on a business trip, you’re hoping you’ll come over, and when you do, all you can think about is being fucked by you.” She spoke very calmly, as if stating someone else’s matter. “Tell me, am I very greedy?”
"Being greedy for the body is very normal." He flicked ash from his cigarette. "And you clamp tightly, and your reaction is real. Everyone likes that."
She reached out and pinched him, but not hard enough to hurt. “Will you think I’m too old?”
“You look like this now better than many young people.”
She had heard this line more than once, yet she still curved her lips slightly. She stubbed out her cigarette, turned over, and straddled him, lowering herself down. Her body, already used twice, still swallowed him easily. This time she moved forcefully, as if trying to prove something with her actions. Sweat slid from her collarbone into her cleavage, then dripped onto his chest. Later, she couldn't hold on any longer, collapsing onto him, panting, letting him thrust up from below until they both released together.
Semen was left inside once again. She didn't get up immediately. Instead, she leaned against him in their connected position, listening to his heartbeat.
"I may need to go out of town with him next month," she said. "He took on a short-term project, and wants me to go along to handle the socializing."
“How long?”
"About twenty days."
Chen Feng's hand paused on her back for a moment, then continued its slow caress. 'Go ahead. We'll talk when you get back.'
She nodded and didn't bring it up again.
The days of separation were calmer than expected.
Chenfeng refocused his energy on work. His boss finally approved a small raise; the amount wasn't large, but it improved his mood. Occasionally, he still opened the old message-in-a-bottle page at night but never threw out a new one. His chat history with Sister Ping stopped at her message before departure: 'Will check in when I arrive.' After that were a few scenic photos, and then only 'busy' or emoji replies remained.
On the twenty-first day, the messages became active again.
“I’m back. Tired. You?”
“At home. Want to come over?”
"Tomorrow, then. I just want to sleep today."
The next evening, when Chenfeng arrived, Sister Ping had just finished bathing. She looked a bit thinner than before she left, with faint dark circles under her eyes, yet couldn't hide the brightness upon seeing him. They weren't in a hurry to have sex. He massaged her shoulders, listened to her talk about how boring the social engagements out of town were, how bad the alcohol tasted, how fake the smiles were. Later, she suddenly stopped talking, just leaned against him, her breathing gradually becoming warm.
This time, they did it exceptionally long.
From the living room to the bedroom, from the bed to the window. Sister Ping’s body was as if it wanted to reclaim all the days apart, unusually proactive. When he entered her, she would twist her waist herself; after climax, she wouldn’t let him pull out, but would keep rubbing against him in small motions. By the third time, she was already crying, yet she still held him tightly and would not let him stop.
“Easy... I can’t... really can’t...”
He slowed his movements but did not withdraw. With that slow grinding, he rubbed against her most sensitive spot again and again. Sister Ping’s tears finally fell, and no one knew whether it was from comfort or grievance. He lowered his head and kissed them away, but his lower body remained deeply connected the entire time.
During ejaculation, he asked her, 'Leave it inside?'
She nodded, her legs tightening their grip.
Afterward, the two lay quietly. Rain could be heard outside the window, drizzling patter by patter. Sister Ping’s fingers drew meaningless patterns on his chest, and then she suddenly said:
“He’ll stay a little longer this time. Maybe six months.”
Chenfeng's movements paused briefly.
"The project came up locally. There should be a lot fewer business trips in the future." Her voice was calm, "We... may need to stop for a while."
He did not answer immediately. Only after a long while did he say, 'Got it.'
"Are you going to find someone else?"
「Maybe. Maybe not.」 He said honestly, 「What about you? Will you keep enduring it?」
Sister Ping smiled, her smile carrying something indescribable. "Having endured for so many years, another half a year doesn't make much difference."
That night, they did it once more. It was slower and more silent than any time before, like a kind of wordless farewell. By the time it ended, the sky was already faintly light. Sister Ping looked at the sliver of light through the curtains and softly said:
“Let’s go. If we stay any longer, the neighbors will be up early.”
While Chen Feng was getting dressed, she kept watching him. No attempt to make him stay, no extra words. As the door closed behind him, he heard a very soft sigh from inside.
The days that followed returned to their own separate tracks.
Chen Feng's life returned to a regular rhythm. Work, off work, occasionally having meals with colleagues, sleeping in on weekends. Messages from Sister Ping went from daily to every few days, then dwindled to only holiday greetings. Once, he saw a woman with a similar silhouette in a mall, his heart skipped a beat, but upon getting closer, he realized it was just a mistake.
Half a year passed quickly.
One late autumn evening, he suddenly received a message from her: 'He still has to go on a business trip. For half a month. You... are you still coming over?'
Chen Feng stared at that line of text for a long time. His finger hovered over the screen, but in the end, he replied, 'Okay.'
When they met again, the two of them were a bit unfamiliar with each other.
Sister Ping was still wearing a robe, just a different color. Her actions opening the door for him, pouring water, even the distance she sat from him on the sofa—all carried a cautious sense of testing. Chenfeng set down the fruit he brought and sat opposite her. A faint silence hung in the air.
"Slimmer." She spoke first.
"You too."
Another silence. Later, I don’t know who moved closer first. When the kiss landed, unfamiliarity was instantly replaced by familiarity. The body was more honest than memory. The robe fell to the floor, and the two of them rolled from the sofa onto the carpet, then stumbled into the bedroom. The moment he entered, Sister Ping let out a long, almost sigh-like sound, as if finally putting something back where it belonged.
This time they spoke little but did much.
From dark to dawn, we only rested twice in between. Sister Ping’s body was as if it wanted to make up for all the days apart, sensitive beyond belief. Sometimes just a light brush of his fingers would make her tremble and come once. When he came inside her, she would hold him tightly, bury her face in the hollow of his shoulder, as if she wanted to remember his scent too.
When the morning sunlight filled the room, both were already exhausted. Sister Ping lay in the crook of his arm, her fingers lazily tracing the sweat on his chest.
“From now on... maybe it’ll still be like this,” she said. “His work is hard to predict. Sometimes he leaves suddenly, sometimes he stays for months.”
“Then let’s leave it at that.” Chen Feng replied, “Meet when we’re free. When we’re not, we each go our own way.”
She turned her head to look at him, her eyes carrying fatigue, and also a certain sense of relief. “You don’t mind the trouble?”
"If you think it’s too much trouble, then you wouldn’t have come."
She smiled, leaned over and gently bit him. 'Smooth talker.'
Desire showed signs of stirring again at this moment. She felt it, actively straddled him, and sat down herself. Though her body was still sore and weak, it still honestly opened, engulfed, and tightened. This time they moved extremely slowly, as if confirming that the other was still there. When semen was left behind once more, Sister Ping no longer had the strength to move, just lying on top of him, listening as their heartbeats gradually synchronized.
Outside the window, the city awoke.
The sounds of cars, people, and faint horns filled the air again. But in this room, time seemed to have been quietly paused. A lonely mature woman and an equally lonely young man, proving each other's existence in the most direct way.
No one asked about forever.
And no one needed forever.
As long as loneliness remains, as long as the door will open again, this secret entanglement will continue at its own pace.
Until one day, one of them first says 'it's over,' or life uses a more unrefusable way to completely separate them.
And before that, the body would still remember the other's warmth, and the nights would still leave traces of each other.
That's all.
Not too much, and not too little.
But stories never truly end. They just change form and continue to flow gently through the everyday lives of two people.
The first autumn after graduation, Lin Xiao and Gu Yan finally moved into their own rented small apartment. The place wasn't big, just one bedroom and a living room, but the balcony faced the distant sky not yet completely blocked by high-rises. Lin Xiao brought over the old bookshelf from university, while Gu Yan set up his dual monitors for programming by the window. On the night they first officially 'settled in,' Lin Xiao cooked two bowls of plain noodles, and Gu Yan took a bottle of cheap red wine from the fridge, pouring it into inexpensive glasses.
“A toast to us.” Gu Yan raised his glass.
Lin Xiao also raised his glass: 'To that window seat in the library.'
They lightly clinked their glasses together, the glass making a crisp sound. A car light flashed past outside the window, yet the room was quiet except for the steam of the noodles and each other’s breathing.
The days that followed were like stretched film, playing out frame by frame, slowly.
Gu Yan joined an internet company, often working late into the night. Lin Xiao worked as an editorial assistant at a publishing house, dealing with manuscripts and proofs daily. Their schedules gradually drifted apart, yet they always reconvened at a fixed time. When Gu Yan returned from overtime, the entryway light was always on; when Lin Xiao stayed up late revising drafts, a still-warm glass of milk would appear on the coffee table.
Once, Gu Yan came home close to midnight for a whole week. Lin Xiao didn't complain. She just reheated the prepared late-night snack when he entered, then sat across from him, quietly listening as he talked about where the project had gotten stuck that day. After he finished, Gu Yan looked at her and suddenly said, 'Don't you get tired? Waiting for me every day.'
Lin Xiao shook her head, her voice very soft: "While waiting for you, I think about university things. About the first time you helped me carry books, about that umbrella in the rain that wasn't big enough, about the side-by-side shadows on the sports field. Thinking about these, it doesn't feel like I've been waiting long."
Gu Yan reached out and held her hand; his palm was somewhat rough but very warm.
The following spring, they officially obtained their marriage certificate. There was no grand wedding; they only took a few photos at the Civil Affairs Bureau entrance and then walked around their alma mater. The cherry blossoms happened to be in full bloom that day. Standing under the tree where they took shelter from the rain years ago, Gu Yan put the ring back on Lin Xiao's finger—the inside was still engraved with the date of their first meeting.
“Starting today,” Gu Yan said, “the library, the cafeteria, the playground, this tree — all of them belong to us now.”
Lin Xiao smiled and nodded. The wind blew, and a few more petals fell into her hair. Gu Yan reached out to help pick them off, his movements very gentle, as if touching something fragile.
Married life didn't become dramatic immediately. More often, it was the mundane details of daily life. Lin Xiao learned to make Gu Yan's favorite sweet and sour pork ribs, and Gu Yan learned to prepare a hot water bottle and her favorite chocolate in advance during Lin Xiao's period. If both were free on weekends, they would take walks in a nearby park or go back to the school's old bookstore to hunt for second-hand books. Sometimes Lin Xiao would suddenly remember how they encouraged each other in the library the night before a university exam, then turn to Gu Yan and say: "I was actually terrified back then, but seeing you sitting beside me made me feel I could get through anything."
After listening, Gu Yan would seriously reply: 'I felt the same way back then.'
In the third year, Gu Yan's company received a major project, and he was sent to work on-site in another city for three months. On the morning of their parting, Lin Xiao pulled the packed suitcase to the door and stuffed a thick coat inside.
“It’s cold over there, remember to wear it.” she said.
Gu Yan nodded, suddenly pulling her into a hug and holding her for a long time.
“Video every day.” he said, “Video no matter how busy.”
Lin Xia buried her face in his chest, her voice muffled: 'Okay.'
Those three months became the first real separation since they got married. Lin Xiao worked during the day, and returning to the empty apartment at night, she would first start a video call. Gu Yan's side was often a temporarily rented dormitory, with a simple background and poor lighting, but he always answered immediately. Sometimes he had just come out of a meeting, his hair messy, but he would still ask first, 'Did you eat today?'
Lin Xiao would prop her phone on the dining table, talking to him while eating. She talked about the new intern at the publishing house, the newly opened milk tea shop downstairs, and how today she passed by the gate of her alma mater and saw another batch of freshmen registering.
“The way they dragged their suitcases,” Lin Xiao said, “was just like us back then.”
Gu Yan smiled on the other end of the screen: 'Back then, you were dragging your suitcase and almost bumped into a pillar.'
“You’re the one who bumped into it.” Lin Xiao retorted, but also started laughing.
At the end of three months, on the day Gu Yan came back, Lin Xiao specially took the day off. She waited at the station for nearly an hour before finally seeing the familiar figure emerge from the crowd. When Gu Yan saw her, he clearly quickened his pace. The two stood at the exit, neither speaking first, just looking at each other.
Then Gu Yan put the suitcase aside, reached out and picked her up, spinning her around once. People around glanced over, but Lin Xiao was too caught up to feel shy, just tightly hugged him back.
In the taxi home, Gu Yan kept holding her hand, as if afraid that if he let go they would be separated again. After they got home, he went to take a shower first. When he came out, Lin Xiao had already warmed up dinner. The two sat at the small dining table and quietly finished a meal, just like in the university cafeteria back then.
After finishing the meal, Gu Yan suddenly said, “Next time if I go on a business trip again, you should come with me.”
Lin Xia was taken aback for a moment, then nodded: 'Okay.'
In the fourth year, they finally saved enough for the down payment and bought a small two-bedroom apartment closer to their alma mater. On moving day, several college roommates came to help. While moving things, everyone reminisced about the fun times in the dormitory. Someone mentioned how Gu Yan always returned to the dormitory very late during his freshman year, and someone teased Lin Xiao about how nervous she was when hosting the literary club, sweating in her palms. Laughter echoed in the empty new house, as if they had also moved the past times inside.
After settling down, Lin Xiao started independently负责 a column at the publishing house. Gu Yan was promoted to project manager, busier with work but also more regular. Their lives were like two parallel lines, occasionally intersecting, yet always moving in the same direction.
One weekend, they decided to completely unwind for a day and spend a whole day back at their alma mater. In the morning, they first went to the cafeteria for a bowl of beef noodles — the taste was about the same as back in the day, just a few bucks more expensive. Then they went to the library. The window-side seats on the third floor had been replaced with new desks and chairs, but the view outside the window was still there. Lin Xiao sat down and took an old notebook from her bag, the one she used in college. Opening to a certain page, there were a few formatting marks Gu Yan had helped her correct, the handwriting clear.
"Still keeping it?" Gu Yan asked.
Lin Xiao nodded: "Can't bear to throw it away."
They sat in that spot for a long time, just like back then, one reading a book, the other looking at a screen. Only this time, neither of them hurried to leave.
At noon they walked around the playground a few times. The track had been resurfaced, and its color looked newer than in memory. Lin Xiao couldn’t run, so she just walked slowly. Gu Yan stayed by her side, occasionally reaching out to hold her and help her avoid the puddles.
“Do you remember our first run together?” Lin Xiao asked.
“Remember. You ran two steps and were out of breath, and still insisted you could keep going.”
“Back then you ran very fast, but each time you came back to wait for me.”
Gu Yan smiled but didn't respond, just slowed his pace even more.
In the evening, they walked over to that cherry blossom tree again. The blooming season had passed, but the leaves were still thick and green. The two of them stood leaning against the trunk for a while, neither saying a word. A wind blew past, bringing the clock bell from the teaching building in the distance.
"We've really come a long way." Lin Xiao said suddenly.
Gu Yan turned his head to look at her: 'But the starting point is still here.'
Lin Xiao reached out and tugged gently at the corner of his clothes, just like she did in university. Gu Yan understood and, in turn, took hold of her hand.
In the fifth year, Lin Xiao discovered she was pregnant.
That morning, she felt a bit unwell and went to the hospital for a checkup. When the results came out, she sat on the bench outside the consultation room, looking over the report again and again, then called Gu Yan.
On the other end of the line, Gu Yan was silent for a few seconds, then his voice tightened slightly: 'Where are you now? I'll come right away.'
He really arrived very quickly. He jogged all the way into the hospital, and when he saw Lin Xiao, his eyes were a little red. He sat down beside her, carefully took over the report, and checked it again and again before finally smiling.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Gu Yan tightened his grip on her hand; his palm was all sweaty.
Since then, life had gained a new rhythm. Lin Xiao began paying attention to her diet, and Gu Yan pushed aside every overtime shift he could. On weekends they would go for walks in the park together; Gu Yan always walked on the side closest to the road, still carrying Lin Xiao’s water cup. At night he would massage her calves and listen to her talk about what interesting pregnancy articles she had seen today.
Once Lin Xiao woke up in the middle of the night and gently nudged the person next to her: 'Can't sleep.'
Gu Yan immediately opened his eyes, his voice still tinged with drowsiness: 'Where does it hurt?'
“No. It’s just... I suddenly wanted to drink that bowl of porridge from the university cafeteria.”
Gu Yan was silent for two seconds, then sat up and put on his clothes: 'I'll go buy it. It's not from the cafeteria, but there's a congee shop nearby open 24 hours.'
Lin Xiao grabbed him: "No need to actually go..."
"If you want to drink, go ahead." Gu Yan bent down and kissed her on the forehead. "Wait for me to come back."
He really went. Half an hour later he came back with porridge that was still hot. Lin Xiao sat on the bed and finished it in small mouthfuls. Gu Yan sat by the bed watching her, then suddenly said: “When the child is born, let’s bring him back to the school too. Tell him that’s where Dad and Mom met.”
Lin Xiao nodded, her eyes a bit moist.
The day the child was born was in early winter. In the corridor outside the delivery room, Gu Yan paced back and forth, his phone saved with a message Lin Xiao had recorded in advance—"Don't be nervous, I'm fine." He listened to it many times, but was still so nervous his palms were sweaty.
When the nurse finally came out to notify him, he almost rushed into the ward. Lin Xiao's face was somewhat pale, but she smiled the moment she saw him. In her arms was a small, wrinkled baby.
Gu Yan carefully took the child and looked down for a long time. Then he looked up and said to Lin Xiao: 'Looks like you.'
Lin Xiao shook her head: "The nose looks like you."
The two of them laughed together. Outside the window, the sky had already brightened, and sunlight streamed through the glass onto the hospital bed, bathing everything in a soft glow.
During the days after giving birth, Gu Yan took paternity leave and was almost never out of sight. He learned to mix formula, change diapers, and burp the baby, and he also learned that when Lin Xiao was feeling low, he only needed to stay quietly by her side. ერთხელ, in the middle of the night, Lin Xiao started crying and said she felt like she couldn’t do anything right. Gu Yan gently pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back again and again.
“You’re already very good.” he said, “From university until now, you’ve always been very good.”
Lin Xia buried her face in his chest, listening to his heartbeat, gradually calming down.
When the child was one month old, they specifically returned to their alma mater. The weather was very good that day, clear and crisp autumn air. The two of them pushed the stroller, slowly walking along familiar paths. The cafeteria, the sports field, the library, the cherry blossom tree—they stopped to take photos at each place. The child in the stroller slept soundly, completely unaware of the surroundings.
Standing under that tree, Lin Xiao suddenly said softly, "Our story truly started here and has been written all the way to now."
Gu Yan nodded, reaching out to tuck her wind-blown hair behind her ear.
“I’ll keep writing.” He said, “Write all the way to a very, very far place.”
The wind blew again, this time without petals, only clean sunlight and faint sounds of reading in the distance. The campus remained young, but their story no longer belonged to just two people. It began to have new chapters, new voices, new warmth.
But the starting point is forever that autumn library, that accidental reaching-out, that simple "Be careful."
From that moment on, all the tenderness, waiting, separation, and reunion that came later had a place to return to.
They would still walk through many more springs and autumns together. The child would grow up, learn to walk, learn to speak, and one day ask: “Mom and Dad, how did you meet?”
By then, they would bring their child and return once again to this campus. Standing at the library entrance, standing on the playground track, standing beneath that tree that had already grown taller and thicker, they would slowly tell the whole story from the beginning once more.
We talked about the umbrella in the rain, the cafeteria's location, the graduation rings, and all the ordinary yet precious days that followed.
After finishing, the wind will blow again.
Petals, or leaves, or sunlight, would fall on the shoulders of the three people.
And the story would still continue.
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