An Earlier Meeting - Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The rain had made the streets desolate, and the few pedestrians scurrying by were hurried figures.

The two girls parted ways at the elevator lobby of their apartment building.

Huang Xiaozhi waved, a bright smile on her face. “Bye!” Inside the elevator, Yu Wen had one hand in her jacket pocket and raised the other to give a small wave back.

The elevator doors slowly closed, the faint metal scraping sound sealing them off from one another.

The moment the gap between the doors fully closed and the lights shifted, the smile on Huang Xiaozhi’s face froze, like a wax figure suddenly cooled.

Her raised arm slowly fell, her fingertips brushing against the seams of her pants before coming to rest quietly against the outside of her thigh.

An inexplicable sense of emptiness settled heavily in her heart, with no clear source.

She instinctively turned her head, looking through the glass window at the end of the hallway, which was fogged with condensation. Outside, countless, countless raindrops were tirelessly pelting the earth.

She didn’t know that, somewhere above her, a girl with a similar feeling was also lost in thought, staring at the endless rain.

…

Wei Qingwen had already returned home. She had finished lunch at the old family home and come back to rest.

As soon as Huang Xiaozhi opened the door, she saw her mom sprawled out on the couch, taking up the whole thing like a flattened cat.

Huang Xiaozhi glanced over, went to wash her hands, and then returned to stand in front of the couch with her hands on her hips.

“Mom, could you please mind your manners? You’re a lady! If you want to rest, go to your bed to sleep, okay?” she said, sounding like a worried little adult, trying to persuade the person on the couch.

Wei Qingwen had her arm completely covering her eyes. She didn’t move or make a sound, a strange low pressure surrounding her.

Huang Xiaozhi immediately sensed that something was wrong. She bent down, trying to pull her mother’s arm away to see what was going on, but the other woman’s strength was too great; she couldn’t pry it loose.

So she had to squat down and tilt her head to peek through the gap, only to see Wei Qingwen’s tightly closed eyes and their distinct red rims.

Did someone bully my mom?

“No, Mom, what’s wrong? Did someone pick on you? Or what? Don’t just stay silent. Tell me what’s going on…” Her words were interrupted by a cry filled with a sob.

“NO! My ship just had a bad ending!!! I’ve never been so heartbroken from shipping a couple in my whole life!” Wei Qingwen still had her eyes covered, but her voice was loud and shaky at the end. Tears seeped out from the corners of her eyes, wetting her sleeve.

So her mom was crying like this because a couple she shipped had a bad ending?

Huang Xiaozhi was speechless for a moment, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

She stood up, looking at her mother, who was nearly forty but crying over a fictional story like a little girl. She felt both helpless and amused. “I’m telling you, Mom, you’re a grown woman. Is this really something to cry about?”

Those words were like a switch. Wei Qingwen shot up from the couch, her eyes as red as a rabbit’s, and stared intently at her daughter. “No! This time is really different! Come and watch with me!” She hurriedly wiped away her “worthless” tears, her voice unusually firm.

Huang Xiaozhi was half-convinced. “Okay, okay, I’d like to see what could possibly make me cry.”

…

The two of them sat side by side in front of the TV, the screen’s light flickering on and off in the darkness.

At first, Huang Xiaozhi frowned, but as the plot deepened, her frown tightened, and her eyes began to sting.

It wasn’t until the end credits music started that the suppressed emotions finally erupted.

“What in the world is this?! Why did he die?! This ending is not happy at all!” A new member was added to the ranks of those crying bitterly.

Mother and daughter’s tears were like an open floodgate. They hugged each other and cried their hearts out.

The lingering impact was too much. Huang Xiaozhi now deeply regretted not believing her mom earlier.

After the end credits finished rolling, Wei Qingwen added in a muffled, nasal voice, “The actor who played the top… also passed away in real life.” This sentence was the final blow, completely destroying Huang Xiaozhi’s emotional defenses.

She had wanted to go online and find some real-life moments to make up for the ending… but now she was being told the actor was gone?

“What kind of thing is this… I’m done. I don’t think I can get over this.” The film told the story of two gay lovers whose beautiful beginning was followed by a forced separation due to societal constraints. Both the start and end of their journey were steeped in tragedy.

They knew that being together would mean facing countless injustices and hardships—the world’s harsh view of same-s3x love was obvious—yet they still chose to be brave and try. It wasn’t because they were naive, but because they loved each other so deeply that they felt it was worth fighting for every possibility.

But reality was even crueler: the “top” in the drama passed away from an illness, and the “bottom” consequently faded from the entertainment industry, returning to an ordinary life. This was the most heartbreaking part.

No wonder her mom had cried so much. Huang Xiaozhi only now truly understood the weight of that sorrow.

Now it was her turn to be seized by a profound sadness. She had lost her appetite for dinner. It was all her mom’s fault…

…

Upstairs.

Yu Wen was sunk into her sofa. She hadn’t turned on the lights after coming back from outside and hadn’t changed out of her clothes that were damp from the rain.

The room was pitch black, with only the faint city light from outside outlining the blurry shapes of the furniture.

She pulled open a drawer and fumbled for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

The full pack of cigarettes was carelessly tossed onto the cold glass coffee table, making a faint noise. She held the lighter, the metal casing feeling cold to the touch.

Click… click… The flame flickered to life again and again, its orange-red light briefly illuminating her pursed lips and lowered eyelashes, before being extinguished.

In the alternating light and shadow, she was silently questioning herself: what was the deepest feeling in her heart for Huang Xiaozhi? Was she really sure herself?

A sense of confusion enveloped her, like the dense fog outside the window.

She couldn’t guess what Huang Xiaozhi felt for her, and she couldn’t even discern her own feelings. All her reason screamed: The timing is wrong. Everything is wrong.

But the way Huang Xiaozhi looked at her, the unintentional moments of closeness and dependence, made her feel that the other person wasn’t completely indifferent. Maybe… maybe she even liked her a little?

In A City, she only had two people she could call friends. And one of them had just embarked on a journey to find her biological father.

A great sense of loneliness spread silently.

She had promised Huang Xiaozhi this morning that she wouldn’t smoke. She subconsciously took out a cigarette and put it between her lips. With a click, the lighter flared up again.

The dancing flame was reflected in her dark pupils.

In the darkness, a heavy sigh was clearly heard. The next second, the flame went out, and the lighter was tossed back onto the table with a thud. The unlit cigarette rolled listlessly off to the side.

She hunched her back, her hands plunged deep into her jacket pockets, her entire face hidden in shadow. Next semester… next semester, she wouldn’t be here.

Should she tell Huang Xiaozhi now? Or should she just leave without saying goodbye? If she told her, she would definitely be sad.

But if she left without a word, would the sadness be even deeper, and last even longer? Forget it… I’ll think about it later.

She had to leave during the winter break, around the New Year.

She couldn’t even spend the New Year with Huang Xiaozhi. What right did she have to promise “love”? Money? The Huang family had no shortage of money.

Her pathetic little bit of love? Huang Xiaozhi had so many people who loved her around her. Would she even need this one?

Being able to stay by her side as a “friend,” to care for her, to touch her openly—Yu Wen felt that she had already won.

After all, that silly girl seemed to have no idea of the surging undercurrents beneath the guise of “friendship.”

I’ll just live in the present. As for the rest… the future is so long, and there are so many variables. Who can predict? This was the only weak comfort she could give herself.

…

At school.

Yu Wen arrived exceptionally early today. The empty classroom was only filled with the rustling sound of her turning pages.

She couldn’t say if it was out of a secret hope or just to quietly sort through her chaotic feelings.

Huang Xiaozhi, who rushed into the classroom just in time, saw Yu Wen sitting in her seat at a glance.

She nimbly took off her backpack and greeted her with her usual bright smile. “Morning, top student Yu! Did you sleep well last night?” She seemed to always have a charming, sunny confidence about her.

Almost at the same time as her voice fell, Yu Wen, who had been looking down at her book, raised her head.

Their gazes met in mid-air with the precision of something rehearsed countless times, a perfect coincidence.

“I slept well,” Yu Wen’s voice showed no emotion. She stood up and naturally moved aside to let her through. “And you, Miss Huang?” It was a polite exchange.

Huang Xiaozhi squeezed into her seat, rummaging through her backpack for a textbook, her mouth not stopping for a moment. “Let me tell you, I had the weirdest dream last night! It was full of people I know, even you were there, and everyone was waving goodbye to me. It made me so sad!” After she said it, she looked at Yu Wen openly, a little plea for comfort in her eyes.

After hearing her story, a faint smile tugged at the corner of Yu Wen’s lips. She gently poked Huang Xiaozhi’s arm with her finger. “They say dreams are the opposite of reality. It means all those people are walking toward you, got it?” But in her heart, she knew that dreams sometimes held a certain obscure premonition.

This dream was like a hazy fog to Huang Xiaozhi.

What was it hinting at? What should she do? What shouldn’t she do? She had no idea.

…

Lately, something had been weighing heavily on Yu Wen’s mind, like a huge rock that made her restless.

She believed she had hidden it well at school, acting as she always did. Walking, listening to lectures, doing problems—everything was business as usual.

But Huang Xiaozhi was still perceptive enough to catch the subtle crack in her emotions.

After school, the two of them walked side by side on the bustling street, the setting sun stretching their shadows long.

The unspoken understanding between people could be subtle. After spending day after day together, every tiny change in a person’s emotions was like a pebble thrown into a lake, clearly visible.

Huang Xiaozhi had no idea what Yu Wen had been through in the short time they were apart.

They walked in silence, their footsteps feeling out of place against the noisy background. It was as if both were waiting for the other to speak first.

But Huang Xiaozhi had never been a patient person.

She was afraid that if the silence continued, she would burst on the spot.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Her footsteps didn’t stop, and her tone was as casual as possible, as if it was a random question.

Yu Wen’s heart sank.

Was I seen through so quickly? It seemed her acting was far less clever than she had imagined.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, pretending to be relaxed as she turned her head to look at Huang Xiaozhi’s profile, her gaze unintentionally brushing over the small mole at the corner of her eye that was hard to spot. “I’m fine, aren’t I? What do you think is wrong with me?”

Huang Xiaozhi didn’t turn to look at her, her eyes fixed on the end of the road ahead, but her voice was certain. “No, I just feel like you’re… very different today.” Her intuition was always sharp.

This answer made Yu Wen even more certain that Huang Xiaozhi had noticed something.

She looked away, also staring ahead, her voice with a forced calmness. “I think I’m fine. There’s nothing that’s making me unhappy.”

“Do you believe that yourself?” Huang Xiaozhi’s question directly broke through the thin ice.

“I do,” Yu Wen’s answer was short and firm.

“Okay,” Huang Xiaozhi’s voice showed no emotion. “If you believe it, then I believe it.”

…

The elevator doors slowly closed, separating them once again. Huang Xiaozhi didn’t turn to go home as she usually did.

She stood there, her eyes fixed on the red numbers flashing above the elevator.

The elevator Yu Wen was on didn’t stop even once on its way up! The numbers kept climbing: 15… 20… 25… Huang Xiaozhi’s heart was in her throat.

She wanted to see what floor Yu Wen was going to and who she was going to see. The highest floor was 27. She held her breath and waited.

Finally, the number stopped at “27.”

A cold chill instantly shot from her feet up her spine.

That silly girl… she’s not going to do something bad, is she?! The thought slithered into her mind like a poisonous snake, and Huang Xiaozhi broke out in a cold sweat. She frantically lunged for the elevator buttons next to her, jabbing at the up arrow.

Luckily, another elevator was coming up from the 9th floor, its indicator light blinking as it approached.

Every second of waiting was an agony. Fear clenched her heart.

Countless thoughts flashed through her mind: the hardship Yu Wen had endured, the strength she had shown… She desperately tried to convince herself that Yu Wen wouldn’t do anything stupid, that she was so resilient…

Ding! The elevator doors finally opened. Huang Xiaozhi shot inside like an arrow released from a bow, her finger stabbing the “27” button.

The slight feeling of weightlessness as the elevator ascended made her stomach churn. She was tense the whole way, and she bolted out of the elevator on the 27th floor.

The stairwell to the rooftop was dim and quiet.

She practically ran up the last few steps, using her hands and feet, and shoved open the heavy iron door.

The night wind immediately rushed in. She saw the familiar back leaning on the concrete railing at a glance, her backpack casually thrown at her feet.

The heart that had been hanging in her chest instantly dropped back into place. She let out a long, silent sigh of relief.

The person leaning on the railing seemed to have heard the movement behind her. She straightened up and slowly turned around.

The moment she saw Huang Xiaozhi, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed Yu Wen’s face, along with a hint of being caught in a vulnerable moment.

“What are you doing here?” her voice was scattered by the wind.

Huang Xiaozhi had her hands on her knees, panting heavily. The stray strands of hair on her forehead were stuck to her skin with sweat, and her chest was heaving.

She looked up, her eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion, lingering fear, and deep resentment. “What do you think? What are you doing here?” Her voice was unstable, with a catch in it.

At first, Yu Wen was a little lost, but when she saw the un-faded panic and post-crisis tears in Huang Xiaozhi’s eyes, she instantly understood—this girl thought she was going to jump.

A wry smile appeared on her lips, full of self-mockery.

“You thought… I was going to jump from here?” Before she finished, she let out a low laugh.

The laughter sounded out of place on the empty rooftop, but it soon subsided, turning into a suppressed, slightly shaking of her shoulders. It didn’t sound like laughter anymore; it sounded like she was trying desperately to hold something back.

Huang Xiaozhi leaned against the cold railing wall, still shaken. She said irritably, “What else? Who comes up to a rooftop to stand in the cold for no reason?” Her voice unconsciously got louder, as if that was the only way to drive away the fear and anger in her heart.

Normally, Yu Wen would have looked up and gazed at Huang Xiaozhi with her calm eyes, silently offering comfort. But not today.

She remained in that slightly bowed position, and the shaking of her shoulders seemed to be more obvious.

Huang Xiaozhi looked at the slender girl in front of her, who was unconsciously pressing her hand to her own shoulder, and felt confused.

Today, Yu Wen seemed to be carrying an invisible mountain on her back, so heavy it was suffocating. What had happened in the short time they were apart?

“What… what’s wrong?” she asked cautiously, her voice softening.

Just then, a faint reflection caught her attention—a drop of clear liquid silently fell, hitting the concrete ground by Yu Wen’s feet and quickly spreading into a small dark spot.

Then came another. It was a tear.

Yu Wen… was crying.

Why would a perfectly fine person hide on a rooftop and cry silently? Huang Xiaozhi’s heart twisted. “Yu Wen?” She took a step forward, her voice trembling slightly. “Look at me. What’s wrong?” She reached out her hands and gripped Yu Wen’s cold shoulders, trying to make her look up.

But the person in front of her seemed to have had all her strength drained away. Her tears flowed uncontrollably like a broken string of pearls.

She stubbornly kept her head down, as if she wanted to bury herself in the dust.

Watching the person she liked break down in front of her without knowing why, Huang Xiaozhi’s heart ached as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand.

She was so close to her, yet she couldn’t share even a bit of her pain. The feeling of helplessness was almost suffocating.

The night deepened. A cold, clear moon hung in the sky, sparingly shedding a bit of light.

A dim yellow light in the corner of the rooftop turned on, barely illuminating two young faces etched with sadness.

“I don’t… have a mother anymore.” Yu Wen’s voice finally broke through, hoarse and raw like sandpaper, with the fragmented sound of a complete release.

Huang Xiaozhi froze as if she had been struck by lightning.

Didn’t you say she was just missing? Why would it be… suicide? The immense shock and heartache left her speechless for a moment, and she awkwardly didn’t know how to comfort her.

Yu Wen seemed to have used all her strength to control her breakdown. She slowly raised her head.

When Huang Xiaozhi saw her eyes—completely soaked with tears, filled with red veins, and brimming with hopelessness and emptiness—her heart felt as if it had been brutally stabbed.

This girl in front of her had endured too much suffering for her age, and now, it felt like she truly had nothing left.

Yu Wen looked at Huang Xiaozhi’s eyes, which were also full of tears and heartache. She smiled with extreme difficulty, the corners of her lips turning up in a weak, sad smile that was worse than crying. “She killed herself,” her voice was completely shaky, every word sounding like she was bleeding, “she was driven… to a dead end…” This sentence used up the last of her strength. Her tears once again broke free, and her vision became completely blurred.

The world in front of her was just a chaotic, hopeless blur of tears.

Huang Xiaozhi stood frozen. Yu Wen’s cold hands were on her shoulders.

They stood face to face, very close, but Yu Wen’s gaze was unfocused and avoiding her.

Huang Xiaozhi’s eyes were filled with nothing but heartache, almost drowning her.

“Please don’t cry…” she said clumsily, her voice choked. “Auntie… Auntie will be even sadder to see you cry from up there…” It was the most clumsy and powerless comfort she could think of. Her own tears were already uncontrollable, swirling in her eyes.

Looking at Yu Wen’s red eyes, tears constantly flowing like two sad streams, Huang Xiaozhi couldn’t help but reach out. With the pad of her thumb, she gently and tremblingly wiped the tear tracks from her cheeks.

The moment her fingertip touched the hot liquid, her own defenses completely crumbled, and tears poured out.

So this was what it felt like to feel heartbreak for someone else—your own heart ached with them, a pain so real, so hard to bear.

Huang Xiaozhi no longer hesitated. She opened her arms and hugged the girl in front of her, who was half a head taller but now as fragile as a child. Her hug was clumsy but filled with a reckless determination.

She wrapped Yu Wen in her small embrace, trying to warm her with the temperature of her body, and to convey silent comfort with her awkward hug.

Perhaps she also wanted to hide her own tear-streaked face.

She brought her lips close to Yu Wen’s cold ear, her voice thick with a stuffy nose and an uncontrollable sob, trying to make every word clear. “Yu Wen, please don’t cry anymore, okay? My intuition tells me Auntie is watching you from not too far away. When she sees you so sad, her heart must ache for you, and she must be so worried. I know you feel like you… have nothing left right now. But if I can… if I can, we can be a family too. You, me, we… are together.”

“You still have me.” The moment the words left her lips, a hint of regret appeared in her heart. What am I? Just a friend.

Huang Xiaozhi had never hugged anyone so proactively in her life, and her posture seemed stiff and awkward.

But seeing Yu Wen’s sadness, her own heart was also clenched by a big hand, aching with every beat.

Yu Wen had spent all day trying to process the cruel phone call and had ultimately failed.

She thought the wind on the rooftop would blow away some of the heaviness, but she found that the air here was just as suffocating.

Listening to Huang Xiaozhi’s series of tearful, incoherent but incredibly sincere words, she knew Huang Xiaozhi was also deep in sadness, empathizing with her.

If this clumsy hug could temporarily hide her tears and her disheveled state, she would rather be held like this until the end of time.

Huang Xiaozhi held her tightly, with all her strength.

This hug was a mix of comfort, heartache, compassion, and an unspoken, shared feeling.

She could feel one of her own tears sliding down her cheek, silently seeping into the fabric of Yu Wen’s back.

“I know… I know you probably can’t accept this yet…” Huang Xiaozhi’s voice was muffled against Yu Wen’s shoulder, broken and shaky. “I know you’re hurting so much… I know you need time… but you have to promise me…” She sniffled, her voice full of a pleading stubbornness. “Promise you’ll never come to the rooftop alone again, okay?”

“Yu Wen… promise me that no matter what happens, you won’t come here by yourself.”

“Promise me… okay?”

When love quietly grows, words become more numerous, and nerves become more delicate and sensitive.

This was probably the most involuntary change that came with loving someone.