Always Home

When Chen Huan'er first met Tian Chi, he had a lovely female companion with willow-leaf eyebrows by his side.

It was the finals of the university martial arts club invitational tournament, and Huan'er had secured second place in the sanda category. Both the instructor and the club president were thrilled with this historic breakthrough. Initially, she hadn’t thought much of her own skills—she’d been practically forced into participating—but as she fought her way through each match to the finals, her confidence grew. Now, having narrowly lost due to her physical disadvantage, she felt both indignant and genuinely disappointed.

The finals were held at their own university, and the stadium was packed. Seizing this rare moment in the spotlight, her fellow students from the institute cheered themselves hoarse. After the awards ceremony, Huan'er took off her medal and held it in her hand. The sudden release of tension left her in a daze, and even after sitting down in the stands, her heart still hadn’t returned to its normal rhythm.

Huang Lu, attending as family support, immediately began massaging her shoulders and back. "I knew you could fight, but I didn’t know you were this good. If I’ve ever wronged you before, please go easy on me."

Huan'er burst out laughing. "I suggest you write a self-criticism."

Huang Lu played along, bowing dramatically. "This humble servant admits her faults and vows to reform."

"Good girl." Huan'er ruffled her hair. Huang Lu protested with a "Hey!" and grabbed her wrist, only to notice something unusual. "Why is your heart still racing so much?"

Huan'er waved it off. "Nerves. My amygdala’s shattered from fright."

It was then that Tian Chi appeared in her line of sight, sitting a row behind them. He chuckled and chimed in, "Shattered is a good thing, though."

Huang Lu greeted him with "Senior!" before asking, "Why are you here after the match?"

"I was delivering materials to Professor Sun and heard he came to watch the competition." He lifted the folder in his hand. "I stood around for a while but couldn’t find him. Then I saw you and thought I’d ask."

From the faculty to the student council, from classmates to professors, Huang Lu’s social network was terrifyingly vast.

"Professor Sun…" Huang Lu craned her neck like a scanner, surveying the area before pointing to the left stands. "He was sitting over there earlier. His bag’s still there—he must’ve stepped out for a moment."

Tian Chi glanced in that direction. "Alright, I’ll wait till he gets back."

"Oh, Senior, this is Chen Huan'er from my class. We’re roommates," Huang Lu seized the chance to introduce them. "Huan'er, this is Tian Chi, a senior from the clinical program, and his girl—" She caught herself mid-sentence and stuck out her tongue.

His quiet companion finally spoke up with a smile, "We saw the awards ceremony at the entrance. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Huan'er replied politely.

Huang Lu suddenly tugged at Huan'er’s sleeve. "I wasn’t finished earlier. I wanted to tell you not to be nervous—I actually foresaw the outcome. Last night, I dreamed of a train speeding into a tunnel. Whoosh! Just like that last kick of yours—precise, sharp, straight to the point."

"Lu," Huan'er suppressed a laugh, "has that guy from the University of Science and Technology been… you know… lately?"

Huang Lu’s romantic escapades had already extended to other schools.

"Know what?" Huang Lu blinked, confused.

Huan'er glanced at the outsiders present and settled for pinching Huang Lu’s arm. "Go read some Freud."

"What?"

Tian Chi interjected from behind, "Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams ."

Oh? A fellow enthusiast.

His companion asked softly, "What are you all talking about?"

"Nothing," Tian Chi replied with a half-smile, deftly changing the subject. "Why isn’t Professor Sun back yet?"Huan'er finally took a good look at him—wearing glasses, fair-skinned, just like the rotating students under her mother's supervision, gentle and unassuming with no trace of aggression.

Was that why he seemed familiar?

Huang Lu suddenly asked, "Senior, are you from Tianhe too?"

"Too?"

"Fellow townsfolk." She pointed at Huan'er, then added, "Hey, didn't you say there's only one top high school in your area? So you two might have..."

"Tianzhong?" Huan'er and Tian Chi looked at each other and spoke in unison, then burst into laughter.

The second time they met was at the science building. Huan'er said it was a coincidence, but Tian Chi replied, "I waited here specifically for you. Let's exchange contacts—after all, we're the only two from Tianhe in the department." She didn't understand how the latter part logically followed, but she still allowed another name in her contacts. Huan'er saved him as—Tian Chi, fellow townsfolk.

The third time, he texted to invite her to dinner. Tian Chi mentioned a newly opened Cantonese restaurant near campus and suggested bringing Huang Lu along, saying he had some student council matters to discuss with her. Huan'er wondered why he didn't contact Huang Lu directly, or why her presence was even necessary based on his reasoning. Yet she still replied, "Sure." Given that Lu'er had many rumored boyfriends, she guessed Tian Chi was avoiding gossip.

The fourth time was during the campus film festival. He sent a list of screenings and asked, "Would your dorm like to come? Let me know which one so I can reserve seats." Huang Lu told Huan'er that Tian Chi was the head of the student council's external relations department. Though he was a hot commodity for fundraising, perks had limits—clearly, he'd saved them all for her.

By then, Huan'er had already sensed it.

Then came the fifth, sixth, seventh... she lost count of how many times they met. Tian Chi said, "A friend's play is premiering, and I have an extra ticket. Would you like to come?"

He began making formal, one-on-one invitations.

His female companions never appeared again. By then, it was obvious to everyone—Tian Chi was pursuing Chen Huan'er.

Slowly, methodically, unfolding a courtship.

Huan'er hesitated. He was an outstanding senior, a fellow alumnus with much in common, considerate and gentle, always putting her first. After so many chats and meetings, claiming she wasn't moved would be a lie.

But her inexperience led her to harbor too many beautiful fantasies about love. She wanted a relationship that would last a lifetime.

Love shared with only one person, through joy and sorrow.

Chen Huan'er admitted she was timid. She didn't dare act rashly.

So her reply to Tian Chi was—"Let me check my schedule and get back to you."

On the day of the play's premiere, two things happened.

First, around noon, Jing Qichi called after a long silence. "Are you free later? Let's grab lunch if not."

Before Huan'er could answer, he added, "Uncle Song is here."

"Uncle Song?" Huan'er was baffled. Her mother hadn't mentioned Song Cong's father visiting.

"Mom didn't tell me either. They're clearly planning a surprise inspection."

"Uncle Song contacted you?"

"Yeah. He said he just arrived, near the University of Chinese Medicine." Jing Qichi asked, "Going?"

"Of course!" Huan'er agreed immediately.

He chuckled on the other end. "Where are you?"

"Library."

"Come downstairs in twenty. I'll pick you up on the way."

Huan'er quickly protested, "It's too far, don't bother coming here"—but the call had already ended before she could finish.They met Uncle Song at a small restaurant near the University of Traditional Chinese Medicine. It wasn’t exactly a long-awaited reunion, as the three families had made it a tradition to gather during holidays. Uncle Song was there for a ten-day training exchange program, staying and dining at the university.

Huan’er quickly asked, “What about Aunt Hao…?”

Since Song Ma had returned to work, the Song father and son had built ramps from their doorstep all the way to the entrance of the residential complex and even to the hospital. At home, daily necessities were placed within easy reach at lower heights, and special handrails for support were installed in the bathroom. Theoretically, Song Ma could fully take care of herself.

But theory is like fish bones—life is always full of thorns called “special circumstances.”

“Song Cong is coming back on the weekend,” Song Ba said cheerfully. “On weekdays, the two moms have already claimed responsibility. Before I even left, they were practically moving my luggage over. The three of them have everything arranged behind my back.”

When blood relatives aren’t around, long-time neighbors naturally become family.

Huan’er and Jing Qichi chuckled at this.

“She’s getting better and better,” Song Ba gestured on himself. “There’s still no voluntary movement on the left side, but the physiotherapist said last week that with persistence, walking with a single cane is entirely possible.”

To this day, Song Ma still undergoes rehabilitation therapy, practicing on her own during the week and never missing her weekend sessions at the rehab center, rain or shine. This piece of good news was the best reward for all her hard work.

“Aunt Hao must’ve taken the Elixir,” Jing Qichi said with a rare mischievous grin. “Just thinking about my own rehab training makes my head spin. Uncle Song, quick, check if my hands are shaking.”

“Shaking hands, huh?” Song Ba pulled out two brand-new phones from his bag. “Then I guess Huan’er will have to take yours for you.”

“Wow!” Huan’er’s eyes lit up as she grabbed both phones. “For us?”

“Yes,” Song Ba smiled. “Your Uncle Zhou—oh, you remember Qi Chi’s surgeon, right? His whole family, including Zhou You’s uncle, went on a trip to the U.S. We asked what we could bring back for you three kids, and Zhou You recommended these.”

“Amazing! Uncle Song, you’re the best!” Huan’er held one phone in each hand, admiring them while dodging Jing Qichi’s attempts to snatch them from across the table.

“Chen Huan’er, enough already!”

“Your hands are shaking—you can’t use it.”

“I’ll keep it for display then! None of your business!” Unable to reach her across the table, Jing Qichi got up and circled behind her, leading to a playful tug-of-war.

Song Ba laughed heartily beside them. “You’re not kids anymore—stop fooling around and sit down.”

The scuffle ended, and Jing Qichi finally got his new phone. Standing behind Huan’er, he complained to Song Ba while pointing at his neck, “Uncle Song, look, is it red? She hit me!”

“Let me see.” Still seated, Huan’er pulled him down to her level and moved his hand aside. Sure enough, his neck was red where her elbow had accidentally struck him.

Just like in the past when she’d accidentally hurt him, Huan’er gave his neck a few symbolic rubs and patted him soothingly. “There, there. I didn’t mean to.”

“Sit down, Qi Chi,” Song Ba urged. “Let’s eat.”They started chatting about other things—like the mysterious female figure in Song Cong's recent social media post, who he stubbornly refused to identify despite their probing; or how showing up unannounced was Chen Ma's idea, saying if either of them tried to dodge, Song Ba should just storm the school to get to the bottom of it; or how Uncle Zhou's trip to America was mainly to give Zhou You a push in his love life—the son wasn’t anxious, but the father was, and the results were promising. Huan'er and Song Ba chatted animatedly, while Jing Qichi seemed somewhat distracted. It wasn’t until they parted ways with Song Ba and were walking back to school that he finally told Huan'er, "Be more careful in the future. Don’t always be so handsy."

It sounded casual, but he had rehearsed the line in his head several times, tweaking the wording before settling on this.

"Such a delicate flower," Huan'er teased, laughing. "Did I hurt you?"

"That’s not what I meant." Frustrated, Jing Qichi ruffled her hair roughly. "You can’t just go around touching people, especially guys. Idiot."

Only then did Huan'er realize what he was hinting at, and she burst out laughing. "But you’re not just ‘people.’"

Not just "people"—meaning he wasn’t someone she considered as a potential romantic interest, a man.

It was a frank, offhand remark, one she hadn’t even thought about before saying.

And precisely because of that, Jing Qichi suddenly felt a pang of defeat—

As if he and Chen Huan'er had gone full circle, only to end up right back where they started.

But he didn’t want to go back to the beginning anymore.

That night when he received the protective gear and turned to Qiu Yang for advice, Qiu Yang had said, "I don’t get why you treat gratitude, dependence, need—all these emotions—as subsets of ‘liking’ someone. ‘Liking’ can very well be the superset that encompasses them all. Jing Qichi, unless your brain’s waterlogged, I refuse to believe you don’t know what you really feel."

Qiu Yang hadn’t said much, but those few words had been enough to wake him up.

Like cleaning up a cluttered desktop—selecting all the outdated files no longer in use and tossing them into the recycle bin without a second thought. With a "whoosh," everything suddenly became clear.

He knew what he felt. He always had. But there was always another voice inside him questioning the validity of those feelings, until even he wasn’t so sure anymore.

The only regret was that he hadn’t been able to say all this that night.

Jing Qichi knew Huan'er wasn’t asleep yet—he had already been waiting outside the girls’ dorm. The reason he asked her to come down ten minutes later was because he had so much to say and felt momentarily flustered. After sending the message, he clearly saw her appear on the balcony. She just hadn’t replied to him.

That night, by the time he returned, the dormitory was already locked. Qiu Yang was inside, he was outside, and it took a joint effort and a lot of persuasion to get the dorm supervisor to open the door. In the quiet hallway, Jing Qichi told Qiu Yang that she hadn’t come down. Qiu Yang said, "Take it slow. You have to give her some time too."

And he was doing exactly that.

There were countless ways to go from distant to close, but they were already close. Jing Qichi couldn’t think of a way to bring them even closer.

Except to wait. Except to let Chen Huan'er realize he had always been by her side.

But as it turned out, that didn’t seem to be working.