Always Home

The second event on the opening day of the play was Huan'er receiving an unexpected call from Qi Qi.

After graduation, they had reconnected, but mostly exchanged holiday greetings and birthday wishes, with Qi Qi usually initiating contact. Occasionally, when the topic of gatherings among the Capital Gang came up, Huan'er would chat a bit more—"Yeah, Du Man sent me photos of your dinner. It's always livelier with more people." Huan'er had pondered why their relationship had evolved this way. Qi Qi studied literature, they were in different cities and fields, and over time, their shared topics naturally dwindled. But then again, that didn’t quite explain it. For instance, she and Du Man had barely interacted during their two years as desk mates, yet after graduation, they grew closer—now they could laugh all evening just teasing each other with memes, and during holidays, they’d go all out with shopping, meals, and movies, doing everything best friends could. Eventually, Huan'er figured it out: there were no reservations between her and Du Man, whereas the barrier between her and Qi Qi was their mutual avoidance of addressing the sudden distance that had grown between them since their youth.

Huang Lu once mentioned the concept of "phase friends"—people you might be inseparable from during a certain period, even sharing clothes, only to later become just names quietly sitting in your contacts. A common phenomenon, comparable to Darwin's theory of evolution.

The slight difference was that the former was a mutual, selective elimination.

The call came in the evening, just as Huan'er was about to swap her SIM card into a new phone. She almost missed it.

Qi Qi first asked what she was up to, mentioning she’d called twice that afternoon but got no answer.

"Jing Qichi and I went out for dinner, then got caught in rain and traffic on the way back. It took forever to get to campus," Huan'er explained. "My phone died, and I just charged it."

She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to explain so much—perhaps she didn’t want Qi Qi to think she’d ignored her call on purpose.

"I might as well have called Qi Chi then," Qi Qi said, pausing briefly. "Actually, I don’t even have his number."

Huan'er casually offered, "Want me to send it to you?"

"No need," Qi Qi chuckled. "Maybe another time if it comes up."

"Okay."

Qi Qi continued, "I had dinner with Liao Xinyan last week. She has a new boyfriend."

Strange—they’d never been close before, not even friendly.

"He’s a professional athlete, even better at soccer."

Huan'er already knew. Liao Xinyan had sent her a cheek-to-cheek photo of them, boldly commenting that he was way better than Jing Qichi. The boy she’d deeply liked during adolescence had become a kind of awakening, vaguely shaping her ideals of love, then guiding the now-mature girl to discover herself and the kind of love she truly sought. Liao Xinyan wasn’t looking for a replacement. By now, she might not even remember many details about Jing Qichi. She’d simply used him—and that imperfect confession—to identify a trait that attracted and would continue to attract her.

Huan'er grew increasingly puzzled about the purpose of Qi Qi’s call. A long-overdue phone call surely wasn’t just for small talk.

"Qi," Huan'er still called her that out of habit, "is there something you want to tell me?"

Silence filled the line before Qi Qi spoke again. "Song Cong and I decided to give it a try. Huan'er, I just found out... the person Song Cong used to like was you."

It felt like an adrenaline shot—instantaneous in effect. Her heart raced, blood pulsed faster, and her mind flashed back. Everything from the past suddenly made sense."But it's all in the past now," Qi Qi said, "right?"

Huan'er didn't know how to respond.

"I just thought you should know. Regardless of how Song Cong feels about you, or about me and him now, or... or the reason I misunderstood and hurt you." Qi Qi's voice trembled, "I'm sorry, Huan'er."

The call ended abruptly.

Like the sudden commotion from the boys' dorm across the way—before anyone could pinpoint its source, everything had already returned to silence. Huan'er pondered Qi Qi's current state of mind and her final tone, imagining she must have been crying.

Her fingers hovered over the message interface before exiting; she pulled up Song Cong's number, then exited again—there was truly nothing left to say.

She neither needed explanations nor owed any. Demanding answers from the past was the most foolish act.

"Hey," Huang Lu, now dressed up and ready to head out, tapped on her desk, "Haven't you contacted your senior yet? The play's tonight, right?"

There were only ten minutes until curtain. Tian Chi had probably already arrived.

He hadn't offered to pick her up, nor had he pressed her about whether she was going—as if he was still waiting for her answer.

"Seize the day when flowers bloom; overthinking is pointless." Huang Lu adjusted her makeup in the full-length mirror, extending her hand like an empress dowager, "Perfume."

Huan'er got up and grabbed a random bottle from her desk, handing it over, "Another date?"

The drama queen pinched the perfume bottle between her fingers with an exaggerated flourish, suddenly adopting a solemn expression as she declared emotionally, "Do you know, Er'er? I'm so grateful for this era of peace."

"Why?"

"Strong, capable young men don't all have to go defend the country." Huang Lu piously crossed herself, "Amitabha."

"Huang Huang," Huan'er teased in a Taiwanese accent, "You're praying to the wrong god."

"Doesn't matter." Huang Lu was about to spray when she noticed the bottle was an intense fragrance. Wiggling her hips, she went back to swap it for a lighter jasmine scent, nodding in satisfaction, "This is more important."

She had her own philosophy. It was as if she never talked about love, yet seemed to be immersed in it all the time.

The scent of perfume faded as raindrops pattered against the windowpane.

Huan'er felt strangely at peace, as if a light boat had passed through countless mountains.

Only now, so long after the fact, did she realize that during their inseparable teenage years, there had been an unspoken web of unrequited love among the four of them.

The clues had been there, but everyone had hidden them too well. Jing Qichi with his half-joking confessions, Qi Qi with her quiet jealousy, Song Cong with his silent care, and Huan'er—she had used her own obliviousness.

Why had it felt strange when he admitted to liking someone else? Why had it felt odd when she helped girls who admired him? That ungiven sports drink, those carefully compiled notes, the bitterness when she realized he was deliberately underperforming on exams, the way her ears perked up whenever he spoke during their walks to and from school—Chen Huan'er had let herself remain oblivious simply because she didn't want to admit the truth.

Because being his friend was good enough—she could care for him, help him, think of him without reservation. And now that all of this was in the past, they were still just fine.

A girlish crush that had begun in confusion and ended the same way.

Yes, it was all in the past.

She decided to call Tian Chi.

She could hear the actors delivering their powerful lines, someone complaining about the rudeness of answering calls indoors, her own increasingly rapid breathing—she could even hear the soft patter of the rain.The phone call remained connected, neither Tian Chi speaking nor her, only a cacophony of background noises alternating through the receiver.

After what felt like an eternity, Tian Chi finally said, "Come down. It's cold, wear more."

The moment Chen Huan'er saw him, her heart softened instantly.

His jacket was nearly soaked through, the shirt beneath clinging tightly to his body; the sides of his white sneakers were caked in mud, blades of grass stuck to the soles; his bangs were swept back, strands clumping together and lying softly against his head; his glasses were in his hand as he frantically patted himself down, searching for something to wipe them with, all while squinting at the girls coming in and out of the building as if afraid he might miss something.

The rain continued to fall, a thin, dreamlike drizzle.

Huan'er walked over, holding the umbrella above Tian Chi's head, and sighed. "You could've waited till it stopped."

"Couldn't wait," Tian Chi laughed, his eyes bright and lively without the glasses.

The raindrops landed soundlessly on the umbrella, but beneath it, someone's heartbeat lost its rhythm.

Tian Chi said, "My Amygdala is about to explode too."

Huan'er burst into laughter. "Are you studying neurons now?"

"No. Back in high school, I read a book called Neuropsychology . I borrowed it from the library while prepping for the Competition and flipped through it over and over. The stuff in there stuck with me."

Huan'er stopped laughing, staring at him intently. "You never returned that book, did you?"

"How did you know?" Tian Chi scratched his head. "For some reason, it didn’t have a barcode. I only remembered after graduation..."

It was him. The senior who stood on stage during the Competition, the one with freakishly high accuracy.

He was the one who took the book, the same one standing before her now.

That was why he answered correctly, knew about the Amygdala, understood Freud's dream analysis.

So it was really him, after all.

A thousand thoughts condensed into one. With a trembling voice, Chen Huan'er asked, "How about... we start dating?"

A damp embrace enveloped her—his clothes were wet, his skin was wet, even his voice was wet as Tian Chi said, "Finally."

Truthfully, nothing about that day had been particularly good—a missed play, an unexpected cold rain, an emotionally fraught phone call. But Tian Chi's arrival made everything better. He was like someone sent by fate, pulling her down from the drifting clouds with divine purpose, guiding Chen Huan'er steadily into the new world he had opened for her.

A brand-new, pristine world brimming with infinite possibilities.

When Huang Lu returned that evening, Huan'er eagerly rushed over, shyly recounting everything. Huang Lu first exclaimed, "Holy shit!" before launching into a ramble. "Quietly pulling off the big moves, huh, Chen Huan'er? Before I left, you were like a wilted cucumber, and now you're a full-blown cucumber spirit. Nope, this momentous occasion calls for a commemorative WeChat post."

"Don't—" Huan'er, embarrassed, reached for her phone.

"Hey." Huang Lu suddenly gasped. "Someone else couldn’t hold back either."

She turned the screen toward Huan'er, mimicking the first post in a sugary voice, " Girlfriend, please take care of me. "

Huan'er could only giggle foolishly, her heart melting into a thick, sweet syrup.

"Love makes people dumb," Huang Lu tsked, shaking her head. "Even Tian Chi's gone full artsy-boy mode. Let’s see if anyone’s roasting him."

"Why would they roast him?" Huan'er pouted."Look, look, I knew it." Huang Lu giggled as she shared the comments on her social media post. One after another, they poured in—congratulations, questions about when they'd get to meet the lucky guy, and even some teasing from close friends—"Taking care of you is like caring for the intellectually challenged. Which poor girl got stuck with you?"

Tian Chi specifically replied to that one—"My girl," followed by three exclamation marks.

If not for borrowing the social butterfly's phone, Huan'er wouldn't have seen any of this. She felt like an outsider suddenly stepping into someone else's life, only to realize with astonishment that she was already a part of that life's trajectory.

It was intoxicating.

"Oh my, oh my." Huang Lu couldn't help but laugh at her friend's smug little expression. She was genuinely happy for Huan'er. Riding the high, she posted another update—"Universal celebration! My girl is off the market!"

When the other roommates returned, Huang Lu put down her phone and nudged Huan'er to "confess" proactively. The room erupted with chatter—some digging for details, others teasing—and before they knew it, lights-out was approaching. Everyone scrambled to wash up and get ready for bed. The moment the lights went out, Huan'er's phone buzzed violently. Amidst the roommates' jokes about "a day apart feeling like three years," she stepped into the hallway to take the call.

Only then did Huang Lu have a chance to check her own phone. There were countless likes, and among the few asking who the lucky guy was, she only replied to Qiu Li. Qiu Li sent a string of heart-eyed emojis along with a demand for Huan'er to treat everyone. Huixin, who rarely surfaced on social media, beat her to the punch with a reply: "Huan'er's busy being lovey-dovey right now. You'll have to wait."

"Hey, boss," Huang Lu poked her head out from her bed, "don't you think Qiu Li must be dying to come back right now?"

Huixin burst into laughter. "Absolutely. She'll probably rush over from the main campus tomorrow."

As they chatted, a private message popped up on Huang Lu's phone: "When did this happen?"

She had completely forgotten Jing Qichi was even on her contact list.

After moving back to their home college for classes, only Huang Lu, who remained in the student union, frequented the main campus. She must have added him once when she was delivering something for Huan'er and worried she wouldn't find the right person. But after adding him, they'd never exchanged a single word.

No matter how great a guy was, if he was even remotely connected to her best friend, Huang Lu wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole.

That was just how she rolled.

After a moment's hesitation, she replied, "Just now."

Her post had been public, but how had Jing Qichi found out—

Huang Lu casually asked Huixin, "Do you have Qi Chi's WeChat? Someone from the sports department wants to contact their college team."

"I think so. He added me once, saying it was in case he couldn't reach Huan'er... Oh, here it is." Huixin said, "Want me to forward it to you?"

"Sure."

That explained it.

Jing Qichi's next message: "Who is it?"

Huang Lu replied, "A senior from the medical school. Name's Tian Chi."

"What's he like?"

What's he like... Huang Lu only knew Tian Chi in passing and couldn't claim to understand him well. After some thought, she offered her impression: "Very thorough, very mature." Her fingers paused before adding, "Probably someone who can take care of Huan'er."

She knew exactly why Jing Qichi, who was so close to Huan'er, had gone out of his way to ask her instead.

Every close friend of Huan'er's was already on his contact list. The moment he heard the news, he'd sent a private message with three pointed questions. There could only be one reason.

Huang Lu sighed softly and sent back a question of her own: "Why didn't you say anything?"After waiting for a long time—so long that Huan'er had finished her phone call, tiptoed to close the door, and climbed into bed—Jing Qichi finally replied, "I wanted to say it too, but I didn't know how. And I don't know if there will be another chance to say it."

For a brief moment, Huang Lu really wanted to hand her phone to Huan'er.

But she saw Huan'er curled up under the blankets, hugging her phone with a silly smile.

Huang Lu gave up. She reached out and patted the bed railing between them. "Go to sleep."

No one knows who the right person is—only time can tell.