Always Home

On the third day of the Lunar New Year, Song Cong received a message from Qi Qi—just six words: "Let's meet this afternoon."

He stared at his phone until the screen dimmed, then tapped it once. The lock screen showed two kittens gazing at each other.

Qi Qi had changed it to this. Song Cong couldn’t quite remember what it had been before.

Probably the default wallpaper. He’d never paid much attention to such things.

"Okay," he replied.

They arranged to meet at a dessert shop near Tianzhong High School, a place Qi Qi had chosen. Song Cong arrived first, ordering a pot of jasmine tea. Spotting a small, adorable cheesecake in the display case, he pointed and added, "And one of these, please."

"Of course. Please have a seat," the server said politely.

Qi Qi was fifteen minutes late, dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a puffy white short down jacket—perfect for the northern winter. She waved at him and sat down directly across from him.

"Wait long?" Qi Qi unzipped her jacket and rubbed her hands together.

"Not really." Song Cong didn’t ask why she was late, glancing around instead. "This place has changed a lot."

Time had flown. He hadn’t been back to Tianzhong since growing up.

"Yeah, this used to be a bubble tea shop." Qi Qi pointed out the window. "After the New Year’s performance in our second year, you guys celebrated here—you, Huan’er, Qi Chi, Xinyan, and a bunch of other classmates I didn’t know. I stood right over there."

Song Cong followed her finger to the other side of the one-way road, where Tianzhong’s sports field stood. He remembered the performance but had forgotten the details. "Were you there that time?"

"I didn’t come in." Qi Qi’s gaze remained fixed outside, as if recalling the bittersweet awkwardness of that moment. She didn’t elaborate.

Back then, Song Cong naturally wouldn’t have noticed whether she was there or not.

The server brought their order with a smile. "Enjoy."

As he poured tea, Song Cong nodded toward the cake. "Try it?"

"Yeah." Qi Qi picked up her fork and took a bite. The cake was sweet, but suddenly, she felt like crying.

Cheesecake was her favorite dessert.

Over the past two years, she’d dragged him to nearly every trendy dessert shop in the city. Sometimes, she wasn’t sure if she was searching for cake or just trying to do the things couples do.

"Song Cong," Qi Qi called his name, tears falling instantly. She didn’t look up, taking another bite of cake with her tears. "You liked me at least a little, right?"

She had never once confirmed this question before.

At first, she’d just contacted him frequently—first under the guise of class reunions, then as solo meals. She’d cross two districts to audit classes at the prestigious university he attended, occasionally sending him music or films he liked, sometimes even corny jokes. Then, during another outing to an amusement park, Song Cong said, "Actually, there’s someone I’ve been thinking about."

He was brilliant. Of course, he knew what she was doing.

It was the start of their second semester in college. Qi Qi told him it was fine—competition had to be fair, after all.

She still orbited him, unoriginal and unapologetic. Qi Qi didn’t believe in persistence breaking all barriers. Song Cong was better than anyone she’d ever met. She liked him, liked being around him. If one day he said, "Sorry, it’s not possible," she’d accept it as fate and wouldn’t complain.

Then one day, they went to a photography exhibition. Midway, Qi Qi went to the restroom. When she came out, she overheard someone talking to Song Cong: "Look at this girl’s double eyelids—totally fake."She stopped in her tracks, not moving forward any further.

Then she heard Song Cong's voice, "None of your business. I'm happy to."

It must have been an acquaintance, because he said those words with a laugh.

At that moment, her heart pounded more violently than ever before—Song Cong had said "I'm happy to."

As for what she saw during the latter half of the exhibition, Qi Qi had no recollection at all.

After leaving the exhibition hall, she asked Song Cong, "Did I win?"

Win over that person in your heart.

Song Cong looked at her and then said, "Yes, you won."

On that sunlit morning, he held her hand and walked her back to school.

"Don't cry." Song Cong handed her two tissues and sighed. "Do I really need to say whether I like you or not?"

No, Qi Qi knew that in the past or even now, in the still-flowing time, she had always been liked.

He would accompany her through streets and alleys in heavy rain to complete their social survey assignments, and he would stay up several nights in a row to help her find the literature she needed to polish her thesis. Song Cong was low-key by nature. Sometimes, when she posted nonsensical updates on his phone's social media, he would just smile, neither stopping her nor deleting them—because he knew that beneath her proud exterior lay a tender heart, and that her competitive spirit often masked hidden insecurities. Song Cong had always racked his brains to give her a sense of security and tried to make up for the lost years. Qi Qi knew all of this.

It was just... just that they couldn't see eye to eye on too many things.

"Alright, no more crying." Song Cong clasped his hands under his chin and, after a long pause, said, "Don't feel pressured. I'll listen to you."

In truth, she had already sensed it.

The phrase "hearts beating as one" suits lovers best, because when you've sincerely given yourself to someone and done everything to understand them, even the slightest change in their unguarded world is keenly felt by the other.

The growing differences that surfaced, the exhausting arguments they caused, the unsolvable dilemmas and the damage inflicted on their relationship—how could those involved not be aware?

Song Cong even knew that Qi Qi had started preparing for the IELTS exam. She hadn't mentioned it, and he hadn't asked.

The future of two people is the simplest math problem in the world—yours plus mine equals ours.

"I..." Qi Qi rubbed her eyes and shook her head. "Let me think about it a little more."

She had already made up her mind before coming—what to say, what to do, how to say goodbye before the fork in the road. But the small slice of cheesecake in front of her made her hesitate. Song Cong's heart had always been clear and transparent, and she couldn't bear to part with him.

The tea had gone cold. Song Cong stood up and took her hand. "Let's go. I'll walk you back."

His palm was warm.

Qi Qi followed him out and asked with a smile, "Are the three of you meeting up tomorrow?"

Song Cong had mentioned Jing Qichi's new job and that Huan'er was returning from her hometown tonight.

"The three of us don't really count as a gathering. We'll just chat at someone's place." Song Cong asked, "Will you come?"

Before arriving, she had visited a top admissions consultant with her mother and had already scheduled a session for tomorrow to revise her statement of purpose.

"I won't go," Qi Qi replied flatly.

Song Cong nodded, still not pressing further.

As they passed the main gate of Tianzhong High, Qi Qi looked over. The campus was just as she remembered—the pathways smooth, the pines evergreen. Suddenly, she recalled scene after scene that had unfolded here, memories fragmented yet vividly rich. She asked Song Cong, "Why didn't you tell Huan'er back then?"Just like confirming affection, in reality, she had never verified whether it was actually Huan'er.

That afternoon after returning from the exhibition hall to the school, perhaps driven by competitiveness or curiosity, Qi Qi began retracing who exactly the person Song Cong had mentioned could be. His class schedule was packed, and his free time was either spent playing basketball or soccer—never had she seen him close to any particular girl. If it wasn’t someone he met in university, was it a classmate from when he transferred to the experimental school? But if he still cared, wouldn’t he naturally want to know how she was doing and keep in touch? There was no such girl in Song Cong’s contact list. Tracing further back to their shared days at Tian High, the only one who seemed to hover around him was Liao Xinyan, the class monitor, but Xinyan… Xinyan clearly had ulterior motives.

Qi Qi pondered back and forth when it suddenly struck her—she had forgotten someone.

Huan'er. Why couldn’t it be Huan'er, who walked to and from school with him every day, so familiar they couldn’t be closer?

The answer surfaced, and Qi Qi was flooded with a complicated mix of melancholy, relief, and nervousness.

So that evening, she called her once-best friend. She wanted to convey—and knew Huan'er would understand—that whatever had happened during their adolescence was now firmly in the past.

"It’s just… timing," Song Cong glanced at the empty sports field before looking away. "Even if I could choose again, I wouldn’t say it. Looking back now, I’m really grateful I never did."

Of course, he had no idea Qi Qi had already told Huan'er.

They had all grown up and now shared the unspoken understanding of keeping secrets between adults.

This understanding guarded an invisible line.

Qi Qi nodded without comment, and the two walked side by side, leaving the quiet Tian High behind them.

Early the next morning, big news spread through the Family Compound—Zhou You, son of Dr. Zhou, and Shanshan, daughter of Dr. Xiuxian, had registered their marriage in the U.S.

The reason it was called "big news" rather than "happy news"—these two reckless lovebirds had acted first and sought approval later, catching their parents back home completely off guard with their unconventional move.

Song Cong brought the news. Dr. Zhou and his wife had rushed to the in-laws’ place early that morning to apologize, entrusting Lao Song from orthopedics with the responsibility of covering their shift before leaving.

Huan'er had arrived at the Family Compound later and only knew the names, not the people, but Jing Qichi and Song Cong had grown up trailing after the older kids. The two exchanged exaggerated looks, exclaiming "Holy shit" and "Unbelievable."

To these two, marriage was like submitting an electronic form—there was supposed to be an approval process.

Jing Qichi chuckled. "Uncle Zhou’s always complaining about Brother Zhou You, wishing he could just pin him down. Now he’s panicking, huh?"

"Absolutely," Song Cong added vividly. "He called my dad at 6:30 in the morning—probably woke up in shock after seeing the message. Apparently, Brother Zhou You had asked him to mail his birth certificate and stuff before. Uncle Zhou thought it was just for updating his green card and didn’t even ask. Sister Shanshan didn’t say a word either. Clearly, this was planned and strategized for a long time."The parents' panic was understandable. Born in an era of transition between old and new, their concept of marriage was no longer strictly about parental arrangements and matchmakers, yet still followed a process of initial contact, family meetings, and finally obtaining a marriage certificate. But the post-80s and 90s generation grew up propelled by a new world. By the time they reached an age to take responsibility for themselves, marriage had become just one decision among many—deeply in love couples simply wanted to be closer to each other, with no consideration for cumbersome formalities.

"Uncle Zhou's temper won't let them off the hook," Jing Qichi raised an eyebrow at Huan'er. "By summer at the latest, you'll see them in person. Uncle Zhou will drag them back for the wedding if he has to."

Huan'er couldn't help but exclaim, "That's so cool."

A phone vibration sounded. All three had identical phones without cases, neatly placed on the table. Being closest, Huan'er randomly tapped one screen to check whose it was, intending to pass it to the owner. But when the screen lit up, she clearly saw the message:

"Song Cong, let's break up."

She didn't need to think to know who sent it.

Huan'er froze. Instead of immediately returning the phone, she asked Song Cong, "Are you and Qi Qi having problems?"

Ever perceptive, Song Cong looked at her. "Mine?"

"Yeah."

"It's fine." Reading the outcome from his friend's grave expression, Song Cong gave a bitter smile. "Expected."

Jing Qichi, unaware of the context, glanced between them. "What's wrong?"

Huan'er stayed silent.

"Give it to me, I'll reply." Song Cong took the phone without even looking at the message. Calmly, he stated, "Qi Qi and I are over."