Always Home

At the end of August, Huan'er arrived in London.

Waiting at the airport was Qi Qi—who had obediently completed a business degree at her parents' insistence, only to rebel just once by reapplying to study English literature. After being compliant for so long, she had to do something for herself.

Huan'er hadn’t specifically informed her of her arrival in Great Britain; Qi Qi had learned the news from her social media. There was no lingering resentment, because despite the past rift, Qi Qi knew she had hurt her friend during those turbulent adolescent years.

People change with their environment. Having spent three years abroad without returning home even once, she initially avoided familiar settings to prevent any chance encounters with Song Cong. Their breakup hadn’t been earth-shattering, nor had they sworn never to see each other again—but it certainly wasn’t the kind where they could reunite and chat amiably as if nothing had happened. Their parting had been silent, restrained, tinged with an unspoken melancholy. Yet Qi Qi knew, and she was certain Song Cong did too—they would never go back to how things were.

Deliberate avoidance was its own kind of statement—no need for nostalgia, they could both start anew.

Life kept her too busy to dwell on the past. There were exams to prepare for, a thesis to write, a new environment to adapt to, new friends to make. In her second year abroad, Qi Qi started running her own public blog, initially just to practice writing and document her experiences overseas. Unexpectedly, her post about applying for an English literature program was reposted by a prominent study-abroad agency, gradually earning her a following. Later, her piece A Scottish Love Story caught the attention of a media company back home. Before she knew it, she had signed a cooperation agreement, handing her blog over to a professional team while she became their lead writer. Freed from the hassle of formatting and sourcing images, she found joy in focusing solely on her drafts. Now, Qi Qi could finally glimpse the shape of the dream she had carried since childhood.

She had always wanted to be a pure wordsmith—not the polished, corporate professional her parents envisioned, clad in tailored suits and flawless makeup, working at some envy-inducing conglomerate. In the end, the overseas education they had pushed her toward had granted her the right to choose. Right or wrong, good or bad, this was the path Qi Qi had decided for herself.

Huan'er almost didn’t recognize her friend at the airport—Qi Qi had cut her hair short, wore no makeup, and was dressed in an army-green windbreaker with skinny jeans that hugged her toned calves. She pulled down her hood and waved, then pulled Huan'er into a tight hug as soon as she was close enough. "I was worried I’d miss you, but the timing’s perfect."

The windbreaker was damp, carrying the scent of rain.

Huan'er felt a little guilty. "You didn’t have to come all this way. It’s so far."

Qi Qi was studying in Glasgow—Scotland’s largest city. Huan'er didn’t know how long the journey took, but she had checked the distance: over 400 kilometers from London.

"I know my way around," Qi Qi said with a laugh, taking her oversized suitcase. "I’ll show you the ropes so you don’t get lost later."

Having done her foundation year and first master’s degree in London, Qi Qi was naturally familiar with the city.

Chatting and laughing, the two made their way to the airport subway station. Qi Qi filled her in on her own life while pointing out landmarks, explaining everything from ticket machines to the city’s zoning with such thoroughness that Huan'er was impressed.

The subway was crowded, and it wasn’t until several stops later that a seat freed up. Qi Qi nudged Huan'er into it, standing protectively in front of her. "It’s still a long ride—you didn’t sleep on the plane, did you?"

"Couldn’t," Huan'er admitted, shaking her head before yawning involuntarily. "Too nervous and excited.""By the way," Qi Qi took out her phone, "I'll share a hotspot with you so you can quickly let your family know you're safe."

Just then, a drunk man passed behind her, bumping into her—whether intentionally or not—and her phone fell to the ground. Without hesitation, Qi Qi turned and scolded him in English, "Watch it!"

The red-faced drunk seemed amused, muttering under his breath as he leered at her with a grin.

"Faraway," Qi Qi emphasized the word while gesturing to maintain a safe distance, "Please."

People around them turned to look, and her expression grew extremely stern.

The drunk snorted with laughter before staggering off to another carriage.

Pretending not to be scared was impossible. New to this place, Huan'er knew nothing about the unfamiliar surroundings.

Qi Qi bent down to pick up her phone, unfazed. "Ignore him. There are weirdos everywhere. Here, the password is a string of zeros. Go ahead and send your messages."

"Okay." Huan'er entered the numbers, first sending a message to her parents, then informing Jing Qichi—"Arrived safely, met Qi, don’t worry."

Within seconds, Jing Qichi replied, "OK, leave a message if anything comes up."

The Chen family group chat remained silent, the stark contrast stirring a wave of emotion in Huan'er.

One day, there was someone who seemed to care about you even more than your parents—that feeling went far beyond mere gratitude.

Noticing her phone screen, Qi Qi asked softly, "Qi Chi hasn’t slept yet?"

It was 2 a.m. back home. He had been waiting for this message.

"He’ll sleep now." Huan'er put away her phone, not wanting to disturb his rest any further.

"You two," Qi Qi chuckled, looking at her companion, "it’d be a shame if you didn’t get married."

Exhausted from the journey and battling jet lag, Huan'er’s mind briefly blanked. Yet, hearing this, she answered almost instinctively, "Of course we’ll get married. There’s no one else."

With a familiar friend by her side, her heart relaxed, and drowsiness washed over her. She closed her eyes, her head tilting slightly downward.

Half-asleep, she heard Qi Qi murmur, "That’s wonderful."

After smoothly checking into the apartment, Qi Qi helped tidy the room and organize the luggage while explaining the administrative tasks ahead—school registration, police identity registration, bank cards, phone cards, covering every aspect of daily life. She even pointed out the transportation routes to Chinese supermarkets in the city. Finally, she said to Huan'er, "Not sure if you’ll have teachers helping with these things since you’re here on an official program. Back when I arrived, it took me a month just to get the Internet box set up. The signal kept cutting out, and I could barely understand the repair guy. It was a real hassle."

These miscellaneous tasks sounded simple, but they were tied to the countless trivialities of living abroad. It was hard to imagine how Qi Qi, who had always been sheltered growing up, had managed to get through it all.

Huan'er watched as her friend pulled a large pack of wet wipes from her backpack, surprised. "You even brought these?"

"Didn’t want you to rush out and buy them right after arriving," Qi Qi replied, swiftly wiping down the desk and chairs. "The bathroom looks clean enough, but if you’re worried, we can scrub the shower and toilet later."

Huan'er stopped her. "I’ll do it. You don’t have to."

"Then you can wipe the wardrobe," Qi Qi said casually. "We can hang your clothes in there later."

"Qi," Huan'er looked at her intently, "you’ve changed so much."Whether it was fearlessly standing up to the drunkard or the current state of meticulous order, even the functional but far-from-stylish windbreaker she'd tossed on the bed—after being apart for so long, Huan'er was caught off guard by the changes in her old friend.

She even found herself wondering: if Song Cong had met this version of Qi Qi, would they have had a happy ending?

Qi Qi tossed the tissue in her hand into the trash and smiled at her. "Was the old me pretty terrible?"

"No," Huan'er shook her head. "I just think... you've changed a lot."

"Honestly, when I first got here, I couldn’t adjust at all. No friends, no help—I cried so much my eyes were swollen, but I still had to go to class the next day. I called my mom and said I couldn’t take it, that I wanted to come back. You know what she said?"

Huan'er shook her head again.

"She said, 'No.' Just two words: 'No.'" Qi Qi gave a wry smile.

"Auntie probably... just wanted the best for you."

"Looking back now, I’m really grateful to her. If I’d given up and slunk back home, I’d have become a laughingstock." Qi Qi turned her gaze to the window. "Huan'er, I know I’m changing."

The sky was overcast—London always seemed to be raining.

The two fell into silence.

Qi Qi looked back at her friend. "How’s Song Cong?"

"He’s fine. How could the golden boy not be fine?" Huan'er joked, then hesitated over whether to say more.

"You..." Qi Qi sighed. "I can see Du Man’s social media, Huan'er. I’m not stupid."

They hadn’t officially announced anything, but posting the same scenes on the same day—social media left traces of everything.

Unsure whose side she should take, Huan'er could only murmur, "Qi, I..."

"Why are you the one feeling awkward?" Qi Qi walked over and ruffled her hair. "It’s all in the past. Song Cong and I are completely over— there was . I don’t want you stuck in the middle, torn between us. We’re both going to your wedding someday."

"Wedding?" Huan'er didn’t remember saying anything about that on the subway—though it had been a drowsy, half-conscious answer.

"Oh boy. I don’t know whether to be happy or worried for Qi Chi." Qi Qi took her hand. "Let’s get to work. The sooner we finish, the sooner I can take you shopping. We’ve got a lot to buy."

Time, moving diligently forward, had changed many people—and those changes had soothed countless restless hearts. The good, the bad, the hesitant, the nostalgic, the long-lingering or the unforgettable—since memories couldn’t be erased, they might as well remain. Picked up again, they were just stories of things that had once happened.

Archiving was a necessary skill for adulthood.

"Huan'er," Qi Qi suddenly said, "you and me, you and Song Cong, Qi Chi... that makes ten years."

Huan'er paused. "Yeah, it does."

From that summer in ninth grade when she’d moved into the Family Compound—ten years had passed, with their ups and downs, yet quietly all the same.

"So fast," Qi Qi marveled. Just like that, a decade of life had gone by.

At this moment, she didn’t feel the slightest bit of sadness. She was happy—for Song Cong, and for herself.

Because only with an ending could there be the next unknown beginning.