Always Home

The day before the wedding, Huan'er and Huang Lu arranged an intimate afternoon tea between best friends.

The venue was Huang Lu's choice—a rooftop café in a local five-star-plus hotel. The tableware was exquisite, the ambiance delightful, with a sweeping view of the entire city. Of course, beneath the comfort lingered an undercurrent of luxury.

"I've always wanted to come here," Huang Lu said, glancing around after ordering, her words unfiltered. "If I came with anyone else, they'd probably just be busy taking photos, turning it into some influencer meet-up. Only with you can I sit quietly and actually enjoy the essence of this place."

Blue-and-white parasols with a nautical flair shielded them from the afternoon sun, while the high-quality artificial grass beneath their feet felt soft and springy. It was early autumn in the south, and everything was just perfect.

Hearing this, Huan'er handed over her phone. "Quick, take an influencer-style photo of me."

Huang Lu let out an exaggerated "heh heh," but the moment the photo was taken, she immediately contradicted herself, pulling up a beauty filter app and shoving her phone into Huan'er's hands. "My turn now. Take it from the side—it looks so good."

This girl was undeniably stunning, yet occasionally exuded an endearing goofiness.

Photographer Huan'er... well, she only took about a dozen shots.

When the two-tiered afternoon tea set arrived, they marveled at it, snapped more photos, and then swapped drinks to taste each other's. The conclusion? Money made everything delicious.

"I heard," Huang Lu said, theatrically raising her pinky as she speared a large chunk of cake with a dainty fork and stuffed it into her mouth, "whoa, you have to try this—the cream isn't cloying at all."

Huan'er couldn't help but laugh at her antics. "Heard what?"

"Tian Chi and that senior broke up." Huang Lu licked the lingering cream from her lips. "Our company took on a promotional project for the senior's uncle's private hospital—she works in finance there. What a coincidence, she ended up liaising with my colleague. Must've been early this year. Her family set her up with some finance hotshot, they hit it off, and she dumped Tian Chi right after."

Huan'er shrugged and didn't respond.

"Now that jerk probably can't even stay at the hospital—it's basically her turf. Career and love both tanked. I kinda want to send him a congratulatory card."

When it came to sharp-tongued remarks, Huang Lu was unmatched.

"But the guy she met through the setup isn't any better. My colleague—fair-skinned, gorgeous, with a tiny waist—had dinner with them once, and the guy asked for her WeChat right after they left the table." Huang Lu curled her lip disdainfully. "She said his face might as well have 'scumbag' written on it."

"I don’t care to hear about them," Huan'er murmured, lowering her gaze.

She had no time to spare for irrelevant people.

"Why not?" Huang Lu perked up. "I’m dying to know how this drama ends. Soap operas have their own unique charm, you know."

Just then, Jing Qichi sent a message: "I’ll be a while longer. Let me know when you’re done."

He’d been called to play soccer by Da Lin. Since transferring here, it was like releasing a tiger back into the wild—his old teammates organized matches every few days.

Huan'er guessed he’d only found time to text during halftime and replied, "Be careful. If your knee starts bothering you, come off the field right away."

"Little Jing?" Huang Lu smirked. "Couldn’t even sit still before he got worried about you?"

Huan'er set down her phone. "He’s picking me up later. Zhao Wei from his dorm is getting married tomorrow—I want to buy a dress."

"You could show up bare-faced and still look amazing," Huang Lu said, sipping her black tea before suddenly remembering something. She dug out her phone and, after a moment, slid an e-invitation toward Huan'er. "This one?"The invitation card bore the names of the newlyweds and their wedding photo. After confirming, Huan'er let out an "Eh" and asked, "You know them?"

"I'm on the bride's side. We often worked together in the student council and got along well," Huang Lu exclaimed repeatedly. "Turns out the groom was Qi Chi's roommate. The world is damn small."

Who would have thought these two would end up together? Fate is always so wonderfully unpredictable.

They naturally started reminiscing about the girls they once shared a room with—whether it was Huixin still striving in Guangzhou or Qiu Li, who ventured out only to return and inherit the family business. Everyone was moving full speed ahead on their own paths, while the past had become like thin pages of a book, easily flipped over with a light touch.

"You and Qi Chi chose to stay here, and I'm actually really happy about that," Huang Lu said, propping her chin on her hands and smiling at Huan'er across the table. "Even if, worst-case scenario, you ever run into trouble or miss home, my 88-square-meter two-bedroom will always have a spot for you to land."

"Alright, alright, 88 square meters, got it," Huan'er teased, though the smile in her eyes was unmistakable.

You know, the word "friend" carries a deeply moving significance.

Because at the very beginning, no one would include a stranger in the category of "friend." They don’t have to live in the same city, meet often, or even remember each other’s birthdays. A friend is someone who remains after time and shared experiences have done their filtering. In most cases, it’s not a one-way relationship—what you’d do for me, I’d gladly do for you.

Even without grand trials, even in the most ordinary days, friends hold a profound and radiant meaning.

Like Huang Lu’s offhand offer of a place to land—that’s the most sincere promise between friends.

When Jing Qichi came to pick up Huan'er, the heartfelt conversation between the two women wasn’t over yet. Ever the perceptive one, Huang Lu pushed Huan'er toward him and said, "We’ll continue tomorrow. You two go ahead and run your errands."

Only then did Huan'er remember to tell him about Zhao Wei’s connection to the bride. Jing Qichi first sighed, "What a coincidence," then grinned at Huang Lu. "Keep an eye on the groomsmen. Might fit your looks-only dating criteria."

Huang Lu immediately shot back, "Oh, so they picked the groomsmen based on looks? No wonder you didn’t make the cut."

"The bride’s side only has one bridesmaid, so Zhao Wei had no choice but to rope us all in for a red envelope grab. The one who got the biggest amount got to stand up there," Jing Qichi playfully covered Huan'er’s ears. "Don’t listen to her. It wasn’t about looks at all."

Huan'er looked up at him. "So how’s the groomsmen’s looks?"

"Just... decent, about my level," Jing Qichi scoffed.

"What about their character?"

"Not sure. But I heard they’re Zhao Wei’s high school friends. Can’t be too bad."

Huan'er perked up and pinched Huang Lu’s cheek. "Dress up nicely tomorrow. You never know."

"What’s with you?" Huang Lu laughed. "You two are still stuck in the same place. Why should I rush?"

"We’re getting there," Huan'er blurted out.

"Huh?"

"Getting there," Jing Qichi answered for her, draping an arm over her shoulders. "If we don’t speed up, I won’t sleep well."

After parting ways with Huang Lu, the two walked toward a nearby shopping mall.

The holiday spirit was in full swing. Groups of girlfriends, young parents with kids, elderly couples with silver hair—all kinds of people mingled in this sea of laughter and chatter. It was noisy, yet carried the simplest, most genuine warmth of the world.Jing Qichi walked past several shops with his arm around Huan'er's shoulders, facing the soul-crushing question, "Which one looks better, this or that?" He felt utterly drained, wishing he could just upload the clothes to a system and run a few programs to get an optimal ranking. His claim of enjoying shopping was pure nonsense—even online, he only stuck to one or two stores with consistent styles, easy size selection, and familiar customer service that would occasionally recommend: "We've got new arrivals in your size, want one?"

It was practically the future of artificial intelligence.

Meanwhile, Huan'er held up two dresses in front of him—"Which one do you think looks better?"

Rubbing his eyes, Jing Qichi asked, "Is there much difference?"

"This one has black fabric with white polka dots," Huan'er explained, holding up one in each hand, "and this one is white with black dots. Plus, the lengths are different."

For some reason, Jing Qichi thought of the animated movie 101 Dalmatians . He wasn’t even sure if those dogs were black with white spots or white with black spots.

"The one on the left," he said, pointing randomly.

Huan'er hummed thoughtfully, then handed the white dress back to the waiting sales assistant. "My husband says this one doesn’t look good."

Jing Qichi had been idly watching them, but his ears perked up at that. Hesitantly, he asked, "What?"

Ignoring him, Huan'er continued chatting with the salesgirl. "We won’t take this one for now, right, husband —"

She deliberately drew out the word, and this time, Jing Qichi heard it loud and clear.

At first, he turned away to hide his smile, but when he faced her again, he couldn’t suppress it. "Say it again."

"Husband."

"Once more."

"Husband—" Huan'er glanced at the rejected dress. "You think… it doesn’t look good?"

"It looks great! Who said it doesn’t?" Jing Qichi hastily nodded at the sales assistant. "We’ll take both, please."

The salesgirl, who had witnessed the entire exchange, covered her mouth to stifle a laugh as she took the dress from Huan'er. "Are the sizes okay?"

"They’re fine, thank you."

"Your husband is so sweet—and so handsome," the salesgirl said warmly. "Please follow me to the counter."

"You rest, I’ll go." Jing Qichi pressed Huan'er onto the waiting sofa and quickly followed.

So this was how it worked.

Watching his retreating figure, Huan'er couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer.

There was a direct bus from the mall entrance to their place, but Huan'er said she’d eaten too much during afternoon tea and wanted to walk. Jing Qichi checked the navigation on his phone, then put it away and took her hand. "This way."

It was the opposite direction of the bus route, so Huan'er asked, "Are you sure?"

He ignored the question. "Even if it’s a detour, who cares?"

True—taking the conventional route meant missing out on more scenery.

Thinking Huan'er was genuinely worried about getting lost, Jing Qichi ruffled her hair. "This is a shortcut. If we get tired, we’ll just call a cab."

"Okay." Huan'er nodded. "Actually, a detour sounds nice."

Just like the two of them—sometimes taking the long way around made them realize how much they meant to each other.The city remained the same—imbued with the scent of the river, the weight of history, and a dialect that sounded rough but was actually lively and straightforward. At eighteen, she had boarded a train full of dreams, heading south. This city had recorded her, him, and the bittersweet or courageous youth stories of many others—always with some regrets, some belated realizations, and some helplessness that could only be laughed off in hindsight. Yet those days remained forever vivid in memory, frozen at a certain point in time, genuine and sincere.

Under the plane trees, Jing Qichi came to a stop. He flagged down a passerby, "Could you take a photo for us, please?"

The stranger assumed they were tourists from afar and took the phone, adjusting the camera angle. "One, two, three."

The shutter clicked repeatedly. The passerby handed back the phone, "Took quite a few. You can pick the best ones. Have fun."

Jing Qichi thanked them and casually opened one of the photos. Huan'er leaned in, "Wow, it's so beautiful."

Beneath a row of lush trees, he had his arm around her shoulder. Both wore jeans, plain T-shirts, and sneakers—an utterly ordinary outfit that would blend into any crowd. They were both smiling at the camera.

A little silly, perhaps. With a different filter, it might have looked more artistic.

But there was no doubt—those were smiles that bloomed from genuine happiness, carrying layers upon layers of meaning. And the most important layer was this:

Meeting you made me feel rich.

And in the upper right corner of the photo, deep in the background, as if sheltered peacefully by the trees, there was a faint glimpse of something that seemed to belong in a fairy tale—a red house.

—END—