Chapter 22: The Tide of Eventful Years (4)
Yin Guo immediately grabbed his left hand. "You have a fever?"
Not hot. Thank goodness, thank goodness.
Her chest felt tight, panicked. "Is it serious? Did you see a doctor? Or did you just buy medicine yourself?"
She pulled out his phone. "Type it out. Hurry up and tell me. I'm worried."
Lin Yiyang did as she said—unlocked his phone, opened the notes app, then paused. He had originally intended to remain composed and restrained, but the softness and warmth of her hand against his made him lose focus. Whatever.
With a sudden motion of his right arm, he pulled her into a tight, one-armed embrace, pressing her against his chest.
His left hand cradled the back of her head, guiding her to rest against his shoulder.
He lowered his head, his voice hoarse as he spoke near her temple, just above her ear. It’s nothing. Really, nothing.
Those few words, spoken in a voice nearly gone, sank straight into her heart. From buying the ticket, to transferring on the subway, to waiting for the train, to the ride itself—six hours had passed. No, five days had passed.
She had missed him so much. And now, finally, she was here.
Yin Guo’s nose bumped against his collarbone as he held her tightly, his scent enveloping her. Mm, Lin Yiyang’s smell. She remembered Zheng Yi once saying that the true measure of a man’s refinement was whether he still smelled good when he took off his clothes… Well, through his jacket, she couldn’t tell, but at least he didn’t smell bad…
Her thoughts were a jumbled mess.
"You didn’t tell me. Not today, not the past few days either." She was so heartbroken it hurt.
He pressed his cheek against her forehead. Alright, alright. No more talking.
It was pure exhaustion—aching muscles, sore joints, a lost voice, his whole body out of sorts from a weakened immune system. The worst had been the past two days, when he could barely get out of bed. Today was better.
He hadn’t gone to New York this week for two reasons. First, he was sick, and the backlog of work had piled up to the point where he had to deal with it today. He wasn’t a kid anymore—responsibilities had to be handled. Second, though it was caused by overwork, he was genuinely ill, feeling terrible, and his complexion was off. He didn’t want her to see him like that and have it affect her competition mindset.
Never did he expect this silly girl to just show up without warning.
Girls had traveled long distances for him before, done things that seemed relentless, like giving their all, like moving the whole world—it wasn’t as if it had never happened. But he hadn’t cared.
Yet she was different. Yin Guo was different. From the very beginning, she had been different.
He had been the one to fall first. He had been the one to pursue her. But today, she had crossed hundreds of kilometers to see him right before her big competition… All over a lost voice. Such a trivial thing.
He patted her back. Let’s go.
Even as he said it, he didn’t let go. Didn’t move.
"Where to?" she murmured, lips barely moving, then quickly added, "I ate on the train."
She had already figured out Lin Yiyang’s habit—he loved treating people to meals, so she had to declare upfront: Not hungry.
Still holding her, he opened his phone and typed a line in the notes app: Did you book a hotel?
She shook her head.
He typed again: Where do you want to stay? I’ll take you.
She hadn’t come all this way to experience the finest hotels in Washington.
"No rush," she said. "It’s not peak season. Should be… easy to book."
Lin Yiyang typed another line for her: Want to walk around and see the night views?
She rubbed her lower back and shook her head. "Too tired. My back hurts from sitting so long. Let’s just go to your place."
She wanted to see the traces of his life.This place was different from New York—it was where he had truly lived for nearly three years. Before meeting Lin Yiyang, to her, it had just been a city with many landmarks and museums. She had even planned to visit them all someday when she had the time.
But now, she had lost interest in those things. She wanted to see the street he lived on, his apartment—even a single tree outside his apartment held more appeal to her than the White House.
“Inconvenient?” She noticed Lin Yiyang didn’t immediately agree.
It wasn’t that it was inconvenient—just that he didn’t think there was much worth seeing.
Yin Guo waited in frustration for a while, but there was no response. She gently nudged his leg with her knee. “Say something.”
He typed into his notes:
I was thinking… the bed’s pretty messy.
What was the point of bringing up the bed?
“Messy is normal. A guy’s bed… or room is usually messy.”
Though Lin Yiyang was a normal man with less-than-pure thoughts about the girl he liked, that earlier comment hadn’t actually been heading in that direction. He typed another line and held it up for her to see:
Not trying to do anything with you. You’ll understand when we get there.
…
Great. What had started as a simple desire to understand his life had now smoothly transitioned into whether they were going to do something there.
He, at least, was unfazed. Slinging Yin Guo’s cue case over his right shoulder, he led her out of Union Station.
On the way, Yin Guo tugged at him, meticulously typing on her phone to get the full story of his illness. To reassure her, Lin Yiyang showed her a WeChat message he’d sent to a classmate—complete with a photo of the medicine they’d bought for him.
Just vitamin C and throat lozenges. No fever, no cold. Nothing serious.
Lin Yiyang’s rented apartment was quite far from campus. The school was in an affluent area where rent was too expensive—completely unaffordable. Even the dorms were out of reach. He and a classmate from a similarly modest background had rented an apartment in a remote area, bought a secondhand bike, and cycled whenever they needed to go to school.
He led Yin Guo into the apartment but didn’t turn on the lights. She took a step forward and her knee collided with something massive, making her yelp in pain. When the lights finally came on, she saw a half-person-sized package sitting by the door.
The dining room light was broken, so a beam of white light from Lin Yiyang’s phone illuminated the space.
Rubbing her knee, she squinted at the box in the light. “Yours?”
Lin Yiyang shook his head. It hadn’t been there when he left that morning.
“Your roommate’s? Nothing fragile, right?” Worried she might have damaged someone else’s property and embarrassed Lin Yiyang, she frantically searched for a label. The label read wooden flat-pack furniture —good, nothing breakable.
The living room was tiny—too small to even be called a living room. It was just an open kitchen with a dining table.
There was barely enough space between the table and the sink for one person.
The same went for the distance between the table and the apartment door, which was why the package had visually filled the entire walkway. To the left of the dining area was a narrow hallway with a bathroom, and further inside was a bedroom.
Yin Guo looked to the right—a sliding door connected to the dining area, likely another bedroom.
“Which one’s yours?” she whispered.
Lin Yiyang pointed at the sliding door.
Yin Guo looked at it again. A door like that… probably didn’t block much sound, right?
Lin Yiyang pushed the package aside, right next to the table, clearing the space near the door. Then he slid open the door, revealing the full state of the room. Was it even ten square meters? At most.To the left of the room was a bed—a wide double bed pulled out from a sofa, occupying half the space.
In the center stood a plastic coffee table, beneath which were two plastic boxes filled with miscellaneous items.
At the right corner of the room were two windows, beside which stood an IKEA-style simple cabinet. The upper half was an open bookshelf, while the lower half had several drawers. Yin Guo guessed that was where the clothes were stored.
The remaining space was just enough for her and Lin Yiyang to stand shoulder to shoulder.
She finally understood why he had said, "The bed’s a bit messy"—there were no chairs or desks in the room, nor space for a sofa, not even a small beanbag.
If guests came over, they could only sit on the bed or open the sliding door to let them sit by the dining table.
Lin Yiyang entered first, turned on the light, propped Yin Guo’s cue stick against the cabinet, and began tidying the bed.
It was messy—books and clothes were strewn about.
He had been sick the past few days and hadn’t had the energy to clean, so everything had piled up until now.
He was even considering whether to change the bedsheets.
The door across the hallway opened, and a freshly awakened guy stumbled out. Dazed, he walked forward, greeted Lin Yiyang, then entered the bathroom—only to realize something was off. He backtracked and stared at Yin Guo in surprise.
Yin Guo, unnerved by his gaze, gave a friendly wave. "Hi."
The guy stood there, his expression shifting dramatically before suddenly breaking into a wide grin. He strode over excitedly, extending his right hand for a handshake. "Lin’s sister?"
...
Yin Guo shook her head, sensing his excessive enthusiasm and feeling a bit uneasy.
His roommate, catching the drift, grew even more excited. "Girlfriend, right? Girlfriend?"
He had known Lin Yiyang for nearly three years, and this was the first time he’d seen a woman—a living one—brought through this door by Lin.
Lin Yiyang, probably annoyed by his friend’s overzealousness, hinted that Yin Guo was tired and needed rest before closing the sliding door.
As expected, it wasn’t soundproof.
His roommate kept trying to lower his voice, but she could still hear everything clearly—all about Lin Yiyang’s past romantic escapades. From some classmate to some senior, then to some undergrad classmate, until… suddenly, silence. He must have been stopped.
Yin Guo felt a sour pang, and everything suddenly seemed off.
When she heard no more noise outside, she decided to use the bathroom and opened the door.
The sight that greeted her was—
The guy pulling open a plastic storage cabinet in the corner, fishing out colorful little paper bags of various hues and purposes. The overly enthusiastic roommate, assuming Lin Yiyang wouldn’t have such things, happily shared his personal stash.
Meanwhile, Lin Yiyang was opening the top orange cabinet, pulling out a storage box with his back turned to both his roommate and Yin Guo, oblivious to it all.
Hearing the door open, he turned to look at Yin Guo.
The roommate had already shut the drawer. In his worldview, this was no big deal—just responsible contraception—but he knew Easterners were more reserved.
"I’m going to the bathroom," Yin Guo said to Lin Yiyang, her face burning red.
Lin Yiyang was completely clueless. As he watched her leave, the roommate immediately reopened the drawer, grabbed a handful, and placed them on the dining table. Then, silently, he pushed one purple packet across the table with a finger, stopping right in front of Lin Yiyang.
With his eyes, he emphatically recommended: This one’s good. Girls love it.
Lin Yiyang set the plastic storage box on the table and forced out a question through gritted teeth: "What the hell are you so excited about?"
...Yin Guo came out of the bathroom to find the living room dark.
She tiptoed forward and suddenly kicked the same delivery box again, in the exact same spot… Definitely bruised now. Limping a couple of steps, she pulled open the door.
Lin Yiyang had just finished changing the bedsheet.
She walked in and closed the door behind her. It was a small, enclosed space—door shut, window open, the only place where air could flow…
Lin Yiyang pointed at the bed, meaning: Only place to sit, sorry about that.
Yin Guo silently sat down.
A long, awkward silence stretched between them.
Lin Yiyang had nowhere else to be either, leaning against the sliding door. His joints ached, and standing for too long was uncomfortable, but seeing how uneasy Yin Guo was, he didn’t think to sit beside her.
“You’re still sick…” She noticed his discomfort. “Sitting would be better.”
She patted the edge of the bed next to her.
Lin Yiyang really couldn’t take standing any longer and sat down beside her.
“Earlier, when I was in the room, I could hear your conversation really clearly. Is the soundproofing bad?” she asked softly.
He nodded.
Forget the dining area—even from across the hallway, he’d once heard the surround-sound live-action adult film playing next door.
“Since you can’t talk, should we just text?”
Lin Yiyang took her phone and connected it to the Wi-Fi.
Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, legs touching, texting each other while perched on the edge of the bed—truly a one-of-a-kind dating experience.
The curtains were half-drawn, fluttering in the night breeze.
She caught a faint scent in the room—burning candles. This was what Lin Yiyang had gone out to find earlier. The last time Wu Wei visited, he’d brought a scented candle he claimed was from some island, coconut-scented. Worried the room might smell unpleasant after being sick for so long, Lin Yiyang had opened the window, dug this out, and lit it.
Xiao Guo: Did you buy the candle?
Lin: Wu Wei’s.
Xiao Guo: I was wondering—this scent doesn’t seem like your taste at all. It’s so…
He moved to extinguish the candle, leaning forward, but Yin Guo pulled him back.
“I didn’t say it smells bad. Just that it doesn’t seem like something you’d use.”
Her hand was gripping the sleeve of his jacket.
Lin Yiyang glanced down, wanting to hold it before she withdrew—but he wasn’t fast enough.
Through the wooden door, heavy metal music blared from the other end of the hallway, courtesy of the room across from them.
Almost as if on purpose.
Yin Guo hugged her phone, engrossed in their chat.
Xiao Guo: When you go to class, how do you usually get there?
Lin: Bike.
Xiao Guo: Is it far?
Lin: Not too bad.
Xiao Guo: :)
Xiao Guo: Think of something to talk about. I’m running out of topics.
Lin: Let’s stop. Typing’s tiring.
…Stop? Then what, just sit here in silence?
Beside her, Lin Yiyang tossed his phone onto the coffee table, turned, and grabbed the largest cushion from the foot of the bed, tossing it against the headboard. He pointed at it and said, Go there.
Then added, Lying down is more comfortable.
His gaze betrayed him—of course, he didn’t just want her to rest.
Under the torment of his hoarse, muted voice, Yin Guo’s breathing gradually slowed. “Even if I lie down, you still can’t talk. Besides, your throat won’t recover for a week, maybe longer.”
He smirked.
Who said I wanted to talk?
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