Wen Qi was twenty-two years old this year. Having studied abroad for many years and lived alone for a long time, he was not adept at socializing and had no one to confide in.
He completed his undergraduate studies at Imperial College London. The main campus of this university is located in South Kensington, London, with three museums nearby. In his free time, he often went for walks in the museums alone or sat on a bench by the street feeding a flock of pigeons.
Wen Qi remembered that during the first month of his undergraduate studies, he often stuck together with his classmates. Later, he gradually found various social activities dull and uninteresting, monotonous and redundant. During holidays, some students from various departments and majors would upload photos of their travels and gatherings on QQ Zone, showcasing their colorful extracurricular lives. Those photos were largely similar—travel meant blue skies, white clouds, oceans, and castles; gatherings meant rice, hotpot, home-cooked meals, wontons, dumplings... Wen Qi would swipe past them quickly with his finger, never leaving any comments.
When classmates sent him messages inviting him to gatherings, he would reply days later: "Studying, can't make it."
Over time, no one invited him anymore.
He actually felt relieved.
He had fully adapted to a solitary life and increasingly rejected all group activities.
For him, socializing was an extra burden, while solitude was a rare nourishment.
His classmates called him "elusive," and he excused himself by saying he "loved studying"—which was actually a lie. Wen Qi knew in his heart that he didn’t love studying all that much; studying was merely a form of entertainment for him during his solitary hours.
But occasionally, he still felt lonely.
Whenever that happened, he would post his assignment grades and exam scores on QQ Zone.
His classmates would exclaim in astonishment at his terrifyingly high scores, eagerly asking him for study tips or directly inquiring about his assignment ideas. He would summarize his thought process, but few could understand him—or rather, those who truly could understand him would never send him messages like: "Bro, have a heart, teach your little bro here—how many key points are there, and how do I tackle the assignments?"
Fortunately, Wen Qi’s undergraduate grades were outstanding.
It would have been strange if they weren’t—he spent all day, from morning till night, reading.
After completing his three-year undergraduate studies, Wen Qi pursued a one-year master’s degree at Cambridge, where he met his doctoral supervisor.
By the autumn of the following year, Wen Qi had successfully evolved into an even more reclusive, introverted, and solitary doctoral student.
On rare occasions, he imitated normal people, letting out hearty laughs and attempting to strike up conversations with others, but all ended in failure.
In Wen Qi’s research group, Lin Zhixia was widely regarded as a "kind, adorable, talkative, and gentle" girl. All the senior students praised Lin Zhixia endlessly.
Even so, Wen Qi’s conversations with Lin Zhixia never lasted more than five sentences—after five sentences, awkward silence was inevitable.
The Korean senior student Yin Xiu'en was unaware of Wen Qi’s true personality. She boldly invited Wen Qi to attend a banquet. Wen Qi initially intended to decline, but later, for reasons unknown even to himself, he actually agreed.
However, tonight’s banquet was practically going to be the death of him.Alumni from various companies took turns inquiring about his well-being, and a French person even gave him a cheek-kissing greeting. His social anxiety instantly peaked, and he grew so nervous he nearly vomited. While rushing toward the restroom, he accidentally bumped into Jiang Yubai’s shoulder, pushing his embarrassment past the breaking point.
As the saying goes, “It never rains but it pours”—Wen Qi understood this all too well.
He had brought his cigarette case but forgotten his lighter.
He couldn’t relieve his psychological stress by smoking.
Jiang Yubai, of course, didn’t have a lighter either.
Jiang Yubai walked past Wen Qi and headed straight out, crossing through an area where light and shadow met. His friends were all waiting for him. He blended into his circle, still standing at the very center, like the moon surrounded by stars.
Wen Qi glanced at Jiang Yubai from afar.
Suddenly, a hand landed on his shoulder, and he heard a girl’s voice: “Are you Wen Qi?”
Wen Qi turned and saw a girl wearing a laurel leaf headdress. She introduced herself as Miao Danyi, born in Myanmar, raised in Malaysia, and having lived for a time on Hainan Island.
They were both hiding in a secluded corner—a blind spot where no one’s gaze reached.
The lighting was dim, but her eyes were bright.
Wen Qi assumed that this girl, like him, was avoiding the socializing at the banquet. He didn’t speak to her, but he took out his phone, and they exchanged contact information.
A little past ten in the evening, the night was as dark as ink, the moon obscured by clouds, and a light drizzle pattered against the windowsill.
Lin Zhixia hugged a strawberry pillow, sitting quietly on her bed, still in a state of meditation. She sorted through the thoughts in her mind, and a new inspiration suddenly struck. She opened her eyes and lay down, completely relaxed.
Before going to sleep, she sent Jiang Yubai a text: “Jiang Jiang Jiang Jiang Yubai, are you home yet?”
A few minutes later, Jiang Yubai replied: “I’m back, Lin Lin Lin Lin Zhixia, was your meditation successful?”
Lin Zhixia called him directly. She said: “The meditation went very well. I sorted through a lot of issues. Tomorrow morning, I’ll email my advisor, and next week I’ll finish the first draft of my paper… How about you? Was your banquet successful?”
“It was alright,” Jiang Yubai replied briefly.
Lin Zhixia wanted to hear more details. She also wanted to discuss the steps and insights from her meditation with Jiang Yubai. They agreed that the next morning, Jiang Yubai would visit her dorm to hang out, and she would treat him to breakfast.
The next morning, the sky cleared, and the plants looked refreshed, with a post-rain chill drifting in the breeze.
Lin Zhixia walked to a nearby Tesco supermarket. She bought a lot of vegetables, fruits, snacks, and drinks, filling two large plastic bags. Carrying the bags back to her dorm, her hands were marked with red lines from the strain. But she was full of energy and didn’t feel tired or weary at all.
She quickly prepared bread, ham, fried eggs, and fruit salad.
Not long after, Jiang Yubai arrived downstairs.
Lin Zhixia happily ran out to greet Jiang Yubai. She took him by the wrist and led him into her room.
With a soft “click” as the door closed, the dorm room became a sealed space. The curtains blocked the outside view, and the sweet scent of fruit juice drifted through the room.
“Have a seat,” Lin Zhixia said warmly.It was mid-October, with wind and rain lashing down and the temperature rather low, yet the dorm room was quite warm. Lin Zhixia wore a sea-blue dress that rode up slightly as she sat down, making her snow-white, slender legs even more noticeable. She pressed her knees together, tugged at the hem of her dress, and remarked, "This dress keeps shrinking the more I wash it."
Jiang Yubai's gaze wasn't on Lin Zhixia at all.
All the meal trays had been placed on the desk by Lin Zhixia. Facing the desk, Jiang Yubai murmured, "You look good in anything."
Lin Zhixia leaned sideways against his shoulder and said, "I think you look best in formal wear and swimwear. Though I've never seen you in swimwear, I can imagine it."
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