This phone was probably from over a decade ago.
It was the kind of non-smartphone that street vendors riding tricycles through old alleys would collect, blaring through megaphones about "buying old phones, broken phones."
Ruan Yu almost thought she'd time-traveled.
She froze for a moment, took a photo of this outdated phone, and attached it to a WeChat message: Did you send the wrong package?
Xu Huaishi: No, sis. Turn it on and check the drafts folder.
Kids these days sure know how to be creative. A drafts folder? Was this some roundabout way of writing her a love letter?
Because she'd woken up from a nightmare drenched in cold sweat, she didn't turn it on immediately. She left the package on the coffee table and went to shower first. When she came out, she saw a new message from Xu Huaishi on her phone.
A long passage filled the entire screen.
Sis, you must have seen it by now. I'm sorry—I was the one who accidentally found this phone and secretly read and adapted the stories in its drafts folder. I was also too cowardly to admit it when you got caught up in that plagiarism dispute, so I lied and hid the truth. And it was me who secretly looked up your name and personal information.
Someone like me is already terrible enough. After spending a day and night with you in Hangzhou and seeing you still working hard to investigate this matter, I thought if I didn't speak up now, I'd stay terrible forever.
Sis, it's okay if you don't forgive me, or if you hate me. But my brother only found out about this on the fourth day. He dropped an upcoming court case to fly back, originally planning to tell you the truth. But seeing you pretend not to know him, he hesitated to speak.
So, if possible, please forgive him. He really, really likes you.
After reading the entire screen, Ruan Yu stood frozen, phone in hand.
Every single word made sense individually. But strung together, their meaning seemed momentarily beyond her grasp.
Scrolling up, she saw an attached screenshot of a Weibo account backend: "Someone Who Writes Poetry."
Standing dumbly for two minutes, Ruan Yu turned stiffly and slowly picked up the old phone from the coffee table. She turned it on and opened the drafts folder.
327 unsent drafts.
Flipping through them, she randomly opened one.
That exam essay Teacher Zheng showed our class—you wrote it, right?
What exam essay? Ruan Yu frowned, puzzled, and kept scrolling.
Your dad asked why I always play piano in Room 301. I didn't dare say it's because from that practice room's window, I can see you.
Her frown eased as her finger paused on the phone's directional pad. Now she understood—who these drafts were from, and who they were for.
You moved your seat by the window. To watch you from the hallway during detention, I was late.
Are you still coming to PE class on the field? I've already run five laps.
Hana-chan doesn't eat fried chicken—right?
You said you like the sky after rain clears, so for the school festival, I'll play "After the Rain."
That boy in your class who pulls your ponytail asked to copy my English homework. I didn't let him.
The cat downstairs at the arts building kept meowing. I fed it canned food. But I don't like cats—I like you.
I'm going to America. Is there any way to make you remember me, even just a little?
Then let me hold your hand once.The unpleasant beeping sound of the buttons echoed. Ruan Yu's eyelashes trembled incessantly as she slowly lowered herself onto the sofa, her strength seemingly drained by each incoming message.
She should have understood now.
Why her outline hadn’t been lost.
Why his payment password was 309017.
Why he knew she was afraid of heights.
Yet it was still hard to believe.
The only thing that could correspond to these messages was her own memory. But at this moment, all her memories felt distant and blurred, unreal.
Her entire perception of high school had been forcibly split into two versions because of these messages.
Two completely different versions. One belonged to her, the other to Xu Huaisong.
If these messages were all true, why hadn’t she noticed anything back then? How could she have missed it entirely?
Sinking into the sofa like a desperate patient seeking medicine, Ruan Yu flipped through over three hundred drafts, searching for one that could directly prove Xu Huaisong had liked her back then.
Finally, she came across this passage: "The classmate yearbook pages distributed to our class didn’t include one for me. When they were collected, I slipped one in myself. If luck is on my side, maybe you’ll see it."
Classmate yearbook...
Ruan Yu abruptly stood up, set her phone aside, and rushed into her room.
Among the old belongings she had brought back from the attic of her hometown, aside from her diary, there were some miscellaneous items—including a classmate yearbook.
It was a thick stack of loose-leaf pages, which could be separated and handed out to others as colorful template sheets.
She had never given one to Xu Huaisong. She had assumed he barely even recognized her. Even the few she passed to Class 10 were just extras she hadn’t used.
During graduation season, classmate yearbooks flew everywhere. After filling out too many, they lost their meaning, and people started scribbling carelessly—drawing a smiley face or writing "Don’t forget me!" —just to get it over with. So when she collected them, she hadn’t looked closely at first.
She would have gone through them eventually. But after Xu Huaisong stood her up during their graduation trip, she had thrown all mementos from high school into a box, deliberately avoiding them.
Ruan Yu knelt on the floor, frantically flipping through the yearbook.
The colorful pages rustled loudly until a plain white template sheet caught her eye. Her hand froze mid-air, as if paused.
This page, starkly different from the others, had none of the usual details—no name, zodiac sign, blood type, or hobbies.
There was only one short sentence, neatly formatted in bold, decisive strokes.
Handwriting she recognized.
It read: "May you cheer in the dazzling tomorrow, even if I can’t see any of it."
Ruan Yu collapsed onto the floor, tears welling up in her eyes instantly.
By ten at night, she sat alone in the brightly lit living room, clutching both phones in a daze.
Xu Huaisong should have landed by now. But he hadn’t messaged her. And she hadn’t reached out either.
Somehow, she felt they might share the same nervous hesitation right now.
Though Xu Huaishi had taken the liberty of sending his phone, she wouldn’t have done so without at least informing him afterward.
So, the moment he stepped off the plane, he would have known—she had learned the truth.
Time ticked by. It was now half past ten.What was he afraid of? That she would blame him?
She should have blamed him. For the long deception, the prolonged silence.
But after reading those three hundred plus messages like a fool, crying and laughing, she suddenly realized nothing else mattered.
Being deceived, being led in circles—none of that mattered as much as the fact that he was coming back now.
He was coming back. She wouldn’t have to live in a tomorrow he couldn’t see.
That was what truly mattered.
Ruan Yu paced around her room, then gritted her teeth and dialed Xu Huaisong’s number.
Then, the ringtone sounded from somewhere very close to her.
The eerie coincidence startled her into an involuntary yelp, and she quickly hung up.
The next second, her door was knocked on, accompanied by Xu Huaisong’s voice: “What’s wrong?”
“...”
Ruan Yu clutched her chest and went to open the door, grimacing. “You scared me to death! Why didn’t you say anything when you got here? Are we filming a horror movie or something?”
The unexpected interruption shattered the delicate tension that should have lingered between them.
But soon, Xu Huaisong’s silence pulled her back into that uneasy state.
Standing on either side of the doorway, they stared at each other, speechless for a moment.
After half a minute, Xu Huaisong opened his mouth: “I’m sorr—”
“Xu Huaisong,” Ruan Yu suddenly cut him off, her voice catching. “Let’s start over.”
No more acting.
No more masks, no more hesitation. She wouldn’t scheme just to keep the upper hand.
They should meet again—honestly, openly, as their true selves.
Xu Huaisong froze, momentarily stunned.
Ruan Yu closed her eyes, mustering the courage she’d gathered all day, then extended her hand in a handshake gesture. “Hello, I’m Ruan Yu, graduate of Class 9, Senior Year, Suzhou No. 1 High School. I used to like you very much, and now—”
“Wait.” Xu Huaisong interrupted her too.
A flicker of surprise crossed Ruan Yu’s eyes.
Then she saw the tension in his expression ease as he suddenly smiled. “I should be the one saying this first.” He reached out, mirroring her handshake gesture. “Hello, I’m Xu Huaisong, graduate of Class 10, Senior Year, Suzhou No. 1 High School. I used to like you very much, and now—I like you even more than before.”
Ruan Yu’s nose stung again. She stood there dumbly, lips pressed together, unmoving.
Xu Huaisong glanced down at his still-outstretched hand. “Are we shaking hands or not?”
She was about to say “yes,” but he quickly added, “If not, how about a hug?” With that, he took her hand and pulled her into his arms.
Ruan Yu gasped in surprise. The next moment, a dull thud came from around the corner of the hallway—someone’s head had bumped into the wall.
Still embracing, they both turned to look.
From around the corner, the girl who’d been shrieking in the elevator earlier poked out half her body. “Sorry! I was coming back from my evening workout and took the stairs. Heard you guys rehearsing a script or something, got curious… Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt…”
Xu Huaisong and Ruan Yu: “...”Ruan Yu stiffly pulled herself out of Xu Huaisong's embrace, straightened her clothes, smoothed her hair, and gave Sun Miaohan an awkward chuckle: "We were just rehearsing the script. We just finished a scene and were about to go inside to refine some details." As she spoke, she tugged at Xu Huaisong's sleeve to drag him into the room.
In a public space, you couldn't blame anyone for eavesdropping.
Once the door closed, she covered her face and looked up at the ceiling: "So embarrassing..."
Unexpectedly, Xu Huaisong suddenly leaned in from behind and asked seriously, "Now that we're inside, what details need refining?"
Author's note: Please don't go around refining, trends need refining, accidentally there's no refining, oh~ oh~
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