Cui Qijin wheeled her suitcase along, catching sight of Chi Buyu in the full-length mirror by the entryway.
Chi Buyu sat on the fluffy rug they’d bought from IKEA last week, clad in a pink hoodie. She hugged the Strawberry Bear plush so tightly it was nearly squished to bits, her chin resting on its head, gazing up at Cui Qijin with tear-filled eyes.
Cui Qijin sighed.
She released the suitcase handle and turned back helplessly. “Only little dolls cry like this every single time.”
This wasn’t the first time Cui Qijin had gone on a business trip out of town. Yet Chi Buyu always reacted the same way.
Cui Qijin didn’t quite get it.
Chi Buyu probably had some serious separation anxiety.
Even so, she slipped her feet back into her slippers and ambled over. She had barely crouched down when Chi Buyu launched herself forward, wrapping her in a fierce embrace.
Cui Qijin stumbled.
Her waist nearly gave out, threatening to send her crashing to the floor.
She barely managed to steady herself and plopped down onto the rug instead.
Chi Buyu’s head burrowed into her chest. The scent of freshly washed hair enveloped Cui Qijin’s neck like a wild, sprawling net, pinning her in place.
Chi Buyu sniffled. “I am a little doll.”
“All right, little doll.” Cui Qijin caught her breath and patted Chi Buyu’s head. “If you keep hugging me like this, I’m going to miss my flight.”
Then the very wealthy little doll declared, “I’ll buy you a new ticket.”
Cui Qijin burst out laughing. “Even with a new ticket, I still have to go.”
She added calmly, “And it’ll still be for a whole week.”
Chi Buyu let out a wail, the sound vibrating right through Cui Qijin’s chest.
That was Chi Buyu for you—always so dramatic.
Cui Qijin couldn’t stop laughing.
She gently nudged Chi Buyu’s face away, trying to see if the tears were real or just for show. To her surprise, Chi Buyu’s eyes were genuinely red-rimmed.
Cui Qijin froze for a moment.
Chi Buyu’s nose was pink from crying too. She pouted, as if forcing herself to let go. Cui Qijin hadn’t even exhaled in relief when a finger jabbed at her cheek—
It was Chi Buyu, making her favorite new “finger gun” gesture, her expression pitifully aggrieved. Out of nowhere, she asked,
“Will you still love me when you get back from the trip?”
Cui Qijin felt like a horde of tiny crying figures was stampeding through her mind.
Where on earth did Chi Buyu come up with these weird ideas?
“Why the hesitation?”
The finger poked her cheek again, the tone turning a bit fierce—like someone crying but trying to act tough.
Cui Qijin glanced sideways.
Chi Buyu’s lips were still puffed out in a pout. Cui Qijin sighed, capturing the soft, slender finger in her palm, where it curled perfectly.
She wiped at Chi Buyu’s reddened eye corner. “The weather report says it might snow in Chengdu the day I get back. We can watch SpongeBob SquarePants together then.”
Chi Buyu dove back into her arms, rubbing her face against Cui Qijin’s coat before mumbling,
“Got it. You love me.”
Cui Qijin smiled. “I wasn’t hesitating. I just want to wrap up the trip and come home fast.”
Chi Buyu insisted, “Got it. You love me so much it hurts.”
She was on the verge of getting smug. Cui Qijin didn’t argue. “No matter what I say, you twist it into that conclusion, huh, Chi Buyu?”
“Of course!” Chi Buyu nodded without a second’s pause. “Come on, you can recite full episodes of SpongeBob now. If that’s not loving me half to death, what is?”
Cui Qijin kissed her reddened eye corner, exaggerating Chi Buyu’s tone as she said,
“Yeah, I love you half to death.”
Finally satisfied, Chi Buyu hummed contentedly for a bit before striking that childish finger-gun pose again.
“You finally admitted it, Cui~Muhuo~you~big~dummy~”
Cui Qijin had been called a dummy again.
She thought it over and decided not to rile Chi Buyu up. She really had to go.
Even reluctant, Chi Buyu was a grown woman in her twenties. She didn’t actually hold her back, just leaned against the door, begging for kiss after kiss until she finally let go. She watched with wide, longing eyes as Cui Qijin stepped into the elevator.
By the time Cui Qijin reached the lobby downstairs,
a cold wind rushed in. She bundled up in her coat and wheeled her suitcase along a detour path. Sure enough, there was Chi Buyu on the balcony, elbows propped on the railing, craning her neck expectantly.
She spotted her.
And waved enthusiastically—as if thrilled, yet heartbroken.
Cui Qijin couldn’t make out her expression from this distance.
In the chilly wind, Cui Qijin waved back. A few neighborhood aunties were out for a stroll. Raising her voice, she waved like a kid calling for friends and shouted, “Chi Buyu!” Right there at the base of the building, she called out to hurry her along.
“Get inside already! It’s freezing out there—don’t catch a cold, or we won’t be able to watch SpongeBob when I get back—”
The wind swallowed her words. She couldn’t believe she’d done something so silly. As if people in the twenty-first century didn’t have phones.
Up on the balcony, Chi Buyu shouted back, “Cui Muhuo!”
And stayed put, refusing to go in.
The two of them faced off, one above the other.
In the end, Cui Qijin surrendered. She was dressed warmly enough, so she pushed her suitcase onward. Just before rounding the corner out of sight, she glanced back. A little pink figure stood on the balcony, head tilted as if straining to see her—or maybe just cold, stomping her feet and rubbing her hands for warmth.
It was a cold winter.
She wondered if it would really snow. Cui Qijin watched for a moment, then pulled her gaze away and strode off across the dry ground. Miss Liang was already waiting by a taxi, leaning against it. When Cui Qijin approached, she sighed.
“I could hear you two yelling ‘I love you’ to each other from outside the complex.”
Cui Qijin climbed into the car and shut the door. Warmth enveloped her as she effortlessly debunked the lie. “We didn’t yell ‘I love you’ at each other.”
Miss Liang shrugged. “Ever heard the saying?”
“What saying?”
Cui Qijin responded absently.
She rummaged in her bag for wet wipes to clean her hands, only to pull out a bunch of alcohol swabs and a stack of Polaroids. She knew exactly who had slipped them in there. She flipped through them one by one.
Seven shots of Chi Shuishui in her pink hoodie—probably snapped that morning while helping pack.
Each captured a vivid expression and pose. The lighting wasn’t consistent—some too dark, some overexposed, some just right. They’d only bought the Polaroid camera this week, and Chi Buyu wasn’t expert with it yet. Last time, she’d turned Cui Qijin into a shadowy blob. But these of Chi Shuishui? Every one was gorgeous.
Cui Qijin finished admiring the photos and checked the backs of the films. Each one had messages scrawled in thick red marker.
The cheek-heart pose: Day 1, Cui Muhuo—snap the other half of the heart when you get to Sanya and send it to me! /smiley/heart
Hands on hips: Day 2, Cui Muhuo—you have to tell me you miss me. Voice message! /heart
Winking one eye with finger guns: Day 3, Cui Muhuo—bet today you’ll love me the most /pew pew/heart
Hands cupping cheeks, squinting smile: Day 4, Cui Muhuo—okay, fine, today you love me most. Wanna kiss you, wanna be kissed /heart
Cross-eyed grimace: Day 5, Cui Muhuo—if someone flirts with you out there, tell them this is your super-hot girlfriend, and you’re hers for life /heart
Pulling eyelids for a goofy face: Day 6, Cui Muhuo—one more day and you’re back! You’ve been gone so long I’ve forgotten you. Hurry or I’ll get a new girlfriend /O.O/heart
Squinting with arms wide: Day 7, Cui Muhuo—first thing when you get home: hug me! /heart
“For some people, shouting a name is saying ‘I love you.'” Miss Liang remarked from the side.
“What?” Cui Qijin laughed so hard her eyes crinkled as she turned to Miss Liang.
The car was already moving. Miss Liang sighed in that complaining tone of hers. “I swear, your soul’s gonna stay in Chengdu for these seven days. No one’s taking it anywhere.”
“Is it?”
Cui Qijin was only half-listening, clutching the stack of Polaroids. She picked the cross-eyed one and slipped it into the back of her phone case.
That way, it’d be easy to see.
“Heard Chengdu might get snow this year.”
Miss Liang peered out the window. “Doesn’t look like it right now.”
Cui Qijin tucked the Polaroids away, her gaze drifting with the passing streets. “I hope it does snow in Chengdu.”
Miss Liang gave her a look and fell silent for a beat. “Sometimes I really think you’re such a hopeless romantic.”
Cui Qijin blinked in confusion. “I haven’t even said anything.”
Miss Liang traced a circle on her own face, as if exasperated by the sudden change in her. “It’s all over your face, isn’t it?”
Cui Qijin touched her cheek silently. “That obvious?”
Miss Liang didn’t say yes, but her expression screamed, What do you think?
Cui Qijin went quiet.
The two sat in companionable silence for a while. The driver was the taciturn type and didn’t chat them up.
Bored, Cui Qijin pulled out the Polaroids again. Chi Shuishui really had energy to burn—up early snapping all these. There were probably failed shots at home too. She’d have to check them out later.
Miss Liang finally couldn’t hold back. “So, why do you want it to snow?”
Cui Qijin was a beat slow on the uptake.
She caught on, eyeing Miss Liang—whose face practically read, I know, I know, you’ll think it’s cheesy later, but if I don’t ask, I’ll explode.
Miss Liang crossed her arms, feigning indifference.
Cui Qijin mirrored her, arms folded, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Because I promised her—if it snows, we’ll watch SpongeBob together when I get back.”
Miss Liang looked baffled. “You can watch without snow.”
“I know.” Cui Qijin nodded.
“Anything else?” Miss Liang pressed.
Cui Qijin rubbed the corner of a Polaroid, spotting the little drawn heart. It reminded her of Miss Liang’s earlier words—for some, a name was “I love you.”
“Chi Buyu.”
“What?”
Cui Qijin realized she’d murmured aloud. She shook her head dazedly and said no more. Miss Liang didn’t pry.
Cui Qijin drifted back to thoughts of Chi Buyu.
How many times had she shouted Chi Buyu’s name, exactly?
When had it started—that calling out Chi Buyu’s name meant she had become one of “those people” to her…?
It was almost like telepathy.
Right then, her phone chimed. She swiped it open and saw a message pop up from Princess Chi Shuishui☆.
【Cui Muhuo, do you miss me?】
The words made her burst out laughing in the taxi. Miss Liang and the driver both turned to stare at her. She quickly composed herself, then childishly fired off a WeChat reply to Chi Buyu.
13:34
Green bubble 【Chi Buyu, Chi Buyu】
White bubble 【Cui Qijin, Cui Qijin】
Green bubble 【Chi Buyu, Chi Buyu】
There was a pause of about two seconds on the other end before the bombardment began in earnest—
Cui QijinCui QijinCui Qijin
…
The white bubble apparently thought this was some kind of game and was about to explode.
Cui Qijin’s palm went numb from the vibrations as she watched the endless stream of “Cui Qijin”s popping up. A bewildered thought crossed her mind:
Chi Buyu, you just said I must love you desperately if I’ve memorized SpongeBob SquarePants backwards and forwards.
I have to admit, you’re right.
But what you don’t know is that I’d already memorized all 241 episodes long ago.
So… did it start back then?
