Chapter 64

-01 Love Adrift Upper Reel

In 2016, the night lights shimmered in a kaleidoscope of colors, casting a fluorescent red glow inside the shop. As the leads wrapped up their scene, two tropical fish drifted lazily through the aquarium.

Two teenagers crouched by the roadside, their faces bathed in the wandering lights. Their pupils and cheeks were flushed and hazy with the moisture of youth, while the tropical fish weaved sporadically between them.

Someone dashed in from off-camera, panting as they shouted,

“Cui Qijin! Chi Buyu!”

Chi Buyu turned back, looking utterly bewildered for a moment. Then another voice rushed in from off-camera: “What are you two doing?!”

Chi Buyu didn’t respond. She turned away again, her cheeks puffed out like a fish. Feebly, she clutched at Cui Qijin’s sleeve and lowered her head—

And with a splatter, she vomited all over her.

A yellow tropical fish blew a string of bubbles. The clear bubbles floated upward, distorting Cui Qijin’s expression through the transparent tank and the rising foam until it was blurred beyond recognition.

The bubbles were popped one by one. Cui Qijin remained silent throughout. The leads returned to the foreground for their lines, leaving only part of the background scene behind…

Cui Qijin lowered her lashes and gently patted Chi Buyu’s head.

-02 Yu Chenxing Phone Footage

In 2020, in the dead of night, gray-blue light filtered through white curtains. The white bedroom door stood slightly ajar, casting a triangular beam of light inside.

An open suitcase lay steeped in that triangular glow, completely empty.

Yu Chenxing’s impatient voice came from off-camera.

“Cui Qijin, why aren’t you turning on the light? Are you filming a horror movie in here?”

No one in the room replied.

Yu Chenxing pushed the door open. The triangle of light expanded, catching half of Cui Qijin’s body still shrouded in shadow, her face mottled with uneven patches of color.

She seemed sliced into countless triangles. Then, from within those shapes, she lifted her head.

“I’m packing.”

Yu Chenxing let out an “oh” from off-camera. The lens shifted away, dropping to the empty suitcase.

“Aren’t you on an early morning flight? Why haven’t you packed yet?”

“Yu Chenxing.”

Cui Qijin spoke up abruptly.

“What?”

Yu Chenxing replied. The phone screen shook as it lifted, framing Cui Qijin’s upper body.

Cui Qijin gazed at Yu Chenxing—phone in hand—with particular bewilderment.

“I’m not going to South America anymore. Is that okay?”

“…”

Yu Chenxing fell silent for a moment, then shrugged it off casually. “If you don’t wanna go, don’t go. No one’s holding a gun to your head.”

Cui Qijin lowered her eyes. The triangular highlights on her face shifted—some dropping away, others warping shape.

She smiled faintly.

“Then why are you sitting here packing if you don’t want to go?” Yu Chenxing asked. “And why the sudden change? Weren’t you dead set on it before?”

Cui Qijin shook her head, then nodded, finally letting out a sigh before speaking very slowly.

“Do you know the slogan for this program? ‘Use love to solve Earth’s problems.’ I saw the flyer before graduation, and suddenly this thought popped into my head: If I could fix even some tiny troubles for the whole planet, maybe I’d feel a bit better than I do now. Or at least, I’d have a hole in me too, right?”

“Cui Qijin…” Yu Chenxing trailed off, as if about to say more.

But she didn’t need to.

A gust of wind nudged the door wider, letting in more light. Behind it, a can of beer came into view, lid popped open. Yu Chenxing muttered, “I knew it—”

But Cui Qijin just laughed again in the frame. Her gaze turned toward the lens, a little blurry, a little unsteady.

“Maybe solving troubles for one specific person feels better than for the whole Earth, don’t you think?”

-03 Sandy Handheld Camcorder

In 2024, at year-end, during a class reunion, the lights swayed like molten liquid in a tropical rainforest. In the background, a raucous male voice belted out, “Do you wanna dance? You you you, do you wanna dance?” Chengdu dialect rose and fell amid the bar’s thumping bass. The lens swept through the crowd, then doubled back as if noticing something—

Cui Qijin scooped up the flushed, drunken Chi Buyu and calmly adjusted her glasses, which were on the verge of being yanked off by Chi Buyu.

Chi Buyu clung to her like a koala, grinning foolishly.

She glanced at the camera, waved stiffly like a sunflower facing the sun, and less than a second later, slumped against Cui Qijin’s neck amid the shaky footage.

Sandy off-camera burst into laughter.

“I remember you two—lightweights from the class next door, one who passes out after half a glass and the other after a full one!”

The lights dimmed, then flared bright again. Waves of music and voices blended together. Chi Buyu raised her arm high.

“I~ am~ now~ a~ two-glass~ lightweight~ oh~”

Then she started waving along with the beat.

As the song hit its chorus, the lights spilled out like an overturned palette of paints. Cui Qijin offered a polite smile to the camera before quickly turning away, helplessly waving along as Chi Buyu held her arm aloft.

Surrounding friends waved too, laughing uproariously. The lens caught face after face alight with excitement. Someone couldn’t help asking,

“Didn’t they used to fight like cats and dogs every time they met, flipping tables and everything?”

The camera followed the voice.

“Who said that?” He Youzhen scoffed, downing a huge swig of beer before launching into a regretful tirade. “You don’t know? Back in freshman year, they danced ‘Trouble Maker’ together at orientation. In senior year, when Chi Buyu hurt herself falling, Cui Qijin was the one sorting her notes. During military training, when Cui Qijin fainted, Chi Buyu was first to run over and call the ambulance. Every time Cui Qijin got sick, Chi Buyu spotted it before she even coughed…”

“Even if you didn’t know that, you should know they were in the same class in high school, went to the same college, and even after graduation, their studios are on the same street, right?”

The lens followed He Youzhen’s rundown, panning a few times before zooming in on Cui Qijin and Chi Buyu over there—

Chi Buyu pried open her eyelids and pulled a silly face at the camera. Cui Qijin hurriedly blocked her face for damage control. Then Chi Buyu cradled Cui Qijin’s cheeks, planted a “mwah,” grinning mischievously…

And kissed her right on the glasses lens.

Someone off-screen asked in surprise,

“Is that the kind of ‘not getting along’?”

The frame rocked back and forth like surging seawater.

After the kiss, Chi Buyu nearly slid right out of view. Cui Qijin hauled her back up and calmly wiped the lipstick off her lens…

Then she stared at the camera and mouthed,

“Please delete that. Thanks.”

-04 Chen Wenran Phone Footage

In 2025, springtime, at a bridal shop. The two lay neatly side by side on the sofa, both in pink hoodies, sprawled out like a pair of pink Patrick Stars.

The lens zoomed in, practically nose-to-nose, close enough to see their pores.

Chen Wenran griped from off-screen. “Come on, you two. I’m the one trying on wedding dresses to propose to Ran Yan. What are you doing, passing out on me?”

Cui Qijin cracked one eye open and let out a cold “heh.”

“Because you dragged us out of bed at three in the morning.”

Chi Buyu yanked her hood lower, nestling into Cui Qijin’s shoulder like a potted plant. She raised her palm, covering Cui Qijin’s upper face.

“Classmate Chen Wenran, you look so pretty.”

She hadn’t even opened her eyes to look, already spouting nonsense.

Chen Wenran tsked. “I haven’t even gone in to change yet?”

Chi Buyu went quiet, looking like she might faint any second.

Chen Wenran cracked up and pushed the lens closer to Chi Buyu’s face.

“How does Shuishui have such perfect skin? I’m so jealous. Hey, what are you doing, Cui Qijin? I need to film the whole thing for the wedding—”

The lens was suddenly blocked.

A hand twisted it away. Darkness gave way to light again, and Cui Qijin’s sour expression filled the screen. She drawled lazily,

“Let her rest a bit. Worst case, film me instead.”

-05 Love Adrift Lower Reel

In 2024, summer, on Love Adrift Street, beneath a bay laurel tree. A community bus rumbled away, leaving a trail of grayish exhaust—

Cui Qijin, wearing half-smashed glasses, dazedly wiped her phone screen.

The director laughed from off-camera, then zoomed in. The protagonist of this shot shifted to the girl from 2016—the one who’d been puked on yet only dared to pat her head gently. The director whistled like she was watching a show and hollered in her thick, unplaceable Taiwanese accent—

“Hey, classmate, that’s just fog on your glasses lens!”

Cui Qijin heard the voice.

Dully, she wiped her glasses, then cautiously tugged up her sleeve to clean the water spots on her phone screen again.

One second passed. Two. Three…

She smiled. The colored lights danced inside her fogged-up lenses once more. Amid the street’s clamor, the camera captured it raw—

She said, “Thank you.”

-06 Ran Yan Phone Footage

In 2024, autumn. A glossy green Brazilian turtle paddled around its simple tank, seemingly right at home in the new setup.

“Shuishui, say that again. What did you just do?”

Ran Yan’s voice drifted in from off-screen. The Brazilian turtle lifted its head in the water.

Rustling sounds came from nearby.

The lens pulled back, panning up slowly to Chi Buyu, who sat with her back to them, hands propping her cheeks, her posture radiating melancholy.

Chi Buyu glanced at the camera, then at the drifting clouds, propping her face as she said wistfully, “I’m just like a cloud with no legs—”

“Hold on.” Ran Yan cut her off. “Please say something less abstract.”

Chi Buyu pouted, then huffed righteously.

“Cui Qijin pissed me off, so I left Little Snail with you for now. Don’t let her come see it.”

Ran Yan paused, then aimed the lens at Chi Buyu’s face. She drawled slowly,

“You’re acting like you two fought and you stormed off to your parents’ with the kids.”

Blue skies and white clouds outside. Chi Buyu wrinkled her nose beneath one particularly fluffy cloud.

“Who told her to piss me off—”

Halfway through, a phone rang somewhere. Chi Buyu clamped her mouth shut, fished hers out of her bag, and stared at the caller ID for ages. She tilted her chin up and deliberately waited two or three seconds.

The indoor light was a bit hazy.

Ran Yan nearly died laughing.

Chi Buyu shushed her, then answered and held the phone to her ear, lips sealed tight, saying nothing.

Whatever was said on the other end…

A dozen seconds later, Chi Buyu mumbled a stiff “mm,” then pretended great magnanimity.

“Fine.”

She hung up.

Ran Yan couldn’t hold it in any longer, her laughter filling the entire room.

Chi Buyu looked up and glanced at the hopelessly smudged lens. She cleared her throat in an exaggerated fashion.

“Wait till she comes to pick up the two of us.”

“The two of us? Who?” Ran Yan still hadn’t caught on. “You and me?”

Chi Buyu gave her a puzzled look. Her eyelashes fluttered in the flickering light, and she seemed hesitant to speak. She pursed her lips before finally saying, “Of course it’s me and Little Snail.”

-07 Phone stand recording

It was the summer of 2025. Sunlight spread across the grass like spilled dye, and two mango-yellow camping chairs sat neatly in the center of the frame.

From off-screen, Chi Buyu said softly, “You go first.”

A breeze rustled over the vibrantly green grass, which looked straight out of an animated film. After the wind died down a little, Cui Qijin appeared from off-frame. Dressed in a white shirt and jeans, she stepped onto the grass and settled into the chair on the left.

She didn’t look at the camera. Instead, her gaze followed Chi Buyu as the other woman drew nearer from off-screen. “What are you planning to say?”

Chi Buyu stepped into the frame, wearing the same white shirt and jeans. She sat down in the chair next to Cui Qijin’s and naturally took her hand. “Just a few blessings, that’s all.”

Cui Qijin hummed in acknowledgment. She basked comfortably in the sun with her legs crossed, her eyes on Chi Buyu’s profile. “You first, then?”

Grinning, Chi Buyu patted Cui Qijin’s cheek and then turned to the camera. She waved like a kindergartener. “Dear Ranran and classmate Chen Wenran—you two, hi!”

And then… nothing. She let out a nervous breath and opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Cui Qijin watched her, struggling not to laugh. She forced herself to stay serious.

It was Cui Qijin’s obvious effort to hold it together that finally relaxed Chi Buyu. Twisting Cui Qijin’s fingers in her own, Chi Buyu exhaled and continued. “Truth be told, marriage always felt so distant to me. How are you two tying the knot already? I still think of us as kids, zipping around on scooters without a care. But seeing you so happy, after dating all these years from school right up to now, bravely stepping into this next chapter… it makes me happy too, somehow. You’re my best friends, you know? And that night when you video-called to say you’d registered in Ireland—where divorce isn’t even an option—I nearly bawled my eyes out…”

“You know that song ‘Love and Sincerity’? The one that goes ‘better a cat or a dog than a lover’? Back when I was all about staying single forever, I’d have belted that out to you right before the wedding to scare you off. But now? I want to sing ‘Encounter’ for you instead. They say it’s the perfect wedding blessing—guaranteed to make the couple melt into tears. I’ve been practicing it for days. Just picturing you two with ruined makeup at the ceremony…”

Her voice trailed off, choked with emotion. Under the blazing sun, she wildly fanned her face with her free hand and tilted her head back, as if trying to blow away her tears. “I’m… so freaking happy!”

The words tumbled out in fits and starts. After several shaky attempts, with red-rimmed eyes and a sniffle, she finally finished. “What do I do? I’m already tearing up just talking about it. On the actual wedding day, I’m gonna ugly-cry so bad.”

Cui Qijin squeezed her hand and watched until Chi Buyu had composed herself a little. Then, with frank composure, she turned to face the camera. After a silent pause, she smiled.

She smoothed back her wind-tousled hair and spoke leisurely. “Chen Wenran, no more breakup threats every time you fight. And no more fleeing to my place after. I’m tired of cleaning up your shed hair all over my house.”

“Ran Yan, stop boarding Little Snail with Chi Buyu all the time. Once you’re married, it’ll be inconvenient for it to keep imposing.”

She paused for a long moment before adding, “From now on, I’ll make sure she never gets mad at me.”

“That’s it?” Chi Buyu sniffed, her nose tip pink and reddened.

Cui Qijin nodded. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Maybe add a proper ending?” Chi Buyu suggested. She lifted Cui Qijin’s hand and shook it in the sunlight. “How about this: Because we’re gold, wood, water, fire, and earth—we’ll share joy and hardship alike.”

Cui Qijin glanced at her. So the phrase could apply to the four of them? Patiently, she repeated it after Chi Buyu.

They fell silent then, hands clasped as they gazed at the camera for a moment. Neither made a move to leave first.

Chi Buyu touched her chin and pondered seriously. “I think you said too little. Say more?”

Cui Qijin eyed her reddened nose and gently scraped it with a fingertip. Then she turned back to the camera. Sunlight bathed her face like melting butter. After a long pause, the wind picked up.

Still holding Chi Buyu’s hand, she said out of nowhere, “Chi Buyu, I love you.”

Chi Buyu looked up in surprise, her eyes still red. She glanced embarrassedly at the camera, then leaned in close to Cui Qijin’s ear and whispered, “Idiot—who confesses to their girlfriend at someone else’s wedding?”

Smiling, Cui Qijin nodded. “Okay.”

In a commanding tone, Chi Buyu said, “Redo it!”

Cui Qijin went quiet for a beat. Then: “I love you.”

Chi Buyu shoved her shoulder. “Cui Muhuo, don’t mess around on me like this!”

Cui Qijin gave in. “Okay.”

…

The wind rustled softly as afternoon sunlight flowed like a scorching sea. They sat shoulder to shoulder on the grass like middle schoolers, skin wrinkling under the relentless sun. Both squinted at the camera, content in the silence.

A black cat darted across the frame. Car horns blared faintly from outside. The afternoon was so serene it could have melted them right into the grass.

Chi Buyu stared straight into the lens for a long moment. Then, very softly: “Then… I love you too.”

Cui Qijin tightened her grip and rested their joined hands on her lap. She smiled at the camera for a bit before saying, “I love you the most.”

The wind grew stronger, toppling the phone rig. White light flashed in a blur as the two young women in white shirts approached hand in hand across the grass, their shirt tails fluttering like intertwined clouds.

Then the frame flipped, as if the phone had fallen to the ground. The screen went black. After a pause, someone chuckled—then both burst into laughter.

Laughter filled the darkened screen in an instant.

Wind whistled, mingled with traffic and street noise. Amid their laughter, Chi Buyu was the first to speak. “So… we’ll go get married in Ireland someday too?”

Cui Qijin laughed, her voice scattered by the breeze. “Whenever you want to, we’ll go.”

The camera righted itself, now framing fluffy castle-like clouds like cotton candy. In the midst of their overflowing laughter, someone said, “No—I’m the one who loves you the most, most, most, most, you idiot.”

The screen went black.