Shen Jia Yan stood in place, her heart racing as if something had been abruptly yanked from her chest.
The night breeze blew gently, bringing a chill. Her phone was gone. It wasn’t just the loss of a communication device; it was the severance of all her contacts, memories, and that fragile thread of hope she had been carefully nurturing lately.
“Could it be at the restaurant?” Fu Jinxi asked, a hint of hope in her tone.
“I didn’t notice when I left,” Shen Jia Yan said softly, her brows furrowed. “I kept it on the corner of the table during dinner, but I remember putting it away later.”
“Maybe it fell on the road,” Zhang Min frowned. “Should we go back and look?”
“I’ll go!” Xu Jingyao volunteered. “You all head back to the dorm first. I’ll run over there—maybe I’ll get lucky and find it.”
“I’ll go too,” Fu Jinxi said immediately.
“No, it’s too late. I’ll go,” Shen Jia Yan replied.
“Then Jinxi and I will go. You and Minmin wait at school—in case the taxi driver brings the phone back,” Xu Jingyao suggested.
Shen Jia Yan stood under the streetlight, her gaze a little dazed. “Alright then, be careful. If anything happens, call me—” She forgot for a moment that her own phone was missing. “Call Minmin.”
“Okay.” The two left.
“Don’t worry too much,” Zhang Min comforted softly. “It might really just be at the restaurant.”
Shen Jia Yan nodded and forced a smile. “Yeah, I know.”
Not long after, Xu Jingyao and Fu Jinxi returned.
“Did you find it?” Zhang Min turned and asked.
Xu Jingyao was panting, but there was no smile on her face. “No, I asked the staff—they said they didn’t see your phone when they cleaned up. I searched the whole route we took, but nothing.”
She paused, her tone heavy. “Jia Yan, it looks like it’s really gone.”
Shen Jia Yan was silent for a few seconds, then simply nodded. “It’s fine. The data’s backed up, and I can report the SIM card lost.”
She sounded calm, but only she knew how empty she felt inside.
Back at the dorm, she sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the pitch-black desk, as if she could still see the faint glow of the phone screen lighting up.
Suddenly, an idea struck her. She got up, borrowed Xu Jingyao’s phone, and stepped out of the dorm.
At her usual spot, she dialed the number she knew by heart—the only one besides her parents’ that she had memorized.
The phone rang four times before it connected. “Hello?”
“It’s me, Wan Ning.”
“Jia Yan?” Wen Wan Ning pulled the phone away from her ear and glanced at the caller ID. “Did you change your number?”
Shen Jia Yan explained, “No, this is my roommate’s phone. I just—”
“Jia Yan, I have a meeting starting soon. I need to hang up first.” Wen Wan Ning’s familiar voice carried a touch of coolness.
“Oh, okay.” Shen Jia Yan spoke faster. “I just wanted to tell you my phone’s lost. If anyone uses it to contact you, don’t believe them. Alright, go ahead with your stuff. Bye.” She hung up immediately.
She was just afraid someone might use her phone for something bad, to deceive Wan Ning.
After all, she was the first contact in her phone book, the top chat in WeChat, and the phone wallpaper…
The dark night concealed the expanse of clouds, but it couldn’t stop the raindrops that were bound to fall.
Shen Jia Yan gazed at the raindrops forming strings outside the window, a trace of grievance welling up in her heart.
Losing the phone was upsetting, but what hurt more was that everything in it—those carefully saved chat records, photos, voice messages—had vanished with it.
The first person she thought of was Wen Wan Ning. She was afraid the loss might affect her, and selfishly, she hoped for some comfort from the person she cared about.
She knew she shouldn’t feel aggrieved. Wan Ning was just busy at that moment and really didn’t have time to listen. But still, she couldn’t help it—she felt like crying.
The rain outside grew heavier, as if trying to wash something away or force out the things hidden deep in her heart.
Wen Wan Ning stared at the blurred horizon in the distance, but Shen Jia Yan’s voice from earlier echoed clearly in her mind—hurried, flustered, yet so gentle it made her nose sting.
“I just wanted to tell you my phone’s lost. If anyone uses it to contact you, don’t believe them.”
She had said it so quickly, as if afraid that slowing down would make her unable to finish.
But what about herself? She clearly had time—the meeting wasn’t for another twenty minutes. Yet she had chosen to hang up hastily, ending the call with “I have a meeting.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hear Shen Jia Yan speak.
Rather, she was afraid that if she listened too closely, she wouldn’t be able to hold back from saying something.
She knew she had been distancing herself from Shen Jia Yan lately.
Ever since she realized her feelings, she had tried to pull their relationship back to the safe line of “friends.”
She thought it was best for both of them.
But now, listening to the intensifying rain outside and thinking about what just happened, she suddenly felt regretful.
Shen Jia Yan had only lost her phone and wanted to warn her not to be deceived. Or perhaps, in her low moment, she wanted to hear some familiar comfort.
She hadn’t done anything wrong, so why had she treated her so coldly? Why had she heartlessly rejected her when she needed her, even if unintentionally?
Wen Wan Ning lowered her head, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing the edge of the phone.
She remembered the series of figurines, how Shen Jia Yan had asked around from so many people just to collect a full set; she remembered the cautious tone when she messaged asking if she had someone she liked; she remembered how, just now, borrowing her roommate’s phone, her first words were to remind her “don’t trust messages from strangers.”
She wasn’t just protecting her; she was protecting the trust between them.
And yet, she had chosen to evade time and again.
After thinking it over, she decided to send Shen Jia Yan a message anyway.
She opened the chat window, her fingertips hovering over the keyboard, hesitating to type.
The cursor blinked, mirroring her tangled emotions—torn between hesitation and resolve.
Finally, she gently typed a line: [Jia Yan, I know you were worried someone might impersonate you to contact me. Thank you for thinking of me, and I’m sorry—I didn’t even ask how you were.]
She had compromised, temporarily setting aside her caution and distance. She simply couldn’t bear to pretend nothing happened when Shen Jia Yan needed her.
After sending, she stared at the screen, her heart unconsciously quickening.
She didn’t know if the phone was still with Shen Jia Yan, if she’d reply, or if this belated apology could make up for that moment of distance.
While waiting for a reply, she suddenly recalled something from high school.
Before a monthly exam, she had been in a low mood due to family issues and barely spoke to anyone all day. The next morning, when she arrived at the classroom, she found a bottle of her favorite yogurt and two lollipops on her desk, along with a note in Shen Jia Yan’s neat handwriting: “If you don’t say, I won’t ask. But remember, I’m always here.”
Her eyes had reddened at that moment.
And now, it was Shen Jia Yan carefully reminding and protecting her over the phone, only for her to brush it off with a casual “I have a meeting.”
She closed her eyes and sighed softly.
Shen Jia Yan composed herself and prepared to return to the dorm to give the phone back to Xu Jingyao.
Just as she stepped onto the stairs, the phone chimed with a new message.
She glanced at it casually, but when she saw it was from that familiar number, she immediately stopped climbing.
She looked down at the screen, her heart seeming to skip a beat.
The message sat quietly in the chat: [Jia Yan, I know you were worried someone might impersonate you to contact me. Thank you for thinking of me, and I’m sorry—I didn’t even ask how you were.]
The night breeze carried the dampness of rain across her cheeks. She froze, as if the words had gently struck the softest part of her heart.
She had thought Wen Wan Ning wouldn’t care, that the call was just another missed opportunity that would fizzle out. She had even braced herself to bear the disappointment alone.
But she hadn’t expected Wen Wan Ning to take the initiative to apologize.
She had heard “sorry” from Wen Wan Ning before, but this time was different.
It was a gentle response from that person in her moment of vulnerability and unease.
She slowly reached out, her fingertip lightly touching the screen, as if she could feel the familiar person through the message.
She didn’t reply right away, standing still as her thoughts settled bit by bit.
Every step closer between them felt like a cautious probe. She feared moving too fast and startling the other, yet also worried that not getting close enough meant no more chances.
She remembered her high school self—the one who liked Wen Wan Ning so much but didn’t even dare look at her extra glance.
Back then, though she hid it deeply, at least she was brave.
And now?
Maybe it was time to try not being so afraid.
She replied thoughtfully: [It’s fine. I understand you were busy.]
Soon, the phone chimed again, a new message popping up: [Are you okay now?]
Those five short words made Shen Jia Yan’s eyes heat up.
She wiped her hand across the keyboard: [Yeah, I’m okay.]
After receiving the reply, Wen Wan Ning stared at those two words for a long, long time.
“Okay” definitely wasn’t okay.
She knew Shen Jia Yan—the lighter she brushed it off with “it’s fine,” the more she was hiding her emotions.
She took a deep breath and continued: [I know losing your phone must be really upsetting. I don’t know what you’re doing now or if you’ve gotten caught in the rain. But I want you to know, if you need anything, I’m always here.]
Shen Jia Yan looked at the message on the screen and smiled helplessly yet relieved.
It felt like things between them had changed, yet never really had.
