That evening after work, Ruoqing sat by the window smoking while Ranhua played PUBG on her new phone in the living room. Every so often came a burst of "he's behind me!" or "I'm down again!"
Ruoqing ignored her. She watched the dark outside the window, but her mind kept snagging on something from earlier in the day.
Li Yuxiang's face.
The way he smiled—almost exactly the same as in high school.
She tapped the ash into the little tin, closed her eyes, and told herself to stop thinking about it. But memory doesn't take orders. It just shows up on its own.
Second semester of freshman year, Ruoqing transferred schools.
The reason was simple: her mom got reassigned, and the whole family moved to the next county over. She didn't say goodbye to anyone in her class. She emptied her locker and left. It wasn't like anyone would notice she was gone.
That's what she told herself.
Three days after the transfer, her phone buzzed.
A friend request from an account she didn't recognize. The profile picture was a badly angled photo of a basketball court. She was about to ignore it, but there was a message attached:
*hey, are you lin ruoqing?*
She tapped into the profile. The name said "Yuxiang," with a sunglasses emoji next to it.
She stared at the screen for ten seconds. Her heart beat a little faster.
Then she hit accept.
*how did you find me*
*asked people in your class,* he replied quickly. *took me three tries. you don't have a lot of friends, do you?*
Ruoqing almost put her phone down and didn't respond.
*…what do you want.*
*why'd you stop coming to school? did you transfer?*
*yeah.*
*where to?*
*chiayi.*
*damn, that's far.*
*hour and a half.*
*you already clocked the commute time lol,* he sent a crying-laughing sticker. *you're very precise.*
Ruoqing didn't reply to that one. But she didn't close the chat either.
A few minutes later he sent: *you doing okay at the new school?*
She typed *fine*, thought about it, deleted it, and typed instead: *still adjusting.*
*if it gets rough you can tell me,* he said. *i'm not doing anything anyway.*
Ruoqing looked at that line. The corner of her mouth moved—barely, but it did.
After that, they talked every day.
At first he was the one carrying the conversation. He'd send photos from PE, tell her who got together with who in the class next door, ask what was good to eat in Chiayi. Ruoqing's replies were always short—*oh*, *not really*, *no idea*—but she always replied.
Slowly, she started bringing things up herself.
*the lunch at my new school is terrible.*
*my seat is by the window. i get sun in the afternoon.*
*the math teacher talks really fast. i can barely keep up.*
Small things. Too small to bother telling anyone. But she told him.
And he always wrote back.
*just bring your own lunch then.*
*tell the teacher you want a different seat or you'll get a tan.*
*if you don't get the math i can help. i'm decent at it.*
*what'd you get in math?*
*…passing. barely. but i'm good at explaining things.*
For the first time, Ruoqing typed *ha* in a chat.
Just one syllable. But after she sent it, she sat there for a second, a little surprised at herself.
They talked for the entire semester.
Every morning when she woke up, Ruoqing checked her phone first—not for the time, but to see if he'd sent anything. He usually had. He had a habit of sending something right before bed, something that didn't mean much, like *goodnight ms. precise* or *english test tomorrow i'm going to die.*
Ruoqing would reply in the morning, usually just one short line. But she always replied.
Sometimes they called.
His voice sounded lower on the phone, a little lazy, like he was lying down. He'd talk about school, his friends, some injury from basketball practice. Ruoqing would listen and say *mm* every now and then.
Once he asked out of nowhere: "do you feel like we're kind of friends?"
Ruoqing held the phone and thought: *not really.*
Friends didn't make her heart race. Friends didn't make her first thought every morning be checking her phone. Friends didn't make the whole room go quiet when she heard their voice.
But she said: "I guess so."
He laughed. "I guess so, huh. okay, sure."
Ruoqing felt like there was only one thing left between them.
One confession.
She'd even thought about saying it herself. But she couldn't. She never could. So she just kept talking to him every day, kept waiting, telling herself he'd say it first eventually.
It was a Thursday.
She remembered it clearly, because Thursday afternoons didn't have a last period, so she got home early. She was in a good mood. She was thinking she'd get to talk to him longer than usual.
Her phone buzzed when she walked in the door.
A message from him.
*hey, got something to tell you.*
Ruoqing dropped her bag, sat down on the bed, and opened the chat.
*what?*
*i'm seeing someone.*
She stared at those three words.
The screen lit up her face. The room was quiet. Outside, a neighbor's kid was riding a bike.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard and didn't move.
A long time passed—maybe thirty seconds, maybe a minute—and then she typed two words:
*congrats.*
He replied fast: *thanks, she's in my class. i'll introduce you sometime.*
Ruoqing flipped her phone over, screen down, and set it on the bed.
She didn't cry.
She just sat there looking at the ceiling, feeling like something had been pulled out of her chest, leaving a hollow space, cool and empty.
After that, she started replying slower. Instant replies became a few minutes, a few minutes became a few hours, a few hours became the next day.
He didn't seem to notice.
Or maybe he did and didn't ask.
By sophomore year their conversations had thinned out, until it was just the occasional *happy birthday* and a New Year's sticker.
Then even the stickers stopped.
Ruoqing pressed her cigarette out against the inside of the little tin and snapped the lid shut.
From the living room, Ranhua let out a shout: "chicken dinner! Ruoqing, why aren't you playing with me!"
Ruoqing didn't answer.
She looked at the streetlight outside and thought about that Thursday afternoon. Those three words. The way her fingers had been cold when she typed *congrats.*
Seven years.
She'd thought it was long over.
But when he smiled and said her name today, she realized some things don't disappear. They just get pushed somewhere deep enough that you stop noticing them.
Ruoqing stood up, walked to the living room, and sat down next to Ranhua.
"Take me in the next one."
Ranhua spun around, delighted. "For real? you're finally playing?"
"Yeah."
Ruoqing picked up her phone, opened the game, and didn't say anything else.
She just didn't want to sit by the window alone anymore.