The table was full of voices, dishes being passed from hand to hand, laughter mingling with the clinking of cutlery. But at some point, Meilan set down her chopsticks, delicately dabbed her lips with the napkin, and looked at Wen with calm curiosity.— Professor Wen… — she began, cordial but with that natural firmness of mothers — tell me, have you always lived in Suzhou?
Wen adjusted his glasses, discreet.— Not exactly. I lived in other cities before… but I've been here for a few years now. — He answered calmly, measuring each word.
Meilan nodded.— And your family? Do they still live in Zhejiang?
The air seemed to catch in Yuyan's chest. The question, simple for anyone else, echoed with a delicacy she already knew was difficult for him.
Wen lowered his gaze slightly, but kept his serenity.— My family… is not large. Let's just say I learned to walk more on my own steps than in company.
The words were honest, but a shadow of silence lingered within them.
Meilan smiled kindly, trying to ease the weight.— Well, steady steps also take us far. — Then she turned to pour more tea, as if closing the subject.
But Yuyan was already blushing, restless. She gripped the napkin in her lap, unsure where to rest her eyes. The room suddenly felt far too small.— Professor… — she said suddenly, almost hurried — would you… like to get some air? The balcony is quieter.
He looked at her with mild surprise, then nodded.— Of course.
They rose discreetly, leaving the bustle of the table behind. The glass door closed softly behind them, shutting out the noise.
Outside, the night's chill greeted them with a gentle breath. Lanterns from the neighborhood reflected on the distant river, and the high moon seemed to keep silent guard beside them.
Yuyan placed her hands on the railing, breathing deeply, trying to gather her words.— Sorry about my mother's questions. She didn't mean… —
— Don't worry. — Wen interrupted, serene. — It wasn't uncomfortable. It just… brought back memories.
She nodded, though her blush did not fade. They stood in silence for a few seconds, until Yuyan spoke again, almost in a whisper:— I… don't have much of a big family either. I grew up only with my mother and grandmother. Life was never… light. But somehow, we cared for each other. Each night of tea, each mended garment, each quiet silence.
Her eyes glistened with guarded memories.— When my grandmother fell ill, I thought I wouldn't survive it. — She continued. — But it was she who taught me to be calm. To listen to the world even when it doesn't answer. Maybe that's why I chose to become a nurse. To care… the way she cared for me.
Wen watched her, his eyes attentive, without interruption.
— I thought my world would only ever be that. Shifts, corridors, painful memories… — Yuyan inhaled deeply, facing the moon. — Until, suddenly, things changed. I don't even know exactly when. I just know that… someone entered my silence and didn't make noise. Just stayed.
She fell quiet. The wind moved a loose strand of hair across her face. Without thinking, Wen reached out and gently tucked it behind her ear. The gesture was simple, but it felt like a vow.
— Sometimes, Yuyan… — he said softly — it doesn't take much. Just someone who listens.
Her heart raced. And for the first time, she did not look away.
The silence between them felt as alive as the night. But before it could become something more, the balcony door opened abruptly.— Hmmm… — Xiaoqing's playful voice broke the air. — Sorry to interrupt this drama scene, but the new year comes in five minutes! If you two stay here sighing, you'll miss the fireworks — and then I won't forgive you.
Yuyan turned quickly, her face flushed.— Xiaoqing…!
Wen merely adjusted his glasses, hiding a discreet smile.— I'm only protecting the national romance — her friend added theatrically, winking before heading back inside.
Yuyan sighed, half-irritated, half-conspiratorial. But she couldn't hold back a light laugh, which drew another from Wen. For a few seconds, they laughed together — and the weight in the air melted into sweetness.
Inside, the voices began counting down. Ten, nine, eight…
On the balcony, Wen looked at Yuyan. There was no haste in his expression, only a quiet steadiness, as if he had chosen these words long ago.— Yuyan… — he said softly, but clear enough to rise above the growing noise — I wish this new year to be wonderful for you. May it be light. May it be beautiful.
She blinked, surprised. Her heart leapt. She lowered her eyes briefly before answering, voice trembling:— I… wish the same for you. May this year… bring you good things. And may you… not have to spend it alone.
When she lifted her gaze, she found his. A moment longer, and it felt like time itself was holding its breath.
In the glass reflection, Xiaoqing could be seen peeking in, gesturing discreetly, rooting for something that did not happen.
But the kiss didn't come.
Only the fireworks — bursting over rooftops, painting the sky in fleeting colors. Yuyan and Wen stood side by side, looking upward — each hearing their own heartbeat as the loudest sound of the night.
Later, as the guests departed, Yuyan walked Wen to his car. The street glistened with dew, lanterns swayed in the wind, and the silence between them felt like complicity.
He stopped by the car door and turned to her. For an instant, he said nothing. He only reached out and held her hand.
Yuyan's heart pounded, almost painfully.
Wen kept his eyes on hers. The black scarf still wrapped his neck, but the warmth came from elsewhere.— Yuyan… — he said slowly, each syllable a choice. — Which day are you off this week?
She blinked, startled, unable to hide her blush.— I… have Tuesday and Wednesday.
A small smile drew itself on his lips.— Then… I want to take you somewhere.
His hand pressed hers gently, but with enough firmness to tell her: this was no casual phrase. It was an invitation.
Her breath caught. Words didn't come right away — only a timid nod, a smile that spoke more than any reply.
Wen released her hand slowly, opened the car door, and before entering, murmured:— Good night, Yuyan.
— Good night… — she answered, voice almost failing.
He got into the car. She remained at the gate, heart racing, watching the lanterns reflect on the rear window until the car turned the corner.
Alone, she smiled at the night.
There was no kiss. But there was promise.
And sometimes… promises shine brighter than fireworks.