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🏙️ A Simple Apartment in Shanghai — Evening, Present Day
Shanghai is dressed in gold tonight.
The city's lights pour from glass towers like spilled treasure. The hum of traffic below is muffled by the high-rise windows — like the city's orchestra playing in the background of a quiet, paused film.
But inside this apartment, things are still.
Not frozen. Not lifeless.
Just… still.
Warm.
Deliberate.
A wooden floor creaks softly beneath socked feet. The kitchen lights cast soft shadows over carefully stacked plates. Beige curtains sway slightly as spring air slips through the window crack.
And in the kitchen—
Dan.
Tall. Clean. Unbothered in appearance, but nowhere near at peace.
A black fitted sweater clings to his form. Sleeves rolled up. Hair mussed from the rising steam of the pot. He stirs something gently in a small saucepan — chocolate and milk — and the motion is slow, methodical. It's not just a drink.
It's a ritual.
A form of remembering.
Or forgetting.
He doesn't look up when a shutter clicks.
Reo stands at the doorway, camera in hand, already laughing.
Wearing a white linen shirt half tucked into sharp black pants, he's the living picture of effortless chaos. Unshaven jaw. Two undone buttons. That vintage camera swinging from his neck like a permanent accessory.
📸
Reo (grinning):
"Goddamn, this is rich. Dan the Assistant Headmaster—stirring milk like a stay-at-home husband."
Click.
Dan doesn't flinch.
Dan (deadpan, without looking up):
"Make sure the lighting catches the unpaid emotional labor."
Reo cackles.
From the hallway, another voice floats in—silky, dramatic, slightly exasperated.
Yuri enters.
She is beauty and boldness, wrapped in maternity tights and an oversized green hoodie that somehow looks couture. Silver rings glint on her fingers. Her lipstick is loud. Her belly—louder.
She's glowing. And she knows it.
Yuri (mock gasping):
"Reo! Don't tease him! Dan is literally handcrafting a chocolate milkshake for a pregnant goddess. That's holy work."
Ren follows behind.
Quiet. Controlled. Always composed. In his hand, a sleek laptop bag. On his wrist, a designer watch. His clothes sharp, minimal. Like his tone.
Ren (dryly):
"It's reckless behavior. She's six days from surgery and dancing like it's karaoke night."
Yuri pirouettes clumsily and flops into Dan's lap just as he's placing down the tray.
Dan (startled, steadying her):
"Yuri—seriously. Sit gently. One wrong move—"
Ren (already scolding):
"—and it's not just your ankle. It's the baby."
Yuri sips her milkshake with cartoonish innocence.
Yuri (muffled through straw):
"You two are worse than the OB nurses…"
Reo (snapping another photo):
"I'm going to make a coffee table book: 'The Many Men Who Parent Yuri'. Subtitle: A study in collective panic."
Ren (without looking up):
"Delete that photo."
---
🛋️ Later That Evening
The apartment dims. Jazz plays faintly. The Shanghai skyline twinkles through the wide windows, distant, like another life.
Four bodies lounge on the couch, wrapped in friendship and warm drinks.
Yuri (gazing out softly):
"Ten years ago… if someone told me we'd all end up here?"
Ren (raising an eyebrow, sipping black coffee):
"You mean stuck with you?"
Yuri (grinning):
"I mean married to me."
Reo (sighing, dramatic):
"Speak for yourselves. I'm not married yet. But Lilia's flying in next month from Milan."
Dan (glancing over):
"Still modeling?"
Reo (nodding, proud):
"Yeah. Still bossy. Still terrifying. I'm in love."
He smirks, but his gaze slides toward Dan. And for once—he's quiet before speaking.
Reo (gently teasing):
"What about you, Professor Dan? Still clinging to that anonymous admirer who left you a box and a letter at sixteen?"
Dan doesn't react right away.
His fingers tighten just slightly around the ceramic mug. But his voice, when it comes, is calm. Too calm.
Dan (flatly):
"I don't cling."
Ren (with surgical precision):
"You also don't move."
Yuri (softly, careful now):
"He's right, Dan. You haven't even tried… not once."
Ren (setting his cup down):
"You're 26. A respected academic. Handsome. Kind. Basically every parent's fantasy for their daughter. And yet—"
Reo (smirking again):
"—still mysteriously single. Like you're holding your breath. For what?"
Dan (after a long pause):
"I'm not in Shanghai because of her."
He places the cup down. Looks straight ahead. Doesn't meet their eyes.
Dan:
"I'm here because I love it here. I love my students. I love seeing that moment—the one where the impossible finally clicks for them. That's mine. That's real."
Ren (sharply):
"Then stop living for a ghost. Whoever she was, Dan… she left. You need to move on."
Reo (a little quieter):
"You never even knew her name, man. Just a box. A letter. A kiss on the cheek from some tiny kid calling you 'handsome.'"
Dan's smile finally appears.
But it's not joy.
It's resignation.
---
🌙 Dan's Thoughts (Internal)
"A gift with no sender."
"A message with no return address."
"A boy with my eyes… calling me handsome. Kissing my cheek like he'd known me forever."
He remembers the letter.
He always remembers the letter.
> "Even if you never know it was me… thank you for existing."
— Yours, M
He remembers the way the box smelled—like cotton and rain.
Like something forgotten.
Like something sacred.
---
🚪
Yuri stands, stretching, wincing slightly.
Yuri:
"Ren… can we go? Baby's kicking like it wants an encore."
Ren (instantly attentive):
"Come on. Let's get you home."
Yuri (hugging Dan):
"Thank you. For this. For always."
Ren (genuinely):
"You're a good man, Dan."
Reo (heading toward the door):
"And if you're still single when Lilia's cousin visits—I will set you up."
Dan chuckles softly. The door shuts.
---
🕯️ Night — Alone
The clock ticks. Jazz fades into static. Shanghai continues glowing outside, unaware.
Dan clears the table. Rinses the mugs. Wipes the tray.
He opens a drawer.
Inside:
A velvet box.
A dried pink ribbon.
A folded letter—creased at the edges.
Still unread for the second time.
He lifts it gently, like something holy. Doesn't open it. He doesn't need to.
He already knows the words.
---
🌌
> "Ten years… and I never saw her face."
"Just a whisper in a hallway."
"Just a pair of eyes too shy to meet mine."
"Just a child's voice… calling me handsome."
"And then… gone."
> "I should've let go."
> "But I didn't."
> "Because deep inside me, something still believes—"
> "If I ever leave Shanghai… I'll leave her behind too."