The bustling waiting hall brimmed with the bittersweet sentiment that only farewells could bring.
After their meal, Tang Li walked ahead, suitcase in hand, with Zhang Jun and Chen Haoting following silently behind. None of them spoke.
For Tang Li, today wasn't exactly a good day. Or perhaps, it was the start of a new life. Yet only under Ji Yu's reluctant gaze did he feel that faint trace of attachment.
When I leave… will Ji Yu take good care of herself?
Ji Yu sat on a chair, rummaging through her bag. Suddenly realizing she'd forgotten something, she stood up and walked off, leaving Tang Li staring blankly in her direction, unanswered.
He sighed. She still has Mo Yachen to protect her.
At last, he forced himself to stop worrying. Lifting his head, he greedily took in her figure, memorizing the fragrance of this moment in the swirl of strangers.
Trains arrived. Trains departed.
By the time ten o'clock approached, Tang Li was still waiting.
During that hour, his roommates caught sight of something they'd never seen before—his greedy, lingering stare. They made excuses to leave, giving him space. But even with that space, Tang Li never moved, never spoke. Just watched.
"Here." Ji Yu handed him a sturdy cloth bag. Inside were snacks, yogurt, and drinks, still beaded with condensation. "I don't know why you didn't just fly, but a train ride to Shanghai takes a while. You'll get hungry."
Her thoughtfulness made him smile wryly. Taking the bag, he nodded. "You even thought of this… Alright. How much do I owe you?"
"Ugh, can you not always be like this? Sure, I freeload at your place for meals, but this is me caring about you. If it were anyone else, I'd just wave goodbye and be done."
Scanning the crowded hall, Ji Yu found no sign of his roommates. So she tugged his suitcase herself.
"Come on, let's get you on board. You idiot—you had to apply for that 1+3 program. Don't get tricked over there. And when you're in Shanghai, take care of yourself, okay? Stop eating takeout every day. At least go to a restaurant once in a while. And also…"
She nagged on and on, like a mother, though her youth betrayed the act—more a child unwilling to part with a friend.
Suddenly, Tang Li turned, eyes fixed on her face.
The roar of the train filled the hall. Tears spilled freely down his cheeks.
The train had come.
With suitcase in one hand and Ji Yu's carefully chosen bag in the other, he stepped closer.
"Can I… hug my best friend?"
Ji Yu saw his tear-filled eyes. Wordlessly, she leaned against him, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat.
It was an embrace full of joy no one else would ever know.
And a touch that left all unspoken emotions buried.
"Alright! Go now. Take care of yourself there. And don't forget to call me once you arrive."
Ji Yu had never seen Tang Li, usually so bright and cheerful, cry like this. Her own voice trembled with a hint of tears—until he teased,
"What are you, my mom?"
The joke broke the heaviness, softening the farewell's bittersweet edge.
At the gate, Tang Li turned back, waving like any traveler bidding family goodbye at the checkpoint, smiling toward a new journey.
But just as the announcement echoed—"Final call for boarding"—his smile froze. His lips trembled with words he never spoke aloud.
The noise drowned him out. Ji Yu only waved, unable to guess what he had wanted to say.
Onboard, the train's clean air and bright light steadied him. Tang Li set his suitcase aside but clutched Ji Yu's snack bag tightly.
Sunlight at ten o'clock fell across his face, outlining a smile warm enough to melt any winter chill.
The bag smelled faintly sweet.
His chest still carried her scent.
Different from the sterile train air—more like champagne bubbling deep under the sea. Only those fleeting sparks betrayed it.
The fragrance drifted farther and farther away with the moving train.
How far, he wondered, could the wind carry her scent?
Green willows, winding streams.
In a coastal metropolis of glass and steel, there still existed a hidden paradise: small bridges and flowing water, courtyards steeped in tranquility, forests swaying gently with the sea breeze.
Within a secluded courtyard, a graceful woman lifted her teacup, inhaling its fragrance before taking a slow sip.
"Master Ji doesn't believe in herself, but surely she can trust me, hm?"
Her voice carried a playful lilt.
On the phone, another woman hesitated before replying. "Sister Ning, my mother and I have only worked at this studio for three years. In terms of experience and skill, we're still far behind. To put us in charge as directors now… we really can't take that seat."
The woman in the courtyard said nothing. She savored her tea, then smiled faintly.
"Ji Yu… those gowns we sent to Tokyo's show—who made them?"
"…My mother and I."
"And from design, to fabric, to tailoring—who handled it?"
"…Also my mother and me."
The woman chuckled softly, pouring herself another cup.
"And tell me—how many pieces were sold after that show?"
Silence answered her.
She set her cup down, eyes warm. "Everyone in the studio has seen your work ethic. Yes, they call you two workaholics—no breaks all year. But isn't that exactly why you deserve it? You still have a mortgage, don't you? The salary of a director will help."
She rose, phone in hand, and concluded, "It's settled. This wasn't my decision alone. The whole team voted behind your back. No one objects. So accept it, alright?"
She hung up. The screen faded to black, reflecting not her own face—but a boy's.
Her son, Yu Yuan.