It was a calm, sun-drenched afternoon in Country C. The riverside café was tucked between a string of boutique flower shops and bookstores, a quiet spot Mo Tianyu knew would soothe Lu Xinyan. He sat opposite her now, long legs stretched under the table, fingers idly tracing the rim of his mug.
Two weeks had passed since Leng Meixuan came to visit Lu Jingyan
Lu Xinyan was looking toward the water, chin resting against his hand, his other hand carefully lining up sugar packets in a neat row. His ears twitched faintly at the clinking of teacups and the flutter of birds. Too many sounds, but manageable.
"Do you want to go inside?" Tianyu asked gently.
"No," Xinyan said quietly. "This table is good. It's even. Not too loud."
Mo Tianyu smiled. "Alright."
There was something peaceful about the moment—until a familiar voice broke the air.
"Xinyan?"
The soft clack of heels. Mo Tianyu turned, expression instantly cooling.
Leng Yumo stood at the café entrance, dressed in a beige wrap dress, her hair loosely tied, clutching a shopping bag against her side. Her face faltered as she met Tianyu's guarded stare, but her eyes settled quickly on Lu Xinyan.
"You're here," she said again, softer this time.
Xinyan blinked at her, his hands stilling over the sugar packets.
"You're the Leng girl," he said, voice flat. "The one who used to glare at the camera during family portraits."
Mo Tianyu choked on her tea.
Yumo laughed awkwardly. "Yes. That was me."
Xinyan tilted his head. "You cut your hair."
Yumo nodded. "I did."
Tianyu's eyes narrowed. "What do you want, Leng Yumo?"
"I didn't come here looking for you," she said quickly. "I was shopping nearby and saw you two. I just wanted to say hello."
Xinyan's fingers resumed their lining up. "She's nervous," he mumbled. "She doesn't blink evenly when she's nervous."
Mo Tianyu gave Yumo a pointed look. "We're not exactly in the mood for pleasantries."
Yumo hesitated. "I'm not here to bother you. I know things are… hard. But I've been wanting to speak with Xinyan. Just for a moment."
Xinyan looked up again, his gaze eerily direct. "You laughed when I got my words wrong that day. In Country F."
Yumo flinched. "That was a long time ago…"
"I remember things," he said simply. "Especially the way people laugh."
"I was wrong," Yumo said, her voice tight. "And I'm sorry."
Tianyu was already rising, eyes sharp. "We don't need apologies—"
But Xinyan suddenly held up a hand, stopping her. He looked at Yumo again, really looked, before motioning to the empty chair beside them.
"You can sit," he said.
Yumo blinked. "I… can?"
"You feel bad," Xinyan said. "Not because someone told you to, but because you do. So you can sit."
Mo Tianyu looked between them, reluctant, but finally sank back into her seat.
Yumo sat carefully, tucking her hands into her lap. "I didn't know how to fix anything. But I want to try. And I want to apologize to Jingyan, properly."
"She's not ready," Tianyu said, voice cool.
"I know. But when she is, I'll be there."
There was a long pause. A breeze passed, lifting the corners of the napkins. Xinyan stared at the river again.
"She still cries in her sleep sometimes," he murmured.
Yumo's hands tightened. "I believe it."
"Don't just believe it," Tianyu said. "Understand what it means."
"I'm trying."
Xinyan looked at her again, the faintest crease between his brows. "Trying is good."
A moment passed. Then he pointed at her shopping bag. "You bought a scarf."
She blinked. "Yes."
"It's ugly," he said honestly.
Mo Tianyu burst out laughing. Yumo groaned and finally smiled—small, tired, but real.
The ice hadn't shattered. But a crack had formed.
And that was something.