The first rains of summer had come to the village, washing the streets clean and filling the air with the scent of earth and wet leaves. The trees outside Lin Yue's school swayed gently, their branches heavy with droplets that glittered whenever sunlight broke through the clouds.
The day was calm, but inside Lin Yue's heart, something had been quietly stirring for weeks.
It started small — a thought she brushed away whenever it came. But lately, it refused to fade.
Who had that message come from?That simple "Are you Lin Yue?" kept echoing in her mind, like a song that wouldn't end.
She didn't know why it bothered her so much. She barely even remembered the chat—at least, that's what she told herself. But sometimes, when she walked back home through the fields, her mind would drift back to a boy's laugh echoing through the wind, to firecrackers, laddus, and a hand that once reached for hers in the dark.
Li Wei.
The name felt so familiar that it almost hurt.
"Lin Yue!"
Her friend Ming Xia called out, waving from under a dripping umbrella. "You're staring at the rain again. What are you thinking about?"
Lin Yue blinked, shaking herself out of her thoughts. "Nothing. Just… how quiet it is today."
Ming Xia smirked. "Quiet? You've been staring at puddles for ten minutes like you're in some romantic movie."
"Shut up," Lin Yue muttered, playfully pushing her. But her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
As they walked back to class, she glanced at her deskmate, Chen Hao, who sat by the window, pretending to be focused on his notes.
For days, she'd noticed something off about him — the way he avoided her gaze whenever she picked up her phone, the quick change in expression when her screen lit up.
And every time she looked at him, she felt this strange flicker of discomfort. Like a puzzle missing one piece.
Chen Hao's pen hovered above his notebook. He wasn't writing anymore. He hadn't written properly in days.
Every time Lin Yue looked his way, guilt clawed at his chest.
He remembered the message — the one he'd deleted, the lie he'd typed with shaking fingers. He'd told himself it was for her good, that she didn't need distractions, that the past didn't matter.
But when she smiled at him now — open, trusting — it only made him feel worse.
After class, he stayed back, staring at the raindrops on the glass. His reflection looked tired.
I shouldn't have done it, he thought. She would've been happy to hear from him. I saw it in her eyes when she said that name before.
But it was too late now. The message was gone. And he didn't have the courage to tell her.
Days turned into weeks. The rain came and went, and the school corridors filled again with chatter, footsteps, and the rustle of notebooks.
Lin Yue tried to bury her thoughts in exams and club meetings, but sometimes, during the quiet afternoons, her mind drifted.
Once, while helping a teacher arrange papers, she caught sight of a half-empty jar of laddus on a shelf. The sugary smell hit her so suddenly that she froze.
She didn't know why — but the moment she inhaled that sweet scent, her chest tightened.
Her teacher noticed. "Lin Yue, are you alright?"
She blinked. "Oh—yes, ma'am. Just… the smell reminded me of something."
"Something happy?" the teacher asked, smiling.
She hesitated. "Maybe."
She didn't mention the faint image that flickered in her mind — a boy laughing under festival lights, holding laddus like treasure, his eyes bright with mischief.
That night, the sky was painted in streaks of deep purple and silver. The village was quiet again, the kind of quiet that made even the crickets sound louder.
Lin Yue lay on her bed, her phone resting on her chest.
She scrolled through her contacts — her classmates, her teachers, her mom's number — and stopped at one that had no name saved. Just a number.
The one from that night.
For a long time, she just stared at it. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, then pulled back.
Finally, she whispered into the darkness, "Who were you?"
The breeze from the window carried the scent of rain and distant flowers. She closed her eyes, and somewhere in her memory, laughter echoed — faint but warm.
Across miles of city lights, Li Wei's life had moved on, too. Or at least, it looked that way from the outside.
He was louder than ever at school — the boy who cracked jokes, who was captain of the basketball team, who could charm a room without trying.
But there were moments — rare and quiet — when his laughter felt heavy, when he stared too long at his phone, scrolling past that deleted chat that still seemed to echo somewhere in his head.
Once, during a break between classes, his friend Rui asked, "Hey, why're you staring at your screen like you're waiting for someone?"
Li Wei smiled faintly. "Just checking old stuff."
"Old stuff? Like homework?"
Li Wei chuckled. "No. Like… memories."
Rui groaned. "Bro, you're turning poetic again."
Li Wei tossed a crumpled paper ball at him. "Shut up."
But as Rui walked off laughing, Li Wei looked at his phone again, whispering under his breath,"Did you really forget me, Lin Yue?"
Back in the village, the monsoon ended, and autumn crept in softly — golden leaves, mellow sunlight, and the hum of harvest festivals.
Lin Yue stood by the river one afternoon, her reflection rippling in the water. She tossed a pebble and watched the circles spread outward.
Her life was simple, full, even happy — but there was a part of her heart that felt… waiting. For something unnamed.
Ming Xia's voice startled her. "You're daydreaming again!"
Lin Yue laughed softly. "Maybe I am."
"What are you always thinking about?" her friend teased. "You look like a poet lately."
Lin Yue shrugged, looking up at the sky. "Just wondering if people we forget ever think about us."
Ming Xia blinked. "That's deep. You sure you're not in love or something?"
Lin Yue smiled faintly, her gaze still far away. "Maybe… just with a memory."
The wind picked up then, brushing past her hair and scattering a few petals from a nearby tree. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun fade into the breeze.
And though she didn't know it, miles away, in the same moment, Li Wei stood by his school rooftop, looking at the sunset — the same golden hue spilling across the city skyline — whispering the same thought she'd just had.
"If you ever remember, I'll be waiting."
That night, Chen Hao couldn't sleep.
He lay awake, the guilt gnawing stronger than ever. Lin Yue had smiled all day — but it wasn't the same smile anymore. It carried a kind of distance, like she was looking at something far away no one else could see.
He sat up suddenly, gripping his bedsheet."I can't keep this secret forever," he muttered.
The truth sat like a stone in his chest.He knew that if he didn't tell her, fate might never give her that chance again.
He didn't know it yet — but that choice, that tiny hesitation — would change everything when the city and village finally crossed paths again.