◎This guy flirts as easily as breathing◎
If she had to trace the roots of her cowardice, was it her grandfather’s regrets or Bread’s unexpected death? Li Xia couldn’t say for sure. But with all these draining worries piling up, she found it hard to readjust in such a short time.
She just wanted some peace and quiet.
Her old spot for nighttime skateboarding was a park near home. Li Xia knew a gentle slope with fewer people, surrounded by trees like a curtain of green, their tops brushing a sky of black velvet. She slipped on her earphones, planted one foot on the board, pushed off twice, and glided forward. Her pumping technique was solid; she could stretch out her arms and savor the rush of wind.
Li Xia savored the moment.
It felt a bit like those coin-operated racing games—just steer straight and barrel ahead at full throttle, ignoring everyone else.
Three songs cycled through her earphones before landing on an English track she didn’t care for much. Ahead lay a pond, crowded with people on this summer night, so she veered off to a bench away from the streetlights and sat down. She pulled out her phone and saw a message from Zhao Xiaolan: 【Stay safe】
Normally, she’d nag her to head home early. Not tonight.
She’d tossed that ball away—what would Zhao Xiaolan think of her now?
Would she see her as extreme? Cold-blooded?
And Qu Shuxin? She’d left in such a hurry she hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Qu Shuxin’s reaction. Her eyes were always so soft—had she been wiping away tears again?
…
Her heart sank to rock bottom.
In the tangle of her muddled thoughts, her palm buzzed twice. The surroundings were dim, but the F on her screen lit up glaringly, casting a soft halo.
She checked the message. It was a surprise.
From him.
Over the past two or three days, Li Xia had barely chatted with him at all—their contact had frozen solid. She had no idea where he was or what he was up to, and she’d never expected him to message first. Stunned, Li Xia tapped it open.
It was a photo.
Sunlight flooded the frame, pouring in through vast sheets of glass, clear and blinding. Outside the window stretched the tarmac and a vast blue sky. Backlit travelers stood and hurried along, shadowy and indistinct. Yet the shot captured a serene detachment, as if the viewer stood apart from it all.
Li Xia typed simply: You took this really well.
F: Mm. See anything else?
Li Xia: You’re at an airport?
F: Mm.
Li Xia: Where to next?
Out of nowhere, F replied: 【Heading home】
Home?
Other than that first day they’d met, when conversation had flowed and he’d mentioned going back, this was the second time Li Xia had heard the word from him. In between, she’d wondered if it was all a lie, a stall tactic to keep her on the hook. He had no such plans, and she wasn’t part of them.
Now those two words hung there, answering the question she’d buried so many times.
Li Xia asked calmly: 【Beijing?】
F: 【What if I said yes?】
Li Xia: 【Sounds good】
F: 【What’s good about it?】
…
Why was he pressing like this?
Li Xia frowned, a spark of annoyance flickering inside her.
No time to weigh the consequences, she typed: 【A little closer to me】
For about a minute, no reply came. Li Xia went back to her music.
Post-rock filled her ears now—Athletics’ “III.” The intro flowed like water, quiet enough to let her hear her own heart. She heard the faint rekindling of her curiosity and anticipation for F. She wanted to chat with him, to know what he’d say, even what he’d do once he was back.
The brief detox of the past couple days? Useless.
Her heart was like flickering sparks, waiting for a gust to set it ablaze.
Suddenly, her phone lit up.
F: 【I don’t get you most of the time】
Li Xia stared for two seconds and sent a question mark.
Truth was, she didn’t get herself either.
Then: 【That’s Big Sis’s charm for you】
【Want me to pick you up?】
F: 【You gonna come get me?】
Li Xia: 【If you need it】
F: 【Even at 5 a.m.?】
Li Xia backpedaled instantly: 【Nah, forget it】
She’d only said it in jest.
Abruptly, F messaged: 【Teacher Lizi】
Li Xia: 【Huh?】
F: 【Can you be serious for once?】
Li Xia: 【About what?】
Half a minute passed. F said, Never mind. Silence again.
The song hit its soaring back-half climax—like a cry, or a release. Li Xia found it a bit noisy now. Her eyes fixed on the screen; she didn’t want to pause the music but felt compelled to say something, her fingers hovering.
F broke the ice first: 【Tit for tat—send me a pic of what you’re up to now】
The area around her wasn’t well-lit, no scenery to speak of, so Li Xia snapped a quick shot of her skateboard beneath her feet and sent it.
F: 【Skateboarding?】
Li Xia: 【Mm】
F: 【Looks like you’re in a bad mood today】
?
How did he know?
Li Xia’s heart stirred; her fingers beat her to it.
F: 【You said before, you skate when you’re down】
Li Xia barely remembered: 【I do it when I’m happy too】
F played detective: 【The lighting’s dim—not like the happy kind. Photography’s all about mood, and light’s a big part of it】
Li Xia had no comeback: 【So by that logic, you’re in a good mood】
F: 【Mm】
He echoed her: 【Because I’ll be a little closer to you soon】
…
The flirty ricochet caught her off guard.
Something thrummed inside her.
Oh—it was her heart, pounding wildly.
F: 【Listening to music?】
He was peeling back her state layer by layer, and in her fluster, Li Xia glanced at her own photo and spotted the telltale earphone cord.
Li Xia: 【One pic gives away all that?】
【You got a microscope or what?】
F: Mm. 【You’re my research subject】
Li Xia: 【That unselective?】
F: 【Not unselective—my interests are very focused】
Interests?
Li Xia followed his lead: 【How’s the research going?】
F: 【Total failure so far, but progress today】
【At least I know she’s in a funk】
Li Xia lowered her gaze, watching his words pulse on the screen one by one—
【Got some time before boarding. Wanna hop on a call?】
【My research subject】
An oddly intimate label.
Li Xia fixated on the last line.
Did he want to understand her?
She wasn’t sure, but she knew: 【No】
No call—text let her say things her voice might garble. Hearing him speak? She’d ramble nonsense.
Then she quickly added: 【Got any good song recs?】
F didn’t miss a beat: 【One that’s perfect for you right now】
He shared a music app listening invite. Li Xia tapped in—their “distance” showed, vinyl spinning, song titled “No Lamp.”
F said he loved the artist’s name. Aflou—like “a flow.” Fluid.
Like water.
Li Xia replied that Woolf had a similar line in one of her books: “I’m rooted, but I flow.” F said, Not for nothing you’re Editor Li—you really are fluid, always shifting.
The music hooked her right away. Li Xia listened quietly.
The singer’s voice was romantic yet fragile—
“This city has so many lights
But you’re not here
Not one lamp catches my eye
Tired but awake
Pulled taut but stretching out
Holding a tangle close
Amplifying what it means to be alive
…
A game between stubbornness and fear
The ending just one shake of your head away
A passerby’s role
What if one lamp goes out
No such what-ifs
I am
Yours”
…
It was beautiful. Li Xia said it felt like a poem, but it made her want to cry.
F switched to something upbeat quick: Listen to this happier one—I didn’t mean to rub it in.
It was a flashy but classic rock track.
Afterward, Li Xia said, That pumps me up—kinda wanna grab a drink now.
F: Your moods are pretty extreme.
Li Xia laughed: Blame your music.
F: Mostly ’cause my subject isn’t cooperating. Can’t see you, don’t know what you’re thinking or why you’re down.
His words brimmed with care, gentle as a fluffy down pillow—no pressure to sink in.
Li Xia’s heart wavered, but she typed: Your research is pointless—might not even wrap up.
F: Matters to me—that’s enough.
F: I value the process more.
Li Xia: Even if there’s no good outcome?
F: Who says there won’t be?
F: Who knows for sure?
F: What’s the metric for good or bad? Who decides?
The questions hit, and Li Xia fell silent, pondering.
Good or bad—that was hers to judge.
She suddenly recalled a book she’d bought in middle school, full of assorted short stories. One had blindsided her—it was a BE tale, heartbreakingly so. Li Xia finished it in tears, vowing never to reread.
Young and naive, she’d told Zhao Xiaolan. No more BE stories, she said—they tricked you into crying.
Zhao Xiaolan had replied, That’s ’cause you knew the ending. What if you didn’t?
Li Xia had paused before admitting, I’d probably still read it.
Zhao Xiaolan said, Exactly—don’t judge things by their endings.
Back then, Li Xia hadn’t gotten it.
Later, she’d read stacks of books—joyful, sorrowful, ambiguous endings and all. She no longer let a story’s close define its worth.
In high school, writing an essay, she’d declared life’s prime pursuit was feeling. Her Chinese teacher scribbled in the margin: Where’d this insight come from? Li Xia replied below in tiny script: Reading.
She grew up with that attitude, always pushing forward. At twenty-four, she declared that she wouldn’t be confined by conventional values. During her time working in foreign trade, she poured effort into translating her first French book—an adult picture book. The publishing process was grueling, and the sales were dismal. But she harbored no regrets.
Li Xia slapped her forehead in annoyance.
She had lingered too long in the final chapter of Bread’s passing. So long that she had forgotten to flip back to the earlier pages.
To revisit the vibrant moments: the first time it understood its own name, the first outing, the first snowfall it played in, the first brave ride on her electric scooter, the first time it donned the clothes Grandma had made.
What Bread brought into her life wasn’t just sorrow.
It was she who had fixated on it, seeing only the grief.
It was she who had stared at the outcome, deaf to the knock at the door.
F felt more like the old her.
Perhaps it was the music, but Li Xia felt a wave of relaxation wash over her. She asked: 【So what’s your standard?】
After a moment, F replied: 【Same as my work—record, discover.】
He elaborated: 【A finished film requires heaps of raw footage. Sometimes you don’t even know what to shoot. Only by filming relentlessly do you uncover what you love, what you want to convey, and the best way to show it.】
Li Xia typed: 【So I’m just your footage too?】
F: 【No, you’re my discovery.】
In the dim light, Li Xia blew a strand of bangs from her face.
This guy flirted as effortlessly as he breathed.
Li Xia wasn’t in the mood to play along. Right now, she only wanted to voice the question weighing on her heart. “Teacher Fang, if you mess up, how do you handle it? Do you apologize?”
The words strung together and sent across. For an instant, Li Xia felt as if her very heart had hammered them out.
F didn’t let her down. “Messing up doesn’t mean the only fix is apologizing. First, ask yourself: Do you even want to apologize?”
Did she want to apologize?
Those impulsive outbursts, her stubborn biases, the lies to Zhao Xiaolan—apologizing wasn’t what she craved most.
“I want to be understood.”
Li Xia typed it deliberately, one word at a time.
“But yeah, I screwed up. A lot. Apologizing feels too cheap, too surface-level. It doesn’t fix anything.”
“Then don’t apologize,” F said.
“I shoot tons of footage for my films. Viewers call it useless or ugly, hurl abuse at me. But I never apologize. If you don’t want to be misunderstood, the only thing we can do is explain. People who want to believe will get it. Of course, you have to put yourself out there first—everything else comes after.”
He had endless patience, it seemed.
Enough to reply to her rambling wall of text.
A warmth bloomed in Li Xia’s chest, and her eyes grew misty too. She knew she could hold her breath and dive deep on her own, but when someone extended a hand to pull her up, the gratitude doubled. Surfacing like that wasn’t half as exhausting. All she had to do was grasp his hand.
Li Xia: “Your work must have taught you a ton.”
F: “It has.”
Li Xia: “Now you’ve got me curious about your films.”
F teased: “Looking for ammo to trash-talk me?”
Li Xia arched an eyebrow. “Or maybe a chance to understand you.”
F: “You’re welcome anytime.”
The music still pulsed through her earphones. Li Xia switched back to the first track—Aflou.
F: “You like it, huh?”
Li Xia: “Love it. Thanks to you.”
F: “I’ve got a bunch more great ones.”
Li Xia: “Next time, we listen together.”
F: “Why not now?”
Li Xia grinned.
She scooped up her skateboard and patted the dust off her backside. “Now? I’m heading home!”
…
In the end, Li Xia welcomed him too. “Welcome back.”