She quickly pecked his cheek.
On Wednesday, Li Xia met Fang Zeqing.
But before meeting him in person, she first discovered another facet of his identity.
After the sharing session ended the day before, Li Xia’s primary tasks involved running errands: checking stock levels at various bookstores and coordinating with distributors about the new book.
With some free time at midday, she wandered around and bought a ticket to a photography exhibition to pass the hours. The venue wasn’t far away, tucked inside a small art gallery. After lunch, she set off.
The gallery buzzed with young people—some snapping atmospheric shots, others already editing their photos on their phones. It was understandable; Li Xia examined the works closely, but they left her puzzled. Beyond the striking color palettes, she couldn’t grasp any deeper essence. So abstract, she thought.
As she meandered out of the exhibition hall, her eye caught a dark green poster mounted on a wooden stand across from her, flanked symmetrically by a roll-up banner. Drawn in by the sleek design, Li Xia stepped closer. The text read: “Youth International Film Festival Award-Winning Works Screening.”
As if guided by some invisible force, her gaze drifted downward, and a familiar name leaped out at her—
“Screening: Best Documentary Golden Award—Wasteland
Director: Fang Zeqing”
Fine print below offered a succinct summary of the documentary: a poignant record of the final elders in a vanishing ethnic village in China. A few closing lines captured its essence—”real yet fantastical, tender yet cruel.”
A separate blurb introduced F, listing his titles and accolades: “Outstanding Documentary Director,” “Independent Photographer”…
The hall fell silent around her as Li Xia stood transfixed before the sign. After a long moment, those words struck her as profoundly unfamiliar. She had never ventured into Director Fang Zeqing’s world. To her, he was simply F: the man who blushed at her teasing, who traveled with her, applied ointment to her skin, and played vinyl records over video calls just for her.
How to describe the sensation? A thrill at his youth and towering achievements, mingled with that classic realization—you can’t see the mountain’s true face when you’re lost in its midst. Only by stepping back, viewing it as an outsider, do you perceive its vastness, its abundance.
So utterly captivating.
The poster mentioned that the creative team would attend the screening for a Q&A, so would F be there? Curiosity piqued, Li Xia yearned to watch the full film, but the showing wasn’t until tomorrow night. She snapped a photo with her phone instead, planning to ask him about it later.
As sunset painted Nanlin’s sky like spilled orange soda, Li Xia wrapped up her workday. Fang Zeqing was already waiting outside. He wore a casual collarless white shirt, his hair artfully tousled, standing tall and drawing sidelong glances from passersby.
Li Xia approached and patted his arm.
–
Sunsets always outpace human strides. They shared dinner together, and by then, the orange haze had ebbed away. Their evening plan was a night stroll around West Lake. By the time they drove up, Nanlin had slipped into its blue hour.
The romantic blue hue enveloped everyone equally.
Li Xia tilted her cheek to the lake’s gentle breeze, half-extending her arm for a deep breath, a profound lightness blooming from within.
“It’s no wonder West Lake feels like a massive energy vortex,” she said. “Just standing here melts away all my exhaustion.” She put it adorably: “Like Guanyin Bodhisattva sprinkling pure vase water right onto my head.”
Fang Zeqing stifled a chuckle. “And what does that feel like?”
Li Xia declared, “Total enlightenment!”
“Enlightened to what?”
She glanced at him, a cascade of lovely thoughts bubbling up, but she turned away. “Not telling.”
As they walked side by side, Fang Zeqing asked about her eczema. “Much better,” Li Xia replied.
“Hold on, let me check.”
He halted, nodding toward her hand with his eyes. His persistence was endearing; Li Xia extended it. “See? It’s faded a lot.”
Fang Zeqing inspected it, then his gaze lifted. “And your neck.”
That evening, she wore a soft peach blouse over a floral strap dress. She tugged the collar aside, baring her collarbone. “It’s really healed now.”
“Mm.” He studied it for a second, satisfied there was no issue, and averted his eyes. “Good.”
“Teacher Fang’s medicine works wonders.”
He shook his head with a laugh. “That’s a new way to give a compliment.”
Li Xia grinned. “What’s wrong with it?”
Recalling the screening poster from earlier, she decided to broach the subject. “Speaking of which, Director Fang—I haven’t asked yet.” She pulled up the photo on her phone and held it up. “Are you attending this tomorrow?”
Fang Zeqing leaned in for a look, then straightened up, pulling back. “No.”
Li Xia frowned in confusion. “But it says the creative team will be there. Aren’t you the director?”
“Yeah, the producer and DP are going.”
“And you?”
“Don’t feel like it.”
That vague, looping tape in his voice started spinning again.
Seeing he had no interest in elaborating, Li Xia sensed she’d brushed a sore spot. Not understanding it herself, she let it drop.
“What a shame,” she said with genuine regret. “The audience—and your fans—won’t get to see such a handsome, talented Teacher Fang.”
He replied, “So the key part there is ‘handsome’ or ‘talented’?”
“Both, obviously,” she said firmly.
With a quick spin, she faced him, walking backward to keep eye contact. “Honestly, though, I had no idea you were this accomplished. A golden award? Wow.”
Fang Zeqing arched a brow. “That surprising?”
She nodded emphatically.
Humbly, he demurred. “It’s not that big a deal. These are minor awards, really.”
Then he pivoted. “Besides, everyone has hidden sides. Like some people who turn fearless after a drink and confess how ‘dangerous’ they are—what they want to do to me…”
Her tipsy confessions from the night before laid bare, Li Xia flushed with mortification and shot him a playful glare. “Enough—don’t you dare say another word.”
Beneath the streetlamp, her cheeks burned brighter than before. Fang Zeqing’s smile widened as he pressed the advantage. “Looks like you haven’t forgotten a thing.”
Her hard-earned poise shattered, Li Xia was at a loss for words. She scowled and jabbed a finger at his chest. “Sometimes, staying silent makes you even handsomer.”
He laughed, shoulders shaking, and as he raised his hand, it brushed her fingertip—right over his heart.
In a sudden motion, he clasped it.
Li Xia looked up, startled. Fang Zeqing released her just as quickly. “All right, no more teasing.”
The warmth of his grip lingered on her finger; Li Xia curled it instinctively, her face aflame. Without a word, she turned and strode ahead.
“Wait up!” he called.
“No way.”
Biting back a laugh, she quickened her pace.
Until she halted before a tree.
The tree was strikingly unusual: its roots anchored on the shore, yet its entire canopy lay low across the water’s surface, as if reclining diagonally on the lake. Leaves skimmed the water in dense, vibrant green shadows that mingled with the rippling waves, carving out a tranquil pocket realm. The branches stretched freely toward the water—casual, unbound, defying convention.
“This tree is bursting with life!”
Sensing a tree’s raw vitality for the first time, Li Xia whipped out her phone to photograph it.
West Lake truly was a powerhouse of a place, she mused. It soothed the soul, inspired awe, and embraced every form of sameness and difference.
Trees didn’t need to thrust straight skyward; leaning toward the water, toward the wind—it was just as magnificent.
Someone else felt the same pull: two young women stood by the tree, taking photos of each other. At last, one asked Li Xia to snap their group shot. Quick on her feet, Li Xia nudged Fang Zeqing forward. “Have him do it—he’s a photographer!”
The girls lit up with delight and thanks.
Once done, she turned to them. “Need one more?”
The girl eyed Li Xia and Fang Zeqing. “I can take one of you two.”
A photo with F?
Li Xia’s heart leaped into her throat; her hand waved in instinctive refusal. “No need—”
But before she could finish, Fang Zeqing had already handed over his phone, utterly composed. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
As he positioned himself beside her, Li Xia’s mind went blank. Sweat slicked her palms; she clasped her hands awkwardly at her sides, unsure where to put them.
Stiffly, she glanced at him, then faced the lens. “We’re really doing this?”
Fang Zeqing said nothing, merely checking the background and light. Then he placed a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her a few degrees left. Li Xia pivoted mechanically, coming to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him. The space between them felt perfectly measured, yet her heart hammered like someone pounding at the door.
The girl across from them called, “Ready?” Li Xia felt Fang Zeqing lean ever so slightly her way, his voice a low murmur near her ear: “Smile.”
Her heartbeat roared like thunder. She clenched her fists tighter.
Did he want a keepsake too?
Did he want to hold onto this night, just like her?
Lost in the thought, Li Xia tilted her head up toward his profile. Streetlight cast a soft, ethereal shadow across his face; the lake breeze teased the hair from his forehead. Her eyes shimmered like fireflies dancing on the water—flickering, restless, dreamlike.
The girl counted down: “Three, two, one.”
Li Xia didn’t look away. In the next instant, her gaze locked with his.
Fang Zeqing was watching her.
Earnest. Intent. In perfect sync.
Li Xia suddenly remembered that on the day they first met, after leaving the temple, they had boarded a crowded tourist bus to head down the mountain. There were too many people, and no two seats were available together, so she sat toward the front while Fang Zeqing took the one diagonally behind her.
There were eight stops on the way down. Li Xia wasn’t sleepy at all; she gazed at the mountains through the glass. Midway, the bus pulled over, and the onboard machine announced the stop as words scrolled across the display—
“Next stop: Turn Back Immediately.”
Li Xia found it amusing. How could there be a station called “Turn Back Immediately”?
She murmured the name to herself and instinctively turned around.
The carriage was chaotic, the bus humming along.
Fang Zeqing was looking at her, too.
The moment their eyes met, Li Xia felt as if every cell in her body was coming alive, screaming and leaping with joy.
That was the unmistakable thrill of a racing heart.
–
Today, Li Xia had worn a pair of pretty high heels. She admired her own endurance a little; even after walking until her feet ached, she hadn’t complained until she suggested they sit and rest. They found a bench by the lake and settled there.
Fang Zeqing went off to buy water, leaving Li Xia to gaze at the lake’s surface while she waited.
Hesse had written that Siddhartha ultimately learned everything from the sound of the water and transcended it all. In that moment, Li Xia felt it was true. She sat quietly before West Lake, the water rippling gently, its serene energy allowing her to hear her inner voice clearly and distinctly—
She loved everything about tonight.
It was the kind of love that couldn’t be hidden, bubbling over and demanding to be expressed.
Fang Zeqing returned with two bags. He sat beside her and said, “I got you a little cake, and warm water.” Li Xia beamed and thanked him.
He was always so thoughtful. Unable to help herself, she swung her legs a bit as she looked at him. “Fang Zeqing.”
“Hm?”
“Are we on a date?”
Fang Zeqing smiled. “Aren’t we?”
Li Xia let out a long, drawn-out “Ohhh.”
So this was what it felt like to go on a date with someone you liked—your heart and eyes filled only with him the whole way.
As she tilted her head back to drink, Li Xia noticed a slight pull at the nape of her neck. She reached back and realized the bow on the back of her blouse had come loose. The bench slanted a bit, so she asked Fang Zeqing to hold her water for a moment.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“The ribbon in the back came loose. I need to retie it.”
Fang Zeqing blurted out, “Let me help.”
“Ah? No need, it’s no big deal.”
But he didn’t take her cup. “Give me a chance to show off. We’re on a date, after all—I have to do something for you.”
Li Xia pressed her lips together and turned around, presenting her back to him.
Without seeing him, the tension in her back heightened every sensation—his hands gently parting her loose strands of hair, brushing them to her shoulders. She even felt his fingers grazing her nape, light as a feather. The ribbon tugged, loosened, then tightened. Silently, from disarray to order, it took shape once more.
Yet Li Xia’s heart remained in chaos.
“All done,” he said.
She turned back around, her voice sweet as she thanked him. “Teacher Fang, you’ve got some skills!”
She reached back to check the shape, then puzzled aloud, “Huh, it’s loose again.”
“Not tied properly?” Fang Zeqing asked. “Let me see.”
He leaned in, but Li Xia didn’t turn. She stiffened her upper body and leaned back slightly, refusing to let him look.
“Li Xia.”
“Hm?”
“Turn around.”
“No.”
He was at a loss with her, and Li Xia giggled.
Unable to tie it from behind, Fang Zeqing reached around her neck from the side, trying to hold her steady and peer over. Li Xia deliberately dodged backward, drawing him closer.
His lips were right there, within kissing distance if she turned her head.
Li Xia’s plan had worked.
She sat up straight in a flash, twisted toward him, and swiftly pecked his cheek.
—
Time seemed to freeze.
Li Xia clearly saw Fang Zeqing freeze for a moment, sitting up in disbelief. The white of his shirt made the flush on his face even more vivid. Desire flowed silently in his gaze as it met hers, and she heard him ask, “Can I do it too?”
“Do what?”
“Kiss you like you just did to me.”
Li Xia said nothing, just curved her lips into a smile.
Slowly, inch by inch, he leaned closer.
Just before losing control, Li Xia pushed him away with her hand and whined playfully, “No fair.”
Fang Zeqing paused halfway and caught her hand instead. He didn’t hold it fully, just toyed with her fingers.
“You’re doing it again,” he said.
“Last time, you lost the dice game, and the punishment was a dare. Remember?”
That had been right after they’d added each other on WeChat, when Li Xia had shamelessly flirted with him.
Now, Fang Zeqing looked at her intently. “I saved that chance from last time, but I’m using it now.”
Li Xia thought he would say the dare was to kiss him.
Her heart felt like it was on the verge of exploding.
Fang Zeqing squeezed her hand, and she heard him say:
“Can I hold your hand next time we meet?”
“Li Xia.”
His request was so simple.
His eyes were pure and clear, like the ripples on the lake.
She wanted so badly to kiss him—wanted it desperately—but she held back.
Li Xia thought perhaps everyone had it wrong. West Lake wasn’t some energy field; it was a massive brewery. Everyone who came left tipsy, finally able to hear and amplify the voice in their heart.
She smiled, like a rose in the summer night breeze, and placed her hand in Fang Zeqing’s palm, pressing it against his warm, soft skin.
She let her heart speak:
“You can do it now.”