More than two hours later, the plane landed safely in Guangzhou.
Looking out at the familiar scenery, Susu felt something press gently against her chest.
A soft exhale.
Every journey, in the end, returns to where it started.
The plane was still taxiing when she turned off airplane mode.
A message popped up.
Taxiing?
She opened WeChat.
It was him.
She typed back quickly.
Yeah. Looks like it might rain.
Two voice messages came in almost immediately.
"I checked the forecast. Guangzhou's supposed to get rain today. You said your cat's staying at your friend's place, right? You could grab a cab there directly. Or maybe go home first and see how the weather looks."
And just like that, in the space between landing and disembarking, they began talking again.
About the typhoon.
About whether work might be canceled.
It felt like a string that had snapped midair was quietly tied back together on the ground.
Warmth spread through her.
Yike was… different.
Different from what she'd expected.
And somehow exactly what she'd hoped.
She felt happy.
A little surprised.
And a little uncertain.
Maybe this could turn into something different.
Maybe it could continue.
The plane stopped. Passengers began to leave.
Susu gave him a quick update and headed to the ride-hailing pickup area.
In the car?
Just got in. Heading home.
About fifty minutes later, she arrived.
Home safe, she texted.
That took a while, he replied instantly.
Traffic.
Still picking up your cat tonight?
Asked my friend. She wants the cat to stay one more night. I'm dead.
Fair enough.
She started opening her packages while they talked.
The qipaos she'd ordered before Suzhou had arrived.
On impulse, she tried one on.
I'm unpacking slowly. I don't even understand my size anymore.
Standing in front of the mirror, she messaged him.
What's up?
Trying on a qipao. I'm laughing at myself.
Let me see.
She hesitated for half a second.
The one she was wearing was called Meteor — deep navy with fine silver threads running through it, subtle, like streaks of light across a night sky.
She angled her phone toward the mirror.
Covered her face.
Full front. Side view. A close-up of the fabric.
Then added:
Excuse the terrible straight-girl photography. But the color's really nice — navy with silver streaks.
It looks good, he replied.
She sent a laughing emoji and a cute cat sticker that said love you.
What are you doing?
Eating.
A photo followed — a large bowl of rice, a small plate of greens, a small portion of minced meat.
Is that enough? Looks kind of small.
I finished already. Not that hungry.
Okay. I'm going to shower and clean up a bit. Talk later.
When she came back, there was another message.
I just saw something on Douyin. I'm dying.
Show me, she replied.
He sent the video.
I'm crying.
The voice-over is genius.
I swear I can't stop laughing.
Careful. Don't laugh yourself to death.
Get some rest. What are you doing tomorrow?
Lying in bed, she typed:
Already in bed. Picking up the cat tomorrow. Going clubbing.
Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow. You've had a long day.
The phrase we'll talk tomorrow made something in her chest stir.
Going with friends?
No, not actual clubbing. Just a group fitness class.
Mhm.
He sent a cute goodnight sticker.
Sleep, he said.
Mm.
She sent back a goodnight and a little dog sticker that said love you.
Then she put her phone down.
She turned over and closed her eyes.
She was truly tired.
It felt like she had returned to reality.
And yet—
something was different.
Her heart didn't feel quite as cold anymore.