Four days after Lin's birthday came Yeh's own.
Before stepping out in the moening, Yeh fastened the necklace Lin gave her, her fingers lingering lightly on the chain—like a quiet, deliberate ritual, as if carrying someone close.
Fiona had arranged a celebration for Yeh's birthday, wanting to make this evening special for Yeh, and she warmly invited friends Yeh had met in Bangkok: Olina, her assistant Jenny, Eric, and PYang. The restaurant stood along the Chao Phraya, where night lights melted into the water, which was perfect for gathering.
After finishing her morning work, Yeh headed downstairs for lunch when her phone buzzed.
It was Lin, with nothing more than a single YouTube link.
She tapped it open. The page loaded to reveal an account: LYForever—the initial of Lin's surname, simple yet far from random. There was only one video uploaded minutes earlier, titled US, three minutes long.
Yeh pressed play. The moment the screen lit up, she froze.
It was her, seen through Lin's lens.
Streets of Taipei, alley corners, the coffee shop around the bend, soft evening light—her walking ahead, turning her face, glancing down at her phone, or simply existing, caught unawares. Moments she had never noticed were woven into one quiet story, held steady by a gaze that never wavered: Lin was watching her.
She remembered when it was in Taipei, Lin always with her camera; Yeh had assumed she was gathering footage for her own work, never imagining she herself would be the subject. Alongside the solo clips were moments they shared, captured every time Lin had asked for a photo together.
The colours were soft and gentle, warm and understated like the Taiwanese dramas they loved, letting feeling sink in slowly rather than forcing it forward.
The final scene was the sky lantern they had released at Shifen, filmed by the shop onwner when they both looked away. As it rose, the frame tilted slightly. Yeh's eyes fixed on the surface of the lantern, and she discovered what Lin had written on her side: Together with Yeh.
The soundtrack was Warmth, the song sharing its name with the station they passed together.
At the first note, every memory swelled, clear and bright. The video ended on a still frame, two words appearred softly: Happy Birthday.
Yeh did not close it at once. She stayed watching, her eyes were growing warm, with emotion rising slow and steady until it could no longer be held back. She had never spoken of it, but she had once felt a quiet ache—even a faint envy—toward the girls who appeared beside Lin in her short videos, especially Jing, the relationships she had turned into works of art.
Now she was the one at the centre of this story. Not a supporting character, but the one the lens chosen to follow.
Lin had said nothing in words, yet in this way, placed her somewhere Yeh had never dared to imagine she belonged.
She let the tears fall quietly for a moment, making no move to wipe them away. Only when her emotion steadied did she take a breath, hold her phone firmly, and reply:
This is the best birthday gift I have ever received.
I miss you.
The reply came quickly: a simple heart emoji, followed by a message:
Happy Birthday. May all you wish for come true, and all you love stay with you.
No extra words, keeping every line exactly where they should be. Yeh read it for a long moment, and said nothing more.
All afternoon her thoughts stayed wrapped in that video, the feeling lingering soft and unbroken. Fiona noticed her reddened eyes and asked lightly; Yeh smiled and only said that she had been staring at screens too long.
That evening, they sat together talking, toasting, ordering, with the mood easy and warm. Yeh laughed and replied in turn, glancing down at her phone now and then before setting it aside again.
Midway through the meal, her phone rang. She answered almost before seeing the name.
"Happy Birthday." Lin's voice came through, faint background noise around her. "How are you celebrating?"
"With Fiona and the others. Some new friends too."
"New friends?" There was a pause, her tone was giving nothing away. "Then I won't keep you."
"No," Yeh said quickly, lowering her voice. "I just wanted to say—I watched the video."
Silence on the other end for a heartbeat.
"It was touching." Yeh added.
Lin gave what sounded like a quiet smile. "There will be more. This is just an account for personal things I want to record." As if trying to make it feel lighter than it was.
Yeh waited a moment, then said softly: "We will see each other again soon."
Lin replied. "Yes."
After the call ended, Yeh set her phone back on the table, and the sounds around her rushed back in.
Toward the end of dinner, Fiona posted a group photo online: lights, river water, smiling faces, everything was bright and complete.
Almost at once, a comment appeared from Lin:
Who is that beautiful girl next to Yeh?
Casual, light, as if it meant nothing.
Fiona replied just as naturally: Our partner Olina's assistant.
When Yeh saw it, she stared at the line for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips.
So Lin still cared. And that side of her—Yeh thought—was so very lovely.