Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Outside the window, the snow was falling heavier and heavier.

This kind of city-shrouding blizzard was a far cry from my memories of London, where snow was always sparse.

It seemed as though we were both trying to maintain a sense of decorum for each other.

After saying what needed to be said, Liang Qiezhao did not stay.

I sank into the sofa, staring blankly at the email on my phone.

Suddenly, I found it all absurd and laughable.

Half a year ago, I had applied for a transfer behind his back. By some twist of fate, the approval had just come through this afternoon.

So, the words of separation should have been mine to say first.

I had originally been weighing my words.

I wanted to say that we were about to become long-distance, and that I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to hold on.

But I was even more afraid that after hearing my high-sounding speech, he would do what he always did.

He would look at me with that indulgent yet helpless gaze and convince me with his gentle, steady tone:

“Xiao Zhi, it’s not like we haven’t overcome an eight-thousand-kilometer long-distance relationship before.”

“It’s okay to throw a tantrum, but let’s not always keep talk of breaking up on our lips, okay?”

A man who was consistently gentle and composed in daily life always knew how to strike the heart of the matter at critical moments, before considerately offering a way out.

Even knowing this, I would spinelessly surrender every single time.

Because of that, I had mentally rehearsed my speech countless times.

But as expected, every version felt like a clumsy, pathetic excuse.

Yet everything happened so coincidentally.

As if guided by fate, he had indeed lifted this burden from my shoulders, sparing me the awkwardness of speaking up.

He also saved me from looking like I was making a hollow show of strength to beg him to stay with a ridiculous excuse.

As I laughed, I tilted my head back and let out a long, slow breath.

It was a coincidence.

And it was for the best.

My beginning with Liang Qiezhao was just as coincidental as our ending.

That year, I had just turned twenty and was in my sophomore year of college.

To mention how we met, one cannot help but think of the popular stand-up comedian, Yu Lili.

One Saturday night, a roommate’s boyfriend waved his hand grandly and said he wanted to treat us all to a stand-up show.

I was just about to politely decline when I heard my two roommates whispering to each other while touching up their makeup in the mirror.

“Just go. He’s in high spirits; let’s not be wet blankets.”

“Exactly. If we don’t go, people might think we’re jealous of her. I’m not someone who’s stingy with blessings.”

Sometimes, the social logic between people is just that subtle and mysterious.

In order not to let someone else’s joy fall flat, even if one has no interest, one must muster the energy to play along with the hospitality.

It wasn’t until we were being seated at the venue that I realized the seats were in the front row.

For this kind of verbal performance, sitting in the front row meant you were a potential audience member for interaction by default.

I instinctively looked for the seat furthest to the edge.

That day, Liang Qiezhao was there too.

I only found out later that the performer on stage was his childhood friend’s girlfriend.

A bold, straightforward girl from the Northeast.

Back then, she was still a newcomer and ticket sales were mediocre. To make the girl happy, the childhood friend would watch the data and buy out all the remaining tickets for every show, then go around handing them out to “invite” people to fill the seats.

Coincidentally, Liang Qiezhao’s seat was just behind and to the side of mine.

Due to the layout of the venue, the edge seats of the two rows were very close together.

From the perspective of the stage, it looked like we were sitting side-by-side in the front row.

What was even more coincidental…

My dress was the same color as his shirt.

Even the small charm on the velvet scrunchie in my hair was very similar to the pattern on his baseball cap.

The girl on stage had a sharp eye and naturally wouldn’t let such ready-made material go to waste.

Every time she gave us a cue, the atmosphere in the room heated up.

In many live shows back then, the interactions lacked a sense of boundaries.

To liven up the atmosphere, the comedian simply started making jokes about us being a “couple.”

The microphone was passed back and forth between the two of us, and the girl’s ability to improvise was strong.

In the end, even though we had clearly explained that we were just strangers, the audience wouldn’t have it.

Cries of “Get together! Get together!” rose in wave after wave.

In that clamor of heckling and chanting, I was so embarrassed that I kept my head down, honestly answering whatever was asked.

Liang Qiezhao, however, remained calm and composed throughout. He leaned back in his chair at his leisure, and when the girl dropped a punchline, he could even unhurriedly follow up with a remark, pushing the atmosphere to an even higher fever pitch.

At the end of the performance, the girl smilingly handed over two exchange cards for consecutive tickets to the next show.

His slender fingers took them, and his gaze finally landed on me.

He said, neither heavily nor lightly:

“For you.”

“You can come with your boyfriend next time.”

Only then did I see his face clearly.

Under the theater’s overhead lights was a man with an exceptionally elegant and superior bone structure and a sharp, cold jawline.

Even though a faint curve still lingered at the corners of his lips, when those eyes-as deep as ink-looked down and rested quietly on someone, they still exuded a sense of detachment.

My face was burning intensely at the time, and I waved my hands hurriedly.

“No thanks, one is enough for me. Thank you.”

Hearing this, Liang Qiezhao paused.

The smile at the corners of his lips spread bit by bit…

Later.

We watched many stand-up shows together.

But never again was there one that could make one’s face flush and ears burn like that day.

We watched as Yu Lili started from that cramped little theater and worked her way up to becoming a well-known rising star in the industry.

At gatherings years later, a drunken Yu Lili would often come over with a glass to thank the two of us, repeatedly recounting that old story.

She said she had known for a long time that Meng Jingyang was secretly helping her clear out the tickets.

She said that on that day, she had already prepared herself to change careers after that final show.

As it turned out, dramatically, the performance that day was unexpectedly successful, and even clips of the interaction began to go viral online.

It was also from then on that her shows gradually became hard to get tickets for.

She said it was the fated connection between me and Liang Qiezhao that gave her the conviction to persist a little longer.

Back then, she spoke with such certainty, as if it were something mystical.

So mystical that I, too, once thought…

That the connection between Liang Qiezhao and me could truly sustain a lifetime.