But in the end... the dream ended.
"I see."
"Maybe it was just my stereotype." Shen Xing chuckled warmly, reaching out to hold the automatic door as it was about to close, gesturing for Ji Shuhe to go ahead. "I always thought you were different from most northern girls I knew. So you really did live in the south."
"That's good. I was planning to show you around, but now we have a 'local' in the group. I might have to rely on you to guide me through the early stages of the project."
"Senior..."
Ji Shuhe hugged the book to her chest as her crossbody bag slipped down to her forearm. She freed a hand to adjust the strap back onto her shoulder, her voice soft, almost like a complaint: "You know full well I haven't been back to China in almost eight years."
Shen Xing pushed the suitcase back to her side. "I know. I was just teasing you."
It was early autumn in Xinhai. Shen Xing wore a casual white vertical-striped shirt under a navy blue V-neck cardigan. The shirt collar was slightly open, and his sleeves were neatly rolled up over the sweater, revealing fair, slender forearms. On his wrist was a classic mechanical watch with a silver metal band. He paired it with off-white trousers, exuding a leisurely, relaxed vibe that suited his gentle, gentlemanly British气质.
Perhaps when you stay in a place long enough, you unconsciously become the standard image of that place. That was Shen Xing—like the rain in the foggy city, gentle yet elusive.
But his intention at that moment was clear. He raised a hand as if to smooth a few stray strands of hair from Ji Shuhe's forehead. She noticed but wasn't used to such intimate contact, so she quickly brushed the hair back herself.
She changed the subject: "Senior, don't learn from Stella. She just finished a project and has too much free time, so she keeps picking on me."
Shen Xing withdrew his hand, clasping it behind his back, his fingers lightly rubbing together, his smile unchanged. "Because you're the easiest to tease—youngest, best-tempered, and when you're pushed too far, you turn all fluffy."
This abrupt comparison felt familiar. Ji Shuhe knew exactly who was to blame. She quickly interrupted: "See? She's already corrupted you! I'm not fluffy at all. I'm not some little animal."
Shen Xing smiled without a word. His gentlemanly silence showed he didn't agree with her, but instead of arguing, he went along with her.
"Then, if you're not a fluffy little animal, what do you think you are?"
What was she?
Ji Shuhe pondered.
"Shu" meant seedling. If she had to say, she'd be... a little sprout?
A nickname almost unknown to anyone, one that belonged to only one person, suddenly surfaced in her mind—inappropriately.
From aversion to acceptance, from habit to... loss.
Her gaze drifted through the glass curtain wall to the outside. The twilight was thick, the deep autumn sunset like melted honey, thickly smeared between heaven and earth.
Back then, the attic in Yong'anli faced west. When she napped at her desk at this hour, her whole back would be warm from the sun.
Maybe it was the anxiety of nearing home. Since a few days before planning her return, Ji Shuhe had been dreaming.
In her dreams, the two years in Xinhai flashed by like a lantern show—Grandma and Grandpa piling more rice on her plate, saying she was too thin; Uncle treating her like a child, bringing back steaming hot skewers and warning Ji Shulang not to steal from his sister; then Aunt Chu Yue grabbing him by the ear, telling him not to give the kids snacks before meals.
And that person.
But that person always stood to the side with Lizi, gripping the leash tightly to keep Lizi from pouncing, watching her coldly without a word.
Ji Shuhe could feel it—he resented her. For disappearing without a trace when he was most helpless and needed her most, when she had clearly promised not to abandon him.
She was anxious, desperate to explain.
She wanted to say that she had left with Xia Chun that day without knowing anything; that later, she had tried many ways to contact them; that when she got lost on the streets of Manchester, she had endlessly wished she could return to that night when Wen Shaoyu said she could call him and he would come find her.
But the words wouldn't come. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't speak a single syllable. She could only watch helplessly as Wen Shaoyu drifted further and further away. She reached out desperately, shouted, but in the end... the dream ended.
When she opened her eyes, she was still lying in bed in her London apartment, thousands of miles from Xinhai, staring at the pale ceiling.
She had been in the UK for eight years. It was indeed a long time.
From a helpless teenager growing into an adult, going step by step from language school to an undergraduate offer, then a master's program, finally landing an internship and job at the largest studio in the UK.
But emotionally, she never felt a sense of belonging in a foreign country. No matter how she lived, it all felt incredibly dull.
For Ji Shuhe, these eight years were like a calm stream, flowing silently without leaving a trace—nothing compared to the unforgettable two years in Xinhai.
She had always longed for Grandma and Grandpa, for Uncle and his family. She wanted to know which college her brother had gone to after his exams and whether his current job was going well.
And she worried more about that person... whether his days after that had gone as smoothly as she had wished.
So, even if returning might mean not finding them, even though Xia Chun had said if she stepped out that door, she should never come back, she still seized the opportunity of the project and returned to China without hesitation.
"I... I'm just me, of course." Ji Shuhe let out a long sigh, withdrew her gaze, and gave Shen Xing a helpless smile.
"Ever since Stella finished that documentary on rainforest animals, she loves giving people nicknames. Martin from the camera crew has blond hair; he recently dyed the tips red, and she called him an angry scarlet macaw. And post-production Aria had a perm that went wrong, and Stella said she looked like a sleepy harpy eagle. Good thing our team has a lot of Chinese and is generally young... but Senior, you're the leader. Don't follow her example, okay?"
"Got it. I'll listen to you." Shen Xing smiled obligingly. He knew all this, of course, but he felt Stella's description of Ji Shuhe was surprisingly apt.
She had said Ji Shuhe was like a kitten whose claws had been trimmed, raised by humans. Since she had never learned to hiss or act fierce, when provoked, she just puffed up in silent anger.
How cute.
He had known her for almost eight years and had never even seen her angry. With teachers, classmates, family, and friends, she was always accommodating and compromising. Occasionally, a hint of melancholy would cross her face, but she never passed her negative emotions on to others.
Yet this very person had had a huge fight with her mother—the one she had been clinging to—just to come back to China.
Shen Xing hadn't actually been late. After parking, he had received an international call from Xia Chun.
Xia Chun was an old friend of his father's, or more precisely, her current husband—the one she had reconciled with—was a decades-long friend of his father.
He had thought the call would be asking him to take care of Ji Shuhe, but instead, Xia Chun wanted his help to persuade Ji Shuhe to return to the UK immediately.
From Xia Chun's somewhat disjointed words, Shen Xing pieced together the gist of it. Ji Shuhe was a daughter she had snatched back from her ex-husband, and she didn't want her to return to China, plunging herself back into the fear of losing Ji Shuhe.
He certainly didn't agree with Xia Chun's view.