The old dog couldn't stand on his hind legs for long. He lowered all four paws, stuck out his tongue, and placed his broad paw on her foot.
Ji Shuhe's heart softened. She crouched down to meet the dog's eyes. She was still a little scared—after all, apart from Lizi, she had never interacted with other dogs—but after a moment's hesitation, she wanted to reach out and pet his head.
Dogs are clever. Seeing her hesitation, he immediately pushed his head under her hand, closed his eyes, and dropped his ears, waiting obediently.
The feeling under her palm was familiar yet strange—soft on top, but hard and prickly underneath.
Exactly like Lizi.
"He seems to trust you a lot." Shen Xing found the interaction between the girl and the dog fascinating. It was their first meeting, yet the dog treated her like his owner—overly warm and familiar.
"Probably all dogs with golden retriever traits are friendly." Ji Shuhe cupped the dog's head with both hands and scratched under his chin—Lizi's favorite spot. "When I was little, I picked up a dog, also a mix-breed. I raised him from a few months old until I left..."
Shen Xing thought she had stopped suddenly because she remembered the dog: "After you left, someone would have taken good care of him."
Ji Shuhe smiled bitterly: "Mm, he definitely would."
But actually, she was thinking of another person again.
The light stretched Ji Shuhe's crouching shadow across the damp concrete, blurring her outline. In that moment of silence...
"Lizi, come back!"
Ji Shuhe's hand on the dog's head froze. She stared in disbelief, her eyes locked on the dog in front of her.
Who was speaking? Who were they calling?
Lizi?
Who was Lizi?
For a second, she was dazed. But the dog, hearing his name, leaned forward and barked at the person behind her.
The answer to the question was obvious.
...It really was Lizi coming to find her.
Ji Shuhe's breath caught. Her suspended hand began to tremble uncontrollably. If this was her Lizi, then the one calling him was naturally...
Her heartbeat instantly became chaotic, the vibration rising from her chest. The violent pounding made her limbs weak; her neck, ears, even her whole body burned; her mind was a mess.
She didn't dare turn around.
Afraid that if she turned, she wouldn't see him—and even more afraid that she would.
Shen Xing noticed Ji Shuhe's unusual state but didn't point it out. He only whispered, "Xiao Shu, the owner is here."
She knew. She had heard.
So there was no escaping this meeting.
Ji Shuhe slowly stood up. Her gaze shifted to the hem of a black trench coat, fluttering in the night wind.
She blinked repeatedly, her eyes moving stiffly and slowly upward, like a sluggish camera crane, inch by inch, until they stopped at the man's face.
It was Wen Shaoyu.
The deepest old wound in her heart burst open, flooding her with long-rotted sourness, drowning all her senses.
And the man stood still under the light, bangs falling to half-cover his eyes, hands in pockets, black trench coat unbuttoned and loose. His tall, straight figure had long shed the youthful aura of those days, but at a glance, he was exactly the same as that year.
"Wen..." Ji Shuhe opened her mouth, releasing a dry monosyllable. The rest got stuck in her throat.
Wen Shaoyu. A name repeated countless times in her heart, but now it wouldn't come out.
She tried several times, but only her lips moved, making no sound.
Time stopped. No one moved.
They stood there, not too close, not too far, both stubbornly staring at each other, as if approaching would make the person they longed for disappear instantly.
Lizi was still at Ji Shuhe's feet. He looked from one to the other, unsure which to choose. He didn't understand—he had brought his owner to his owner, yet neither seemed happy.
"...Wen Shaoyu, is that you?"
This time, she finally said it, very softly, as if the wind would blow it away the moment she spoke.
But Wen Shaoyu heard it. Clearly.
His hand in his pocket clenched weakly into a fist. Reunion after a long separation brought no joy, only icy despair dragging him down.
He wanted to ask Ji Shuhe why.
Why couldn't she recognize Lizi? Why, after years of silence, was her first sentence to him this?
In his peripheral vision, Ji Shuhe gripped her bag strap, staring straight at him, her eyes full of panic and tension, like an abandoned porcelain doll.
Now Wen Shaoyu had a third question: who had abandoned whom? Why did Ji Shuhe have that expression?
"Lizi, come here!"
But his heart softened in the end. He didn't voice these accusations in front of a third person.
So Wen Shaoyu didn't answer. He didn't look at Ji Shuhe again. He just urged Lizi again.
Forced to choose, Lizi hesitated a long time, but finally dragged his leash and wobbled toward Wen Shaoyu.
Wen Shaoyu bent down, picked up the leash, turned his back to Ji Shuhe, turned his back to the only gaze he had ever acknowledged or compromised on, and walked step by step into the deeper darkness.
His steps were not firm, because every step forward felt like stepping on the three thousand days of bitter longing that had weighed on him.
What he thought time had blurred had actually been lying there all along, waiting for him to pass by, then hitting him unexpectedly.
Ji Shuhe's heart clenched painfully, continuously aching. In Wen Shaoyu's cold gaze, it throbbed even more.
She thought Wen Shaoyu would ask—why she left, why she disappeared, why she suddenly came back, why she appeared here.
But he didn't.
He just turned and left without a word, treating her like the most ordinary stranger passing by.
Ji Shuhe felt wronged. Even when they were at odds, Wen Shaoyu had never treated her like this. She knew she shouldn't, but tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision in an instant.
Her voice trembling, she asked again: "Wen Shaoyu, are you pretending not to know me?"
Wen Shaoyu stopped. He didn't move or turn around. With his eyes closed, he could feel Ji Shuhe's gaze still on him—angry, wronged, helpless.
And maybe not just her gaze; there was another man beside her. Elegant and gentle, getting along with Ji Shuhe as if they were very familiar.
A reunion after a long separation—he hadn't expected it to be like this.
The bitterness he had swallowed with difficulty rose again in his throat, over and over. He tried to swallow but failed, and what couldn't be swallowed only became doubly bitter.
Wen Shaoyu's heart ached with a heavy weight. He resented. He hated.
He resented that the moon shone on others, and he was abandoned again.
So he straightened his back: "Last year, on Lizi's tenth birthday, I promised him that if he couldn't wait for you to come back, then I wouldn't wait for you either."
"Ji Shuhe, at least you didn't make Lizi wait in vain."
"But he forgives you. I don't."