A Quiet Homecoming

The nightmare was so terrifying that He Zhuoming could already picture her parents' faces when she brought home that report card—she jolted awake from the dream, eyes blinking open in a daze, and found herself staring at stars so close they seemed within reach.

Her mind was blank, filled only with a lingering dread from the nightmare, which was quickly overridden by the celestial vista before her, leaving a hollow sense of awe.

For the first time, she realized how close one could get to the stars, so much so that she briefly forgot where she was or what she was supposed to be doing.

After staring at the stars for a long while, He Zhuoming finally came back to her senses and let out a slow, dumbfounded "wow" from her throat.

The room had no lamp lit; only the floating sphere in the center emitted a soft blue glow like a nightlight, washing the entire space in a dim azure.

The bookshelves lining the walls and their rows of cramped book spines were reduced to vague silhouettes, like an ink painting blurred in water.

He Zhuoming lay beneath the tranquillity of the starry sky, feeling her right hand on the floor—heavy and warm. It was Tang Shuyu's left palm resting over her right hand.

Her fingers brushed the ground slightly, and the hand over hers shifted in response, Tang Shuyu's fingers threading between hers—He Zhuoming's mind wandered, wondering if this counted as holding hands... probably not?

They hadn't even properly clasped hands.

He Zhuoming: "Lin Qingyun, are you asleep?"

Tang Shuyu didn't answer immediately—reacting to a name that wasn't his always took a moment.

But after a brief silence, he responded: "Asleep."

He Zhuoming: "Then who's talking right now?"

Tang Shuyu let out a low chuckle and replied: "A ghost."

He Zhuoming: "...That was a terrible joke. How long have we been lying here?"

Tang Shuyu: "Haven't been keeping track; it doesn't feel like very long."

As he spoke, his hand remained where it was, resting over He Zhuoming's.

If she moved her fingers even slightly, they'd brush against his.

His fingers, transitioning from youth to manhood, had a strong bony structure and ran slightly cooler than average body temperature, making their presence all the more distinct.

He Zhuoming turned her head toward Tang Shuyu in the starlit darkness.

He lay on his back with his medium-length black hair splayed across the floor—amid all that ink-black hair, the long earring dangling from his left earlobe caught the starlight and glittered conspicuously.

She found herself drawn to the light, stared at it for a moment, then cautiously inched closer; it felt like she hadn't moved much, yet her shoulder suddenly touched his.

He turned his head toward her, the earring's glint disappearing beneath his hair.

Tang Shuyu's cheekbone pressed against the floor, his thick lashes casting a crescent shadow, and He Zhuoming's gaze was again captured by that shadow beneath his eyes, still staring intently at him.

Tang Shuyu: "What are you doing?"

He Zhuoming blinked, somewhat flustered herself.

Seeing she didn't respond, Tang Shuyu waved a hand in front of her face. "Why are you silent? Cat got your tongue?"

He Zhuoming blinked slowly. "You... that earring—it's tangled in your hair. Won't it get knotted up?"

The answer was, of course, no.

But Tang Shuyu reached up to touch his earlobe and feigned concern: "It does seem tangled. Would you take a look for me?"

He Zhuoming sat up, pulling Tang Shuyu up with her, and leaned in to brush aside the black hair covering his ear: a string of shimmering beads tumbled out from the strands, swaying beneath his earlobe.

No hair was tangled in it, but a thin, withered pale petal was caught between two beads.

Tang Shuyu sat cross-legged, his face turned toward He Zhuoming, his pupils beneath the thick lashes shifting slightly sideways, and asked with a smile at the corner of his mouth: "Well? Did it get tangled in my hair?"

He knew perfectly well the earring couldn't get tangled in hair, but he wanted to ask He Zhuoming anyway—she was so close that her breath ghosted over his exposed neck, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her cheeks flush pink.

He Zhuoming answered softly: "Not tangled, but there's a petal stuck in it... must have picked it up from the river."

Tang Shuyu frowned: "The river?"

He Zhuoming: "The one we fell into this afternoon. Remember all those petals floating on the surface?"

As she spoke, she reached out and pinched the long earring—the metal was cold to the touch, yet not as hard as she'd expected, and upon touching it, she realized the beads weren't perfectly round.

Not oval either.

They weren't exactly irregular circles, either. And the shape struck her as vaguely familiar, though she couldn't quite place it.

She held one bead between her fingers, zoning out for a moment, then remembered she had a task at hand and deftly worked the petal loose with her fingertip.

The petal rolled off her fingernail, skimmed over her bent knuckles, and drifted down to land on Tang Shuyu's neck.

Her gaze followed the petal to his neck, taking in the hollow formed by his shoulders and collarbone—she suddenly commented: "Qingyun, you're pretty skinny."

Tang Shuyu turned his head, one eyebrow raised: "Huh?"

He Zhuoming pointed: "Your collarbone is really prominent."

His raised eyebrow smoothed back down, and though he still wore a smile, he was momentarily frozen.

He shifted his gaze to He Zhuoming's face with a subtle look; her expression was completely serious, showing no trace of frivolity.

But regardless of her expression, this was undeniably a teasing remark with weight behind it.

Since gaining consciousness, Tang Shuyu had never heard anyone dare speak to him so lightly... though Xiao He calling him Qingyun did bother him somewhat.

He brushed a hand over his neck, flicking the petal away, and said in a flat tone: "Compared to whom?"

He Zhuoming was still pinching his earring, not catching on, and let out a confused "Huh?"

Tang Shuyu slowly turned his face to her; the turning motion pulled at the muscles in his neck, making his collarbone hollow deepen even more. In the dimly lit room, his bones stretched the skin, and the hollowed area sank into shadow.

It looked like you could pour a whole cup of water into it.

Tang Shuyu repeated his question with a hint of melancholy, expanding on it as he spoke: "You said I'm skinny—compared to who? Am I skinny while he's just right?"

He hadn't noticed how he'd been asking a lot of questions lately, mostly to He Zhuoming.

He didn't have a specific suspect yet, because he considered himself already perfect and second to none—but that didn't stop him from being suspicious.

He Zhuoming was caught off guard, blinked, and answered: "The male body diagram in my biology textbook."

Tang Shuyu: "What's that?"

He Zhuoming thought for a moment, then replied: "Nine-year mandatory education."

Tang Shuyu didn't understand, but he smiled and played along: "Oh, you're so knowledgeable—want to look through the telescope now?"

The unfamiliar term 'telescope' had only been spoken by He Zhuoming a few times, yet he now used it as naturally and fluently as if he were a modern person himself.

He Zhuoming thought to herself: He's a quick learner.

And then she remembered that Tang Shuyu was also a flute prodigy and a cultivation genius. If he lived in the modern world, he might be a top student too...

He Zhuoming suddenly felt morose, because she didn't particularly like guys who were far better students than her; just them breathing nearby felt like a challenge.

She sulked over to the telescope and sat down—Tang Shuyu said: "I'll adjust the settings; you just look."

He Zhuoming: "...You know how to operate a telescope?"

Tang Shuyu said matter-of-factly: "Before you came, I'd already been in this room many times."

Except for the orb that couldn't be activated due to language barriers, he'd already studied everything else in this room thoroughly.

The telescope was certainly novel, but to a True Deity, it was just a toy for three minutes; Tang Shuyu had long grown bored of it.

He Zhuoming felt even more dejected, propping herself up with both hands and not saying a word.

Tang Shuyu quickly adjusted the telescope and gestured for her to look—she didn't glance at him, didn't speak, just sullenly leaned in to peer through the eyepiece.

Tang Shuyu rested one hand on the telescope's stand: "Xiao He, why didn't you say thank you?"

He Zhuoming ignored him, focusing on the lens; the telescope was set to the perfect distance for viewing the moon, and a cold, lifeless orb came into view.

She stared through the eyepiece, falling silent.

...Ah, it's just the moon, then?

She'd expected to see Chang'e or something.

He Zhuoming muttered: "Weird setting. Isn't the moon supposed to be the Moon Palace? Hey, have you ever been to the moon?"

With his prank failing—Xiao He wasn't scared and even seemed easily accepting—Tang Shuyu felt a bit deflated and replied: "Yes, but it wasn't much fun."

He Zhuoming: "What about the Abyss of Return?"

Tang Shuyu propped his cheek on one hand, thought a moment, and said: "Never been. Too many restless spirits there; I don't like it."

He Zhuoming nodded in understanding: "Ah, right. I'm pretty scared of ghosts too."

She played with the telescope a bit longer and found the view similar to what she'd seen at the planetarium—neither a mirrored Earth nor alien spacecraft, so it was quite dull.

She couldn't fathom why her fellow traveler would build a telescope that couldn't even see their homeland.

The young girl couldn't relate to the experiences of someone who'd lived through ten cycles of reincarnation, and once she lost interest, she just wanted to call her friend back for a late-night snack.

He Zhuoming gave up on the lens and turned her head to find Tang Shuyu squatting beside her with a faint smile.

She had already opened her mouth, about to call him up—but then she stopped, staring at his profile, thinking.

Her gaze was so obvious that Tang Shuyu could hardly ignore it.

He thought about pretending not to notice, but she kept silent, just staring intently at him. In the end, he couldn't hold out and turned his face to meet her gaze.

He too stayed silent, but his raised eyebrow asked the question.

He Zhuoming suddenly leaned in closer, her chin brushing his shoulder—Tang Shuyu instantly went still, his thick lashes lowering, even the fingers resting on his knees motionless.

He was wondering what she was up to.

Although he had intended to scare her with the moon, she clearly wasn't frightened. Besides that, had he annoyed her in any other way?

No.

...Probably not.

His mind raced, the beaded earring swaying slightly, casting a few blurred glimmers of light on his jaw and neck.

He Zhuoming held her breath, concentrating on the faint sensation of Tang Shuyu's breath on her face.

That day, she had indeed been too nervous, her ears completely filled with the pounding of her own heart, unable to hear anything else—but she still had vague memories, and the slight brush of breath against her cheek.

When she had closed the distance to a certain point, He Zhuoming stopped, her round, bright eyes fixed on Tang Shuyu without blinking.

She didn't close her eyes, so he didn't either, his back rigid as if nailed in place, but he managed a casual smile and said in a light tone: "Do you want to kiss me?"

He Zhuoming: "That day, you weren't blowing on my eyes."

The two voices sounded almost simultaneously, and Tang Shuyu's heart nearly stopped; the bland smile on his face almost vanished.

His mouth hung slightly open, his Adam's apple bobbing as if to speak—but He Zhuoming spoke first, pointing a finger at the tip of his nose.

"Because that day, your breath landed on the tip of my nose and on my lips. I remember it clearly—Lin Qingyun, you're secretly in love with me, aren't you?"