Chapter 22: The Best Choice

The wait at the bus stop was shorter than Qi Yu expected—lucky today. Not long after they reached the sign, bus 91 emerged from traffic and rolled slowly toward them.
On weekdays, evening rush meant packed buses. Today was weekend—few passengers. Qi Yu saw several empty seats in the back at a glance.
She and Jiang Ya took the innermost row. By chance the two students they had seen boarded the same bus and sat diagonally to their right.
The air inside was slightly stuffy. Jiang Ya by the window cracked it open a slit; cold wind rushed in as if it had been waiting.
She turned—Qi Yu was looking at her.
“How long since you rode a bus?” Caught, Qi Yu did not dodge and asked casually.
“Why ask?” Jiang Ya thought two seconds. “But yeah—it’s been ages. Last time… probably high school.”
“Same. Haven’t since high school.” Qi Yu pressed her lips in a small smile.
Those years Qi Wenping had not given her an e-bike; no metro yet. School weekdays and occasional weekend library trips—all by bus.
But this was their first time riding together. Back then Jiang Ya lived far; parents usually drove her. Even wanting to share a route, they never could.
Qi Yu suddenly thought—if the one on this bus beside Jiang Ya were her teenage self, she would probably be secretly thrilled beyond words…
In those adolescent years she sometimes watched dramas with Qi Wenping. Plots forgotten—but some scenes she mapped onto herself.
Rainy-day encounters. An unexpected shoulder lean on the bus… Her mind ran wild. Riding alone she would imagine Jiang Ya beside her—would drama happen? Would Jiang Ya tire and sleep? Would she lean on her shoulder…?
Why could a girl’s heart not be known? Maybe this was why—sensitive, suspicious, childish.
Seven years later, people and things had changed. Even on the same bus, even this close, she felt not a trace of joy…
What was she feeling now? Hard to say.
Awkward—too shallow. Uneasy—too light. Resistance—too deep. Relaxed—she could not manage. Lost— not quite either. She did not understand herself, or their future.
How long could they keep this polite distance… or one day slip back into the crowd and never see each other again?
Qi Yu felt a little blank…
The bus air made people drowsy. Passengers near the front window leaned on the wall. Elderly on priority seats sat silent and still. Young people in the back scrolled phones—including Qi Yu and Jiang Ya—only the two girls ahead still chatted.
They kept their voices low, but in the quiet bus their laughter carried clearly.
Qi Yu leaned back, eyes closed. Fragments of their talk reached her—
—“I’ve been reading all day and I’m not even halfway… tutoring tomorrow, bed early tonight—no time, ugh.”
—“What’s the fuss? Finish after class tomorrow. I said I’d lend it—you return when done.”
—“You don’t know—my grades slipped last month. Mom came back from the parent meeting and took my phone—weekends only… now she won’t even let me read novels.”
—“If she catches me at home she’ll confiscate the book—how am I supposed to read?”
—“Then don’t go home after class tomorrow. Come to the milk-tea shop with me—you can read there. Tell your mom you’re at the library reviewing. Deal?”
The girls’ worries went on. Qi Yu listened a while, slowly opened her eyes toward them—dark gaze not quite clear.
She could not see their faces—only a long-haired girl sitting straight hugging her bag, the other turned to talk, at most a blurred outline.
Strangely, familiar and foreign at once—as if this scene had truly happened to her once…
Qi Yu lowered her eyes. After a while her gaze drifted deliberately to her side.
Since those two sentences at boarding, they had not spoken.
Jiang Ya sat at ease, wired earphones in, head lightly against the window. Ink-black hair fell smooth over her shoulders, partly veiling her profile—like someone stepped out of a book.
Even without seeing her face, hard to look away.
Qi Yu watched her breathing steady, still against the glass—thought she was resting with eyes closed—and lingered on the picture.
Unexpectedly Jiang Ya turned as if sensing her—caught her off guard.
Eyes met. Qi Yu stared into Jiang Ya’s eyes, stunned a long beat before belatedly looking away.
As if nothing happened—yet her heart hammered wild in her chest.
Peripheral vision: Jiang Ya raised a hand, as if removing an earphone.
“Am I almost at my stop?” Jiang Ya looked at her, tone as always—as if those few frantic seconds of eye contact were nothing.
“Which stop for you?”
“No. 1 High.”
“Oh…” Qi Yu had forgotten—Jiang Ya lived near the school.
She opened navigation. “Almost—four stops.”
Jiang Ya nodded. “And you?”
Qi Yu: “Ning’an East Road—seven more. I’ll ride longer.”
Jiang Ya nodded again and said no more.
Maybe because she was getting off soon, Jiang Ya removed one earphone and did not seem to plan to keep listening.
But Qi Yu glimpsed her screen—an English song playing.
“What song is that?” Somehow Qi Yu asked.
Jiang Ya tilted the phone toward her. “‘The Way I Still Love You.’ Really good—I listen to it a lot.”
Qi Yu: “Really? Don’t think I’ve heard it.”
“Then…” Jiang Ya looked at her, paused, picked up the dangling earphone. “Want to listen? Really nice—healing kind of melody.”
“………” Qi Yu’s eyes fixed on the earphone in Jiang Ya’s hand—hesitating.
She did not take it—only moved her gaze from the earphone to Jiang Ya’s face. Jiang Ya lifted a brow at her, faint smile in her eyes.
“Listen?” Jiang Ya asked again—natural, sincere.
This time Qi Yu said yes.
She did not refuse. Taking the earphone from Jiang Ya, their fingertips brushed—soft touch, gone in an instant.
Qi Yu said nothing more. She put the earphone in, breathed deep, sat straight.
Jiang Ya pressed play. Light, pleasant melody entered her ears.
*Not a sin / Each day goes by* — days like years.
*Show me what is through my mind* — memories flooding her heart.
*I know it is over but I cannot deny / I am still missing you* — over, yet she could not deny she still missed you.
When the lyrics entered, the melody seemed to knock on Qi Yu’s heart; it trembled.
She listened, looking ahead. Little changed—only the two girls ahead had stopped talking, each leaning on the seat back. No conversation in the bus; quiet all around.
For a moment the whole world seemed wrapped in the song in her ears—as if only she and Jiang Ya remained in that embrace of music.
She did not know how long she listened. Suddenly she wanted to turn and see what the person beside her was doing.
Carefully she angled her face—eyes on Jiang Ya looking out the window.
Jiang Ya was as before, eyes closed, profile soft, lips curved in a faint calm smile.
As if not clear enough, this time Qi Yu fixed her gaze on that smile alone.
She watched—some nerve tugged inside, breath catching, heart beating once more for no clear reason.
An indescribable mood filled the air between them.
Until Jiang Ya got off, the strange awkward feeling finally lifted.
Qi Yu moved to Jiang Ya’s seat—warmth still there. Like Jiang Ya, she almost automatically looked out the window.
She did not know how long she zoned out. Remembering their goodbye, an impulse—she took out her phone and opened the chat with Jiang Ya.
After thinking a long time she typed one line in the input box.
*Sorry—I was emotional that night and said too much.*
Sent. Within seconds Jiang Ya replied.
Jiang Ya: *Which night? Why apologize so suddenly?*
Qi Yu typed back: *The night of the class reunion. I didn’t mean to say those things. I was probably worked up and made it sound harsher than I meant.*
*Being friends is fine—I just need time. I can’t snap back to how we were.*
*I’ve always thought being friends with you is good. Really.*
The moment she sent it, Qi Yu felt relief—and exhaled deeply.
These words were not sudden. Since that night she had replayed the scene again and again; the more she replayed, the more impulsive she felt she had been.
Honestly—Jiang Ya not accepting her feelings was not Jiang Ya’s fault. From Jiang Ya’s side, because of her crush Jiang Ya might have lost her only friend.
She did not want that either. Setting everything aside, she might regret falling for Jiang Ya—but never regret being her friend. High school years with Jiang Ya—looking back, good outweighed pain.
So maybe it was only this unexpected reunion that left her unadjusted. But if possible, she was not very resistant to staying in touch with Jiang Ya.
As lovers, friends might suit them better—more stable, longer lasting.
She had held these words inside a while. Just now—who knew why—she suddenly wanted to lay her heart bare to Jiang Ya.
One more thing—she was curious how Jiang Ya saw it all.
Qi Yu stared at the chat. No reply yet—but *typing…* showed at the top.
At least five minutes passed before the reply came.
She had not expected a long block of text.
Jiang Ya: *I should be the one saying sorry. I owed you that apology a long time—I never found the right moment. I understand everything you said.*
*I didn’t blame you for saying it. I felt those were your truest thoughts. Saying them meant you respected me.*
*There’s a lot I never knew how to tell you. For a long time you may have been more than a friend to me. I didn’t expect you to snap back to before either, but…*
That sentence broke off. A new message followed.
*It’s okay—even ordinary friends is fine. As long as you still want to be my friend. As long as we’re still friends. Thank you for trying to understand me.*
Qi Yu read every word carefully. At the end, seeing Jiang Ya stress *friend* again and again, her gaze paused on that line.
Jiang Ya’s reply was sincere—flawless. Qi Yu could not think of a reason to refuse.
This time she had thought seriously—thought seriously about accepting Jiang Ya again, about how to be friends.
If fate meant she and Jiang Ya would keep tangling—then being a proper friend might be the best choice, after all?