Chapter 3

From the rental to Lingbomen it was half an hour by car. Time was tight, so Chen Xian kept things minimal—makeup was just lipstick and foundation. After stuffing tissues, a small fan, and the like into her bag, she opened WeChat and saw 孟頔 had just sent: Ready?
Chen Xian replied with two characters: Coming out.
They stepped out at almost the same time, met on the dot, and locked their doors in sync.
"Did you sleep last night?" Chen Xian slung on her small bag.
孟頔 didn't answer, only asked: "What about you?"
Chen Xian: "Not bad."
She noticed he had nothing on him: "You didn't bring anything?"
孟頔 patted his pants pocket: "Brought my phone."
Chen Xian said: "Is that a guy thing? My senior does the same—only his phone when he goes out."
孟頔 said: "And my eyes."
He looked straight at her as he said it and blinked twice. His long, thick lashes made the expression land harder; Chen Xian couldn't help looking a little longer.
孟頔's face was fine—or maybe it was the distance—and his irises were dark, doe-like, the kind of eyes kids have, with a faint touch of innocence. Even though he was tall, he seemed about her age.
Chen Xian warned: "When you're sweating later, don't ask me for tissues."
孟頔 paused: "Okay."
"Let's go?"
"Yeah."
No more talk. They went downstairs together. It was too early; the corridor was hushed and the air still bearable, but the moment they left the building it was like stepping into a preheated oven—muggy and close.
At the gate, 孟頔 pulled out his phone: "I'll get a car."
Chen Xian stopped him: "I already called one in the elevator."
The sky was growing light; traffic passed on the road.
She wiped her damp temple with the back of her hand: "This summer's especially hot."
孟頔 said: "Yeah."
Chen Xian frowned: "I also saw that it's going to get hotter and hotter from now on."
孟頔: "Really?"
Chen Xian: "Yeah." Then, with a hint of grim humor: "Go on, wipe us out."
孟頔's mouth twitched: "How long for the car?"
Chen Xian: "It's a ride-share. Four minutes."
孟頔 glanced back: "I'll get two bottles of water."
There was a 24-hour convenience store right by the gate. Chen Xian watched him go and return with two bottles.
孟頔 asked which she wanted—C'estbon or Nongfu Spring.
Chen Xian took the red one, twisted the cap, and took a sip. 孟頔 did the same. Their movements were almost in sync.
Chen Xian said: "I did think of it, but…" She lifted the mini bag on her shoulder, which only fit a few small things: "I was going to buy some at the spot."
孟頔 said: "I can carry it for you."
Chen Xian had to ask: "So you bought two different kinds on purpose?"
孟頔: "Yeah."
Chen Xian: "I'm sure loads of people in real life say you're really thoughtful."
孟頔: "You're the first."
Chen Xian raised her brows, about to ask more, but a white Toyota had already pulled up at the intersection. The interruption made her forget what she was going to say. She checked the plate against her phone and told 孟頔 to get in.
She didn't ask 孟頔 to hold her water.
She had four working limbs and a working brain.
It was summer break; quite a few people had come for the sunrise. By the time they got out and walked toward the pier, the sky in the distance had softened into blush and pink, a long stretch of peach-blossom haze. Chen Xian sped up. The scene pulled you in—you couldn't help chasing it, afraid to miss it or take it for granted.
Past anglers in their own world, enthusiasts with long lenses, tourists chatting or standing or sitting, young women posing for photos, Chen Xian finally found a good spot.
It was only then that she remembered 孟頔. She whipped around.
He was right behind her.
"I almost forgot you." She looked apologetic.
孟頔 smiled: "I could tell."
Chen Xian said: "I think I was possessed just now. My head was full of I have to get into that sunrise."
She looked down at the water right in front of her. The misty pink lake swayed gently, like fine silk—smooth, soft, the kind that makes you want to dive in.
"I get why people jump into the lake now."
Her odd compliment made 孟頔 glance at her.
She went on: "East Lake is like a flowing, really comfortable bed right now." And she was right in the middle of it.
孟頔 said: "And the bedding's beautiful."
Chen Xian perked up: "Yeah." He got it.
When the sun rose, that kind of dark urge faded. The sky and water grew deeper—orange, tangerine, flame—until the disc peeked over the far hills, climbed slowly, and its reflection stretched on the ripples. The sun itself stayed pure in color and sharp at the edges, like a concentrated antidote, diluted by the air and clouds, pouring into the world and healing everything.
Nature gives without holding back—beautiful and fair.
The only side effect: a racing heart, eyes that wouldn't stay dry.
Chen Xian dabbed the corners of her eyes and took a few Live photos. When she turned, 孟頔 was standing elsewhere, two or three people between them, but he was looking her way.
She waved.
孟頔 started toward her, but she said: "I'll come to you." So he stayed put.
When she reached his side, she asked: "Is the view better from here?"
孟頔 said: "Seems like it."
"Why didn't you call me over?" Chen Xian gazed into the distance. "Doesn't really matter though…"
孟頔 said: "Different angles, different beauty. No one's missing out."
On the pier the voices gradually died down; only the anglers stayed put, like scattered birds on the eaves.
Chen Xian said: "Let's get breakfast."
As she looked down to unlock her phone, 孟頔 naturally took her water so she could use both hands.
Chen Xian found the dim sum place she had scouted earlier and pointed: "Is this okay?"
孟頔 said: "Up to you."
Everything went according to plan—orderly and smooth. Chen Xian got a taste of "carb overload" Jiangcheng-style: the city's 豆皮 wasn't the 豆皮 she knew—it was 豆皮 stuffed with 烧麦 filling; the city's 烧麦 wasn't the 烧麦 she knew—it was 油饼包烧麦. The city's intensity showed in everything, from the weather to the food.
Customers came in waves; there was never an empty table or chair. Even for small takeaway orders, the owner's welcome never wavered.
Chen Xian was too full to eat more. She shared a bowl of 热干面 with 孟頔. When he took an extra pair of chopsticks from the holder as "serving chopsticks," it hit her: this thoughtfulness and sense of boundaries might be second nature to him.
Both implied something more sober: distance.
It also dawned on her why she had turned to look for 孟頔 at the peak of the sunrise.
A couple beside her had embraced.
She needed to be at ease and to share; she needed to be alone and to be close.
Starting any kind of relationship comes with expectations. At that moment, she had wanted 孟頔 by her side.
But they had known each other for less than a day.
On the way back to the rental, Chen Xian watched the traffic in silence. She didn't dwell on it; she let her mind wander and noticed something.
"Have you noticed? A lot of taxis in Jiangcheng look like police cars—blue and white, with red and blue lights on top," she said.
No answer from behind.
She turned. 孟頔 had tilted his head and fallen asleep. His fringe rested softly over his eyelids; he was out. The two bottles of water were cradled loosely in his arms, as if he were protecting two small animals.
Something in her eased.
To be "brought along," he'd pushed himself as far as he could. Right?