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The plane landed smoothly at Beijing International Airport, its massive fuselage emitting a deep roar as it taxied. The cabin door opened, and familiar air, carrying the unique bustle of the city, rushed in.

Zhou Ai carefully helped Chu Yi into the convenient wheelchair provided by the airport ground staff, meticulously checked whether his leg in a cast was properly positioned, and then pushed him, slowly walking out with the flow of people. Xu Yang and several core members of the studio followed closely behind, the group quite conspicuous.

The arrivals area was bustling with people. Chu Yi looked up and saw that Cheng Yingzhi was supposed to be picking him up, but the person standing in a prominent position looking in their direction was Cheng Yanqing, who was tall and had a more composed and aloof demeanor.

"Brother." Chu Yi was a little surprised, but still greeted him first.

Zhou Ai stopped pushing the wheelchair, his gaze meeting Cheng Yanqing's in mid-air. He recognized him immediately as the person who had called Chu Yi "good boy" at Cheng Yingzhi's birthday banquet last time.

Cheng Yanqing naturally recognized him as Zhou Song's younger brother, the unconventional and infamous "young master" of the Zhou family.

Cheng Yanqing first nodded slightly to Zhou Ai as a greeting, but when he saw Zhou Ai's hand on the handle of Chu Yi's wheelchair, a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes - he did not expect that Zhou Ai would personally push Chu Yi out.

Immediately, his brows furrowed, his gaze falling on Chu Yi's foot, which was in a heavy cast. "What happened? How could you be so careless?"

"It was just an accident, a minor problem, it'll be fine in a few days."

As Chu Yi spoke, she took her backpack from Xu Yang and placed it on her lap.

Cheng Yanqing was clearly not so easily fooled, but he didn't ask any more questions. He simply turned his gaze back to Zhou Ai and said politely, "Mr. Zhou, thank you for taking care of me along the way. Please leave him to me."

As he spoke, he naturally stepped forward and reached out to grasp the handle of the wheelchair.

Zhou Ai's fingers were still resting on the armrest of the wheelchair. Upon hearing this, her hand tightened subconsciously for a moment, as a strong sense of reluctance welled up in her heart.

He could almost feel that once he let go, Chu Yi would really be taken away from him and returned to that world that he could hardly reach.

Xu Yang watched with bated breath, fearing that the young master might do something inappropriate in this situation. He quickly stepped forward and subtly tugged at Zhou Ai's sleeve, urging in a low voice, "Let's go, Brother Zhou, there are still many things waiting for us over there."

His eyes were filled with pleading: Ancestors, please, don't put on this tearful farewell show here, there are so many eyes watching!

Zhou Ai's jawline tightened for a moment, but she finally reluctantly and slowly released her grip, handing over control of the wheelchair to Cheng Yanqing.

Chu Yi sat in his wheelchair, looked up at Zhou Ai, his face still bearing that gentle and calm expression. He waved to Zhou Ai, his tone as ordinary as if he were just saying goodbye to an ordinary colleague: "Goodbye, Teacher Zhou."

After saying that, he even turned his head and waved to Xu Yang and the other staff members behind Zhou Ai with a smile: "Thank you for your hard work, goodbye."

His attitude was natural and polite, and he had nothing to say, but in Zhou Ai's eyes, it was like an invisible wall that instantly pulled the distance between the two of them, which they had finally managed to shorten, back to the safe and distant boundary of "ordinary friends".

Looking at Chu Yi's appearance as she instantly switched back to "Doctor Chu" mode, Zhou Ai felt as if something was blocking her heart, making her feel suffocated.

He opened his mouth, but in the end he couldn't say anything. He just looked at Chu Yi deeply, and then Xu Yang half-pushed and half-persuaded him to turn around and merge into the crowd at the airport, heading in another direction.

Cheng Yanqing pushed Chu Yi towards the VIP passage. He glanced down at his younger brother's calm profile, then looked back at Zhou Ai's somewhat stiff back, which stood out even in the crowd, and seemed lost in thought.

The black sedan smoothly drove off the airport expressway and merged into the bustling traffic of Beijing in the evening. The atmosphere inside the car was subtly quiet.

As soon as Cheng Yanqing got into the car, he answered several urgent phone calls, handling official business in a low voice, his brows showing his usual composure and a hint of barely perceptible fatigue.

Chu Yi leaned quietly against the car window, watching the street scenes rushing past outside without saying a word.

Autumn in Beijing is completely different from that in Guizhou.

Autumn in Guizhou is always shrouded in continuous rain and mountain mist, damp and hazy.

In contrast, autumn in Beijing is characterized by its high altitude and dryness. The sky is a clear gray-blue, the air is cool, and the leaves of the tall ginkgo trees along the roadside have turned yellow, as if edged with gold. Occasionally, a leaf will swirl and fall in the wind.

Looking at the familiar bustling scene outside the window and the falling ginkgo leaves, Chu Yicai seemed to have truly detached himself from that thrilling and... indescribable experience in the mountains, and felt a sense of unreality.

Twenty days felt like an eternity. He returned to this orderly, fast-paced city, but a corner of his heart felt inexplicably empty, filled with an indescribable sense of loss, as if he had left something important behind in that damp, green mountain.

"Did you have fun?" Cheng Yanqing finally ended the call, put his phone aside, and asked casually, his tone like that of an older brother concerned about his younger brother's trip.

Chu Yi's gaze remained fixed on the window, his voice flat and even: "We're not going there to play, we're going there to help." He corrected, with a serious, almost formulaic tone.

Cheng Yanqing glanced at Chu Yi, raising an eyebrow noncommittally, clearly not taking his correction seriously. After a few seconds of silence, he casually changed the subject: "You and Zhou Ai... are very close?"

This question is much more pointed than the previous one.

Chu Yi finally turned her gaze away from the window, looked at Cheng Yanqing with a blank expression, and asked, "Which kind of 'ripe' are you referring to?"

His reaction made Cheng Yanqing chuckle softly, with a hint of amusement: "Don't worry, I won't tell Mom. You don't need to be so wary of me." He glanced meaningfully at Chu Yi's leg, which was still in a cast.

Chu Yi pursed his lips, looked ahead again, and spoke in a more indifferent tone, even deliberately with a hint of detachment: "We're just normal friends. It's okay if you tell me." He seemed to be stating an objective fact, or perhaps trying to convince himself.

Silence fell over the car again.

It wasn't until Chu Yi realized that the scenery outside the window was becoming increasingly familiar, but it wasn't the way back to his own apartment "Blue Lake," but rather the direction of the Cheng family's old house, that he suddenly realized what was happening.

He immediately turned his head, his face showing obvious emotional fluctuations, filled with anger: "Take me back to Blue Lake."

Cheng Yanqing met his angry gaze in the rearview mirror, but her tone remained calm, "Aren't you going back to see your mother first? She misses you a lot."

"Do you think I'd be better off going back looking like this," Chu Yi pointed to the cast on her leg, her tone harsh, "going to see her, or getting yelled at?"

Cheng Yanqing was actually a little surprised. Looking at Chu Yi, who was usually calm and composed, now looking so resistant and a bit agitated, a faint smile flashed in her eyes, but her tone still left no room for negotiation: "It's just a casual meal. I'll take you home afterward. Mom specifically instructed that someone is already waiting."

Chu Yi took a deep breath, knowing that the chances of persuading Cheng Yanqing were slim. She could only hold her breath and lean back in her chair, her face darkening. Looking out the window at the rapidly receding street scene that was getting closer and closer to the old house, the emptiness in her heart was mixed with a sense of helplessness and resistance.

Since going to Guizhou, he has rarely used his mobile phone. On the one hand, he doesn't have many people to contact after leaving work, and on the other hand, the signal in the mountains of Guizhou is intermittent, and he has almost no patience for having to wait more than ten minutes to reply to a message.

But at this moment, Chu Yi didn't know what she was waiting for. Her fingers kept rubbing the edge of the phone, the screen lit up and then turned off, over and over again.

This subtle movement did not escape Cheng Yanqing's notice, but he said nothing.

Chu Yi herself was aware that she had been unconsciously anxious ever since she got off the plane and said goodbye to Zhou Ai at the airport.

During his medical studies, he minored in psychology and knew very well that this behavior of repeatedly rubbing something usually stemmed from underlying anxiety.

But what exactly is he anxious about?

Back in familiar surroundings, with no serious injuries... it seemed like everything was returning to normal. But the emptiness and inexplicable restlessness lingered in my heart.

He knew instinctively that he was indeed waiting for a message.

However, this expectation itself made Chu Yi feel confused and irritable, as if she were disgusted with herself.

The car finally stopped in front of the imposing yet somewhat somber gate of the Cheng family's old mansion. As Chu Yi had predicted, the atmosphere at dinner was far from relaxed.

When his mother, Chu Ruoyin, saw him being pushed in by Cheng Yanqing with his leg in a cast, her well-maintained face was instantly filled with shock and disapproval.

She put down her teacup, her tone laced with suppressed anger: "Chu Yi, why didn't you discuss participating in such a dangerous program with your family beforehand? Do you think your body can be treated so carelessly?"

Her words, as always, carried a strong sense of control and order. In Chu Ruoyin's worldview, everything needed to be planned and operated on a predetermined, safe track.

Almost every step Chu Yi took from childhood to adulthood was strictly confined within this "order".

Any deviation, such as participating in a variety show in a remote mountain area without prior notice and getting injured, is seen by her as an incomprehensible "deviant" and irresponsible act towards her own life.

Chu Yi lowered her eyelashes and slowly stirred the soup in the bowl with a spoon, her voice flat: "It happened suddenly, it was just an accident. My job inherently carries a certain degree of risk, as you know."

"Work? Your job is in the operating room, not playing in the mud in some backwater!" Chu Ruoyin's tone became more serious. "I think you're getting more and more out of line lately."

The meal was eaten in silence and with a heavy atmosphere. Chu Yi barely touched her chopsticks, spending most of the time quietly listening to her mother's reproachful concern and Cheng Yanqing's occasional irrelevant remarks to smooth things over.

He felt that every time he returned to the old house, it was as if he was stuffed back into a meticulously crafted but suffocating glass dome, completely cut off from the fresh air outside.

Finally, dinner was over, and Cheng Yanqing stood up: "Mom, I'll take Xiaoyi home to rest. He needs to rest."

On the way back to Blue Lake Apartments, the two remained silent. It wasn't until the car stopped in front of the apartment building that Cheng Yanqing spoke again: "Your leg is injured, so it's not easy for you to move around. I'll hire a housekeeper for you; she can cook and clean, and take care of you too."

Chu Yi almost instinctively refused, "No need. I'm not used to having outsiders in my house."

His private space is one of the few areas where he can be completely autonomous, and he cannot tolerate a stranger staying there for an extended period of time.

Cheng Yanqing glanced at Chu Yi, seemingly wanting to say something, but ultimately just nodded: "Whatever you want. Call me anytime if you need anything."

He knew that Chu Yi, though seemingly gentle, was actually unusually stubborn in some ways.

Chu Yi maneuvered her wheelchair into the elevator, returning to the quiet apartment where only her own breathing could be heard. The cold smart home system sensed her return and automatically turned on the lights, only making the room feel even more desolate.

He moved himself to the sofa, carefully positioning his injured leg. His phone lay quietly on the coffee table, its screen black, showing no new message notifications.

That inexplicable sense of anxiety quietly spread again.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Meanwhile, as soon as Zhou Aiyi sat in the company-arranged van, the composure and aloofness she had maintained at the airport instantly crumbled.

The atmosphere inside the car was heavy. Zhou Ai scratched his hair with one hand and held his phone in the other, his knuckles gripping the edge of the phone, turning slightly white from the pressure. He repeatedly pressed the phone screen to turn it on and off, making a soft "click" sound.

His fingers tapped WeChat countless times, precisely swiping to his chat with Chu Yi. The chat history was still up to the work group message created by the program team.

Fingertips hovered over the phone screen, editing and deleting repeatedly.

"Have we arrived yet?"

—Too ordinary, like a mass-sent message of concern.

"Does your foot still hurt?"

—Of course it hurts, how could it not hurt when you have a cast on?

"Has your brother given you any trouble?"

—Even if it's a difficult situation, you can't just rush up and beat them up.

Every word I typed felt wrong, and every question mark made me feel uneasy.

With his fingertip hovering above the send button, the courage that had carried him through life-or-death situations in Yuntou Village had vanished without a trace.

Zhou Ai feared receiving a polite but distant reply, or even... nothing at all, no response whatsoever.

That was more unbearable for him than any explicit rejection.

Xu Yang was making a phone call in a low voice, arranging subsequent crisis public relations, media liaison, and the work that had been forced to be postponed, but his eyes never left Zhou Ai.

Seeing his distracted and anxious appearance, as if he were about to pluck out a few clumps of his silver hair, Xu Yang sighed inwardly.

After finally finishing an urgent call, Xu Yang rubbed his temples, turned around, and looked at Zhou Ai, who was radiating a low-pressure atmosphere. His tone carried a sense of helpless understanding: "In my opinion—you'd better not send it."

Zhou Ai suddenly raised her head, her usually nonchalant peach blossom eyes now filled with irritation and a hint of vulnerability, her tone sharp: "Why?" as if her most sensitive feelings had been touched.

Xu Yang was already used to his bad temper and wasn't annoyed. He analyzed the situation slowly and methodically, like an emotional strategist: "Haven't you heard of the term 'playing hard to get'? Brother Zhou, if you rush to send him messages now, you're lowering your stance and making it seem like you can't live without him."

He observed Zhou Ai's expression and continued, "Professor Chu's personality is aloof, rational, and he's used to keeping his distance. Do you think he'd be the type to proactively send messages to people offering concern and care?"

Zhou Ai pursed his lips; the answer was obvious. Chu Yi would never do that. He could even picture Chu Yi looking at his phone with those calm, expressionless eyes, then casually tossing it aside.

"So," Xu Yang slapped his thigh, "why don't you play along and give him the cold shoulder? Take a gamble and see if he'll feel uncomfortable because you're not contacting him, and if he'll... take the initiative to ask you about it."

He paused, then threw out his last, and most realistic, statement: "Even if we take a step back and assume that Teacher Chu didn't send you a single message in the end, what does that mean? It means that she never even considered you. That's good, you should give up now, settle down, come back with me and focus on recording the album and doing promotional appearances. Stop thinking about these pointless things all day."

These words were like a cold needle, precisely piercing all of Zhou Ai's wishful thinking.

The carriage fell into a deathly silence.

Zhou Ai's face turned pale, then green, then pale again. He stared intently at the silent chat box on his phone screen, as if trying to bore a hole through it.

Xu Yang's words were cruel yet realistic, abruptly pulling him out of his anxious anticipation and forcing him to confront the worst possible scenario.

After a long while, Zhou Ai seemed to have all her strength drained away. She leaned back abruptly into the large seat, raised her hand to cover her eyes, and her Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty.

In the end, he said nothing, but simply slammed his phone screen down onto the chair next to him with a dull thud.

It was as if I had personally closed a crack that had just let in a sliver of light, burying myself once again in an unknown, suffocating darkness of waiting.