Ah Yu put the fruit candies back into the cloth bag, took the milk candy, unwrapped it, and the rich milky aroma melted on his tongue. Zhong Hua looked at the slightly upturned corners of his mouth, reached out and closed the window a little smaller: "It's windy."

"It felt warm as soon as I came in," Ah Yu said, her voice a little muffled as she spoke with a candy in her mouth, "It's much warmer than in the mountains."

“He adjusted the air conditioning before he left,” Lin Wanqing said with a smile, pointing to the thermometer on the wall, “saying that you caught a chill in the mountains and needed to be warmer when you came back.”

Ah Yu looked at the air conditioner display screen; 26 degrees Celsius, his preferred temperature. He recalled that three years ago, when the studio was first established, the air conditioner kept malfunctioning. Zhong Hua spent half the night studying the instruction manual and finally stuck a note on the unit that read, "Press the reset button if the temperature exceeds 28 degrees Celsius." The handwriting was exactly the same as the note on the bottom of his basin today.

“By the way, the photos from the charity exhibition have been selected,” Lin Wanqing suddenly clapped her hands. “The organizing committee just called and said the awards ceremony will be held next week.”

Ah Yu's eyes lit up: "Really? I thought the photos were too plain."

"Have you forgotten who helped you find the light?" Lin Wanqing gestured with her chin toward Zhong Hua. "Someone spent three consecutive days measuring the light angle on site, and their notebook was filled with three pages of data."

Zhong Hua was attaching a lens to a camera when he heard this, and his ears started to turn red again. Ah Yu looked at his serious profile and suddenly remembered the day of the awards ceremony. Zhong Hua was sitting in the first row of the audience, clutching his glasses that he had forgotten to bring. The lenses reflected the stage lights, like two fallen stars.

"What are you going to wear on the day of the awards ceremony?" Ah Yu poked Zhong Hua's back. "You can't wear this denim jacket again, the cuffs are all worn out."

Zhong Hua turned around, still holding the lens cloth in his hand, which smelled slightly of lens cleaning solution. "Anything will do," he said, glancing down at his coat. "This is fine."

“Oh no,” Ah Yu shook her head, then suddenly seemed to remember something and ran to her suitcase, taking out a paper package from it. “This is for you.”

Inside the paper package was a dark blue shirt, the fabric crisp, with a small lotus flower embroidered on the collar. He bought it in a small town in the mountains; the shopkeeper said the material was durable and suitable for people who often work at a desk.

"It's too big." Zhong Hua held up the shirt to show it off, and the shoulders were indeed a bit too wide.

“It shrank after two washes,” Ah Yu snatched the shirt and put it on him. “I specifically bought a size larger.”

Lin Wanqing leaned against the door frame, watching them, and suddenly said, "The awards ceremony is next week, which happens to be the anniversary of the three of us taking a group photo."

Ah Yu paused, looking up at the photo wall. In the very center hung a group photo of the three of them by Qinghai Lake. The sunset that day had dyed the lake surface golden red. Ah Yu stood in the middle, holding a camera, with Zhong Hua to his left and Lin Wanqing to his right. Their shadows stretched long on the ground, like three intertwined vines.

“Time flies,” Ah Yu said softly. “This time last year, I was freezing in Qinghai.”

“You insisted on taking pictures of the starry sky, and your hands were shaking from the cold,” Zhong Hua straightened his shirt collar, his fingertips inadvertently brushing against his neck. “In the end, I had to wrap my coat around you.”

"Wasn't that starry sky photo pretty good?" Ah Yu raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "The organizing committee even said that one had the most spirit."

“It’s really good,” Zhong Hua said softly, “because there are stars in your eyes.”

Ah Yu's heart skipped a beat, as if something had gently bumped into it. He looked into Zhong Hua's eyes, those eyes that always carried a hint of aloofness, now reflecting his own image, shining as if filled with starlight.

The wind chimes in the studio rang again, this time as the wind drifted in through the half-open window, carrying the fragrance of magnolia blossoms from outside. Ah Yu suddenly felt that the wind was somewhat familiar, like the wind that swept across the grass in the mountains in the early morning, or like the wind that rolled the waves on the shore of Qinghai Lake, warmly enveloping her heart.

“Oh, right,” Ah Yu said, as if remembering something, and took a film canister out of her camera bag. “This is for you.”

Zhong Hua opened the film canister, inside was a roll of developed film. The last few shots were of a pitch-black night, with specks of green light flickering in the frame like scattered stars. "Fireflies," Ah Yu pointed to the spots of light, "you said you'd take pictures of them for me."

"My hand was shaking when I took the picture, so it's a bit blurry," Zhong Hua said softly.

Ah Yu shook her head, her fingertips brushing against the green light on the film: "It looks good even if it's blurry."

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds, falling on the three people and casting their shadows on the floor like three trees huddled together. Lin Wanqing picked up her paintbrush and added a touch of warm yellow to the canvas, much like the light flowing through the studio at that moment.

Zhong Hua carefully put the film into the tin box, which also contained letters from his university days, faded candy wrappers, and the fountain pen that Ah Yu had lost last time. As he closed the tin box, he heard Ah Yu discussing the award ceremony's proceedings with Lin Wanqing, her voice filled with joyful laughter, like a freshly unwrapped piece of candy.

The wind outside the window rustled through the magnolia trees, carrying a delicate fragrance into the studio, and the wind chimes tinkled again. Zhong Hua looked at Ah Yu's hair, which was dyed golden by the sunlight, and suddenly felt that this was probably what the so-called journey home was like—someone remembers the candy you love, the temperature you're used to, and the unspoken thoughts you have, like a cactus always facing the sun, firmly rooted in the years.