cross-regional conflicts
1:23 AM.
Xu Ying stared at the computer screen. The number in the lower right corner jumped up and down to 1:24.
The last message in the chat box was from three days ago.
Zong Heng: "During the project's closed period, we may not be able to contact you, but don't worry."
The brief twelve characters, without even a period, seem like a hastily written, perfunctory piece.
She bit her lower lip, her fingertips hovering above the keyboard, wanting to reply, but then slowly withdrew them.
Rain was falling outside the window, a light drizzle, like some kind of endless countdown. She was alone in the dormitory; her roommates had all gone home for the weekend, and in the empty room, even the sound of breathing seemed exceptionally clear.
She reached out to touch the mug on the table; the coffee had long since gone cold, and a layer of undissolved sugar granules had settled at the bottom.
—This is Zong Heng's habit.
He always complained that the coffee was too bitter and would always add double the sugar, which led her to develop the same habit.
Xu Ying stared at the cup in a daze for a while, and finally turned off the computer.
When she lay back in bed, she made sure to place her phone next to her pillow with the screen facing up and the brightness turned up to the maximum, afraid of missing any messages.
But it remained as quiet as a stone.
She rolled over and stared at the ceiling.
This is their seventh month and thirteenth day in a foreign land.
In the beginning, Zong Heng would video chat with him almost every day. Sometimes it was early morning, while it was still late at night for him, and the lights of California could always be seen in the background; sometimes it was midnight, and she was so sleepy that she could barely keep her eyes open, but she still forced herself to stay awake and chat with him until dawn.
Later, the contact gradually became once every other day, and then three times a week.
Until last month, he suddenly said he had taken on a big project.
"I might be busy for a while." His eyes were dark and his voice was hoarse in the video. "Don't wait for my call, I'll contact you when I have time."
Xu Ying nodded and obediently agreed.
But now, three days have passed.
For a full seventy-two hours, there was no news.
She wasn't unaware that he was busy. Zong Heng had said that this project was very important to him; if he could secure it, he could gain a foothold in his father's company and even have the opportunity to return to China to develop his career.
But......
"At the very least... they should send a message..."
She murmured softly, her fingers unconsciously gripping the corner of the blanket.
My phone suddenly vibrated.
Xu Ying sat up abruptly and grabbed her phone—
It's a weather forecast.
"Tomorrow will be cloudy turning to light rain, with temperatures ranging from 15-20℃. We recommend bringing rain gear..."
She stared at the notice for a long time, and suddenly felt her eyes sting.
She unlocked the screen; the chat history was still from three days ago. She scrolled up; the last time he had been out of contact for this long was when her father forcibly took him to Europe.
That time, he disappeared for two whole weeks.
When she came back, she had lost a lot of weight, and there was an unhealed wound on her right wrist.
She asked him what happened, and he only said that he fell.
Xu Ying opened the photo album and scrolled to the bottom. It was a group photo from their high school graduation. Zong Heng had his arm around her shoulder, making a peace sign at the camera with a smug and bright smile.
He is completely different from the tired man in the video now.
The sound of rain grew louder.
Xu Ying curled up on the bed and buried her face in the pillow.
She recalled the video call last week when someone suddenly knocked on Zongheng's door.
"Wait a moment," he said to the camera, then got up to open the door.
The video wasn't off, and she could hear muffled conversations.
"Mr. Zong, these are the meeting materials for tomorrow..."
"Just put it there."
The chairman asked you how your decision was going...
"I told you, this is not negotiable."
As the footsteps drew closer, Zong Heng returned to the camera, his expression noticeably darker.
"What's wrong?" she asked cautiously.
"Nothing," he said, rubbing his temples. "It's just something from work."
Xu Ying didn't ask any further questions.
But she remembered that name—
Zong Zong.
He's already being called that.
3:17 a.m.
Xu Ying finally drifted off to sleep.
In her dream, she returned to her high school classroom. Zong Heng sat next to her, idly twirling his pen. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a fuzzy golden outline on him.
"Hey," he suddenly leaned closer, "how do you do this problem?"
She looked down and discovered that what was written on the paper wasn't a math problem at all—
"wait for me."
These two words were written repeatedly throughout the entire sheet of paper.
Xu Ying suddenly woke up with a start.
Outside the window, the sky was just beginning to lighten.
She touched her phone—
No missed calls, no new messages.
There was only one email notification sent at 4 AM:
"Your subscription to The Wall Street Journal has been updated..."
Xu Ying stared at the notice and suddenly smiled.
As I laughed, tears started falling.
Xu Ying stared at herself in the mirror, the two faint blue lines under her eyes standing out starkly against her fair skin.
She turned on the tap, scooped up a handful of cold water, and splashed it on her face, trying to clear her head. Water droplets slid down her cheeks, indistinguishable between tap water and uncontrollable tears.
The phone screen lit up briefly.
She practically lunged at it and grabbed it to look at it—
Class group: "The deadline for submitting design assignments is next week. Please pay attention to the time."
It wasn't him.
Xu Ying took a deep breath, threw her phone back onto the table, and with a loud "smack" because she didn't control the force well.
My roommate poked her head out from under the covers, still half asleep: "Yingying, you didn't sleep again last night?"
"I'm asleep." She forced a smile, picked up some concealer, and casually covered her dark circles. "I just didn't sleep well."
My roommate hesitated for a moment, then finally just sighed.
The design classroom faces the sun, and sunlight streams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making people feel drowsy.
Xu Ying forced herself to stare at the projection screen. The professor was explaining the matching techniques of the Morandi color scheme, and gray still life paintings flashed by on the slides.
"Low-saturation colors can create a sense of sophistication..."
Her pen tip unconsciously drew circles on the notebook, one after another, each stroke heavier than the last, until it finally tore through the page with a "snap".
The boy in the front row turned around and glanced at her.
Xu Ying slammed her notebook shut, looked up and pretended to listen attentively, but the professor's voice sounded muffled, as if it were through frosted glass.
Her gaze unconsciously drifted towards the window.
The sycamore trees by the playground rustled in the wind, just like the sports meet during my senior year of high school.
That day, Zong Heng was running the 3,000 meters when he suddenly fell on the last lap. Amidst gasps from the crowd, he struggled to his feet, crossed the finish line, and then collapsed into her arms.
"Why are you crying?" His hands were covered in scrapes, but he still had the strength to pinch her cheek. "I'm not dead."
Her hands trembled as she applied iodine to his eyelashes, but he grabbed her wrist tightly: "Xu Ying, the way your eyelashes look with tears on them..."
"What?"
"I really want to kiss him."
The sunlight in her memory overlapped with the sunlight at this moment, making her eyes sting.
"Xu Ying!" the professor suddenly raised his voice.
She flinched, and the chair legs scraped sharply against the floor. All eyes in the class turned to her.
"Please answer, what's wrong with the use of complementary colors in this painting?" The professor tapped on the projection screen.
The slides contained content she had never heard of before.
Xu Ying opened her mouth, but her throat felt like it was blocked with cotton. A few snickers came from the back row, and someone whispered, "Even the top student gets distracted."
Her nails dug into her palms.
"I……"
"The contrast in brightness between blue and orange is too strong."
A voice suddenly came from the doorway.
Everyone turned their heads.
Zhou Yubai leaned against the door frame, carrying a coffee, and smiled innocently: "Sorry, Professor, I'm late."
He was a well-known genius in the department, and it was said that he won an international design award in his freshman year. He never attended classes.
The professor frowned: "Come in. Xu Ying, pay attention next time."
She nodded stiffly and sat down, her heart still pounding.
Zhou Yubai walked straight to the empty seat next to her and put down a hot Americano: "Your dark circles are almost down to your mouth."
Xu Ying was stunned.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he shrugged, “you just look a lot like me when I’m rushing to finish a manuscript.”
The bitter aroma of coffee wafted over, and she suddenly remembered that Zong Heng hated Americano the most, saying it tasted like "cooking water".
When the bell rang, Xu Ying hurriedly packed her things to leave, but Zhou Yubai reached out and pressed down on her notebook.
“Your recent creative design work,” he said, twirling a pen between his fingers, “might need this.”
A business card was pushed towards me, with the contact information of the art director of a well-known publishing house printed on it.
"Why are you helping me?" She didn't answer.
Zhou Yubai tilted his head: "I heard you rejected my roommate?"
She then remembered that last month a boy had set up candles outside her dormitory to confess his love, but she rejected him because she "had a boyfriend."
“It’s not revenge.” He suddenly laughed. “I’m just curious what kind of girl could make a computer science genius cry until 3 a.m.
Xu Ying grabbed her schoolbag and left.
In the restroom stall, Xu Ying finally allowed herself to cry.
She bit her hand hard to stifle a sound, but tears still splattered onto her phone screen. In their chat history from three days ago, Zong Heng's last message was still that ridiculous sun emoji.
She opened her contacts, her finger hovering over the nickname "Bastard"—a nickname she had changed in a fit of pique after their argument last week.
Suddenly, a news notification popped up:
The young master of the Zong Group secretly meets with the daughter of the Lin family, spending three hours together at a California hotel.
The accompanying picture shows Zong Heng and a girl in a red dress walking side by side into an elevator, their backs to the camera.
Xu Ying's breathing stopped.
She clicked on the larger image with trembling hands.
Although it was just a glimpse of his back, the black trench coat was a birthday gift she gave him last year, and the cuffs even had her crookedly embroidered "ZH".
The news was released three hours ago, right in the middle of the night in California.
In other words, while she was suffering from insomnia and waiting for news, he was...
My phone suddenly vibrated; it was a call from an unknown number.
"Hello?" she answered, sniffling.
"Xu Ying".
Zong Heng's voice came through with static, and there was a muffled English broadcast in the background.
Her tears instantly burst forth.
"You saw the news?" he asked directly.
Xu Ying gripped her phone tightly, her nails almost digging into the case: "Do you need me to congratulate you?"
The sound of a lighter came from the other end of the phone, and Zong Heng seemed to take a drag of his cigarette: "That's Director Lin's daughter, a project partner. There were six other senior executives in the elevator; the photo was deliberately cropped."
Why didn't you tell me beforehand?
"I just found out I was being secretly filmed." His tone was unusually anxious. "Xu Ying, do you believe me?"
She looked at her disheveled reflection in the mirror: dark circles under her eyes, swollen and red eyes, and her lips twitching from suppressed sobs.
"I don't know," she said softly.
How absurd! She's here shedding tears for love, while reality is like a melodramatic soap opera, with everyone acting.
She turned on the tap and buried her entire face in the icy water.
It was already dark when I left the teaching building.
Xu Ying felt a hard object in her bag—it was a business card that Zhou Yubai had slipped in when she wasn't looking.
She hesitated for a moment, then dialed the number.
"Hello, I'd like to take on some freelance graphic design work."
After hanging up the phone, she deleted all of Zong Heng's photos from her phone.
Including the screensaver of him wearing the trench coat she embroidered, turning back and smiling in the sunlight.
Outside the window, the night was deep.
Xu Ying curled up on the bed, burying her face in her knees.
Was she too harsh? Zong Heng was clearly exhausted; she shouldn't have pushed him like that…
But those anxieties and fears, those agonizing nights spent staring at the phone screen, those bittersweet feelings of seeing others in pairs—
She just missed him too much.
My phone suddenly vibrated.
Xu Ying suddenly looked up; a new message popped up on the screen—
Zong Heng: "Don't move, look out the window."
Her heart suddenly started racing.
Almost stumbling, Xu Ying rushed to the window and yanked open the curtains—
A familiar figure stood downstairs in the dormitory building.
Zong Heng was wearing that black trench coat, the hem of which was fluttering in the night wind. He held his phone in one hand, the other hand in his pocket, looking up at her window.
The moonlight shone on him, outlining his tall and straight figure.
Their eyes met in mid-air, three floors apart.
Xu Ying's tears welled up instantly.
She saw Zong Heng say something into his phone.
The next second, her screen lit up—
Zong Heng: "Now, I admit my mistake to your face."
She didn't even have time to change her shoes; she rushed out of the dormitory in her slippers.
The moment I pushed open the door, a night breeze rushed in, carrying the coolness of early autumn.
Zong Heng had already strode down the steps, and just as she stumbled down, he opened his arms and caught her steadily.
His embrace carried the chill of the night wind, yet was surprisingly hot.
“Are you crazy?” Her voice trembled as she pounded her fist on his shoulder. “Aren’t you in California?”
"I flew back as soon as the meeting ended." He tightened his arms around her, buried his head in her neck, and said in a hoarse voice, "It was a twelve-hour flight, and I didn't sleep a wink."
Xu Ying froze.
She then noticed that Zong Heng still looked tired from the long flight. His eyes were bloodshot, and under his trench coat was a wrinkled shirt with coffee stains on the cuffs.
“You…” she choked up.
Zong Heng lifted her face and gently wiped away her tears with his fingertips.
“Xu Ying, you’re right,” he said in a low voice. “I’m the bastard.”
His thumb caressed her cheek, his focused gaze sending shivers down her spine.
"If I lose contact again..." she said in a muffled voice.
“There won’t be a next time.” He interrupted her, pressing his forehead against hers. “I promise.”
Then, he lowered his head and kissed him.
At 5:30 a.m., before the sky was fully light, the airport lights cast a cold white glow in the thin mist.
Xu Ying stood in front of the check-in counter, her fingers unconsciously twisting the cuffs of Zong Heng's trench coat. The coat he had worn last night was now wrapped around her, its wide hem hanging above her knees, the cuffs still retaining a faint trace of his cold aura.
"Can't we really stay one more day?" she asked, her head down, her voice muffled.
Zong Heng was confirming the rebooking with the ground staff when he heard this and turned to look at her.
The bloodshot in his eyes was more pronounced than the night before, and a layer of bluish stubble appeared on his chin. He exuded an air of utter exhaustion. Yet, when his gaze fell upon her, he still unconsciously curled the corners of his lips into a slight smile.
"The board will make a final vote this afternoon." He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, his fingertips brushing against her slightly cool cheek. "The old man deliberately chose to do it when I wasn't around, so I have to go back and clean up the mess."
Xu Ying pursed her lips. She knew what this project meant to Zong Heng—it was his first bargaining chip to break free from his father's control.
The ground staff handed back the boarding pass: "Sir, the next flight is at 7:20. You need to go through security now."
Zong Heng nodded, but when he turned around, he found that his sleeve was still being held tightly.
Xu Ying herself didn't seem to realize the movement until he raised an eyebrow at her, at which point she let go as if burned. Just a second before her fingertips left the fabric, she was suddenly grabbed by his large hand.
"Hey." He squeezed her cool fingertips. "Who said last night that if you kept doing this, you'd never talk to me again?"
Her ears burned as she recalled the harsh words she had uttered while sobbing uncontrollably.
"That's different..."
"How are they different?"
“You went missing because of work, and now you’re doing this because of me…” Her voice trailed off, “…disrupting important matters.”
Zong Heng suddenly laughed.
He pulled her into his arms, and as he lowered his head, his lips brushed against the top of her head: "Xu Ying, you are more important than any important matter."
These words, like a bittersweet candy, unexpectedly struck her heart.
Xu Ying buried her face in his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. He was only wearing a black shirt underneath, which he had hastily put on last night before rushing to see her, and he had even buttoned the top button wrong.
She reached out to help him tidy up, but he grabbed her wrist.
"Don't move." His voice suddenly became a little hoarse. "If you touch it again, you really won't be able to walk."
Xu Ying froze, belatedly realizing the change in his body temperature.
As morning light streamed through the French windows, she saw his Adam's apple bob, and a familiar darkness welled up in his eyes.
The announcement began urging passengers to board.
Zong Heng released her, took a small box out of his pocket, and put it in her hand: "I was going to send this to you."
Xu Ying opened it and found a thin silver chain with a pendant that was a hollowed-out cherry blossom with a tiny diamond embedded in the stamen.
“I saw this in San Francisco last month. It looked like you.” He said casually, but he was carefully watching her expression. “If you don’t like it, just throw it away.”
She carefully touched the petal and suddenly noticed tiny letters engraved on the back—ZHXY.
His fingertips suddenly curled up.
"Shall I help you put it on?"
He walked around behind her, and when his fingers brushed against the back of her neck, Xu Ying trembled slightly.
The moment the metal chain touched her skin, he suddenly lowered his head and kissed the small protruding bone in her cervical spine.
Warm, humid, fleeting.
“Wear it.” His breath tickled her ear. “I want to check it next time we meet.”
There was a long queue at the security checkpoint.
Zong Heng had his boarding pass in his mouth and was searching for his passport. Xu Ying suddenly noticed a scabbed wound on the back of his left hand, as if he had been cut by something sharp.
What happened to your hand?
He glanced at her in the direction of her gaze, then smiled nonchalantly: "The lab equipment exploded the day before yesterday, just a minor injury."
Xu Ying gasped. So, the reason she was out of contact for those two days was because she was injured?
Before she could press for an answer, Zong Heng grabbed her chin and shook it. "Don't overthink it, it was really an accident." He paused, then added, "I didn't tell you because..."
"I was afraid I'd worry," she said for him, her eyes welling up with tears again.
The team moved forward very quickly.
Zong Heng stood outside the yellow line and suddenly pulled a card from his wallet and stuffed it into her pocket: "The password is your birthday."
Xu Ying pulled it out as if she'd been burned: "I don't want it!"
“It’s not for you.” He held her hand, a sly glint in his eyes. “Keep it safe for me. If the old man freezes my assets, this will be our elopement fund.”
She glared at him: "Who wants to elope with you!"
"Then why are you running now?" He smiled as he watched her take a half-step back. "Xu Ying, your ears are red."
At the last security checkpoint, Zong Heng suddenly turned around and strode back.
Amidst the surprised gazes of the staff, he grasped the back of Xu Ying's head and kissed her firmly.
The kiss, tinged with the bitterness of coffee and the restlessness of a sleepless night, forcefully pried open her teeth. Xu Ying tasted a faint metallic tang of blood on his lips—the wound she had bitten the night before hadn't healed.
"Remember this." As they parted, he brushed his thumb heavily across her wet lower lip. "You're mine. Don't pay any attention to those losers who send you love letters."
Only after Zong Heng's figure disappeared at the end of the security checkpoint did Xu Ying slowly raise her hand to touch the necklace between her collarbones.
The metal had been warmed by her body heat.
She suddenly remembered the chain he had given her in the pouring rain on the day she graduated from high school. Back then, he had said, "Wait for me," and now, he said, "Wear it."
My phone vibrated; a new message had arrived.
Zong Heng: "We've reached the boarding gate. Go back to sleep, don't skip class."
Then another one:
Zong Heng: "PS: You look great in my clothes."
Xu Ying wrapped her trench coat tighter around herself and turned to walk out of the airport.
The morning mist was dissipating, and the first rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds. She took out the bank card from her pocket and found a note stuck to the back, with Zong Heng's scrawled handwriting on it:
"Xu Ying, wait for me to come back and marry you."
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