Chapter 122 A Perfect Match
The phone vibrated in his pocket, the buzzing sound pulling Huo Yanli back to reality from his daze.
He pulled out his phone and saw a message from Ji Yun: "Same place tonight? Want to grab a drink with us guys? (Take care.jpg)"
Huo Yanli looked at the message, then glanced up at the security checkpoint where Song Zhiyi had disappeared. A different group of passengers had already arrived, bustling about as if the brief yet earth-shattering conversation had never happened.
But his state of mind had been completely transformed.
He lowered his head, his fingers rapidly typing on the screen, replying to Ji Yun. The lingering smile on his lips widened slightly. With an almost declarative solemnity, he typed:
"I'm not drinking anymore. We made a ten-year promise."
The message has been sent.
Almost immediately, Ji Yun called. Huo Yanli answered, but before he could even put the phone to his ear, he heard Ji Yun's voice rise on the other end, filled with disbelief:
"Holy crap! What the hell? A ten-year agreement? Huo Yanli, are you alright? Did you suffer from shock and hallucinate? Or did Song Zhiyi cast some kind of spell on you? Ten years?! How many decades do you have in a lifetime, bro?!"
Huo Yanli held the phone a little further away from his ear, and only after Ji Yun finished her rapid-fire shouting did he calmly bring it closer again, his tone carrying a rare, even "pleasant," certainty:
“That’s what she said.” He paused, then added, “‘If we’re still here ten years from now, and haven’t changed, maybe we can give it a try.’ That was her exact quote.”
There was an instant silence on the other end of the phone. Not even a breath could be heard.
After a full seven or eight seconds, Ji Yun's voice rang out again, no longer a roar, but a complex tone that mixed shock, absurdity, emotion, and finally, complete acceptance, each word seeming to be squeezed out from between his teeth:
"...You two...are a perfect match."
A perfect match of stubbornness, a perfect match of clarity, a perfect match of... being able to turn a relationship into a strategic wait full of uncertainty, measured in decades.
"One dared to propose, and the other dared to respond." Ji Yun muttered to himself on the other end, as if digesting this unbelievable information. "Ten years... Goodness, I thought you were tough enough to endure the previous few years, but I didn't expect there was something even tougher waiting for you. Yanli, this isn't dating, it's like investing in a pre-IPO stock that may or may not go public! The risk rating must be 'hell level'!"
Huo Yanli listened to his friend's complaints, but instead of being annoyed, his smile deepened. He gazed out the window at the planes taking off and landing on the airport runway, his eyes fixed on the distance.
“She deserves it,” he said simply, without any hesitation or wavering in his tone.
Ji Yun remained silent for a while on the other end of the phone, and finally let out a long, long sigh.
"Alright. Whatever makes you happy." Ji Yun's tone became serious. "But seriously, Yanli, ten years... there are too many variables. Don't really tie yourself to this tree. You have to look forward. Didn't she say that you should go and live your own life when you meet the right person?"
“I know,” Huo Yanli replied. He certainly knew there were many variables and that the road ahead was long. But some ideas, once taken root, could never be eradicated.
After hanging up the phone, Huo Yanli walked towards the parking lot. He opened the car door, sat in the driver's seat, and took out a worn leather wallet from the inside pocket of his coat. Inside, he found a Polaroid photo.
It was a snapshot taken many years ago at a family gathering. In the photo, Song Zhiyi is sitting next to Grandpa Huo, listening attentively to what the old man is saying, with a faint but genuine smile on her lips. Sunlight streams through the window, bathing her in a soft glow.
He found this photo in his grandfather's photo album, secretly hid it, and has always carried it with him.
His fingertips gently brushed across her cheek in the photo, a tender gesture.
ten years.
He silently repeated it to himself once more.
Then, he put away his wallet, fastened his seatbelt, and started the car.
The engine hummed softly as it carried him away from the airport and into the traffic of Beijing's winter evening.
A long and unknown decade lies ahead.
But the light in his heart, lit for someone, no longer just illuminated his lonely vigil, but faintly shone towards a distant road that might intersect.
That's enough.
That's enough to sustain him; he can continue waiting.
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