Zhi Han barely slept.
She lay awake beneath silk sheets, staring at the ceiling as memories pressed in—lanterns, laughter, the sound of music fading as two figures slipped away from watchful eyes.
The night market…
Back then, they had moved through crowds hand in hand, stealing warmth and freedom beneath borrowed cloaks.
If she goes to the night market, Zhi Han thought, maybe she'll remember.
Before doubt could stop her, Zhi Han reached for her phone.
Zhi Han:
Do you want to accompany me to the night market? I heard there's a lot of tasty food there. If you're free.
She stared at the message for a long moment after sending it.
Then she set the phone down, exhaustion finally claiming her as she drifted into sleep—waiting.
That afternoon, Xin Ying sat at her desk, red pen in hand, surrounded by stacks of assignments.
"Why do they all hate math…" she muttered, sighing.
Her phone vibrated.
She glanced at it.
Zhi Han.
Xin Ying paused.
Night market?
For a brief moment, suspicion flickered in her eyes. Why is she suddenly asking me out?
Then her gaze softened.
Food.
She hadn't been to a night market in ages—too busy with work, too tired to wander after dark.
Xin Ying smiled faintly and typed her reply.
Xin Ying:
Sure. I'm free.
The moment she sent it—
A flash.
Lanterns swaying.
A woman laughing beside her.
Warm fingers tugging her forward.
The image vanished as quickly as it came.
Xin Ying frowned.
"Why does this feel… familiar?" she murmured.
Her chest tightened slightly, an ache she couldn't name.
She shook her head. "I'm overthinking."
She returned to grading, pen moving faster now, thoughts drifting not to students—but to glowing stalls, sizzling food, and the strange warmth she felt whenever Zhi Han's name appeared on her screen.
At least the food will be good, she thought.
Outside, the afternoon light shifted.
And somewhere deep within Xin Ying, a memory stirred—waiting for the right moment to wake.
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