Back at the hotel, the door clicked shut behind them.
Yike paused, leaned in slightly, catching a trace of the night still clinging to himself. He frowned faintly, then said,
"I'm going to shower."
"Okay. I'll tidy up a bit," Susu replied.
She walked slowly to the vanity, removing her watch, rings, earrings—placing them down one by one.
Yike slipped off his shoes, changed into slippers, opened the bathroom door, and stepped inside. The sound of running water followed.
About half an hour later, they were both done.
Yike came out and, without thinking, returned to the bed, pulling the blanket over himself. From there, he watched Susu's reflection in the mirror.
"Are you going to shower?" he asked.
Before she could answer, he added casually,
"Though it's fine if you don't. I don't mind."
Susu laughed—half amused, half helpless.
"I showered before I went out."
She turned off the light and walked over.
The bedside lamp cast a soft, dim glow.
They held each other tightly. The restraint they'd carried all day finally slipped away, and their kisses found each other naturally—inevitable, unguarded.
Somewhere between heat and tenderness, Yike whispered,
"I love you."
"I love you too," she answered.
They murmured words meant only for each other, voices low, breaths tangled. When emotion crested, Susu couldn't help a soft, unguarded sound.
Yike looked at her, eyes dark with feeling.
"Mine…" he murmured. "You're beautiful. I love hearing your voice. I love you."
"I love you too," she replied softly. "I love being with you…"
They were completely lost in each other.
By the time the night thinned into early morning, they lay tangled together—spent, content—falling asleep in each other's arms.
At eight in the morning, Yike's alarm went off.
Just like the days before, he moved quietly—washing up, getting dressed, careful not to wake her fully. Before leaving, he leaned down and kissed Susu's forehead.
"I'm heading to work. I'll text you when I get there."
Susu opened her eyes, still hazy with sleep.
"Okay."
She got up and walked him to the door.
There, Yike kissed her lips, then pulled her into a brief hug.
"I'm going. Sleep a little longer."
"Okay."
As she watched him walk away, a sudden wave of loneliness crept into her chest.
I'm leaving today, she murmured to herself.
Susu didn't go back to sleep.
Her flight was at three in the afternoon. She began packing instead.
As she folded her clothes, her phone chimed.
I'm at the office, Yike texted.
Okay.
A while later:
You're flying back to Guangzhou today, right? What time? Send me the flight number.
Yeah. 3 p.m. ZH1111.
I can't get away from work today, so I won't be able to see you off.
It's okay. I'm not really into goodbyes anyway.
There was a brief pause.
…Alright. How are you getting there? Taxi or subway?
I've booked a car.
Okay. Safe travels. I'll get back to work. Message me when you reach the airport.
Okay.
Suddenly, Susu remembered sni.
By the way—how much was sni last night? I'll transfer you.
You still thought about that?
It's only fair. We went together—it shouldn't all be on you.
Yike sent a screenshot. Susu transferred the money.
Alright, thanks. If I'm ever in Guangzhou, it's on me.
Okay.
She stared at the screen.
Next time?
Will there even be one?
Maybe this really was the last time.
Maybe that was all this ever was.
Her heart felt oddly split—both hopeful and resigned.
Maybe these three days were nothing more than a brief encounter. And maybe that was enough. Wanting more would only invite pain.
To meet someone so emotionally and physically in sync at this age—perhaps that alone was already a gift. One less regret to carry.
It was a pity.
We were never meant to have a future.
She ordered takeout, ate quietly, and finished packing.
At 2:30 p.m., her ride notification arrived.
Susu shouldered her backpack, pulled out the key card, and paused as she closed the door.
She suddenly remembered Yike's surprised expression.
You only brought a backpack?
Yeah. Easier that way.
She smiled faintly, then returned to the present.
Downstairs, she checked out. The car was already waiting.
She stepped outside the hotel and turned back for one last look.
"Goodbye," she said softly.
Then she got into the car.
It pulled away, heading toward the airport.
Security went smoothly.
Only after passing through did she notice the delay—departure pushed back to five.
She laughed quietly, helpless.
Finding a row of empty seats, she chose the middle one and sat down, then took out her phone.
I'm at the airport. The flight's delayed.
Yike replied instantly.
What? How long?
Until five.
That's pretty late. You didn't have to rush. Don't wear yourself out.
I'm okay. Used to it. Sitting now. You busy?
Not really. Just pretending to work.
They chatted slowly, drifting into more private territory—small confessions, shared preferences, quiet intimacy carried through text.
Around five, the flight was delayed again.
Susu wandered through the airport shops. About an hour later, boarding was finally announced.
She checked her phone.
Half an hour earlier, Yike had messaged:
? Have you boarded? Hope you have a safe flight.
Ten minutes later:
You must've boarded by now.
She replied:
Boarding now. Lining up.
Remembering what he'd said about liking high heels, she sent him a photo—a pair she'd worn before. Green, strappy, sharp-toed.
??? he replied immediately. The app showed 4:30 departure—I thought you'd already taken off. You scared me.
They look great, he added.
His messages kept coming. He'd thought she'd already flown—worried, half-panicked, even imagining the worst.
Susu smiled.
If I got kidnapped, I'd ask you for help.
Mm-hmm.
Airport Wi-Fi's terrible. Messages keep dropping.
It's okay. Have a safe trip.
Okay, Yike.
Hm?
I'm really glad I met you. I really am.
She sent a small I love you emoji.
Heh. I love you too.
Susu looked at the screen.
Maybe once she returned to Guangzhou, they wouldn't talk anymore.
These three days—like fireworks. Brilliant, fleeting.
She told herself it was just an experience. So why did her heart still stir? Why did it resist letting go?
Did she love Yike?
Maybe she did.
She switched her phone to airplane mode.
The plane rolled slowly down the runway and lifted into the sky.
It carried Susu's body away—
but it felt as though her heart remained in Suzhou.