Chapter 7: "Please, Just Talk to Me"
"……"
Suppressing my wildly beating heart, I mustered the courage to walk toward him. Though the distance was short, I walked slowly, fully aware that every gaze in the office, including Liang Zhiting’s, was fixed on me.
I was right—he really had come looking for me.
But why?
Despite several people crowding around him, as I approached, he squeezed through the group and stood before me, gently asking, “Hello, do you remember me?”
How could I forget?
My heart felt like it would leap from my throat. Excitement flushed my entire face, but my lips were sealed tight—I couldn’t say a word. Helpless, I could only nod vigorously.
Seeing this, Liang Zhiting smiled slightly, revealing that cute little fang of his, adding a touch of playfulness to his gentle demeanor. He handed me a cup of milk tea, saying, “Sorry about yesterday. Are you free? I’d like to invite you to lunch.”
The milk tea was still warm. I stood there stunned as my soul was drawn away by him.
Even though every word he spoke was perfectly clear Chinese, I couldn’t understand the meaning of his invitation.
Why suddenly invite me to lunch?
Until yesterday, he hadn’t paid any attention to me. Wait… could he still be feeling awkward about bumping into me?
It was such a trivial thing—most people would just say sorry and forget it. Only someone as kind-hearted as him would feel guilty.
What should I do? I liked him even more now.
He noticed I was holding the milk tea silently, waving his hand in front of me. I snapped out of my daze.
“Are you free?” he asked again.
I gripped the tea cup bag tightly until it crinkled—this might be my only chance for close contact with Liang Zhiting. If I missed it, there might never be another. Flustered, I nodded rapidly, “Y-yes!”
His eyes curved in a smile. “Then let’s go.”
He took me to a Thai restaurant on the second floor, sitting across from me.
The place was packed at lunch hour. Amid the noisy crowd, my ears felt strangely quiet.
I never imagined I’d one day have a meal alone at the same table with him.
The table was small—I could reach out and touch him. He was within arm’s reach.
“What would you like to eat?” he asked, holding the menu, soliciting my opinion.
I stammered and bit my tongue. “A-anything.”
“I’ll order for you then. The curry crab here is pretty good. Do you eat seafood?”
I quickly replied, “Yes.”
Not just crab—under these circumstances, I could even eat stones without flinching.
Liang Zhiting lowered his gaze to the menu; his long eyelashes cast delicate half-moon shadows as he blinked softly.
I remembered that back in school, before he knew me, I’d quietly observe what he ordered at the cafeteria, then order the same secretly, savoring each dish in a dark corner.
Now he was right in front of me, recommending his favorite dishes. How could such a wonderful thing be real?
I knew I shouldn’t look at him so openly, but I couldn’t control my eyes. When he unexpectedly looked up and caught my almost rude stare, I hurriedly looked away, pretending calm, though my heart was a chaotic mess. I feared he might get angry, but he only smiled softly and said nothing.
I dared not steal another glance.
Any irritation could ruin this rare meal.
After ordering, the waiter brought us two glasses of lemon water. Liang Zhiting thanked the server and gave me one.
Seeing me still clutching the unopened milk tea, he tapped the table with a smile, “Why hold the milk tea all the time? Aren’t your hands tired? Put it down; drink whenever you want.”
My ears burned. Obediently, I stiffly set the tea aside.
Then silence settled on our small table.
I didn’t know how to start a conversation; would he think I was dull? While I was pondering topics, he took the initiative.
“By the way, I don’t know your name yet.”
“Nan Li.”
“That’s a rare surname, a nice name,” he praised, then asked, “What ‘Li’? The ‘Separation’ Li?”
I shook my head. Without pen or paper to show him, I said, “It’s a kind of plant.”
He nodded and smiled, instinctively repeating my name twice: “Nan Li, Nan Li.”
That nearly made me lose all sense. I’d always thought my name was strange and awkward, but today not only did he praise it as beautiful, he said it aloud—and his voice made it so captivating.
I pinched the flesh on my thigh resting on my lap, forcing myself to stay calm, or I might have rushed to hug him.
Liang Zhiting was completely unaware of the wild fantasies swirling in my mind. He introduced himself: “I’m Liang Zhiting.”
He probably thought I didn’t know who he was.
If he knew my bedroom walls were covered with his photos, or that I even had a life-sized doll made in his image, I wonder if he’d be scared of this weirdo.
After six years of spying, this mouse finally crawled out of the mud and brushed against his feet.
If I’d known I could just say hello like this, I surely would have staged that coffee collision earlier.
With Liang Zhiting by my side, the meal intoxicated me—I could even find plain water too sweet.
Through the restaurant’s glass windows, our shadows reflected—one handsome, refined, elegant; the other gloomy, harsh, and rough. We looked like two utterly disconnected people.
Many recognized Liang Zhiting, so our unusual pairing drew curious glances as people wondered why someone like me would accompany him.
I felt ashamed and lowered my head further, but Liang Zhiting remained composed, seemingly oblivious.
When the meal ended and we left the restaurant, I still held the milk tea he’d given me.
No matter how reluctant, it was time to part.
Before leaving, he suddenly offered his phone. “Let’s add each other on WeChat.”
I wondered if I might die tomorrow—why was today full of such happiness? Was this my farewell feast before I left this world?
A meal alone was already unprecedented; now exchanging contact info suggested a future connection.
Without hesitation, I fumbled to pull out my phone, fearing he’d change his mind.
After successfully adding him, he waved goodbye. “Take care. Let’s meet again.”
…
Again.
Again! He said again—there was a next time!
Back at work, I stared at his new contact in my list, stunned.
His avatar was a Doberman wearing sunglasses. I looked at it for a long time and pinned it to the top so I could see him whenever I opened WeChat.
The whole afternoon, those words “let’s meet again” distracted me; I stared blankly at my screen, unable to focus. Finally, I couldn’t resist and sneakily browsed his Moments.
He’d restricted it to three days’ visibility, so there was only one post. No text—just two red heart emojis and a photo, taken from his point of view in a dim bar. Empty glasses were on the table, and in the lower left corner, two hands intertwined—his and a woman’s nails perfectly manicured, impressive. Both wore matching rings on their middle fingers.
Snap! I flipped my phone down, out of sight.
That post was him showing off love with his fiancée.
Liang Zhiting and I had no mutual friends, so I couldn’t see comments, but I knew there must be plenty of well-wishes.
During lunch, Liang Zhiting held empty hands, and I momentarily forgot he was about to marry. Now, remembering made my stomach churn and nearly throw up.
I was truly… asking for pain.
When work ended in a daze, a colleague asked about my connection with Liang Zhiting, surprised I had anything to do with him.
I couldn’t avoid it and briefly explained the coffee shop incident, then left before more questions.
At home, I hugged the doll waiting by the door, wrapping my arms around its neck and clutching it tightly.
“You spoke to me today, even called my name,” I whispered excitedly, kissing its ear. “Your voice is so beautiful.”
The milk tea went into the fridge. I didn’t plan to drink it—wanted to keep it as a memento.
Photos had hung in my room for years; they always lifted my mood. But today, looking at them, the emptiness inside grew.
Photos were photos.
Nothing compared to the real thing.
I picked up the photo on my bedside, gazed at the sparkling Liang Zhiting.
I regretted not recording him. I wished I could hear him call my name again.
But this was good enough.
At least I had his WeChat, and he’d said “let’s meet again”—before, I wouldn’t have dared dream that.
I opened his WeChat and, unthinkingly, checked his Moments—but the single post was gone.
I froze for a second, then felt disappointment, sadness, and anger.
He had blocked me.
If he didn’t want me seeing his Moments, why add me? And why say “let’s meet again”?
…
Right, everyone knows “next time” is just polite adult talk.
His inviting me to lunch, buying me milk tea, adding me—they were all because of that spilled coffee yesterday.
I, a lowly nobody, would embarrass anyone who walked beside me. How could he have wanted a real connection? It had to be his upbringing and good manners making him do it—he’d come looking for me purely out of guilt.
A simple truth I should have accepted long ago.
Yes.
Yes.
What foolish hopes had I clung to?
Angry, I raised the photo frame to smash it, paused for two seconds, then reluctantly set it down.
I gasped for breath, forcing calm, then turned to the doll trailing behind me.
It was beautiful and silent, simply watching.
“Come here.”
It approached. I tilted my head to look at its face, indistinguishable from Liang Zhiting’s. After a moment, I pulled its head down for a kiss.
I only meant to brush its lips, but after a moment, anger flared again. I opened my mouth and bit it hard, lucky for it its tongue wasn’t real flesh or it’d be torn apart.
Its lips gleamed wet from my bite.
It didn’t feel pain—just looked blankly, seeming puzzled by my sudden mood swings.
Dejected, I lowered my head and hugged it tightly, resting my head on its neck, murmuring, “Can you say my name once?”
That doll maker said it had a chip with code inside—that when I opened it, it was just lines of programming. I felt helpless, wanting to fix it but unable.
If only it could speak, so I could vent my feelings.
Right now, I desperately wanted to hear one comforting word, no matter who said it.
“A-Ting, please… just talk to me.”
Author’s Note:
Nan Li: Honey! Say something!
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