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墨書 Inktalez
The night before, I couldn't sleep.
Lying on the soft bed in the hotel, I tossed and turned, my mind replaying the scenes from the past few days like a movie.
His cold gaze, the subtle gestures he made to help me out without drawing attention, his deep voice on the phone, and that meaningful glance we shared during rehearsal just earlier.
My heart felt like it was on a rollercoaster, rising and falling restlessly.
The misunderstanding from three years ago had been resolved, but new confusion had emerged.
What exactly were his feelings towards me?
The sensation that hovered between distance and intimacy was driving me mad.
I irritably grabbed my phone, seeking something to distract myself.
I opened WeChat and saw the name I had recently added, quietly resting in my contacts list.
Should I… say something to him?
Ask him?
No, that wouldn’t do.
It would seem too deliberate, as if I cared too much.
I did… care a little.
Admit it, Xia Wan.
Even after three years, even though he had once “hurt” you, you still couldn’t fully let go of your feelings for him.
It wasn’t just because of that ruined show; it was also about those genuine moments from our youth—those fluttering feelings and dependencies that once existed.
We used to be the best of friends, the best of partners.
The first person to see my design sketches was always him.
I was always the loudest cheerleader at his basketball games.
We skipped classes to watch movies together, pulled all-nighters studying in the library, and shared secret snacks…
Those memories were as vivid as if they had just happened yesterday.
But how did we end up here?
Misunderstandings, time, distance…
And our damn pride and stubbornness towards each other.
My phone screen lit up with a notification—a push message from a fashion account.
It was a preview about Ran, with an eye-catching title: “Top Supermodel Ran Lands in Paris to Support Rising Designer Xia; Former Golden Couple Reunites on Stage—A Century-Long Reconciliation or Unresolved Feelings?”
Accompanying it was a photo of us at the media preview event.
He stood in front while I stood behind him, at a distance that felt neither too far nor too close.
The angle of the photo was perfect; it surprisingly captured an inexplicable sense of chemistry between us.
The comments section was in chaos.
"Wow! I've never seen anything like this! Lance is actually walking the runway for a domestic designer?"
"Who is this designer Xia? Must have an impressive background to get Lance on board!"
"Is the person above using a village internet connection? Xia Wan, the one who got stood up at the Graduation Show three years ago, and supposedly the model back then was Ran!"
"What?! Is there really such a story? Please share more details!"
"So, is this some kind of script about rekindling old flames? I'm all in!"
"Come on, what status does Lance have now? Coming back to walk for his ex-girlfriend (?)? Is this charity?"
"Heh, I think he can't forget his old love and wants to have a second chance."
"Refuse to be tied down! Take my Lance away! Isn't it better for the beautiful designer to shine alone?"
I looked at those messy comments, my temples throbbing.
These media outlets really thrive on drama.
What golden couple, what century reconciliation, what rekindled romance...
They wrote it all as if they were more invested than I was.
I irritably turned off my phone and tossed it aside.
Out of sight, out of mind.
But the voices in my head wouldn't stop.
Am I still troubled by it?
It seems... there’s really a bit of that feeling.
What if those misunderstandings hadn’t happened back then?
Would we have ended up together smoothly?
Would he have been by my side, watching me step by step realize my dream of becoming a designer?
Would I have been there for him as he grew from a naive boy into an international supermodel?
There are no "what ifs."
Time cannot turn back.
We can’t go back.
I got up from the bed and walked to the window, pulling aside the heavy curtains.
The night view of Paris was beautiful.
The Eiffel Tower sparkled softly in the distance.
The Seine River flowed like a silver ribbon, winding its way through the city.
This city holds countless dreams and ambitions.
It has witnessed countless meetings and farewells.
Tomorrow, this place will be my battlefield.
I can no longer be disturbed by those past emotions. Xia Wan, wake up. You came to Paris for your designs, for your career. Not to be entangled with Ran.
I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. I pulled out my phone and found Ran's number. I typed out a message. "Good luck tomorrow." After a moment of thought, I deleted it. It felt too deliberate.
I rephrased it. "See you at the show." I clicked send. Message sent successfully. Then, I turned off my phone, locking away all distractions inside it.
I returned to bed, forcing myself to close my eyes. Sleep now, Xia Wan. Rest well, for tomorrow you will fight a beautiful battle. Give a resounding slap to all those waiting to see you fail, and also give a perfect explanation to yourself for the three years of perseverance.
As for Ran... let's talk about that after the show ends. If there’s even a future to discuss.
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