During the first days of Junmyeon’s stay with Yixing, he continued asking about the last seven years of his life. Even if he didn’t quite connect with his old self yet, he was curious about him despite the risk of finding out things that made him disappointed. Junmyeon wanted to know what he had been like, the things he had achieved, what qualities he used to have.

But Junmyeon never asked more than what he already knew about his and Yixing’s former relationship. He didn’t want to find out who initiated the first move, their first date, who kissed who, who said I love you first. Asking that was a burden to him because he couldn’t, and most likely would never remember any of it. He felt guilty. Besides, asking Yixing to narrate all those happenings may hurt him. Knowing that they had been together briefly in their eighteens, and what Yixing told him at the hospital was enough.

However, keeping track of all the memories and facts overwhelmed him. Junmyeon should have been clever and asked questions in chronological order, but he didn’t think about it. Instead, he uttered the first things that came up to his mind. And that resulted in a clutter of remembrances, a state of confusion, and disarrayed timelines. Junmyeon wondered if Yixing was tired of sometimes having to repeat the same story.

Yixing’s suggested that they should keep a journal of Junmyeon’s memories, after seeing him frustrated. The doctor had said this method usually helped anterograde amnesiacs but could be just as helpful to Junmyeon. It would be like writing Junmyeon’s autobiography, a book that he could read whenever he wanted (and without bothering Yixing). Junmyeon thought it was a brilliant idea. Maybe writing this book of memories would make it easier for him to reconnect with his old self.

So, they began documenting Junmyeon’s life, Yixing narrating what he remembered and Junmyeon writing in his notebook. They started from when they had met in high-school. But they omitted the parts of their brief first relationship. Junmyeon didn’t want to ask about it, and Yixing rarely told him things he didn't ask for. 

Junmyeon could finally put a name to the faces he saw in the photo album. Byun Baekhyun, Park Chanyeol, Oh Sehun, he learned many things about them and their connection. But more guilt filled Junmyeon when he found out why he and his cousin Sehun had been very close.

Yixing didn’t know much about the matter, but what he told Junmyeon was that when Sehun was ten, his mother got diagnosed with a terminal disease. While the family made sure to help Sehun’s mother and father, Junmyeon, despite being only a year older, watched out for Sehun, and took care of him. He was always there to keep Sehun company. And Sehun had always been thankful for Junmyeon’s care.

Junmyeon didn’t dare to call Sehun and ask him to explain the story further. He knew it was a sensitive topic and would open old wounds. Junmyeon had lost those memories and the meaning they had held for his and Sehun’s relationship. And while Sehun still cared about him, Junmyeon somewhat saw him as a stranger. After all, he and Sehun had only spoken on the phone once. For Junmyeon they had never met. Thus, he felt guilty despite nothing being his fault.

While they wrote the book of memories, Junmyeon managed to fix his finances and get a new card from his bank. He could pay Yixing back for the hospital fees. But Yixing was reluctant to accept the rest of the money for his other expenses. He said he had never expected anything in return for helping Junmyeon, especially not money. Junmyeon didn’t feel it was correct. What followed was a long but well-mannered debate, that ended with them agreeing Junmyeon would also contribute to buying the household items from then on.

Junmyeon wanted to use part of his savings to furnish and renovate his apartment. He knew he had to live there again soon, but this time he wanted to make sure it was a welcoming, habitable place. He wanted to eradicate that eeriness he felt the first time he had been there. First and foremost, he needed to buy more furniture and other things. Junmyeon also wanted to renovate his bathroom and bedroom, the ugly teal color of those rooms appalled him. When he had told Yixing his idea, Yixing looked momentarily sad. It was sadness that didn’t merge with his usual dimpled smile, a brief wretchedness that made Junmyeon wonder if Yixing still had feelings for him. Junmyeon didn’t ask him that, though.

One night, Junmyeon finally decided to visit Yixing’s restaurant. He had been invited countless times for the last two weeks, but he had always refused. The idea of going there felt intrusive. He would probably feel the same intrusion he felt being at Yixing’s apartment because he wondered what kind of memories the two had shared there before. Memories that Yixing might hold dear but Junmyeon didn’t wish to know about. However, because Junmyeon’s apartment renovation was finally going to be ready next week, he felt that accepting Yixing’s offer was the least he could do before leaving.

At nine o’clock in the evening, Junmyeon stood in front of the mirror. His brown hair was parted sideways and styled upwards, a couple of hair strands falling. He had concluded that he liked his hair this way. And when Junmyeon asked Yixing how he had used to style his hair before, Yixing said he had always preferred it that way too. Junmyeon smiled at the thought that there were still traces of his old self within him.

He wore a white shirt with a marine blue blazer and black pants. It was the first time he sported that outfit. He and Yixing had gone shopping yesterday. Junmyeon didn’t like all the clothes that his old self used to wear; they looked outdated. He preferred the ones he was wearing now. But Yixing hadn’t said anything about the restaurant’s dress code, only that he didn’t care what the guests looked like as long as they enjoyed the food. Junmyeon hoped his outfit didn’t make him look overly nor poorly dressed.

Then, he made his way to the restaurant. Even if Junmyeon didn’t remember the accident, he had a lingering fear of driving. The thought of losing his memory, yet again, was a nightmare. Therefore, he didn’t buy a new car and decided to rely on public transportation. By now Junmyeon managed to travel alone. He knew which train and bus lines that went to his workplace, to his apartment, to the shopping centers, and he might not need it at all, but remembered how to get to Yixing’s place.

The train was packed with people when he stepped in. Junmyeon hoped his outfit didn’t get disheveled.

Yixing and Kyungsoo were in the kitchen, supervising the staff and hurriedly helping prepare the different orders of the night. Both were the owners and the head chefs of their restaurant. They opened it two years ago, finally accomplishing their dream of owning their own restaurant. It was a dream they shared since their years at culinary school in the U.S.

The restaurant was located within walking distance from the Pearl River and served different types of Western, Korean, and Chinese dishes. They liked the idea of offering various kinds of cuisines, so hopefully, whatever their customers fancied, they would find it there. Hence, the name they chose was ‘Do’s and Zhang’s kitchen.’

It had been difficult at first, being a newly opened restaurant prone to fail at any time. But they managed to get through the stress and worry. They grew a bigger customer base. Eventually, they could hire more staff. Slowly their restaurant became one of the most preferred places to eat in Guangzhou. And this year was probably the highest peak of their rising popularity.

“Junmyeon is coming over tonight,” Yixing said while he inspected the presentation of a Chow Mein. “He finally agreed to come to eat here.”

Kyungsoo was next to him, giving the final touches to a plate of glass noodles stir fry. He didn’t look particularly happy, but slightly annoyed. “Does he finally remember anything?” he asked.

Yixing motioned the waiter to take away the dish, and proceed to examine the rest. “No, I think he might never recover his memories.”

“I still believe that you shouldn’t have taken him in,” Kyungsoo said and started to assemble another dish.

“Luhan keeps saying the same thing. But Junmyeon is all alone, you know. He needed help, and I’m helping him. I think he’s finally starting to understand who he was.”

Kyungsoo didn’t look at Yixing when he said, “And that is noble of you, but…”

“But?” Yixing said.

“But just remember what I told you,” Kyungsoo said looking at him firmly in the eyes. Then he went to aid the pantry chef.

Yixing knew what Kyungsoo referred to. He had found out about it the day he went to work after Luhan’s and Minseok’s first visit. Kyungsoo had looked at him disappointed and told him it was a huge mistake too. He had the same concern as Luhan, but Kyungsoo’s worry felt different. And after hearing that Yixing wasn’t changing his mind, he finally said it.

A couple of weeks after Yixing and Junmyeon had broken up, Kyungsoo and some colleagues had gone out to bar for some drinks. It was at that place that he saw Junmyeon, and some man, drinking together. Kyungsoo felt outrageous. While Junmyeon was there having fun, Yixing had been, and was, a bereft mess that couldn’t even eat properly and had lost almost seven kilograms. What Kyungsoo did next was beyond his calm and rational demeanor. He should have been afraid since Junmyeon’s company was twice his size, but he still walked over to Junmyeon’s seat. When Junmyeon looked at him with wide eyes, he planted his fist on his face. His fisted hand stung, but the pain was worth the punch. He knew Junmyeon would have a bruised eye the next day.

Kyungsoo believed Junmyeon and that man might be involved. Many things could have happened in the span of three months. If that person came looking after Junmyeon and said they were together or something, then Yixing would just be an uninvited third party. Kyungsoo advised Yixing to let Junmyeon on his own so that he could avoid more unnecessary pain. It was for the best.

But Yixing didn’t listen, he never listened. For Yixing, the idea of Junmyeon being with someone else was impossible. Kyungsoo must have been mistaken, and there was no other meaning than those two sharing a friendly drink. To Yixing’s reassurance, in the two weeks that he and Junmyeon had spent together, Junmyeon’s old phone didn’t ring. And nobody went to look after Junmyeon at his apartment. Kyungsoo’s suppositions had been and must be wrong.

The only problem now was that their time living together was running out. Would Junmyeon still want to keep in touch with him? Would Junmyeon be able to fall in love with him again? Of course he will, he told himself.

Yixing sighed, let go out his thoughts and continued inspecting more dishes.

Junmyeon arrived at the restaurant without getting lost, thankfully. He would have felt like a burden if he had to call Yixing to pick him up.

He stood outside and observed above the doors. White neon letters spelled ‘Do’s and Zhang’s kitchen.’ Through the glass windows, he saw the customers eating, chatting and laughing. Already from the outside, Junmyeon thought this place was modern.

Junmyeon stepped inside. The headwaiter welcomed him, but the waiter’s genuine smile faltered when he saw him up-close. He had the same expression Yixing’s friends showed him. The one with forceful smiles and awkwardness mixed with hidden discomfort. Only Luhan didn’t bother hiding his dislike. Still, the tall waiter, Zitao, guided him to his reserved table.

He hadn’t been wrong, the inside of the restaurant reflected it’s exterior. It was sleek and neat. The wooden tables and the black leathered chairs were an elegant combination. The dim lighting created an intimate atmosphere. He sat at a table for two near the end of the room. From his view, he could almost see the entire restaurant. Nearly all the tables were occupied. He wondered if this had always been his table before. If this had been where he had eaten many meals waiting for Yixing to finish his shift, or just dropped by to eat a new recipe Yixing thought he might like. It was contradictory, the idea of not wanting to know about their past, but still, wonder about how it had been.

Deep in thought, Junmyeon didn’t notice Yixing had appeared and stood in front of him. He was wearing that dimpled smile on his face. The toque blanche adjusted perfectly his bangs down, and the white uniform suited him. He looked radiant, like this was where he belonged.

“Jun,” Yixing said.

Junmyeon couldn’t decide whether he liked that nickname or not. It was a reminder of the self that had vanished the night of the accident. But the way Yixing said it made it oddly acceptable, comforting. So, when Yixing asked him if he could call him that, Junmyeon said it was fine although he wasn’t sure. “Hi Yixing,” he greeted.

“I’m glad you’re here. What do you think?” Yixing asked.

“It’s beautiful. Very much your style.”

“Yeah, it was a good thing Kyungsoo, and I think alike,” Yixing said. He handed Junmyeon a menu. “I’m afraid I can’t join you for dinner, but tonight’s special is Glass noodle stir fry à la Kyungsoo, highly recommended. But feel free to order anything you want, it’s on me,” Yixing said and blinked. Then, he went back to the kitchen.

Junmyeon read the menu carefully. He didn’t fancy anything Western nor Koran. There was a Chinese dish that caught his eyes. The Crisp sesame duck, he knew it was a traditional dish from Changsha, even if he didn’t remember ever eating it. Yixing was from Changsha, he had learned that about him, but he had never cooked that dish before. And Junmyeon fancied it, for some reason. Maybe because he liked eating what Yixing cooked, whenever he ate his cooking he couldn’t help thinking that Yixing was born to be a chef. When the waiter came to take his order, he ordered the Crisp Sesame Duck among other dishes.

While Junmyeon waited for his food to be ready, he drank from his glass of wine. He continued thinking about the journal of his life. He and Yixing had almost written down everything. But the book was far from being complete. There was an enormous chunk of his life - twenty years - that missed, his childhood and teen years. He wanted to know more about that, but Yixing didn’t have all the answers to his life. That was something only his parents knew.

Junmyeon often thought about his parents, about why they didn’t bother contacting him. Why had his old self stopped trying to talk to them? He wondered if their homophobia was still the cause of their separation, or if other conflicts had occurred. Junmyeon pondered if they would care about him when they heard he had lost his memory and couldn’t remember them. He wished they would have called him, talk to him, so that they could answer the questions about his whereabouts.

But Junmyeon also wondered why Yixing was reluctant to tell him more about his parents. At first, he thought Yixing didn’t know much more than what he had already said, but the more Yixing avoided the topic, the more he suspected Yixing was hiding something. And Junmyeon couldn’t understand why nor what. Yixing was supposed to help Junmyeon, but withholding information from him signaled otherwise. He didn’t want to doubt Yixing, yet that felt inevitable. Once they finish writing the journal, he was going to discuss the topic with Yixing, and he hoped Yixing would tell him more about the matter.

Still, the journal had given him a sense of recognition. As he read the pages, he could envision himself doing those things, that he had been that person once. But there were also some aspects in which he differed from his old self, and he kept wondering if the change was for the better or, the worse.

The night felt abrupt despite waiting for three hours for Yixing to finish work. Maybe because Junmyeon had, of course, loved the food, and took his time to chew each delicious bite slowly. Junmyeon wanted to return here one day, but he didn’t know if keeping contact with Yixing was wise once he moved back on his own.

When all the customer had left, and it was closing time, Yixing took Junmyeon to the kitchen and showed him around. Kyungsoo greeted Junmyeon with same solemn and uninterested face as if Junmyeon’s presence didn’t signify anything for him. Junmyeon was used to it, and he wanted Yixing to stop apologizing for his friends’ rudeness, but he didn’t say that.

Then they walked outside. Junmyeon had asked if they see the Pearl River before going home, and Yixing said yes. It was late at night yet striding around Guangzhou didn’t feel like it. The city lights shone everywhere as they walked towards the banks of the Pearl River.

Yixing asked Junmyeon about the food. Junmyeon complimented him and said everything had been delicious, especially the duck which Junmyeon believed had been cooked by him. Yixing nodded, thanked Junmyeon and blushed a tad. And Junmyeon found Yixing’s shyness adorable.

The Pearl River flew slowly. The water glistened due to the city lights. A late summer breeze tousled their hairs. Junmyeon felt cold, despite wearing a blazer. And as he looked at the water in front of him, he wondered if this place could pass as South Korea. He had seen pictures of him in Seoul, and he though if this was how walking beside the Han River felt like. Junmyeon pondered if that had been part of the reason he moved here because despite not being his hometown, Guangzhou might have some resemble with it. Now he wanted to be in Seoul, so that he could see the Han River with his own eyes.

“I hope you had a great time despite eating alone… Maybe I should have invited Minseok and Luhan,” Yixing said. They had stopped at a spot to see the river flowing.

“I did, and that’s okay. Besides, it seems all your friends hold a grudge against me. Even the waiter looked displeased, but who wouldn't blame me.”

Yixing looked apologetic. “I don’t blame you. And I’m sorry about them,” he said.

Junmyeon remained silent and just stared at the river flowing. He had gotten to know Yixing well during these days. Junmyeon knew things like, why Yixing had gone to South Korea in his youth, where Yixing had gone to culinary school, why Yixing had opened his restaurant with Kyungsoo, that Yixing could play the piano that was in the living room, and he was brilliant at it. Junmyeon knew these things from his talk about his life. Sometimes he had felt rather narcissistic when they only spoke about him, so he asked Yixing question about himself too.

But Junmyeon didn’t know why Yixing didn’t blame him. He couldn’t fathom why Yixing didn’t hate him, why he didn’t resent him, why he didn’t scream at him for breaking his heart. He wondered why someone could be so selfless and never felt a shred of hatred despite the wrongdoings from people. Junmyeon debated with himself whether to admire Yixing for being like that or scold him for being dumb. Even if Junmyeon couldn’t remember what and why he had done it, he knew it was his fault, and he did feel guilty. That’s why he didn’t want to learn anything about the memories he and Yixing had shared. Maybe he and Yixing shouldn’t remain friends in the future.

He didn’t know how long he had been immersed in his thoughts when Yixing let out a laugh. Junmyeon turned sideways to see his side profile. Yixing was staring into the distance, his crescent eyes had a glint of light, and there was a subtle smile on his lips. “What is it?” Junmyeon asked.

“Nostalgia, I just… Remembered something.”

“What?”

Yixing looked at him, his eyebrows furrowed and he didn’t know whether to speak or not. Junmyeon sensed what the memory might be. “It was about us,” he stated rather than asked.

“Yes.”

Perhaps hearing one last reminiscence about them wouldn’t hurt. “What was it about?” Junmyeon asked.

The perplexion on Yixing’s face didn’t last for long. “We were walking here,” he said, “It was also late at night, but it was winter.” He gazed the sky. “I said I wished it could snow here, because at that time it hadn’t snowed in Guangzhou in almost eighty-two years. This year it will be eighty-seven, it never snows here.”

Junmyeon saw that subtle, nostalgic, smile on Yixing’s lips again.

“You took out a coin from your pocket and tossed it into the river. You told me you wished for it to snow for me one day,” Yixing said and then looked at the water.

“Ah,” was the only thing Junmyeon uttered. He didn’t know what else to say, and suddenly he was relieved he had never asked more memories about them. He knew he didn’t have proper responses to those tales.

But Junmyeon smiled at that memory. It was silly. The Pearl River wasn’t a water fountain, and those wishes never came true.