Warning: Not beta'd. You have been warned!

A few years down the line Song Qian will tell Zhang Liyin,

“The man I love is your husband and the man I used to love is the father of your child. What more do you want from me?”

However, right now, she doesn’t realize her future is hard and long ahead of her, if only partially because of this friend that she holds dear to her heart.

If Song Qian is considered to be from a middle class family, leaning towards the higher end, then Zhang Liyin would be considered wealthy. Her father runs a corporate air conditioning machine parts company that supplies major holders all across China and her mother owns her own small chain of cosmetics stores across their city.

Growing up, Liyin has had beauty and intellect; she’s adored by many and looked up upon by most. The one person she ever believed in was Song Qian, because Song Qian didn’t see her for her wealth and background but her simplicity and her heart.

Neither of the two has ever wanted to hurt each other but somehow things always seem to take a turn for the worse on Liyin’s part.

“You… like Kris?”

The first time Song Qian asked her that question; Liyin had no qualms about admitting it. When she thought about Kris, there were butterflies in her stomach and she could feel her cheeks growing warmer by the second.

Who didn’t like Kris, though?

To Liyin, and most of the student body, Kris was probably everything a high school girl could ask for in a boy. So, she nods and smiles and goes on and on about how she dreams of her future beside him.

“I don’t have to be with him,” Liyin clarifies, “as long as I can continue liking him.”

Isn’t this how all first loves go? Song Qian wonders, because she pretty much feels the same. Therefore, Song Qian smiles in turn and leans her back against Liyin’s back, the two of them supporting each other until the next class bell rings.

At that time, Liyin hadn’t thought to ask Song Qian the same question. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered even if she did, though.

Song Qian probably wouldn’t have told the truth.

Over a brief period of time after Liyin and Minho return to their respectful universities, Changmin seems to treat Song Qian even more delicately than before.

Not only does he answer her calls at any hour of the day and take her out to eat whatever it is she wants, he’ll constantly observe her choice of courses and help her order and rent out textbooks and write down various notes for her so that she knows what to expect of her upcoming terms.

Every gesture he makes towards her only makes her heart warm up to him that much more.

When they walk together in the rain, he holds the umbrella.

Under the sun, he makes sure to have two bottles of water and a refreshing snack or ice cream.

If it’s windy, Changmin will give her his coat.

If it’s humid, he’ll always be there with a wet napkin to clean away the stickiness from her skin, which he knows she hates.

There is so much and so much that Changmin does for her, yet, she has no way of knowing exactly how she should respond to his kindness. Is his consideration only towards her? Would it be too narcissistic of her to believe he’s only like this for her?

And, despite her doubts, Song Qian responds to Changmin just as carefully.

When he’s walking too fast, she’ll match his steps so he doesn’t have to slow down.

If he’s hungry or has a craving for his hometown foods, she’ll do whatever it takes to learn and make the dish for him.

There are days when Changmin is too tired from studying, so Song Qian quietly enters his apartment and cleans and organizes his things for him.

On days that are too hot, she reminds him that she’s placed his t-shirts in sections according to color in his closet and his jackets have been washed and hung in his wardrobe on breezy days.

Their days pass like this, from days to weeks to almost months, and it all falls into a comfortable routine.

From the sidelines, Luhan is both relieved and comforted that they have found a balance despite their refusal to face the reality that they have not made each other official. However, if that means nothing to them, then why should it be significant to him?

“Liyin, what do you think about Changmin?” Song Qian asks.

On the other end of the phone, Liyin snickers playfully. “He’s a good guy; quiet, but he seems nice.”

“Yeah,” Song Qian agrees, “he’s a really good guy.”

“You like him?” Liyin smiles warmly, unable to hide the teasing in her tone.

Song Qian hesitates for a moment, something in her chest twisting and turning without rest. “I think… I think I feel more than just like for him.”

“Don’t fall too hard,” the other girl warns her. “It’s always hard to say with men.”

She chuckles. “Are you—“

“I broke up with Kris.”

Those words bring everything to a stop, stillness filling the suddenly thick air. Song Qian doesn’t know what to do or what to say. Is this something that Liyin is really allowing to happen?

“I thought I could live with not being in his heart but it’s starting to feel too hard now,” Liyin continues, breaking into the silence, “sometimes, even when he’s looking at me, I don’t feel like he sees me.”

Song Qian thins her lips. “Doesn’t he treat you well?”

“Very,” Liyin tells her, “he’s considerate and takes really good care of me but it’s not enough.”

Song Qian listens quietly.

“I’ve grown greedy. I need more than just care, Qianqian. I want his affection, his attention, his entire heart. Yet, he’s not willing to give all of that to me.”

She still doesn’t really understand. “He accepted the break up?”

Zhang Liyin breathes heavily. “He didn’t even try to stop me when I left.”

Two years have passed but Kris still could not bring himself to fall in love with her. They say that love can accumulate over time, that once you open up yourself to accepting someone, somehow, some time, you’ll begin to learn to love them.

Is that not true?

Kris Wu gave himself an opportunity; if he could not be with the person he loved, then he might as well be with the person that loves him. Why is that just not good enough?

“Are you okay?” Song Qian asks. “Do you want me to come spend some time with you?”

Zhang Liyin bites down on her lip. “I don’t want him to see you.”

Suddenly, the still air becomes frosty cold. Perhaps it is Liyin’s words, or maybe it is the tone in which she spoke, but Song Qian could hear resentment, if only for a split second.

“I don’t mean it any other way, Qianqian, I just… Do you understand?” Liyin asks tentatively, regretting her impulsive words.

Song Qian nods and forces a smile. “There was never anything between Kris and I.”

“I know,” Liyin frowns, “I’ve always known.”

However, that doesn’t appear to stop anyone from hoping.

Summer approaches them very quickly and Song Qian has decided to return home to Shandong to visit her parents. Minho is excited when Changmin invites him over to his house in Shangdong but Luhan unfortunately has to make a trip home to Beijing.

When Changmin arrives at home, he is almost surprised to see Zhang Liyin sitting in his living room beside four elders.

“Changmin! You’re finally home,” his mother exclaims, rushing over to give him a hug and a kiss to the cheek. “Come, let me introduce you! Do you remember Liyin? The two of you used to play together when you were children!”

A very, very bad feeling hits Minho, who is doing his best to curl up into a corner of the room.

“Ah, Minho, you’re here too!” His aunty smiles, dragging him over with the others, “Liyin, this is Minho. Minho, this is—“

“We went to high school together, aunty,” Minho tells her politely.

Mrs. Shim’s eyes widen dramatically. “Oh, yes, yes, of course! How could I forget? You spent your last few years of high school here with us while Changmin was away.”

After dinner, Minho excuses himself to a guest bedroom and hesitantly pulls out his cell phone.

“What do you want?” A muffled voice asks from the other end.

Minho purses his lips. “Are you crying?”

“Who’s crying?” Song Qian coughs, sniffling through her nose. “My parents are calling me for dinner. What do you want?”

“You… really missed them, didn’t you?” Minho asks.

Song Qian is quiet before she mutters a soft mhm. “Do you need something?” She then asks.

“Song Qian, I want to ask you very seriously,” Minho says. “What is love to you?”

As though sensing something is off, Song Qian asks in turn, “Why?”

Minho only insists by repeating his question to her.

She thinks the question over very seriously, glancing back at her parents every now and then, and then she says, “Minho, have I ever told you about my parents?”

He doesn’t understand what that has to do with his question but he shakes his head and answers no.

“My parents married through an arranged marriage. They did not love each other at first but they learned to care about each other like family after I was born. Love, to me, is something akin to their relationship,” Song Qian tells him, “it’s important, but not that important. Do you understand?”

Suddenly feeling very guilty, Minho confesses, “I purposely tried to set you up with my cousin.”

“I know,” Song Qian tells him.

“I was talking to Changmin over the phone one day and I mentioned you; I told him how I had a friend who really liked this guy named Kris but because of her friend Liyin, the silly girl gave up on him and somehow could still be friends with him,” Minho continues. “Changmin became really interested in you after he heard about it.”

“Oh?” Song Qian chuckles.

Minho furrows his eyebrows. “Do you like Changmin?”

“I…” she stutters, not knowing how to be honest with him. “Maybe.”

He feels as though he can cry for committing such a big mistake—he never should have introduced them to begin with. “I’m sorry.”

By some means, Song Qian understands. Her heart clenches in her chest and her nose turns even more sour than before; it’s as though her heart is entirely emptied but her tears don’t quite find their way to her eyes. Everything is dry, dry and empty.

“I’m really sorry,” Minho says anxiously again after not hearing a reply from her, “Qian, I’m sorry.”

Finally, she shakes her head and says, “It’s not your fault.”

“But—“

“Minho, my parents are calling for me,” Song Qian tells him. After a moment, she adds, “do you want to join us for dinner tomorrow?”

However, he doesn’t know if he can face her after all he’s done. “I—“

“Don’t say no,” Song Qian tells him. “I really want to help you understand.”

They sit in her living room, watching as Song Qian’s mother rushes around the kitchen in a flurry of work but her smile never leaves her face. When she turns to look at Song Qian, Minho can always see a sea of warmth and love in her eyes.

Song Qian quietly whispers to him,

“My dad typically works almost ten hours a day; the days can be really long sometimes but no matter how late he comes home or how early he leaves, my mom will always be here to greet him or see him off.”

Minho nods.

“My mom has her own little line of work too,” Song Qian continues, “she likes sewing and knitting, little things like that look really easy when she does it, and so she does some local resizing and stitching for the neighbors. It doesn’t bring in a lot but it’s a pretty decent income; at the very least, she doesn’t need to ask my dad for money if she wants to buy simple things for the house or for herself.”

He continues to listen patiently.

“My grandparents wanted to push my mom into having another child because they want a boy to continue the family name,” she explains, “but my mom thought one child was more than enough of a burden to my dad.”

There is a pause and Minho realizes that Mrs. Song is glancing their way again. He smiles at her sweetly, nodding his head when she gestures at a spicy sauce his way.

“My dad told her then that we weren’t a burden, we’re his family now.”

Minho his bottom lip. “Both of your parents are very good people.”

“I’ve never had the heart to give them a harder time than what they already have so I’ve never asked for anything in my life,” Song Qian smiles to herself, “as long as they are both smiling, I am happy. Therefore, I don’t fight for anything, either—it’s not that nothing is worth my effort, it’s just that if I put up a fight, someone else might be hurt.”

“What about you?” Minho asks.

Song Qian takes a deep breath. “As long as they are happy, I’m happy, too.”

When Minho turns to look at her, her eyes are firmly watching her mother. In many ways, Song Qian seems like a shadow of her parents, yet, she’s such a solid existence of her own that he cannot help but see her as an entirely different individual. In her eyes, he sees a reflection of all her emotions—genuine, true feelings.

Perhaps this is why they are able to be such great friends.

“Do you understand now?” Song Qian wants to know.

Minho sighs and leans his head on her shoulder. He feels exhausted; as though he’s run a marathon and his arms and legs feel so light that he doesn’t want to move.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Song Qian tells him once last, “happiness will find me, too.”

He can only wish that the day will come sooner.