XIULEI

The summer heat had always been suffocating in Fuzhou, but I swear it has never been this bad. It feels like a thick, humid blanket that covers your face and every ounce of oxygen away.

In short, you can't breathe.

The only sounds in the apartment are the air conditioner, which did practically nothing against the permanently sweltering temperature, and the occasional clang from the kitchen, a sign that my grandma's housekeeper was busy with our dinner. Doing my best to land comfortably after flopping onto the rock-hard bed, I shut my eyes in a vain attempt to sleep the boredom-and-heat combo away. From behind my closed eyelids, the image of his eyes meeting mine resurfaces.

"Ugh. I. Give. Up." I mutter. That same scene, replaying over and over. It's been a full week since I'd seen Luhan in person... I need to stop this, or else I've got serious issues. I mean, a schoolgirl crush on Luhan, the idol that a million girls around the world dream of? I don't know what's gotten into me. A mere two years ago, I'd sworn I would never get into KPOP or CPOP or boybands, and EXO and Luhan most certainly fit the bill for for all of the above.

Now the present-day me...

Sighing, I attempt to flip onto my side only to have my phone jab me in the ribs. Pulling it out from under me, I almost toss it onto a nearby desk. Almost. Because, in that second between thinking and doing, the phone erupts into the ringtone I'd set for unknown calls.

Huh. A Chinese number?

When it came to friends, I most certainly had none that were in China except for Soomyeon. I think back to the people I'd told about my trip. It couldn't be Nuoyi, could it? My stomach flips at the thought of her doing something stupid while I was away. Could it be her parents, calling to tell me the bad news?

God... please don't let it be Nuoyi...

"W-wei?" I ask, picking up the receiver.

"Wei, is this Xiulei?"

A guy's voice? His English is accented and hesitant, foreign.

"Uh, yes, this is she. And you are...?"

"Ni hao. I am Luhan. May I speak in Chinese, or should I say in English?" He stumbles over the words, using improper grammar. I feel the blood drain from my face as what he said processes in my mind. No way... this had to be a prank call. He doesn't even have my number...

"Yes. You can use Chinese." I reply in Mandarin, in spite of myself. "Are you sure you're... uh... Luhan?"

I hear the person on the other end of the line sigh a breath of relief, and I almost laugh at his aversion to English. "Shi de. I am Luhan... I saw you the other day at Shanghai International Airport? With another girl named Soomyeon?"

"O-oh. Uh..." How the hell was he able to call me... wait. No. Why was he calling me, of all people? Did I do something offensive... the note. Is he calling me because I'd broken some privacy rule by giving him that?

"Are you okay? You don't sound too good." He asks, sounding genuinely worried.

"I'm just kind of in shock that you... remember us. Since you're a famous singer with so many fans..." I trail off.

"Of course I remember." He laughs on his end of the line. "Your note was... very different from the letters I usually get from fans."

. Did he say "different'"? You are so screwed.

"Anyways, I just got back to Beijing from Shanghai a week ago. I've been busy working with the producers and studio workers, so I haven't had the chance to give you a call. Actually, I'm on break right now, for dinner..." He pauses. "Shoot. I've only got a few minutes left, so I'll try to make this quick. I just wanted to say that your note really got to me, and it made me want to get to know you better, if that's okay?"

I feel my mouth drop open in shock. He said what? He wants to what? My brain is on overdrive as I pinch the skin on my forearm hard, wincing as the pain registers. Nope. Still awake. 

"I... I know it may sound weird to hear this from someone you've only known through a computer screen. From an idol, or whatever." Luhan laughs. "I've honestly never tried this before, either. There were always rules against getting personal with the non-stars on variety shows, and the gong-shi always took away fan-letters and gifts before I got to look at them. I never really got to... got to be friends with or know my fans that well. And sometimes... you really do want to see what impact you've made on a person, and let others make an impact on you, you know?"

"Y-yea! Of course!" I say, my words sounding foreign past the blood thumping in my ears. "Wow... I just- I'm just-" I cut myself off, feeling a laugh that I haven't heard in a long while bubble up my trachea. "You just made my day." 

From the other side of the receiver, I hear Luhan's smile in his voice. "I'm glad. So... we're friends?" The phrase comes out awkwardly, and we both laugh in spite of ourselves. 

"O-of course! But shouldn't it be the other way around? Like, shouldn't I be the one asking if you could spare the time to talk to me..." I trail off, flinching at how uncomfortably unnatural I sound.

"No, I should be the one asking, because I'd be calling at really... awkward times. Either really late at night or really early in the mornings..." He says sheepishly.

"I don't usually sleep until three AM. Jet lag, and stuff. So it's fine." I hope that didn't come out too eager...

"Really?" I can hear him let out a breath, as if he'd been holding it. "Then... would you mind if I called again tomorrow? Around.. ah.. two in the morning."

"Sure, no problem. I'll be here."

"Good. Um... I have to go to practice now. We'll talk again tomorrow?"

"Definitely."

"Zai jian, then." He cracks a final smile. From somewhere on his end of the call, I hear a door creak open and a guy calling for him. "Luhan, ni shi jian dao le. Pai lian ma shang kai shi." Luhan gives a small huff of impatience... but then again, it was almost too soft to be heard, even if the phone was right by his lips. Then the call ends and all I can hear is the soft beep, beep, beep, telling me with unspoken words that he'd hung up.

"Bye..." I whisper into the empty line.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LUHAN

I press the end call button and tell Lao Gao I am coming. Then I stare down at my meal, mostly uneaten.

What. Have. You. Done?

A simple answer to that question, really.

One, I've called a fifteen year old fan of mine from America.

Two, the fan is a girl.

Three, I said I'd be calling her again, soon.

There is something very wrong with this. You are going to get in so much trouble if you get caught, and this will end up hurting her too. Have you thought of THAT?

Sighing in the face of the mess I'd made, I wolf down the remaining rice, shrimp, and green beans. Then, I walk to the bathroom, praying that cold water might be able to clear my head. In the sharp reflection of the mirror, my eyes look swollen, my face tired and drawn... that is, when I'm not faking a smile. I think of the letter Xiulei had written.

You push yourself to the limit, have to face all the stress and fears alone.

Isn't it tiring to keep pretending?

I try to remember the person I used to see reflected in the glass, the one with big dreams and even bigger aspirations. I've forgotten that person's smile, that person's heart, that person's eyes. Was it always like this? Had it always been?

From outside, I hear Lao Gao telling me to "hurry the heck up, or else I'm going to have to go in there and drag you out myself". I give a vain attempt to form a laugh, but somehow, it was harder. The best I could manage was a weak, "Oh you can try."