The air in Suzhou was thick with the scent of charcoal fires and sweet tangyuan. Red lanterns swayed from every eave, casting a warm, crimson glow over the canal waters. It was the Spring Festival—the most important celebration of the year—and for a brief moment, the academic pressure of HUAD felt a world away.
The group had gathered at a traditional restaurant overlooking the water. The table was a mountain of festive dishes: steamed fish for abundance, dumplings for wealth, and long noodles for longevity.
Seo-yoon was in high spirits, wearing a modern red qipao top that made her skin look like porcelain. She was chatteringly fluently with the waiter, her Mandarin now polished enough to navigate the complex holiday menu with a playful charm. Lin and Wei were bickering over the last piece of sticky rice cake, their new relationship bringing a vibrant, messy energy to the table.
Yan-chen sat beside Seo-yoon, his hand resting on the back of her chair. To anyone else, he looked like the picture of contentment. But Wei, who had shared a room with him in Shenzhen and knew the rhythm of his silences, noticed the way Yan-chen's eyes occasionally drifted to the dark horizon, his thumb obsessively tracing the edge of his phone.
Midway through the dinner, Yan-chen stepped away to take a call, leaving his heavy leather messenger bag on his chair. As the waiter arrived with a fresh tray of tea, the bag slipped, spilling a few stray papers onto the floor.
Wei leaned down to help, but as he gathered the sheets, his eyes caught a bold, embossed crest at the top of a document: Architectural Association School of Architecture, London.
His breath hitched. He saw terms like "Direct Entry - Year 5" and "International Fellowship Sponsorship." Behind it was a flight itinerary for a date just two weeks after their final exams.
When Yan-chen returned to the table, his face went pale seeing the papers in Wei's hand. He quickly snatched them back, stuffing them deep into his bag with a force that made the silverware rattle.
"Wei, let's go get more firecrackers," Yan-chen said, his voice hard, leaving no room for argument.
They stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the canal. The sky was beginning to explode with bursts of gold and green fireworks.
"London, Yan-chen?" Wei hissed, his voice trembling with a mix of shock and betrayal. "The AA? That's halfway across the world. Does Seo-yoon know? Does she know you're leaving her in four months?"
Yan-chen leaned against the railing, the colorful explosions reflecting in his eyes, making them look like cold glass. "She doesn't know. And you aren't going to tell her."
"You can't do this to her!" Wei countered. "She finally feels like she belongs here. She's writing her best work because of you. You're just going to vanish?"
"I'm not doing this because I want to," Yan-chen said, his voice dropping to a pained whisper that was almost lost in the boom of a firework. "My father is holding her life over my head, Wei. Her visa, her house, her future in China—he'll pull the rug out from under her the second I say no. If I go, she gets to stay. She gets to have the life she worked for."
Wei fell silent. He looked back through the glass door at Seo-yoon, who was laughing at something Lin had said, her face lit with a pure, uncomplicated joy.
"Don't tell her, Wei," Yan-chen pleaded, his hand gripping his friend's shoulder with a desperate strength. "I want her to have this one semester of perfect happiness. I want her to finish her second year without the weight of a goodbye hanging over her. Let me be the one to carry this."
Wei looked at his best friend, seeing the "Ice Prince" finally breaking under the weight of a sacrifice. He slowly nodded, though his heart felt like lead.
"I'll keep your secret," Wei whispered. "But the longer you wait, the deeper the bridge is going to fall when it breaks."
Yan-chen didn't respond. He just watched the red lanterns bobbing on the water, counting down the days until the lanterns went out and the fog of London took him away.