I did want to see Chu Ke Huan, but I also understood that this longing was nothing more than a byproduct of my own inflated expectations for this trip and the crushing disappointment that followed. It was an emptiness, a loneliness, fermenting into something unseemly. My purpose in coming to Shanghai was to put my life back on track. If I responded to that message, all my efforts would be for nothing.
Now, I needed to set those emotions aside and focus on what truly mattered—making tonight’s reunion with Hao Yi meaningful.
I turned off roaming and connected to the dormitory’s Wi-Fi. The social media apps I typically used in Taiwan were blocked by mainland China’s internet. This meant that the only person who could reach me through my phone tonight was Hao Yi. I appreciated the simplicity of it.
From my suitcase, I retrieved a bottle of red wine I had specifically brought for this trip. Using a corkscrew, I removed the cork. By the time Hao Yi returned, the wine would have had enough time to breathe, ready to be enjoyed alongside our takeout.
Next, I spent some time preparing my appearance. I took a shower, washing away the weariness of travel, and changed into a newly purchased dress I had picked out just days before. I even took the time to carefully apply light makeup. After years of dating, opportunities like this to deliberately prepare for a meeting had become rare. From this perspective, long-distance relationships weren’t entirely without their perks.
While I busied myself with these preparations, I rehearsed potential conversations in my mind. Endless thoughts came to me—how much I missed him, frustrations about work, how to pose for our wedding photos, which song to choose for the processional, and what our dream house might look like. Any vision of the future could serve as a warm topic to help rekindle our connection tonight.
Though Hao Yi’s assignment abroad had come unexpectedly, it wasn’t an insurmountable obstacle to marriage. Perhaps during one of Hao Yi’s routine trips back to Taiwan, we could arrange for our families to meet and finalize a date. After that, all the little details could fall into place, keeping me blissfully busy.
And in the end, Chu Ke Huan would vanish entirely from my life.
I planned everything meticulously, convinced there wouldn’t be any mistakes this time. But then, an unexpected message arrived.
“Sorry, I probably won’t be back until one o’clock.”
“I’ve already ordered takeout for you.”
“Eat first, don’t wait for me.”
Hao Yi’s message gave no indication of how urgent his work actually was. All I felt was the sinking of my expectations, plummeting yet again from great heights.
I set down the powder puff I had been holding and looked at myself in the mirror. My reflection showed a woman with perfectly applied makeup and a dress that accentuated her curves, yet I felt exhausted and confused. What am I doing here? Where did everything go wrong? Did Hao Yi even want me to be here?
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