The distance arrived before either of them could prepare for it.
Le Xin's apartment overseas was small, clean, and temporary—everything about it said passing through. The window faced another building, close enough that she could see someone else's life flickering on and off through their curtains.
She placed her phone on the desk.
The call connected almost immediately.
Kai Ying's face appeared on screen, glasses on, hair slightly disheveled. The lights in her office were dim, the city glowing behind her through the wide window.
"You're awake," Le Xin said softly.
Kai Ying blinked once. "You're early."
Le Xin checked the time. "Time zones don't care about feelings."
Kai Ying huffed quietly. "Unfortunately."
They smiled.
Then fell into a familiar, careful silence.
"How was work?" Kai Ying asked.
"Busy," Le Xin replied. "The team's capable, but they keep checking with headquarters like I might disappear."
"You won't," Kai Ying said without thinking.
Le Xin looked at her. "You don't know that."
Kai Ying paused. Then corrected herself. "You'll choose when you do."
That was new.
Le Xin noticed.
She smiled faintly. "How about you?"
Kai Ying glanced away. "Fine."
Le Xin raised an eyebrow. "Liar."
Kai Ying sighed. "I sleep poorly."
"Still?"
Kai Ying nodded. "I stay up. Sometimes I just… watch the city."
Le Xin imagined her—standing by that floor-to-ceiling window, hands in her pockets, lights off, pretending she was alone by choice.
"You should rest," Le Xin said gently.
Kai Ying met her eyes. "I will."
They both knew that was half a promise.
The call ended twenty minutes later.
Too short.
Always too short.
That night, Kai Ying did not sleep.
She stood by the window as usual.
The city below pulsed with life that didn't include her.
Her phone sat face-down on the table.
She didn't call again.
That was restraint.
It tasted bitter.
Meanwhile, Xiao Lan sat at the bar, elbows on the counter, watching Tian Rong try to balance three bottles at once.
"Don't," Xiao Lan said calmly.
"I've got this," Tian Rong replied, already wobbling.
The bottles clattered.
Xiao Lan reached out instinctively, steadying them.
Tian Rong laughed. "See? Teamwork."
Xiao Lan sighed. "You're reckless."
Tian Rong grinned. "You like it."
"I tolerate it."
"That's basically love coming from you."
Xiao Lan rolled her eyes—but didn't move away.
Later, when the bar quieted, Tian Rong slid a juice toward Xiao Lan.
"No alcohol today," Tian Rong said. "You're working tomorrow."
Xiao Lan paused. "You remembered."
"I remember things," Tian Rong said lightly. "Important things."
Xiao Lan looked at her.
Tian Rong, under the bar lights, looked… softer. Less guarded. Almost childish in the way she swung her legs and hummed quietly to herself.
"You're different lately," Xiao Lan said.
Tian Rong shrugged. "I get to be."
Xiao Lan didn't reply.
But she stayed until closing.
Another week passed.
Video calls became routine.
Sometimes they talk about work.
Sometimes about nothing.
Sometimes they just let the call run while doing separate things.
One night, Kai Ying watched Le Xin fall asleep on screen—head tilted, breathing slow.
She didn't hang up.
She turned the volume down and stayed.
The next morning, Le Xin woke to a missed call notification—from hours earlier.
Kai Ying hadn't said anything.
Le Xin stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then texted:
You should've woken me.
Kai Ying replied minutes later:
You needed the sleep more than I did.
Le Xin closed her eyes.
Distance did strange things.
It made small kindnesses hurt more.
Back home, Xiao Lan noticed it first.
Kai Ying was sharper in meetings. Quieter in hallways. Her coffee was untouched.
"You're not sleeping," Xiao Lan said one evening.
Kai Ying didn't deny it. "It's temporary."
"So is exhaustion," Xiao Lan replied. "Until it isn't."
Kai Ying looked at her assistant. Really looked.
"Is Tian Rong treating you well?" Kai Ying asked suddenly.
Xiao Lan blinked. "She's… loud."
Kai Ying nodded. "Good."
That was all she said.
Another call.
Le Xin looked tired.
"Kai Ying," she said suddenly, "are we… okay?"
Kai Ying didn't answer immediately.
She chose her words.
"We're trying," she said. "And for once, that's enough."
Le Xin smiled sadly. "Fate's really persistent."
Kai Ying's voice was low. "So am I."
They didn't say I miss you.
They didn't say wait for me.
But when the call ended, both of them stared at empty screens longer than necessary.
Distance hadn't broken them.
Yet.
But it was testing how much restraint love could survive.
Thank you for reading my novel
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