AFM 100

The phone vibrated at that moment.

Jing Mian instinctively thought it was Chen Ke, but upon opening it, he realized it was Mr. Ren.

His heartbeat quickened.

He and the man had agreed beforehand that no matter who was away on business, they would call each other once in the morning and once at night.

Jing Mian suddenly felt a little grateful that their agreement hadn’t been for video calls, otherwise, with him currently in a hotel, the birthday surprise would have been exposed before it even happened.

Answering the call, Jing Mian made sure his tone was calm and steady before speaking: “Husband?”

He heard the man’s voice: “Are you home alone?”

Jing Mian hesitated for a moment. “Mm.”

“What about your friend?”

Jing Mian’s face didn’t flush, but his heart pounded wildly. “He went to a concert… He just sent me some photos from the venue. It looks amazing.”

Mr. Ren asked, “Did you want to go too?”

“Not really,” Jing Mian answered honestly. “I’ve heard his songs before, but that’s about it. I’m not at the level of being a fan.”

His husband was the only star he needed.

Jing Mian thought to himself, even if there were other stars he liked, he couldn’t pick them in front of his husband.

He silently patted himself on the back for his successful married person mindset and veteran wisdom.

Mr. Ren’s tone remained unchanged, seemingly unsuspicious, as he asked, “What did you have for dinner?”

At this point, Jing Mian suddenly remembered the man’s words before leaving in the morning, so he answered cautiously and obediently, “Aunt Yu made soup, and some home cooked dishes.”

……

The call fell silent for a few seconds.

Just as Jing Mian thought the signal might have dropped, the other man’s voice came through again.

“Aunt Yu called me.”

Mr. Ren said, “She said she bought groceries, but MianMian never came home. She asked if the little one had gone out to eat with classmates.”

Jing Mian’s heart skipped a beat.

Busted.

This was the first time he had ever lied to his husband.

And he had been caught instantly.

After a pause, the voice on the other end spoke again,

“Where are you?”

The tone was steady, giving nothing away.

This time, the young man, who had initially planned to use training as an excuse, suddenly remembered that the club was under renovation. Besides, he had been given time off after running a fever for two days, using training as an excuse would only make his story even less believable.

Jing Mian swallowed unconsciously and said, “I—I’m at the rental place.”

“The one near the school?”

Jing Mian made a soft sound of affirmation.

He explained, “The landlord said the pipes burst, and workers are fixing it. He asked me to come check.”

A few seconds later, the man’s voice lowered slightly. “You’re still sick…”

“Why didn’t you ask Yu Nian for help?”

Jing Mian’s eyelashes trembled imperceptibly.

Yu Nian had indeed helped, just in a completely different way.

The young man could only skirt around the truth and murmur, “…I’m already better.”

“Have you gone home?” his husband asked.

Jing Mian wasn’t sure if Aunt Yu had returned yet. Having already been caught in one lie, he didn’t dare risk a second one. But even that brief moment of hesitation was picked up by Mr. Ren.

He asked, “It’s so late, why haven’t you gone back?”

Jing Mian pressed his lips together, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he blurted out, “I didn’t want to sleep alone in the villa.”

……

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them a little.

Though there was no hidden meaning, it was just a spur of the moment excuse to cover up the surprise, Jing Mian rarely said things like this.

It didn’t sound like an explanation. More like a complaint… or even a whine.

Mr. Ren seemed momentarily stunned on the other end.

Jing Mian froze for a moment, his ears suddenly burning hot. He cleared his throat and quietly added, “It’s very late. Staying at the rental place would be more convenient.”

Fortunately, Mr. Ren didn’t press further.

Before hanging up, the man reminded him to close the windows tightly, turn off the water valve, check the gas, and take his medicine before bed.

Jing Mian responded to each point.

After the call ended, Jing Mian stared at the ceiling, his mind buzzing with excitement but even more so with unease and nervousness.

Time was ticking. In just two more hours, it would be Mr. Ren’s birthday.

He hadn’t brought his medicine.

The hot water pipe wasn’t leaking.

And he wasn’t in the rental at all.

He had come alone to the city where Mr. Ren was, secretly planning to celebrate the man’s birthday.

Jing Mian felt like he had truly pulled off something monumental.

The excitement kept him awake until 2 a.m. the next morning before he finally fell asleep.

He woke up on time in the morning.

Though awake, his eyelids felt heavy and sore. The young man curled under the blankets for a while before finally getting up to wash and dress. The breakfast delivered by the hotel tasted like cardboard.

Jing Mian sat by the floor to ceiling window, watching the dawn gradually rise and envelop the city’s edges.

During the eight-hour wait for the giant screen at the square, the young man wasn’t entirely idle. He arrived early, choosing a spot near Yantan Beach, hidden yet somewhat iconic, that wouldn’t draw attention from passersby but still offered a view of the beach and night sky.

From this angle, a slight turn of his head would give him a clear view of the square’s LED billboard and giant screen.

Jing Mian took a few photos and sent them to Chen Ke.

Chen Ke quickly replied with an “OK” emoji.

Chen Ke: Mr. Jing, I just realized something.

Jing Mian: What?

Chen Ke: You booked the giant screen for 5:15, lasting five minutes, which ends exactly at 5:20.

Jing Mian didn’t get it: Huh?

Chen Ke: Put together, it’s 520!! (Note: “520” sounds like “I love you” in Chinese.)

Chen Ke: The romantic vibes are off the charts. This is destiny.

Jing Mian paused.

When it finally clicked, his ears burned fiercely.

His fingers hovered midair before he clumsily sent back a nodding emoji and set his phone down.

After calming down, everything was ready.

As Jing Mian walked along the streets, he noted a few cinemas and restaurants, silently marking them in his mind. Perhaps after talking to Mr. Ren, if the man wasn’t too busy, they could pick one nearby and reserve a private booth.

As night slowly fell over Yancheng, the entire city transformed from its ordinary daytime appearance into a dazzling, neon-lit beachfront spectacle.

Lights shimmered everywhere, the air slightly cool.

When Jing Mian returned to the square, he was utterly stunned.

By then, the giant screen had already begun cycling through displays, brilliant, intricate text in various colors, paired with dazzling visuals, creating a breathtaking and majestic sight.

And every single one… was about Ren Congmian.

Other content was sparse, occasionally interspersed with a few proposal messages, but they were quickly drowned out by the overwhelming majority.

Even the fireworks synchronized with the screen could spell out Ren Congmian’s name, his initials, heart shapes… even a faint silhouette of the man.

Every second, every frame seemed to burn money.

“…”

Jing Mian’s palms trembled slightly, his pupils shaking.

Turns out, Mr. Ren’s fans were all richer than him.

In comparison, his own plans no longer stood out. What he had imagined as a unique and romantic gesture now paled in the face of this extravaganza.

But no matter what, what truly mattered wasn’t the form, it was the words he was about to say.

Jing Mian sat on a bench by the street, wrapped in a scarf with a thick enough coat that he didn’t feel cold enough to leave. He even had time to space out.

When the clock struck five, Jing Mian couldn’t help but stand up.

According to their arrangement, his husband’s car should arrive at Yantan in about ten minutes.

Not long ago, Chen Ke had called him, saying everything was going smoothly as planned—Brother Ren was already in the car.

Jing Mian carried his backpack, his fingers icy from gripping too tightly.

His heart pounded like a drum.

He began scanning every car approaching from the distance, those passing by, those heading the opposite way, even those already parked by the roadside.

But none of them belonged to Mr. Ren.

Jing Mian called Chen Ke, only to hear that the line was temporarily unavailable.

He must be almost here.

Jing Mian waited obediently for a long time, his gaze fixed on the road like a child waiting for a late-arriving parent.

But when Jing Mian inadvertently glanced aside, he noticed the giant screen had already transformed.

—The words he had arranged in advance now lit up the most prominent square in the city.

They stretched all the way to the distant beach and bustling street corners.

Whether it was travelers enjoying the sea breeze or hurried pedestrians, anyone who looked up could see it.

Then, from the sky beside the screen, came the sound of explosions.

A massive firework bloomed.

People couldn’t resist pulling out their phones to take pictures, exclaiming how beautiful it was, saying that Mr. Ren’s fans had taken over the screen today.

…

…

Five minutes passed in the blink of an eye.

Jing Mian stood frozen in place, watching helplessly as the last firework faded into the sky above Yantan.

His phone screen lit up.

He looked down, the time read exactly 5:20.

The boy’s lips trembled.

So it wasn’t fate after all.

They had missed each other.

Jing Mian sat back on the bench, staring blankly at his shoes and the gray bricks beneath his feet. Somehow, his confidence had suddenly vanished.

The birthday surprise had fallen apart.

From Mr. Ren’s perspective, all that remained was probably just a bewildered lover who had inexplicably rushed over from another city, spouting words that made no sense.

Jing Mian wondered,

Was this a sign that he had made the wrong decision?

The sound of fireworks echoed faintly in the distance, their flickering light reflecting off the metal of street lamps, shimmering brilliantly.

Until a pair of leather shoes appeared in his line of sight.

They came to a slow stop right in front of him.

Jing Mian froze.

He looked up instinctively.

A stranger stood before him, and as the boy stared in confusion, the man asked, as if confirming, “Mr. Jing?”

Jing Mian blinked, answering hesitantly, “Yes, that’s me.”

The man was panting, as if he had run here, and introduced himself, “I’m a driver recently hired by Chen Ke.”

“Chen Ke sent me to pick up Mr. Ren.”

“He gave me the address, this location, under this tree shade…”

The driver frantically scrolled through his phone, explaining, “But I went to the event venue first, no one was backstage or in the parking lot. The staff told me Mr. Ren had already left… Then I went to the hotel where President Ren was staying, but the front desk said the room had been checked out.”

“But the time was almost up, and I hadn’t picked him up… I thought I was late.” The young driver, seemingly inexperienced, stammered nervously in his panic, sweat pouring down his face. “So I rushed here immediately, didn’t dare tell Brother Chen.”

“Has Mr. Ren already been here?”

Jing Mian’s eyes flickered with surprise as he shook his head. “He hasn’t come.”

The driver was truly panicked now. “This is bad.”

Jing Mian stood up, his heart boiling with anxiety.

Yet he forced himself to stay calm, patting the driver’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I can explain it to Brother Chen Ke.”

The man nodded, slightly relieved. “Thank you, Mr. Jing.”

Just then, the driver’s phone rang.

He answered, paused for a moment, then nodded. “I’m with Mr. Jing.”

“Alright.”

“Understood.”

…

“Got it, I’ll tell him.”

Jing Mian had an inexplicable intuition, the news the driver was about to deliver likely concerned Mr. Ren.

The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he asked, “Where is Mr. Ren?”

The driver looked up at Jing Mian. “H-he’s probably… no longer in Yancheng.”

For a moment, Jing Mian didn’t process the words. “?”

“President Ren…”

“Seems to have returned to Lincheng.”

The driver took Jing Mian to the train station.

With only twenty minutes left before the high-speed train’s departure, he had ten minutes to queue for ID checks, luggage inspection, and make his way to the second-floor boarding gate.

At this hour, the station was packed, not only were the lines long, but navigating through the crowd was shoulder-to-shoulder. By the time everything was done, Jing Mian realized boarding gate F16 was about to close.

He barely made it through the gate in time, descending the now-empty escalator as the train prepared to depart. The waiting area was nearly vacant, save for a few attendants.

Jing Mian boarded first.

Then he found his assigned carriage, settling into his seat with his backpack in his arms.

The earliest available flight was the next day, so Jing Mian couldn’t return by plane as he had come. The soonest high-speed train would depart in forty minutes.

What had originally been a two-hour flight stretched into a five-hour journey.

A mechanical female voice announced the train’s departure, reminding passengers to follow railway regulations before repeating the notice in English.

After a while, Jing Mian reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the string of little stars.

Light in his palm, yet somehow they felt heavy now.

His eyes reddened gradually.

For a moment, he didn’t know what expression to wear.

How absurd was this?

More than just missing each other.

They had unknowingly rushed toward each other’s cities.

Even knowing Mr. Ren might already be in Lincheng, Jing Mian couldn’t call—just as the man had no idea he’d gone to Yancheng.

If those words could have been said over the phone, why would they have been so desperate to reach each other?

But that didn’t stop Jing Mian from thinking about Mr. Ren.

…

Missing him terribly.

With no entertainment to pass the time, the train glided smoothly for two hours before approaching an airport in City A, a mandatory stop where it would pause underground for ten minutes.

Soon, the window’s view shifted from fragmented nightscapes to complete darkness, leaving only the bright cabin lights reflecting weary, bustling passengers.

Seconds later, the train fully entered the station.

The dimly lit underground platform gradually came into view, with distant queues of waiting passengers preparing to board.

At that moment, a middle-aged man’s impatient voice rang through the train carriage: “Conductor! Conductor!”

The nearest attendant quickly approached upon hearing the call: “How may I assist you, sir?”

The man held up his phone with its dimly lit screen, complaining angrily: “My signal suddenly disappeared! I was in the middle of a call, what’s going on?”

The attendant explained: “The underground stations have no signal coverage. Our apologies.”

“It should restore in about ten minutes. Please be patient.”

“Ten minutes?”

The middle-aged man sighed, speaking in accented Mandarin: “This is terrible design. Please report this issue to your superiors, what if passengers have urgent matters? Everything gets delayed like this.”

Nearby passengers listening to the exchange couldn’t help covering their mouths to hide their smiles.

The attendant nodded: “I’ll relay your feedback.”

Jing Mian instinctively checked his own phone.

The signal bars had indeed disappeared.

For train passengers, these ten-odd minutes truly left them with nothing to do.

Jing Mian absently swiped right across his screen, a meaningless gesture to pass time, but his gaze gradually settled on the home screen.

In one corner of the interface, a pale purple heart-shaped frame caught his attention.

Beneath the app’s label rested five simple words.

Jing Mian remembered, this was the app that belonged exclusively to him and Mr. Ren in the whole world.

“Our Distance.”

A gift from Chen Xi just before the finals.

He’d downloaded it but gradually forgotten about it until now, when Chen Xi’s words resurfaced in his memory:

“This app isn’t affected by signal interference, it’s more accurate and real-time than regular tracking software.”

“So you and Mr. Ren can see each other’s locations anytime, anywhere, along with the distance between you.”

However, the current interface showed neither his nor Mr. Ren’s location.

Probably a system error.

Jing Mian felt a pang of disappointment.

Just as he was about to exit, his gaze lingered on Mr. Ren’s icon.

His heartbeat quickened.

Almost unconsciously, he lightly tapped Mr. Ren’s icon.

Immediately, two words appeared beside his own small icon: “Are you there?”

Jing Mian froze slightly.

Pressing his lips together, he felt his heart grow warm.

Leaning against the train window, his lower lip moved slightly as he whispered almost inaudibly: “Husband.”

A few seconds later, his pale fingertips tapped Mr. Ren’s gray circular icon a second time.

In that instant, beside Jing Mian’s small icon,

Several words slowly appeared:

—I’m thinking of you.