Why Does First Love Feel This Sweet? - Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Early in the morning, the plane landed at New Chitose Airport.

It was only when he saw the Japanese signs in the terminal that Sheng Yi felt the reality of leaving Rong Yu truly sink in. Stepping out of the airport, the crisp, sweet cold air filled his lungs. Everywhere was the scent and color of snow.

Sheng Yi stood at the entrance of the foreign airport with his suitcase for over ten seconds. During their farewell, he had managed to stay calm and act cool. But at this moment, tension and unease surged within him—like a lone ocean explorer who realized he had forgotten his life jacket.

Tu Xinlai noticed Sheng Yi hadn’t kept up and looked back gently. “Xiao Yi, what’s wrong?” Sheng Yi smiled. “Nothing.”

He took a selfie and sent it to Rong Yu: Safely arrived. It’s snowing heavily here too. As he got into the car with Tu Xinlai, a reply came instantly. Rong Yu hadn’t slept; he was waiting for news.

Rong Yu: [Keep your jacket zipped up. The screen glowed in the dark car, illuminating the slight curve of Sheng Yi’s lips. Sheng Yi: Already in the car. It’s an hour’s drive to the house. Go to sleep early. Rong Yu: Okay.

Even after telling him to sleep, Sheng Yi couldn’t resist talking more: What is Ares doing? Rong Yu sent a photo. The heartless little thing was sprawled out in his bed, sleeping so hard his eyes were rolling back. Sheng Yi saved the photo, laughing: He looks like he just got back from a world tour. Rong Yu: He accompanied me on my night run. We went crazy in the snow for an hour.Sheng Yi was shocked: !!! He was willing to go out with you?!Rong Yu: Mm. Probably because he saw how pitiful I am.

Sheng Yi stared at the reply. Was Rong Yu… acting pathetic to get sympathy? He let out a soft laugh. It seemed that being apart allowed him to discover a new side of Rong Yu.

…

The Empty Morning

By the time they reached the snow-covered farmhouse, Sheng Yi was so exhausted he collapsed onto the bed fully clothed.

When he woke up, the bright Hokkaido sun was streaming through the window. Groggy, he mumbled, “Xiao Yu, pull the curtains…” He waited, but there was no sound of moving fabric. He reached out to feel the other side of the bed, but found only cold sheets. He sat up, hair messy. “Xiao Yu?”

Silence. As he sat cross-legged on the strange bed, the reality hit him again. He checked his phone and found a voice message from Rong Yu from the night before. A deep, pleasant voice echoed in the quiet room: “Goodnight.”

Suddenly, his nose felt sharp and stinging. He hadn’t cried during the goodbye, but hearing that voice now made his eyes well up instantly. He took deep breaths, trying to crush the sudden sentimentality before it could ferment.

…

A Day of “Independence”

Sheng Yi spent the day trying to be productive. He photographed the endless white fields—which would turn into purple lavender by summer—and sent them to Rong Yu.

Since the housekeeper hadn’t arrived yet and Tu Xinlai needed bed rest, Sheng Yi had to cook. He messaged Rong Yu for help: [How do I turn these ingredients into lunch?] Rong Yu sent a detailed recipe and a voice note: “Don’t cut your hand.”

Ten minutes later, Sheng Yi dropped the knife. He had sliced his finger deeply. He hid the injury from Tu Xinlai, cleaned it with the medical kit Rong Yu had packed, and sat on the floor in a daze.

He felt a strange, suffocating void. He and Rong Yu often went all day without messaging back in the city, but being here, even frequent messages felt hollow. He felt the same ache he had felt when his mother passed away—a profound sense of loss, but this time, it felt “unreasonable” because it had only been one day.

To distract himself, he threw himself into his studies. He spent the afternoon grinding through mock exams, even mimicking Rong Yu’s stern voice to scold himself when he got questions wrong.

…

The Breakdown

By late night, Sheng Yi felt he had finally adapted. He had cooked dinner, studied hard, and helped the teacher. He felt proud of his independence. The “whiny” version of me from this morning is gone, he thought. I can live perfectly well without him.

Then, his phone buzzed with a video call request from Rong Yu. Sheng Yi’s heart leapt. He flopped onto his pillow and answered.

Rong Yu was wearing matching silk pajamas, leaning against his headboard under a reading lamp. His hair was slightly damp from a shower. He looked exactly the same as always—chilly, handsome, and familiar. “Did lunch go well?” Rong Yu asked softly. “Mm,” Sheng Yi stared at the screen. “Teacher said I have the talent of a chef.” “So impressive,” Rong Yu smiled.

That smile was the final blow. Sheng Yi quickly tilted the camera down so Rong Yu wouldn’t see his eyes. He rubbed his nose. “It’s just a few dishes. Don’t underestimate me.” Rong Yu noticed the band-aid on his finger and frowned. “Did you cut yourself?” Sheng Yi went still. He realized he was terrible at acting cool today. “Mm,” he whispered.

“Did you disinfect it?” “Mm.” Rong Yu’s voice turned helpless and nagging: “Disinfect it again before bed. Don’t let it touch water. Remember to change the band-aid…”

A warm tear escaped Sheng Yi’s eye and hit the pillow. Rong Yu’s voice faltered. “…Hang Hang?” Sheng Yi looked at the blurry figure on the screen, unable to speak. The silence stretched between them. Rong Yu, sensing his distress but wanting to protect his pride, gave him an out: “Does it hurt?”

Tears began to fall one after another. Sheng Yi wiped his eyes where the camera couldn’t see, but he couldn’t hide his voice. “Mm,” he choked out, his voice thick and raspy. “It hurts a lot.”