Chapter 1: Bitter Coffee and a Fake Smile

A café on the corner of Nanjing Road, seven in the evening, a fine rain drifting past the window.

Ye Qingyu pushed the door open and stepped in, the shoulders of his coat soaked through. He looked around and saw her at their usual table in the corner, holding a cup of tea that had gone cold, absorbed in something on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late.” He sat down, his voice hoarse.

Xu Ruoyi looked up and slipped her phone into her bag. “It’s fine. I ordered you a tea too, but it’s probably cold by now.”

“That’s okay.” He picked up the cup, took a sip, and grimaced. “That’s bitter.”

“That’s what you get for letting me order for you.” Ruoyi laughed, her eyes sparkling under the café’s yellow light.

He watched her laugh, and a sharp ache rose inside him that he had to work hard to hide behind a calm mask.

“So how was the hospital today?” Ruoyi asked, twirling the little spoon in her cup.

Ye Qingyu hesitated for half a second. “Just a routine checkup. Nothing worth mentioning.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Ye Qingyu.” Ruoyi looked him straight in the eye. “For three months you’ve been going to the hospital regularly, and every time I ask, it’s a ‘routine checkup.’ Do you think I’m stupid?”

He was silent, gripping the teacup.

“If you don’t want to tell me, I won’t force you,” she went on, her voice softening. “But you have to promise me one thing. Whatever happens, don’t hide it from me.”

Ye Qingyu looked at her for a long time. The café lamp cast a warm glow over Ruoyi’s face, and it reminded him of an afternoon three years ago, when he first met her in the university library, under a glow just like this one.

“I promise,” he said. But in his heart, he knew this was the first promise he was preparing to break.

Two weeks later, in Dr. Lin’s private office at Heping Hospital.

“The biopsy results are in.” Dr. Lin set the file on the desk, his voice dropping. “It’s a malignant bone marrow cancer, stage two. We need to start treatment immediately.”

Ye Qingyu sat still, hands clasped on his knees. “What are the chances of success?”

“If a bone marrow transplant succeeds and you respond well to chemotherapy, about sixty percent,” Dr. Lin replied. “But we need to find a matching donor first, and treatment will take a long time, possibly abroad, where the technology is more advanced.”

“How long?”

“A year at best. Two at worst.”

He nodded. His face showed nothing, but the hand resting on his knee had clenched until it went white.

“Do you want to inform your family, or anyone close to you?” Dr. Lin asked.

Ye Qingyu shook his head. “Not yet. I need time to think.”

When he stepped out of the hospital, the rain had stopped, but the sky was still gray. He stood motionless on the steps, took out his phone, and reread the last message Ruoyi had sent at noon: “Hotpot tonight? I’m dying for something spicy.”

He typed a reply: “Sure. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Then he stood there for a long while, watching people pass on the street, one question repeating in his head over and over: how could he tell her, and should he tell her at all?

The hotpot restaurant was packed, laughter and chatter mixing with the bubbling of broth.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been spacing out the whole time.” Ruoyi dropped a slice of beef into his bowl.

“Nothing. I’m just a little tired.” He smiled, trying to be as natural as he could.

“Is work really busy lately?” she asked. “Or is the new project putting too much pressure on you?”

“Yeah, the new project’s a bit complicated.” He answered without meeting her eyes.

Ruoyi studied him for a while, then said suddenly, “Ye Qingyu, something about you has felt off lately. It’s not just normal tiredness. It’s like… you’re hiding something really big from me.”

He set down his chopsticks and said nothing.

“Do you remember,” she went on, more quietly, “last year when my mom was sick, you were the first person I called? Not because you could cure her, but because I knew that no matter what happened, you’d be there with me. So if something’s wrong with you now, why won’t you let me be there for you the same way?”

Ye Qingyu looked at her, his heart twisting. He knew that if he told her the truth now, Ruoyi would never leave him. She would insist on going abroad with him for treatment. She would give up her job, her dreams, her whole future to take care of someone who might not make it.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“Ruoyi,” he said, keeping his voice steady, “don’t overthink it. I’m just tired.”

She looked at him, a little hurt, but still tried to smile. “All right. If that’s what you say, I’ll believe you.”

But deep inside her, a vague unease had begun to stir, like a dark cloud quietly rolling in from far away.