The city came back like a wave — bright, noisy, impatient.
Car horns, street vendors shouting over each other, the hiss of bus brakes, the murmur of thousands of people moving in different directions — it all hit Li Wei the moment the car entered downtown. The skyline loomed like a steel forest, sunlight bouncing off the glass buildings in sharp glints. He used to love this. The noise, the chaos, the pulse of life — it used to make him feel like the center of something big.
But now, after a week in that quiet village, the city felt too loud.
He leaned his forehead against the window. The car sped past a traffic jam, and for a second, he caught his own reflection — tired eyes, a faint smile, and behind him, the blur of the world rushing by. He sighed softly, tracing a small circle on the fogged glass.
Somewhere behind, far beyond the lines of buildings and tangled power cables, was that tiny village road — the one that smelled like jasmine and wet soil after rain. He could almost hear the soft splash of the canal water and Lin Yue's laughter echoing in the distance.
He closed his eyes, remembering her running toward him, her braid bouncing, the way her laughter filled the silence between the trees. You city boys are trouble, she had said. The memory made him grin unconsciously, even as a small ache tugged at his chest.
When they finally reached home, the apartment looked as spotless as always — sleek, quiet, sterile.The air conditioner hummed softly, and the faint scent of lavender cleaner lingered in the hall.
"Home sweet home!" Li Na shouted dramatically, dragging her suitcase across the tiles.
Their mother smiled, setting down her purse. "It's good to be back."
But to Li Wei, something about it all felt distant — like walking into a painting instead of a place where life happened. The village house had been full of creaks and laughter, and the smell of cooking always seemed to come from somewhere. Here, everything was… too perfect. Too silent.
He dropped his bag near the couch and looked out the wide window.Down below, cars zipped past in flashing streams of red and white.The city pulsed, alive and restless, but all he could think about was the sound of crickets outside Lin Yue's porch.
Dinner that night was noisy again, but in a different way.The TV blared news in the background, plates clattered, and his sister wouldn't stop talking.
"Mom, remember when Li Wei fell asleep in the hall with Lin Yue?" she said, grinning mischievously.
Their mother gasped theatrically. "In the hall? Oh my, what were you doing, young man?"
Li Wei groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "It's not what you think! We were just… talking."
His father, just back from the hospital, raised an eyebrow. "Talking, hmm? Must've been a very deep conversation to last till morning."
Even his mother chuckled, shaking her head. "Children these days."
"Can we please not make this sound weird?" Li Wei muttered, stabbing at his rice.
But the truth was, he didn't really mind. Remembering that night — their whispered laughter, the soft light, the way she had slowly drifted to sleep beside him — filled him with a strange, quiet warmth.
Later, when everyone was asleep, Li Wei sat by the window again.The sky outside was the color of silver and smoke. The city glowed — not with stars, but with screens, lamps, and neon. He watched the lights flicker, each one like a heartbeat too fast.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a small piece of paper — crinkled, sugar-scented, wrapped carefully.The last laddu Lin Yue had given him.She had said, "Promise you'll remember me when you eat it."
He hadn't eaten it yet.It sat on his desk now like a secret.
He turned the wrapping over in his hands.There was still a faint sweetness on his fingers, and it made his chest tighten in a way he didn't fully understand.
He smiled softly to himself."She'd probably call me dramatic if she saw me like this," he whispered.
Outside, a horn blared. A dog barked somewhere below. A couple argued near a parked car.The city was bursting with sound — but inside, he felt only stillness.
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across his room.His alarm blared, followed by Li Na's voice from the kitchen: "Wake up, sleepyhead! Don't make me play your own song back at you!"
Li Wei sat up, groaning. "I regret ever teaching her that."
Breakfast was the usual — hot milk, eggs, and his mother reminding him to study.But every now and then, he'd glance toward the balcony, where the morning haze hung above the buildings.
"Li Wei," his mother said, noticing his distracted look, "you're awfully quiet today."
"Just tired," he said quickly, forcing a smile.
His father looked up from the newspaper. "You miss the countryside already?"
Li Wei hesitated, then nodded. "A bit."
His mother smiled knowingly. "That's a good sign. Means you enjoyed yourself. You should go more often."
"Maybe," he murmured, taking another sip of milk.
What he didn't say was that every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face — the way her eyes lit up when she teased him, the faint curve of her smile when she looked at the sky.
At school, things were exactly as they'd been before.His friends joked, his teachers lectured, the corridors buzzed with chatter.But the world seemed… distant, like he was watching everything from behind a glass window.
During lunch, his best friend Zhao nudged him. "What's with you lately? You're zoning out like an old man."
Li Wei smirked. "Just… thinking."
"About what? A girl?" Zhao teased.
Li Wei froze for half a second before laughing it off. "You wish."
But Zhao wasn't convinced. "Come on, who is she?"
"Relax, dude. No one."He turned away, but his ears burned just slightly.
After school, he walked home alone.The air was thick with exhaust fumes and chatter. A street musician played guitar near the subway entrance, his voice lost under traffic noise.Somewhere above, banners flapped on electric poles — the city's version of wind songs.
And still, all he could hear in his head was Lin Yue's voice — "You're so annoying!" — followed by her laughter that melted into the evening breeze.
That night, he went up to the terrace.It wasn't like the village sky — no stars, just a faint gray-blue dome.But the wind still carried a coolness that reminded him of her world.
He closed his eyes, letting the air brush past his face.If he listened closely enough, maybe he could still hear the canal water, the soft rustle of sugarcane leaves, the creak of her old wooden gate.
He pulled out his phone again, scrolling through the photos his sister had taken — his mom and Lin Yue's mother cooking together, Li Na feeding goats, and finally, one picture that made his breath catch.
It was Lin Yue, standing near the banyan tree. The sunlight had caught in her hair, making it shimmer gold. Her smile was small, but real — that quiet, confident kind of smile that made everything else fade.
He didn't even remember seeing her like that.He stared at it for a long time, thumb hovering over the screen.
"Good night, village girl," he murmured. "Don't forget me, okay?"
He didn't notice when he fell asleep on the terrace, the phone still glowing beside him.
Morning light spilled across the tiles. His mother found him there, curled up with a blanket half falling off.
"Li Wei!" she scolded, shaking her head. "You'll catch a cold sleeping like this."
He sat up, blinking blearily. "Sorry, Mom. Guess I just wanted some air."
"Well, at least it's Sunday," she said, setting down a cup of tea beside him. "You can rest. But maybe not out here."
As she left, Li Wei stared at the city below again.People were already rushing — buses honking, stores opening, someone arguing about a taxi fare.
He took a sip of tea. It was hot and slightly bitter.The city's rhythm was back, but his heart wasn't keeping up.
That afternoon, he found the last piece of the laddu still sitting untouched.He finally unwrapped it, holding it between his fingers. It had hardened slightly, but the smell — sweet, nostalgic, and faintly floral — was the same.
He took a small bite, and the taste flooded him instantly — sugar, ghee, warmth.But behind it, something deeper — the sound of laughter, the sight of petals drifting through sunlight, the feeling of her fingers brushing his.
He smiled to himself. "Not bad, Lin Yue," he whispered. "Still tastes better than anything here."
For a long moment, he just sat there, staring out at the glowing city skyline, the taste still lingering.He didn't know what this strange ache inside his chest meant — only that the city he once loved suddenly felt too crowded, too sharp, too far from where he wanted to be.
That night, as the streets outside shimmered with headlights and voices, Li Wei wrote something small in his notebook — not homework, not a diary, just a thought:
"Some places are loud, but you only remember the quiet ones.Some people come from far away, but they stay closer than anyone else."
He looked at the line for a while, then smiled faintly, closing the book.The noise outside didn't fade — it never did — but somewhere inside him, there was a soft, steady hum that felt like peace.
Maybe that was her echo.Maybe that was what it meant to miss someone.