Page 78 of From Beijing, With Love

“Actually, we are not far from it,” Yang said as he realized where he was unknowingly leading them to.

Two more turns in the road later, he rolled to a squeaky stop. He leaned the bike against the weeping willow. “Here. Let’s take a break.”

Daniel dismounted with the same graceful swing of his leg. Yang’s heart thudded at what he was about to show Daniel. Then he met those earnest hazel eyes and his heart quieted. Sweeping aside the curtain of branches, Yang made the grand reveal.

The rectangular pond was surrounded by weeping willows, each one a cascade of lush green. The surface of the pond was still, glossy like a piece of jade. They walked down the gray granite walkway framing the pond, their reflections following them in the water.

“Let’s have a seat.” Yang gestured toward the granite bench under the grand willow.

Daniel turned his head to take in the space as he sat down. “Poppy is missing out on this view. Who knows where she cycled off to.”

“Should I text her?” Yang took a seat and handed Daniel a bottle of water from his messenger bag. The granite beneath him was cool to the touch, as the willow branches had shielded it from the scorching sun.

“I have location sharing turned on. She’ll find us.” Daniel took a swig from the bottle. “I’ve never been this hydrated until I met you.” He let out a breath and leaned back. “You said your mom taught here. Did she study here too?”

“She did. That was how she met my dad. She was in her final year of undergrad when my dad started his PhD.” Yang fixed his eyes on the water as it rippled under the breeze. “I don’t believe in soulmates, because it just doesn’t make sense on a logical level, but if on the infinitesimal chance they are real, I think it’d be my parents.”

Daniel rested a hand on Yang’s knee, his thumb tracing slow circles. Yang let it stay there, liking its warmth and weight. In this secluded spot on the empty campus, they were in a green bubble of their own.

“They met here.” Yang kept his tone light, given the weight of the words.

“Right, you mentioned. Here on campus.”

“No, I meant … here, as in this bench.” He stole a glance at Daniel.

For once, Daniel’s open face betrayed nothing. Why had he taken Daniel here, of all places? It was easy to take Daniel to tourist sites in Beijing to see relics of a bygone era he had no connection to, but this was Xi’an. His city. His history.

Then Daniel’s hand moved away from his knee and found his hand on the granite bench. Yang turned his palm upward, letting Daniel interlace his fingers with his own.

“Tell me how they met.” Daniel’s voice was soft and searching.

“My mom grew up in Beijing, while my dad never once stepped foot outside of Xi’an. They were opposites in a way that made them perfect for one another. She was beautiful and social. He was awkward and would rather bury his head in science than interact with people. I guess I inherited that from him.” Yang let out a laugh. “This bench was my mom’s spot. She’d sit here for hours with her books. One day, my poor nerdy dad went up to her and told her not to move. No explanation whatsoever. Turns out a stink bug had landed on her shoulder. Ever seen one of those?”

Daniel made a face and shook his head.

“If you spook them, they’ll release their … well, stink. When he finally got his words out and told her about it …”

“Let me guess, she freaked out.” Daniel smiled, one of his genuine smiles that took up his whole face and softened all his features.

“She screamed, and people came to the natural conclusion that my dad in his mismatched clothes and oversized glasses was harassing her. And my dad wasn’t exactly good with words under pressure.”

“Did she come to his rescue?”

Yang’s own smile grew wider. “She did, by telling everyone that he was her boyfriend.”

“Bold of her.”

“She was bold.” Yang looked down at the grass growing between the granite tiles. “And brave. In those last days, I was so scared, and whenever I looked at my dad, he looked equally terrified. Ironically, my mom was the only brave one.”

“It takes bravery to survive the loss of someone you love.” Daniel’s fingers laced tighter around Yang’s.

Be brave, his mom had kept on repeating to him in those last days. Back then, it felt like she was asking the impossible of him.

In the last week and half, he had talked more about his mom than he had in the last decade and half. It had become an unspoken rule at home to not bring up his mom, even though her ghost lingered in every corner—the mug his dad never stopped using, the books Yang kept on his shelf. He’d thought talking about his mom again would be like picking at a scab, but it wasn’t. By attempting to avoid the pain, he’d lost out on the joy of remembering her.

Three spherical sculptures sat elevated above the water, like floating granite bubbles. When the wind blew, their reflections distorted like they weren’t real. Maybe none of it was real. How else could Yang explain Daniel, with his soft eyes—gold and emerald green all at once—here on the bench where his parents met? And how absolutely right it felt to have him here?

The slender branches of the willow swayed in the wind, enclosing the two of them in their own green world. Yang’s eyes met Daniel’s.