What Happened Later—Songbai's Signature (1). I often thought back to that early autumn day in the rented apartment, when I fell like a moth into the web of his carefully laid plan.
But I did so willingly. I felt no anger at having been plotted against, only a faint sense of joy.
The feeling of being remembered, of being noticed.
I savored that feeling—the feeling of having someone care about me.
That night, I lay sprawled across his back, the wind blowing against us, seriously thinking about our future. Perhaps he and I would become lovers, walking down a long red carpet, with him waiting at the end in a tailored suit.
But that thought lasted only a moment.
Because I knew very well what the ending between him and me would be.
My mother, my family, his background, his family...
Love had never been a fairy tale for two people. Just as Mother said, a child who gathered firewood could not play with a child who herded cattle. After a day had passed, his work was done—but where was your firewood?
Yet I still couldn't endure it. I longed for a response. Even if it was fake, it was fine. Even if he lied to me, it was fine.
So that night, I confessed to him. Though I already knew what his answer would be, I still said it.
"I like you, Senior."
Leaning against his back, I felt like a prisoner nailed to a cross, awaiting judgment.
His response was simple—a single word, light as the wind.
"Mm."
It was neither rejection nor acceptance, only a simple "mm," telling me that he knew. Neither surprised nor delighted.
In that instant, my tears finally spilled from my eyes. But I was afraid of wetting his clothes and letting him