Chapter 12: The Longest Movie

Faced with Lin Ximeng’s intense, probing gaze, Li Huangxuan chose to avoid eye contact.

After all, being nearly twenty-four and only just seeing a movie with a girl for the first time was a bit embarrassing.

The dating guides all said: when going out with a girl, never show weakness. You must come across as confident and composed.
The more like a seasoned pro you appear, the more attractive you’ll be.

“Mengmeng, let’s head into the theater,” Li Huangxuan suggested.

“No, let’s wait a little longer. It’s just the opening logos from the production companies,” Lin Ximeng said, her eyes drifting to the claw machine nearby.

Li Huangxuan, understanding her cue, quickly scanned twenty yuan onto the machine.

Lin Ximeng beamed with joy, expertly manipulating the joystick while muttering under her breath:

“Return to your positions, toys.”

“Who’s going to be the first plushie to be caught?”

“Come to mama!”

…

Very quickly, the twenty yuan vanished into thin air.
Not even the best pro could have salvaged that round.

It was past 8:30 PM when they finally made their way into the pitch-black theater.

On the big screen, the opening logos were still rolling—perfect timing.

“It’s so dark, hold my hand,” Lin Ximeng said as she grabbed the edge of Li Huangxuan’s shirt.

He froze, heart pounding.

Holding the popcorn bucket in his right arm, he reached his left hand back for hers.

The moment their fingertips touched, it felt like a jolt of electricity.

Her hand was soft and warm.

From that point on, Li Huangxuan felt numb everywhere—except his left hand.

He didn’t even know which leg to move as they shuffled, crouching, past rows of legs to their seats—just as the movie began.

“Hey, you can let go now.”

“Oh… okay. Ahem.”

Li Huangxuan stole a glance at Lin Ximeng’s profile—she was sipping from a straw, eyes fixed on the screen.

She didn’t seem to care at all about the hand-holding earlier.

Did she… purposely wait until the lights were out just to hold my hand?

Even as the thought crossed his mind, Li Huangxuan chuckled inwardly at his own ridiculousness.
Classic narcissist behavior.

From then on, they focused properly on the movie.

The popcorn bucket sat between them. Occasionally, when they both reached for popcorn, their fingers brushed again.

That fleeting contact was addictive to Li Huangxuan.

Eventually, he began watching her out of the corner of his eye, timing his hand to reach in sync with hers—forgetting entirely that these tricks were originally meant for another girl.

The movie was a romantic drama, filled with lingering gazes and emotional scenes—visually intense.

And sitting next to him was a beautiful girl, with a faint, pleasant scent.

Li Huangxuan began fidgeting, shifting in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs, trying to get comfortable.

Suddenly, Lin Ximeng turned to him. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“Kind of… I drank too much soda,” he admitted awkwardly.

“Let’s go together!” she said, reaching for his hand again.

Hand in hand, they crouched and slipped out of the theater.

The moment he entered the men’s room, Li Huangxuan slapped himself in the face.

So pathetic.

Back in college, he and his roommate Zhang Chuan had watched more than enough ahem “educational films.” He thought he’d become immune to such situations.

But now? Just this little scene, and he was falling apart.

He wondered if Ximeng had noticed anything.

Women always take longer in the restroom.

Li Huangxuan waited by the door with his hands in his pockets until Lin Ximeng finally emerged.

She bent over to wash her hands, her stunning face reflected in the mirror.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked.

“Yes. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” he blurted out.

“I meant the movie.”

“Uh… hahaha…”

He wanted to smash his head into a wall.

She dropped a basic attack, and he blew his ultimate move.

They returned to their seats hand-in-hand for the third time.

Sweat clung to Li Huangxuan’s palms.

Even chanting “Don’t fall for her” a hundred times in his mind didn’t help.

His heart simply wouldn’t listen to his head.

In the second half of the movie, the emotional scenes kicked in.

Ximeng, being a sensitive girl, cried quietly.

Thankfully, Li Huangxuan had read up on dating strategies and had packed enough tissues. He kept passing them to her one after another.

People are moved by stories in novels and films often because they see themselves in them.

She must have had a deeply moving, unforgettable love of her own.

By the end of the movie, Ximeng’s eyes were red and puffy from crying.

Li Huangxuan had been so focused on handing her tissues that he hadn’t even followed the plot—it made him look cold-hearted in comparison.

By the time they left the theater, it was nearly 11 PM.

They walked through the autumn wind and fallen leaves toward the subway station—just in time to catch the last train.

Ximeng began humming softly:
“Give me two more minutes, let me freeze these memories. Don’t let the tears melt them. Your makeup’s smudged—how am I supposed to remember… remember you told me to forget.”

Hearing the lyrics, an overwhelming sadness welled up in Li Huangxuan’s chest.

He suddenly stopped walking and gently took her arm.
“Mengmeng, is there someone you just can’t forget?”

Tears instantly streamed down her cheeks.
“Yes. I’ll never be able to forget him.”

The autumn breeze carried her tears into the rustling leaves.

It was clear—there was a deep, painful secret buried in her heart that she couldn’t share.

“Why is it that you all get these epic, unforgettable romances?”
Li Huangxuan thought of an old friend and felt his eyes grow moist.

“Fool,” Lin Ximeng said emotionally.
“If you can choose, never ask for an epic love. Choose an ordinary, peaceful one.”

Li Huangxuan pulled out the last tissue he had and gently wiped her tears.

Then he took a deep breath and asked,
“Mengmeng, would you be willing to let go of the past and start a new life?”

She looked up at him, speechless, as if wrestling with a difficult decision.

He could sense that she didn’t dislike him—otherwise, she wouldn’t have come so happily, nor held his hand.

She must have her reasons.

“Never mind,” he said, taking a step back.
“If you don’t want to answer, that’s okay. I’ll give you time. We still have more than twenty days.”

After all, they’d only known each other a few days—it couldn’t be rushed.
Especially for a girl who’d been hurt before. Entering a new relationship again requires caution.

“Dummy,” she said with a smile through her tears.

They took the subway home. Once out of the station, they still had some walking to do.

Lin Ximeng had already calmed down and began chatting about the movie.

The jade bracelet on her wrist jingled lightly.

Li Huangxuan watched the autumn wind blow through her long hair and clearly heard the sound of his own heart fluttering.

And yet, a sense of unease lingered in his chest—like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

Lyrics played over and over in his mind:

Our beginning was a long movie.
It played for three years.
I still kept the ticket.
The ballerina on ice still spins in my mind.
Watching you, forgetting you…

Was meeting you, just a beautiful dream that would vanish with the morning light?