Green plums cannot become lovers.

He suddenly remembered the fast food restaurant he and a few friends used to frequent after school. He wondered if it was still there.

As he was thinking this, his gaze was suddenly drawn to the window of a fast food restaurant on the side of the road when the bus passed an intersection.

Inside sat a girl with short blue hair, her face turned to the window, looking down at her phone. Sunlight streamed in from the window behind her, making her hair shine.

I couldn't see her face clearly, but her blue hair was really eye-catching.

An and Asuka were stunned for a moment, then quickly pressed the stop button. The car arrived at the station just in time, and he quickly got off and walked towards the fast food restaurant.

Since that boy left Aichi after graduating from junior high school, Anna Hanami's life has changed a lot.

It's not that she's become boring. In fact, life without him is still full of fun. She still makes many friends, chats with them during breaks, goes shopping with them after school, and watches movies with them during holidays. Days go by, so fulfilling that she sometimes forgets how much she once cared about someone.

But no matter how many friends she had, none of them brought back that flutter in her heart. That bittersweet feeling, tinged with a touch of melancholy, never returned after the boy left. Occasionally, she would think of the path she used to walk with her friends on her way home from school, of someone always giving her their strawberries at the dessert shop, and of that graduation photo when she saw cherry blossoms.

At that time, she thought the separation was temporary. Tokyo and Aichi were only a little over an hour apart by Shinkansen. If they wanted to see each other, they could go on weekends. They could also come back during holidays. They had many opportunities to meet.

However, this separation lasted for two years, and they didn't see each other again. Her contact with the boy was only relatively frequent in the first few months. She asked him how Tokyo was, and he said he was still adjusting; she asked him how his new school was, and he said it was alright; she asked him when he would come back, and he said he would come back during the holidays. She believed him every time, waited every time, and never saw him again.

She stopped asking after that.

This wasn't the boy's fault. She knew it perfectly well. He was messaging her less and less, not because he'd forgotten her, but because he was too busy. She saw his performances on TV, his games online, and read his interviews in magazines. "Music prodigy," "youngest producer," "creator of the new era"—the titles were increasingly impressive and dazzling.

As she looked at the reports, she suddenly realized that he was no longer the boy who walked home from school with her in the small town.

He shone brightly in a world she could never reach.

Every time she contacts him, it could be an obstacle on his path to success. He's destined for greatness and shouldn't be bothered by the idle chatter of a country girl.

So, to avoid bothering him, she gradually stopped contacting him. At first, it was very painful. Her heart would race when her phone rang, only to find it was someone else's message, leaving her feeling disappointed for a long time. She would habitually open their chat window, type several lines, then delete them word by word.

She wanted to tell him what she ate that day, what happened at school, whether it was cold in Tokyo, whether she had eaten well, and when she would be back. But in the end, she just locked the screen and put her phone in her pocket.

Gradually, she adapted to life without him.

She told herself that this was enough. As long as he was doing well, that was all that mattered. She saw him on TV, standing on stage, the spotlight shining on him, so many people cheering for him in the audience. She clapped through the screen, thinking to herself: You see, not disturbing him was the right thing to do. He doesn't need your news; he has a bigger world to explore.

She thought she could just stay there, quietly waiting until she graduated from high school, until she became a better person, and then stand confidently in front of him to tell him that she hadn't wasted these years.

But that's not possible now.

Hua Lian is leaving.

Himegami Karen. The girl who grew up with them, the pink-haired girl with a gentle yet slightly silly smile, the one who, like her, harbored the same person in her heart.

She's leaving to study in the UK, a very, very far place, requiring a long flight.

Hua Lian also didn't want to be an obstacle on the young man's road to success. She never contacted him first and asked him to keep it a secret and not tell him about her.

"Let's talk about it when he's done with his work," Hua Lian always said, her tone casual, as if she really didn't care. But she knew that Hua Lian had all his photos on her phone, her playlist was full of songs he had written, and every year on her birthday she would make the same wish while looking at her cake.

Before Hua Lian left, she wanted to see him one last time.

She knew Hua Lian wouldn't tell. She would quietly pack her bags, quietly book her flight, and quietly leave, just as she quietly liked someone and quietly kept him in her heart. She wouldn't tell anyone, much less disturb him.

But she didn't want it to be like this.

She didn't want to see her best friend leave her like this, nor did she want to be separated from her. She especially didn't want Hua Lian to leave with regrets. That boy, he should have known that someone was waiting for him, that someone was leaving, that—in this small town, there were two girls who had never forgotten him.

So she sent that message.

She didn't know if this counted as disturbing him, whether he would come back, or what she should say or do if he did. All she knew was that if she didn't speak up this time, she might never have another chance.

The sunlight streaming through the window shone on the phone screen, reflecting a small patch of glare. Seeing Anja squint, Bana locked the screen and put it in her pocket.

She rested her chin on her hand, watching the passersby outside the window. A couple walked by hand in hand; the girl's hair was ruffled by the wind, and the boy tucked it behind her ear. She looked away, picked up her Coke, and took a sip. Most of the ice had melted, and the taste was much weaker.

When will he come back?

she does not know.

But at least she tried.

As Hanami stared at her phone screen, the words lay there quietly, like a fallen leaf drifting into a calm lake.

Himegami Karen: Plane tickets for two days from now.

Her finger hovered above the screen, not falling for a long time. The sunlight outside the window was bright, shining on the sign across the street, almost dazzlingly so. Upbeat background music played in the fast food restaurant, and a child at the next table was eating ice cream, his face covered in it, while his mother laughed and wiped it off for him. Everything seemed normal.

Only in her heart did something seem to be sinking.

Summer vacation was still long; August was only halfway over, and the tail end of summer hadn't even been caught yet. She thought she could wait for him to come back, for the three of them to sit in the dessert shop like before, ordering three different drinks. She thought she could finally say those things properly, without being too formal, just like having a chat.

She thought at least they could say goodbye properly.

But two days later, Hua Lian was leaving. And he hadn't returned yet. He hadn't even set a return date.

Hanami gripped her phone tightly, her knuckles turning slightly white. She recalled Karen's regretful and disappointed expectation when she said, "Don't tell him."

Hua Lian has always been like this, keeping everything to herself and saying nothing. She doesn't say she likes someone, she doesn't say she's leaving, she doesn't even say goodbye. She just quietly packs her bags, quietly books her plane ticket, and quietly leaves, like cherry blossoms falling silently to the ground when spring is over, without disturbing anyone.

Anzu didn't want it to be like this. She didn't want Karen to leave like this, didn't want her to leave with regrets. That boy should know, should know that someone was waiting for him, should know that someone was leaving, should have come back to see her off.

She opened her chat window with An and Feiniao. The previous message was still yesterday's: "Haven't set a time yet." She stared at that line for a few seconds, typed a few words on the keyboard, then deleted them, typed a few more characters, and then deleted them again.

What should I say? "Come back soon"? That's too impulsive.

"Hua Lian is leaving?" It sounds like a complaint.

"You'll regret it if you don't come back"? That's too harsh.

She bit her lip. She didn't care anymore. She didn't care if it bothered him, didn't care if he was busy, didn't care what she should say when he came back. She just wanted him to come back.

She lowered her head and began typing.

"Flying Bird, Hua loves her—"

"Apricot."

A voice came from behind me.

It was very light and familiar, as if it had drifted from a very far place, or as if it had never left.

Anna Hanami's finger hovered over the top of the screen, her entire body frozen. She recognized that voice. In the middle school hallway, on her way home from school, at the entrance of the dessert shop, in every photograph, every memory, every dream.

She had heard it countless times, and waited for it countless times.

She turned her head abruptly.

A young man stood at the entrance of the fast food restaurant. He had black hair, dark brown eyes, and a faint smile on his lips. He wore a simple white T-shirt, and his shoulder bag was still slung over his shoulder, making it seem as if he had just come from the station.

Sunlight streamed in through the window behind him, outlining his silhouette with a golden edge.

Seeing Anja's wide eyes, Bana's phone slipped from her hand and slammed onto the table with a thud.

"You...how could you..."

"Didn't you say you'd be back soon?" An and Asuka walked over and sat down opposite her.

When Banai saw Anja staring at him, her mouth opened and closed repeatedly.

She wanted to say, "You're lying," "You said you hadn't set a time yet," and "Why are you only coming now?" But something seemed to be blocking her throat, and she couldn't utter a single word.

She just looked at him.

Looking at him, who was a little taller than I remembered, looking at his face, which was clearer than in the video, looking at those gentle and calm eyes that were exactly the same as they were two years ago.

He really came back.

Banana felt a sudden pang of sadness in Anja's nose. She quickly lowered her head, pretending to pick up her dropped phone. The screen was still lit, and the half-finished message remained in the chat box.

She pressed the lock screen button and turned off the screen.

"Why are you here all alone?" An and Asuka's voices came from across the street.

"Waiting...waiting for someone." She lowered her head and stuffed her phone into her pocket.

"Waiting for whom?"

“A friend.” She sniffed, looked up, and tried to make her voice sound normal. “How did you find this place?”

I saw you as I was passing by, so I got off the bus.

"Just passing by?" Bana saw Anja blink. "Your home isn't around here, so why are you just passing by?"

“I came to find you. Your dad said you came to school, so I took a bus here.”

"Then you should go to school, what are you doing at a fast food restaurant?"

I see you.

Bana saw Anja pause for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh.

"You have pretty good eyesight."

"It's alright," An and Asuka said with a smile.

Bana saw Anzu looking at him for a while before continuing.

"When did you arrive?"

"yesterday."

"You came back yesterday?" Her voice rose again. "Then why are you only coming to see me today?"

"I had a meal with Aunt Yunmuban yesterday."

Banami Anzu's expression softened a bit, but she still pouted.

"You can send me a message too."

"Once it's sent, it's no longer a surprise."

"That almost turned into a fright."

An and Asuka smiled but didn't reply.

Bana smiled at Anzu too. But as she smiled, she suddenly fell silent, looking down at the glass of ice on the table that had completely melted.

"Birds".

"Ok?"

"Hua Lian is leaving."

Her voice was very soft, as if she was afraid of being overheard.

"Going to the UK, flight in two days."

An and Asuka were suddenly stunned.

Hana saw Anna raise her head and look at him.

"She didn't want to tell you; she asked me to keep it a secret. She didn't want to say anything, didn't want to bother you with anything. She just wanted to leave quietly, to depart peacefully..."

She didn't continue.

The sunlight outside the window shifted, shining warmly on the back of her hand resting on the table.

“She shouldn’t have left alone,” said Anna, her voice more composed than before. “At the very least, she should have said goodbye properly.”

An and Asuka looked at her, then nodded as they came to their senses.

"Hmm. That shouldn't be the case."

When Banai saw Anzu looking at him, he suddenly felt a little sore in his eyes.

She lowered her head and blinked hard.

"So you have to go see her." Banai saw that Anzu's tone was very serious. "Go tomorrow, no, go now. She must be waiting for you. Do you remember where she lives?"

"remember."

Hana nodded at Anzu without saying anything more. She picked up the glass of liquid that had already dissolved, took a sip, and found it to be almost tasteless.

"Apricot."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Banana saw Anzu pause for a moment. She looked up and stared at the boy opposite her. He was looking at her intently, a slight smile playing on his lips, as if he knew what she was thinking, or as if he knew everything.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say "What are you thanking me for?", wanting to say "I didn't do it for you", wanting to say "I just didn't want Hua Lian to leave alone". But in the end, she just lowered her head and whispered something.

"You're welcome."

The sunlight outside the window illuminated the entire fast food restaurant, making even the water stains on the table sparkle.