If You Could See the Sun

Descartes was wrong, you know, when he said, ‘To live well, you must live unseen.’ To live well, you must learn to see yourself first. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

To live well, you must learn to see yourself first.

Henry, whose head is resting against my shoulder, the soft curls of his hair brushing my cheek, his features smooth and unguarded in sleep. And everything about this moment is so lovely and so fragile in its loveliness that I’m almost afraid to hold it. Afraid that the spell will break.

I would rather spend the rest of this train ride fighting with him than let him be trapped alone with his thoughts and fears again

Mama always says there are no ugly women, only lazy women—but from what I’ve gathered, it’s more like there are no ugly women, only broke women

“Everything’s a form of power,”

“For a start, I think I want to focus on English more,” I muse, and just saying it aloud feels...right. Like my heart has been waiting for my mind to catch up this entire time. “Maybe sign up for a journalism course over the break. I’ve compiled a list of suitable options already—ones that offer full merit-based scholarships...”

“That sounds great,” he says, with full sincerity.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a deal then,” I say, angling my head to look up at him. “You’ll become the head of the number one tech start-up in all of China, and I’ll be a renowned, award-winning journalist or English professor. Together, we’ll—”

“Be the nation’s greatest power couple?” he offers.

“I was going to say conquer the world,” I admit. “But sure. I guess we can start small.”

He laughs, and the sound is like bottled magic. Like birdsong.

I turn my gaze toward the sky, my fingers still intertwined with his. In the distance, the darkness has started to lift like a veil, the first light of dawn spilling over the Beijing skyline, a promise of all the beautiful and terrible and sun-soaked days to come.

“I don’t know. I want...”

I trail off, my mind whirring. I still want so much, so badly. My heart still aches for all the bright things beyond my reach. I want to be smarter and richer and stronger and just...better.

But honestly? I also want to be happy. To invest in something meaningful and fulfilling, even if it is difficult, and maybe not the most practical option in the world. To spend more time with Baba and Mama and Xiaoyi, and finally hang out with Chanel, and go out on a proper date with Henry. I want to laugh until my stomach hurts, and write until I’ve crafted something that delights me, and learn to bask in my small, private victories. Learn to accept that these things, too, are worth wanting.

Your Mama and I don’t work hard for you to repay us. We work hard so that you can have a better life. An easier life. And sending you to Airington—that was our choice. Spending our income on your school fees—that was also our choice. In no way should you feel obligated to take on the burden of our decisions for us. Is that clear?

Or rather, I sort of smash my face against his, which is exactly as smooth and romantic as it sounds. I don’t even have time to register how it feels when he jerks his head back with a muffled yelp.

I release him, mortified, and see him raising one finger to the corner of his mouth, a stunned expression on his face. Both his lips and ears are tinged red. “Alice. You just bit me.”

Well, shit.

“I—I’m so sorry,” I babble, fighting the urge to flee to the other end of the universe. Oh my god. Why did I just do that? What was I thinking? Why am I even alive right now? “I swear I wasn’t—It didn’t—”

I break off when I see Henry double over, his shoulders shaking. For one horrifying, heart-stopping moment, I’m scared I might’ve actually caused some severe tissue damage.

Then I realize that he’s laughing.

All my concern boils into indignation.

“It’s not funny,” I protest, my cheeks hot, my voice coming out embarrassingly shrill. “This—this was meant to be a very serious, touching moment, and you were meant to fall desperately in love with me on the spot and discover how good I am—”

The rest of my words die on my tongue as Henry straightens, laughter still dancing in his eyes, cups my face in one hand, and presses his lips against mine.

This time, I do register the kiss, everything from the warmth of his skin to the brush of his lashes when he closes his eyes and—

Wow.

It’s nothing like the way they describe it in the movies, like all the stars aligning and fireworks exploding across an ink-black sky. It feels both quieter and bigger than that, as simple as coming home and as dizzying and all-encompassing as the wind rushing in around us. It feels like a thousand banished and buried moments have been building up to this—to us alone and untethered and weak with wanting—and maybe they have.

A low, embarrassing sound escapes the base of my throat.

Henry responds by leaning deeper into the kiss, and the world goes hazy. All I can think about is his lips, so devastatingly soft on mine, and his hands, now firm around the back of my neck, tangling deep in the roots of my hair...

There’s a slight chance that he’s better at this than I am.

Just this once, I’ll let him have it.