During the final days of June, Lanwan City plunged into the lazy, bustling rhythm of summer. The nervous tension of the college entrance exams had long since been replaced by graduation revelry. Groups of laughing, boisterous young people were a constant sight on the streets, while the air carried the oily scent of street barbecue and off-key singing drifting from KTVs, all mixed with a distinct flavor of freedom.
Yet amidst the city-wide excitement, Shen Yan maintained a cool composure and methodical focus that felt utterly out of place. His world had shrunk down to a single goal: get all preparations done and board the flight to San Francisco on time.
In the afternoon, at the Bank of China's Lanwan Branch. The air conditioning was biting, and the air smelled of banknote ink and a faint hint of disinfectant. Shen Yan, Zheng Hongyi, and Gaoyuan sat on a row of metal chairs, waiting for their number to be called.
"Holy crap, so this is what US dollars look like!" Zheng Hongyi leaned in, staring intently at the stack of crisp new banknotes Shen Yan had just collected from the teller window, his eyes shining. "They feel sturdier than RMB? Yan-ge, let me touch one to soak up some of that financial luck!"
Without a word of expression, Shen Yan pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to him. He then carefully sorted the rest of the money by denomination, placed them into the thick envelope given by his mother, Lin Shumin, and tucked it into the innermost compartment of his backpack. His movements were meticulous.
"Yan-ge, aren't you being way too calm?" Gaoyuan looked at Shen Yan's expressionless face and couldn't help saying, "You're about to head off to the dazzling world in America, aren't you even a little excited? I couldn't even sleep last night!"
Shen Yan zipped up his backpack, glanced up at his two friends, and replied in a flat tone, "I'm just going out to have a look, it's not like I'm never coming back. As long as I cross off everything on the checklist one by one, there's nothing to get excited about."
"What's next then? Heading to the digital mall to buy another portable hard drive? Or going back to double-check the luggage one last time?" Zheng Hongyi rubbed the US dollar bill between his fingers and asked eagerly.
"Going back to check the luggage," Shen Yan stood up. "The last few items on the checklist—travel medicine, plug adapters, passport copies—I need to make sure there are no mistakes."
Shen Yan needed this business to fill every spare second, leaving no room for his mind to wander. Especially not to leave a single crack of space for that name, those eyes, or any news that might possibly relate to her.
The class group chat was still buzzing. The class gathering was set for tomorrow night in a large private room at a seafood restaurant, followed by an all-night KTV session. People in the group kept tagging him, asking whether he was actually coming. The class monitor even direct-messaged him: "Shen Yan, it's the last time, everyone's coming, except for you and Jiang Moyin. She also seems to have said she has family stuff and can't make it. What's going on between you two?"
Shen Yan's fingers paused on his phone screen. Jiang Moyin wasn't going either?
This piece of news sent a ripple through his heart, but he immediately crushed it down. Better not to overthink it. He quickly replied to the class monitor: "Sorry, my schedule conflicts. Hope everyone has fun." Then he decisively turned on Do Not Disturb for the chat and shoved his phone back into his pocket.
The graduation banquet to thank their teachers was another event he declined, using the excuse that he had "already left Lanwan." He deliberately avoided any occasion where he might run into all his classmates or hear about where she would ultimately end up. Carefully steering clear of any potential sources of news, he guarded the safe haven he had managed to build with such difficulty.
By evening, Shen Yan returned home. To his surprise, both his father, Shen Guoyi, and his mother, Lin Shumin, were in the living room, seemingly waiting specifically for him.
"Got everything sorted?" Shen Guoyi put down his newspaper and asked.
"Yeah, the US dollars are exchanged, and all the supplies are ready." Shen Yan changed his shoes and walked into the living room.
Lin Shumin looked him over and nodded. "Is your luggage packed? Check it again, especially your documents and plane ticket. Keep them separate and carry them on you."
"I've already checked them," Shen Yan replied.
Shen Guoyi reached under the coffee table, pulled out another envelope—thinner but equally heavy—and pushed it across to Shen Yan. "Take this. Don't shortchange yourself out there. If you see something you like or something meaningful, buy it. Be safe, and don't flash your money around."
Just like the envelope from his mother, this was a reward for his good grades and their most direct way of showing affection.
Lin Shumin added, "Once you get over there, send a text home every day to let us know you've arrived safely. International calls are expensive, so use internet messaging; I hear there's plenty of Wi-Fi over there. Stay calm if something happens, talk things over with Hongyi and the others, and if you can't resolve it, contact us or the embassy immediately." Her instructions were utterly practical, sounding like an employment guide.
"Got it. Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mom." Shen Yan took the envelope and placed it with the previous one. He didn't decline, nor did he offer profuse thanks. This direct method of giving and receiving money was the established pattern of this household. It even felt somewhat relaxing to him—they didn't ask about his mood, nor did they ask why he had to travel far away the moment the college entrance exams ended; they simply offered support and waited for the results. This hands-off approach was precisely what he needed right now.
"What date are you coming back again?" Shen Guoyi asked casually, as if confirming a schedule.
"Arriving in Lanwan on the afternoon of August seventeenth," Shen Yan stated the exact date.
"Alright. We'll see how things are then and have your mother's driver pick you up." Shen Guoyi nodded, picked up his newspaper, and signaled that the conversation was over.
Shen Yan carried the envelopes back to his room. Once he closed the door, the sounds from the living room vanished completely. Looking at the two thick envelopes in his hand, and then glancing at the report card stuffed into his desk drawer, a complicated emotion welled up inside him.
Had good grades really bought him his parents' support and freedom of movement? This family had provided him with all material security, yet it seemed they had never taught him how to express inner feelings to the people closest to him—neither love nor fear.
Shen Yan shook his head to clear those thoughts and pushed them away. Now was not the time to dwell on family matters. He walked over to the window and looked out at the night view of Lanwan City. Familiar streets, familiar lights. In just a few dozen hours, he would be leaving all of this behind.
An indescribable unease slowly unfurled in his heart.
This unease didn't stem from fear of an unfamiliar country—he was confident in his ability to handle everything during the journey. The unease came from somewhere much deeper: when he truly arrived thousands of miles away, when the massive time difference completely severed every faint, lingering connection, when distance became absolute, would the self-blame, the doubts, and that longing for a certain someone—which he had forcibly suppressed—grow clearer and noisier precisely because there were no external distractions?
Was the path he chose truly leading toward a better future? Or was it merely a detour chosen out of fear? Would this path ultimately allow him to truly let go, or would it leave him feeling even more hollow inside?
No one could give him an answer.
He took a deep breath, turned around, and inventoried his luggage one last time. He carefully placed his passport, ticket, cash, and credit cards into the inner compartment of his carry-on backpack, repeatedly checking to make sure the zipper was secure. The movements were mechanical, yet profoundly solemn.
This wasn't just preparing for a trip.
It was packing away and sealing up the most important chapter of his youth. It was holding a quiet funeral for a possibility that had chosen to end before it even began.
The summer night in Lanwan was warm and humid, carrying the faint sound of traffic and the distant clamor of the night market. The city was staging countless endings of youth—some passionate, some sorrowful.
As for Shen Yan's farewell, it was completely silent. It resided in his packing list, in the internet messages he deliberately avoided, in his calm, repeated "sorrows," and in this brightly lit yet abnormally quiet room.
He was about to bid farewell to Lanwan, farewell to his high school days, and farewell to the girl who had once set his heart racing, only to ultimately make him choose to flee.
Going to an unfamiliar place was meant to escape everything familiar.
He hoped that the moment the airplane took off, all of the past could truly be left behind.