Chapter 2: Five Years of Light

Lin Yiran had never known what it felt like to truly belong—not until she met Xu Lian.

At five years old, she had been a lonely child. Her parents were distant, their love something cold and structured rather than warm and unconditional. Her days were meticulously planned by tutors and governesses, her world confined to quiet rooms filled with books, piano lessons, and polite conversation. Laughter was rare, play was structured, and affection was something given sparingly, only when deemed necessary. She was taught to be proper, to be disciplined, to always remember her status.

Then, one summer afternoon, she met Xu Lian.

Xu Lian had burst into her life like a sudden downpour in the middle of a drought—unexpected, overwhelming, impossible to ignore. She had been wild and free, her clothes smudged with dirt, her hair perpetually messy. She didn't speak with the careful politeness Yiran had been taught; instead, she spoke with passion, with a voice that demanded to be heard. And she had dragged Yiran into her world with the sheer force of her presence, leaving her with no choice but to follow.

At first, Yiran had been hesitant. She had watched from the sidelines as Xu Lian climbed trees, ran barefoot across the park, and shouted with unrestrained joy. It had taken weeks before Yiran finally joined her, and even then, she had done so carefully, afraid of disappointing the girl who had so easily become her first friend.

But Xu Lian had never judged her. She had never called her boring or strange. Instead, she had grabbed her hand and pulled her along, showing her how to climb, how to run, how to laugh without thinking about who might be listening.

Yiran had scraped her knee once while trying to chase after Xu Lian. She had expected a scolding, perhaps a stern reminder to be more careful. But instead, Xu Lian had plopped down beside her, pulling up her own pant leg to reveal an identical scrape. "See? Now we match!" she had said, grinning as if it were the greatest thing in the world. Yiran had found herself laughing for the first time in what felt like forever.

Her governess had been horrified when she returned home that evening, dirt on her dress and twigs in her hair. But Yiran had simply smiled, hiding the tiny bandaid on her knee beneath her long socks.

By the time they were six, Xu Lian had become Yiran's safe place. School had become their shared territory, a world that belonged only to them. Xu Lian had a talent for mischief, but she was never cruel—only reckless, only defiant in the face of rules that seemed too suffocating. And Yiran, the ever-perfect daughter, found herself drawn to that rebellious spirit.

During lunch breaks, they would sit beneath the old cherry blossom tree in the schoolyard, whispering about dreams and secrets. Yiran had confessed that she wanted to be a pianist once, but her mother had told her that being an artist wasn't suitable for someone of her status. Xu Lian had scoffed, kicking at the dirt. "That's dumb. If you wanna play, you should play. Who cares what they think?"

Yiran had never dared to say such things out loud. But when Xu Lian said it, it felt like the truth.

At seven, they had their first real fight. It had started over something small—Yiran had refused to sneak out after school to play at the riverbank, too afraid of what her parents would say if she got caught. Xu Lian had been angry, calling her a coward, telling her she was too afraid to live.

Yiran had been furious. She had shouted back, voice shaking, saying things she didn't mean. Xu Lian had stormed off, leaving Yiran alone in the school hallway, her chest aching with something she didn't understand.

They hadn't spoken for three days. It had felt like an eternity. Yiran had thought it was over, that she had lost the only person who made her feel real.

Then, on the fourth day, Xu Lian had appeared at her house, holding a badly wrapped gift in her hands. "I made you something," she had mumbled, eyes darting away. "You don't have to open it if you don't want to."

Inside was a small, handmade bracelet—sloppily woven, the colors mismatched, but beautiful in its own way. Yiran had felt tears sting her eyes as she slipped it onto her wrist. They hadn't spoken about the fight after that. They hadn't needed to.

By the time they were eight, Xu Lian had started talking about her dreams. "I'm gonna be famous someday," she had declared one afternoon, lying in the grass with her hands behind her head. "A singer, an actress, something big. Everyone's gonna know my name."

Yiran had laughed. "What if I don't know your name?"

Xu Lian had sat up, staring at her with those sharp, dark eyes. "You will. You'll always know."

And for some reason, Yiran had believed her.

At nine, Yiran had begun to understand something strange about herself—something she couldn't quite put into words. She had started noticing the way Xu Lian's eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved, the way her smile could change the entire atmosphere of a room. She had started noticing how, whenever they had to be apart, she felt like a piece of her was missing.

She had always loved Xu Lian. But now, it was different. It was something deeper, something more fragile and terrifying.

She didn't understand it then. Not fully. But she knew that Xu Lian was the most important person in her life, and she wanted to stay by her side forever.

By the time they were ten, Yiran had long accepted that Xu Lian was her entire world.

That night, after much pleading, Xu Lian had come over to Yiran's house for the first time. It was a grand place—too big, too empty. Xu Lian had looked around in awe but said nothing about it. Instead, she had flopped onto the plush couch like she belonged there, making herself comfortable in a way Yiran never could.

That night, they sat together in Yiran's home theater, watching a movie Yiran had chosen carefully. It was an old film, one that had won countless awards, filled with sweeping emotions and breathtaking performances.

As the screen lit up, Yiran wasn't watching the movie—she was watching Xu Lian.

She watched as Xu Lian's eyes widened, as her lips parted in silent wonder. She watched as the flickering light from the screen painted her face in soft, golden hues, making her look even more radiant. And when Xu Lian leaned forward, completely captivated, Yiran felt something deep inside her tighten.

Because in that moment, she realized—she loved her.