Chapter 4 – That Familiar Name

The rain had stopped, but the streets were still wet, reflecting the amber glow of the evening sun. An Ruoran sat by her bedroom window, staring at the clouds that floated like soft memories.

She had fallen asleep again during her study break. Another strange dream.

This one had taken her back to her final year of high school—the hallway outside the library, a boy leaning lazily against the wall, one earbud hanging loose, the melody of some old Mandarin pop song drifting faintly in the air.

Wang Peizhen.

He was standing there, smiling at someone—no, at her. And for a second, that version of herself had looked... happy. Like her heart belonged to that moment.

Ruoran blinked hard, as if the dream clung to her lashes.

Why now?

It had been years since graduation. Since they had gone their separate ways. He had been accepted into a university in another province. She had stayed behind, becoming a hometown girl with soft ambitions and a quiet routine.

They hadn't met since.

A few awkward texts, an emoji on her birthday, nothing else.

Still, tonight’s dream had shaken something loose. Something she'd buried.

Was it just nostalgia? Or… a sign?

She sighed and turned to her phone to distract herself. That’s when the notification popped up.

[1 new message – Wang Peizhen]

She froze.

He texted her out of the blue again.

What now?

Heart suddenly beating fast, she unlocked it.

Peizhen:

“Hey… sorry if this is random. Just needed to ask you something strange. Can I call?”

Strange?

Ruoran hesitated, her fingers hovering over the screen.

What could possibly be strange between them now?

Did he remember something? Did he find out she used to—

She bit her lip.

No. There was no way he knew she had liked him. Secretly. Silently. She had kept it buried beneath polite smiles and quiet glances during class.

Even back then, she was just the ordinary girl in the corner seat. He was the boy everyone liked—warm, effortless, sunny. A little late to class, a little too charming with his laughter. But kind. Always kind.

She took a deep breath and replied:

Ruoran:

“Sure. Now?”

The phone rang within seconds.

She swallowed as she answered.

"Hello?"

There was a pause, then his voice—slightly deeper than she remembered—cut through the line.

"Hey... An Ruoran. It’s been a while."

Her name on his lips stirred something in her chest. Like a forgotten melody.

"It really has," she replied softly.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, this is going to sound weird. But… if a little girl, around five or six, ever mentioned knowing me—or even came to find me—do you have any idea why?"

Ruoran blinked.

A… little girl?

"What?" she asked, startled. "You mean, someone came to you?"

"Yeah," he exhaled. "She showed up at my apartment yesterday. Knocked on my door, called me… 'Daddy' and just... walked in like she belonged."

Ruoran sat straighter, her grip tightening.

"And… you think I’d know why?"

“…She said she’s our daughter?”

Ruoran’s voice came quietly through the line, uncertain, like she hadn’t fully processed it.

Peizhen let out a breath, pacing slowly across his small apartment. “Yes. She showed up at my door this morning, called me ‘Daddy,’ and asked why I opened the door so late.”

“That—” Ruoran paused. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know it doesn’t. But she’s not just making up names. She knew mine. Yours. She said her name is Wang Ruoyu.”

Ruoran swallowed. Her throat was dry.

“There’s no way…” she whispered. “That’s not possible. I mean—Peizhen, we haven’t even—” She stopped herself. “We haven’t even met in years.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I know.”

There was a brief silence. On the other end, she was trying to process it. He could hear the shifting of papers, perhaps her nervous fidgeting.

“Maybe she’s just confused,” Ruoran finally said. “Maybe someone played a prank or—maybe she’s pretending.”

“I thought the same. But she looks a bit like… us,” he said, hesitantly. “It’s not exact, of course. But it’s there. In the eyes. The shape of her face.”

Ruoran didn’t speak.

“And she’s not afraid,” he added. “She’s comfortable here. Like she’s been here before. Like she knows me.”

Ruoran leaned back in her chair, staring at the wall. Her head was spinning. “She’s just a child. Children can imagine things… right?”

Peizhen let out a quiet laugh, though there was no amusement in it. “If she’s imagining this, she’s a genius at storytelling. She told me… she came here to see me before it's too late.”

“…Before what’s too late?”

“I asked. She didn’t say anything more. Just smiled. Like she knew something I didn’t.”

Ruoran’s heart thudded.

“Did she mention… anything else?” she asked slowly. “About me?”

“She said she missed your voice,” Peizhen replied, glancing toward the closed bedroom door. “She didn’t seem surprised when I mentioned your name. She said, ‘I know Mama doesn't know yet. But she will.’”

Ruoran’s breath caught.

“But I’ve never…” she murmured. “I’ve never even—Peizhen, I would know if I had a child.”

“I would too,” he replied. “That’s why I’m telling you. Because I don’t understand any of this.”

Ruoran was silent again.

“…What do you want me to do?” she finally asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… I didn’t want to keep this from you. You’re the only person this could possibly involve.”

She nodded to herself. “I need to think. This is… a lot.”

“I get it.”

“I’m not saying I believe it,” she added, hurriedly.

“Of course,” he said, though his tone was unreadable.

There was a pause again.

“Peizhen?” she said, her voice softer now.

“Yeah?”

“She’s okay, right?”

He blinked. “Yeah. She’s fine. She’s asleep now.”

Ruoran closed her eyes. She didn’t understand what was happening. But somehow, she felt the weight of something beginning—like a thread pulling her into something impossible.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said at last.

Peizhen’s voice was quiet. “Okay.”

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