Work Text:
"Miaomiao."
She heard her name called by a familiar voice, one permanently etched into her memory like a song she could never forget. As she turned around, time seemed to slow, her heart thundering against her ribs. There, at the entrance of the book signing event, stood a man with short hair, wire-framed glasses that caught the pale light, and a long black winter coat that billowed softly in the breeze.
'Ziqi,' she thought to herself, her mind wavering between dream and reality. In her dreams, which had haunted her nights for so long, there was a man who had sworn to the heavens to find her again.
'I, Mu Ziqi, swear to the heavens that if I lose you somehow, I'll come back to find you. No matter how far it is, no matter how hard it is, I will always find you.'
She stood still, frozen like a porcelain figurine, afraid that the man before her would dissolve into the mist like so many of her dreams had before. Yet he kept approaching, each step more real than the last, until he stood before her.
The cacophony of people calling "Fu Zhou" and the harsh clicks of camera shutters faded into nothingness, as if she'd been submerged underwater. All she could hear was the soft, steady rhythm of his footsteps drawing near, each one echoing with the weight of their shared past.
The man stood before her, his lips curving into that familiar cheeky smile that had haunted her dreams- the one that made her heart skip even now. "Cat caught your tongue? I told you I would find you again," he said softly, reaching out to capture her trembling hands that hung lifelessly at her sides. His touch was warm, solid, real - everything her dreams had failed to recreate.
She finally mustered the courage to speak his name, her voice barely a whisper. "Ziqi...?" The syllables felt foreign yet achingly familiar on her tongue, like a long-forgotten lullaby suddenly remembered. His smile widened in response, eyes crinkling into perfect crescents that held all the warmth of a summer's day.
"Yes, it's me," he breathed, his voice carrying the weight of all the distance and time that had separated them.
She had so many questions swirling in her mind like autumn leaves in the wind, but none of them mattered now. The corners of her eyes turned red as tears welled up, threatening to spill over like a dam finally breaking after years of holding back.
Before he could react, she threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that she could feel his heartbeat against her chest. Her fingers clutched desperately at his coat as she buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent that she thought she'd forgotten.
"It's you, it's you," she muttered repeatedly, her voice muffled against the fabric of his coat, each word carrying years of longing and disbelief. Each repetition was like a prayer, a confirmation that this wasn't just another cruel dream that would disappear.
Suddenly, reality crashed back like a bucket of cold water. The sound of camera shutters grew deafening, and excited whispers rippled through the crowd like waves. Her cheeks burned crimson as she realized what she'd done – she had just thrown herself at Fu Zhou, the renowned author, in front of his fans and the media. The same Fu Zhou whose books she'd lined up for hours to buy, whose words gave her hope and courage.
Before he could even react, she quickly pulled away, her hands trembling as they released his coat. Mortification washed over her as she remembered where she was – at Fu Zhou's book signing event. The pieces finally clicked into place: in her dreams, Ziqi had mentioned that he is the writer of that world, and now here he stood as Fu Zhou, the mysterious author whose words had captured thousands of hearts, including hers. The irony that she had been reading his words all this time without knowing made her head spin.
Whispers of "Who is she?" and "Did you get that on camera?" bounced around the venue, making her want to shrink into herself. She took a small step back, suddenly very aware of the hundreds of eyes watching their every move, of the phones recording what should have been their private moment of reunion.
Seeing her attempt to retreat, Ziqi caught her wrist gently but firmly. His touch sent familiar sparks through her skin, just like it had in her dreams, or was it a reality now? Instead of letting her hide, he pulled her closer, his other hand coming to rest reassuringly on her shoulder.
"Don't hide," he murmured, loud enough only for her to hear, his voice carrying that same warmth that had once made her feel like she was home. "I've spent years wishing for you, writing about you. I'm not letting you disappear again." His eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint she remembered so well as he turned to face the flashing cameras, keeping her proudly by his side.
The whispers grew louder, but somehow, with his hand steady on her shoulder, they didn't seem as threatening anymore. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before reluctantly letting go.
"I have a signing to finish," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "But before that – have you read the first page?" When she shook her head, confusion evident on her face, his smile grew softer. "Open it."
With trembling fingers, she opened the book she had been clutching. There, on the dedication page, written in elegant script:
"When does someone know they can love another person 100%?
It is not when I love you more than I love myself.
But-- when I truly love myself and believe in myself can I love you truly and wholeheartedly.
This book is dedicated to a girl, she saved me and my world twice."
Her vision blurred with tears as she read the words over and over. When she looked up, Ziqi had already sat down, but his eyes kept finding their way back to her. Making a quick decision, she wiped her tears and joined the queue of fans, clutching the book to her chest.
As she waited in line, she noticed how he treated each fan with genuine warmth, but his eyes would invariably drift to her every few minutes, as if making sure she was still there. Some fans noticed these glances and started whispering excitedly, but for once, she didn't mind.
The dedication page burned warm against her fingers, each word a testament to years of waiting. Finally, it was her turn. She placed the book in front of him, trying to suppress her smile as he looked up with that playful grin she loved so much. "And who should I make this out to?" he asked teasingly, his eyes dancing with mirth.
The fans behind her whispered excitedly, having witnessed their earlier reunion, but she barely noticed them now. Tears threatened to spill again as she looked up to find him watching her intently, that soft smile still playing on his lips. He reached across the table, brushing away a tear that had escaped with his thumb, no longer caring about the gasps and camera clicks around them.
"You saved me first years ago when we were in school," he whispered, taking the book from her trembling hands. "Then you saved me again by giving me something to believe in."
He paused dramatically with his pen hovering over the page, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "You know," he said loud enough for nearby fans to hear, "I've written thousands of signatures, but this one needs to be special. After all, it's not every day you sign a book for the person who inspired every word in it."
His pen finally touched the paper as he wrote:
"To my Miaomiao who didn't even recognize her own story—
Thank you for saving me from myself so I could become someone worthy of finding you again, and courageous enough to say ‘I love you’.
Yours always,
Ziqi"
Her face flushed crimson as she read his words, that familiar mix of wanting to both hit him and hug him washing over her. He was still the same Ziqi who knew exactly how to make her blush and smile at the same time.
"You're impossible," she muttered, but couldn't hide her smile.
"Now, since you've waited in line so patiently, would my number one fan like a photo too?" He gestured to the spot beside his chair where other fans had taken photos with him, but his eyes held a different meaning – he wasn't asking as Fu Zhou the author, but as Ziqi, the man who had finally found his way back to her.
"I have about fifty more books to sign," he added in a lower voice, meant only for her. "Wait for me?"
She pretended to think about it, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I don't know... I hear Fu Zhou is quite famous now. His schedule must be very busy."
His eyes softened even as his grin widened. "Never busy for you.”
Her heart skipped at his words, so simple yet carrying the weight of all their years apart. The fans around them sighed collectively at his response, but she barely noticed, lost in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her.
"Then I'll wait," she said softly, clutching her signed book to her chest. "Just like you waited for me."
A gentle cough from his assistant reminded them they weren't alone. Miaomiao stepped back, suddenly aware of the line of eager fans still waiting. But before she could turn away, Ziqi caught her hand one last time.
"Miaomiao?" His voice was soft but sure. "Don't disappear on me again. I've run out of ways to write 'I miss you' without actually writing those words."
She squeezed his hand gently before letting go. "I won't.”
His laughter followed her as she walked away, her heart lighter than it had been in years. In the quiet corner of the event hall, she finally allowed herself to trace the words he'd written in her book again, each letter a testament to their journey.