Once the renovation began, the two of them suddenly had a long list of regular appointments in their lives.
Every so often, they had to go to the site to check on things. Some materials had to be chosen in person, and problems the original design hadn't anticipated kept coming up during construction.
During the first week of demolition, the designer informed them that old pipes ran through a section of wall originally meant to remain in the dance studio, so the pipes had to be rerouted. They also found traces of previous repairs on the studio walls and needed to confirm whether they affected the soundproofing structure.
The first time Enze walked onto the site wearing a hard hat, he almost didn't recognize the house.
The once-clean floors were covered with protective boards. Sections of wall had been opened up, exposing all the pipes and structural supports. The living room no longer had the warm, bright look it had when they'd viewed the place. All that remained were machinery, dust, and the noise of construction.
He stood in the entryway, stunned for several seconds.
“Our home has been demolished.”
Weiran stood beside him.
“How else are we supposed to renovate it?”
“It looks terrifying.”
“Regretting it?”
“No.”
Enze walked farther inside. Through the dustproof sheeting, he could see the two rooms that were going to be opened into one. More than half of the dividing wall had already been removed, revealing the dance studio's full size for the first time.
“It's bigger than I thought.”
The designer came over with the plans.
“Once the rooms are opened up, the space will feel much more expansive. It will feel different again once the flooring and mirrors are installed.”
Enze stood where the mirror wall was planned and looked toward the opposite end.
For now, it was still a complete mess.
But he could already imagine what it would look like when it was finished.
Maybe the following spring, he would turn on the speakers here for the first time. Weiran might stand by the door, saying he didn't want to watch, and then stay there anyway.
“What are you thinking about?” Weiran asked.
“The first time I dance here, I'm going to show you.”
“Don't.”
“You have to watch.”
“Why?”
“Because you made this for me.”
“You paid for it too.”
“But most of it was still you.”
Weiran frowned slightly.
Enze immediately knew he had stepped on that subject again.
“Okay. We made it together.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“So you have to watch even more.”
Weiran neither agreed nor refused.
Enze automatically took it as consent.
The renovation moved forward little by little, while the lease on their old apartment drew closer and closer to its end.
As expected, the landlord couldn't let them renew for a short term.
She planned to take the apartment back, redo the walls and pipes, and rent it out again, so she hoped they would move out on time when the lease expired.
The night they received the notice, Enze stood in front of the refrigerator for a long time.
Several sticky notes were still attached to the door.
One had been left by Weiran a few days earlier, reminding him to remember to go to the site and choose the dance studio flooring after rehearsal. Another, written by Enze, said, “Finish the milk,” with Weiran's addition beside it: “Already did.”
Below those were several notes that had been there for a long time, their edges beginning to curl.
“Not coming home for dinner tonight.”
“Remember to take out the trash.”
“Mom sent side dishes. Eat the box on the bottom first.”
These notes had no real value as keepsakes. Most were simply expired reminders about daily life.
And yet Enze didn't want to throw away a single one.
When Weiran came out of the bedroom, he saw Enze holding his phone and taking pictures of the notes one by one.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking pictures of the sticky notes.”
“Why?”
“They'll be gone after we move.”
“You can put notes on the new refrigerator too.”
“It won't be the same.”
After taking a picture of the last one, Enze carefully peeled off several of the more intact notes and put them in the clear document sleeve beside him.
Weiran leaned against the kitchen counter and watched him.
“You're keeping all of them?”
“Just a few.”
“That one only tells you to take out the trash.”
“It was the first time you wrote such a long sticky note.”
Weiran glanced at it.
It read:
“The garbage truck comes at 8:15 p.m. Don't go downstairs and stand there at 7:30. It's cold outside. Leave a little later.”
It was, indeed, much longer than his usual notes.
“You had a cold then,” Weiran said.
Enze turned his head.
“You remember?”
“Mm-hmm.”
That had been five years ago.
Enze only remembered that Weiran had worked until late that day, yet had still written down the garbage pickup time clearly before going out. He hadn't expected Weiran to remember that he had been sick too.
He placed the sticky note in the sleeve.
“This one stays.”
Weiran didn't object.
A month before the move, cardboard boxes began appearing around the apartment.
They started with things they didn't use often: winter clothes, mementos from past performances, books, spare equipment, and objects the two of them dug out from the backs of cabinets—things they had both forgotten they owned.
Enze found an old shoebox under the bed.
Inside was the first pair of official dance shoes he had worn at twenty-two.
The soles were long worn down, and the uppers showed obvious signs of use. Back then, he hadn't had money for a better pair, but he had still kept these shoes spotless, carefully putting them back in their bag after every rehearsal.
“You're keeping those?” Weiran asked from the bedroom doorway.
Enze picked up the shoes.
“Of course.”
“You can't wear them anymore.”
“They're a keepsake.”
“The storage in the new house isn't for storing junk.”
“How are these junk?”
Enze glared at him.
“These are the shoes from my first official performance.”
Weiran looked at them for a while.
“Put them in the display cabinet.”
“Didn't you say you didn't want too many cabinets?”
“They've already been made.”
“You agreed to it?”
“Didn't we settle that already?”
The corners of Enze's mouth slowly lifted as he put the dance shoes back in the box.
“Then they go on the very top.”
“Whatever.”
“Put your first official album beside them.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“The cover is ugly.”
“Why do you think everything is ugly?”
“It is ugly.”
Enze ignored him and wrote “New Home Display Cabinet” directly on the box.
Weiran saw it, but didn't cross it out.
Weiran's music equipment was the most troublesome part of the move.
Some pieces required professional packing, while he had to sort the cables and smaller equipment himself. Just dismantling the work area in his room took two full days.
Enze stood in the doorway and watched the room, once packed with equipment, slowly empty out.
The desktop computer was shut down and packed first. The monitor speakers went into shock-resistant cases, and the synthesizers and keyboards were labeled separately. The black boxes along the wall whose names Enze didn't know finally left their places one by one.
After the last set of equipment was removed, the walls revealed lighter patches where they had been covered for so long, and the floor bore marks left by the legs of tables and cabinets.
The room suddenly seemed huge.
And unfamiliar.
Enze turned around once in the middle of it.
“I didn't know your room was this big.”
Weiran was sorting cables.
“It was never small.”
“You couldn't even walk in here before.”
“Because you stepped on everything every time.”
“I never broke anything.”
“Almost.”
Enze moved closer to him.
“Where's all the equipment going?”
“To the studio downtown.”
“Will it all fit?”
“I'll rent the storage space next door for now.”
“What about the hotel?”
“A laptop, headphones, and one simple interface will be enough.”
Enze frowned.
“Won't that be inconvenient?”
“I was going to be at the studio often anyway these next few months.”
“What if you want to make changes in the middle of the night?”
“I'll go the next day.”
“Can you stand it?”
Weiran glanced at him.
“Even if I can't, I can't move the entire studio into the hotel.”
Enze imagined it for a moment. It really didn't seem feasible.
“You can use my headphones.”
“Yours won't work.”
“Why not?”
“They're not precise enough.”
“You can still hear the sound.”
Weiran didn't explain further.
Enze was already used to his pickiness about equipment and simply helped him put on labels.
Their belongings were divided into three categories: things to take temporarily to the hotel, things to send first to the downtown studio or storage, and things to wait and move into the new house later.
The old sofa and dining table were taken away first by a furniture restoration company.
On the day the sofa was carried out, Enze followed the movers all the way to the elevator, repeatedly reminding them not to scratch the handrail or lose the cushions.
Weiran stood by the apartment door watching him.
“They're only taking it to be repaired.”
“I know.”
“It's not being thrown away.”
“They're moving too fast.”
“If they don't move fast, should they take a break in the hallway?”
By the time Enze returned inside, the living room had lost its largest pieces of furniture: the sofa and dining table.
The empty floor was fully exposed.
Standing in the center of the living room, he could stretch out his arms without hitting anything for the first time.
It had probably looked much the same six years ago when they moved in.
There had only been the furniture left by the landlord and the luggage of two young men.
Later, they bought a rug, cups, cookware, and storage bins, filling the place with their lives one little piece at a time.
Now those things were leaving one by one too.
“You can dance now,” Weiran said.
Enze turned around.
“What?”
“You've always complained that the living room was too small.”
“There isn't any furniture now.”
“Dance.”
Enze looked at the empty space and actually took several steps backward.
He didn't change into his dance shoes or play any music. In the quiet living room, he simply raised his arms and made a very simple turn.
He didn't hit the coffee table or bump into the floor lamp.
His loose house clothes lifted gently with the movement. When his feet landed on the wooden floor, the sound rang especially clearly through the empty apartment.
Weiran leaned against the wall and watched.
Enze turned toward him.
“Was it good?”
“Not bad.”
“Only not bad?”
“There was no music.”
“Then you sing.”
“No.”
Enze smiled and walked over to him.
“When the dance studio in the new house is finished, the first dance is really going to be for you.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You can't run off halfway through because you have work.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And you can't just say it's not bad.”
“Depends on your performance.”
Enze reached out and hugged him.
The two of them stood in their first home as it was gradually emptied, surrounded by nothing but cardboard boxes and marks left behind by dismantled furniture.
Weiran raised his arms around Enze's back.
“Can't bear to leave?”
“I really can't.”
“The new home will be better.”
“I know.”
Enze buried his face against Weiran's shoulder.
“But this was our first.”
The first time they looked for a place together.
The first time they moved.
The first time they sat on the floor eating instant noodles.
It was also the first time they lived under the same roof and accompanied each other from having nothing to where they were today.
The new home could be bigger and better. It could have everything they had once wanted but couldn't afford.
But it could never replace the place this apartment held in their lives.
“Can we take one thing with us?” Enze asked suddenly.
Weiran looked down at him.
“What?”
“I don't know.”
He knew it was impossible to tear up a piece of the floor or wall and take it along.
Weiran thought for a while, then released him and walked into the kitchen.
The refrigerator had already been unplugged, and all the food inside had been cleared out. Enze had collected the sticky notes from the door, leaving only several magnets they had used for years.
Weiran took down a dark-blue square magnet and placed it in Enze's palm.
“This one.”
Enze looked down.
It was a free gift they had picked up on a whim while buying milk at a nearby supermarket not long after they moved in. After six years of use, its surface was already scratched in places.
“Keep using it on the new refrigerator.”
Enze closed his hand around the magnet.
“Okay.”
One week before the lease expired, the hotel's accommodations were finally confirmed.
Weiran hadn't chosen a short-term apartment or looked for another place.
He had directly booked a long-stay suite on the top floor of a hotel downtown.
He told Enze two days before the move.
That night, their suitcases were already in the living room, and the last few boxes headed for storage were piled by the entryway.
Enze was crouched on the floor organizing his kneepads while Weiran sat beside him, checking the moving company's schedule.
“We'll go to the hotel the day after tomorrow.”
Enze looked up.
“Which one?”
Weiran sent him the booking information.
Enze opened it, and his eyes widened slightly when he saw the hotel's name.
It was an upscale hotel in the center of the city, not far from Weiran's studio and more convenient for driving to the dance company than the new house would be. Even a regular room cost a considerable amount per night, to say nothing of the top-floor long-stay suite Weiran had booked.
“How long are we staying?”
“Three months for now.”
“Three months?”
“We can renew it when the time comes.”
Enze quickly scrolled down, looking for the price.
“Isn't this going to be really expensive?”
Weiran shook his head.
“No. One of the clients from a previous job gave me quite a few complimentary vouchers. I never went anywhere before, so I never had a chance to use them. This works out perfectly.”
Enze looked up.
“Vouchers can cover three months?”
“There are several long-stay plans, and the vouchers can be applied to them. The hotel is also part of the partner group. I asked, and long-term stays get an additional discount.”
“It's still expensive, though.”
“It's within what we can afford.”
“Why not find somewhere more ordinary?”
“The top floor is quieter.”
“Just because it's quiet?”
“And there's enough space.”
Weiran took his phone and opened the room photos.
The suite had a separate living room, dining area, small kitchen, and two bedrooms. The primary bedroom connected to a bathroom and dressing area, while the other room could temporarily hold the belongings they needed to keep with them.
Most importantly, there were only a few suites on the top floor, making it relatively quiet coming and going. There was also a private elevator and better privacy overall.
Enze looked at the photos.
“We're only staying temporarily.”
“So?”
“Do we really need somewhere this big?”
“Are you planning to practice dancing in an ordinary hotel room?”
“I can go to the dance company.”
“What about your days off?”
“I don't dance on my days off.”
Weiran looked at him.
Even Enze didn't believe that statement.
“And a long stay needs a kitchen,” Weiran said. “You can't eat takeout for several months straight.”
“The hotel has breakfast.”
“You'll get tired of it.”
“We can eat out.”
“That’s a hassle.”
Weiran had clearly thought through every possible problem already.
Enze continued reading the room details.
“What about your equipment?”
Weiran thought about it.
“I'll have the movers take it to my downtown studio first. Once the house is finished, I'll move it there. I'll only bring the basics.”
“Will that really not affect your work?”
“Most of my work is handled at the studio anyway.”
“But you used to work at home a lot.”
“I'll adjust for now.”
Weiran closed the booking page.
“It’s only a few months.”
Enze looked at him.
The renovation was expected to take close to a year. They had booked the hotel for three months first, and whether they would extend their stay would depend on the construction schedule.
Even with the complimentary vouchers, it was still a considerable expense.
“I’ll pay half too.”
Weiran raised his eyes.
“You don't have to.”
“Why not?”
“The vouchers are free.”
“There are still costs after the discount.”
“I'll handle it.”
“But I live there too.”
“Then you can pay for the food.”
Enze frowned.
“The hotel has breakfast.”
“Lunch and dinner.”
“That still isn't fair.”
“How do you want to make it fair?”
Enze thought for a while.
“We split the remaining lodging costs proportionally.”
Weiran didn't agree immediately.
“There are also laundry, parking, and other expenses,” Enze continued. “Count those too.”
“Don't you have to cover the renovation lately?”
“I've already set that money aside.”
“What about the dance company's tour?”
“The company will cover it.”
“You're sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Weiran studied him for a long time.
“Proportionally.”
Enze immediately grinned.
“Okay.”
“But the complimentary vouchers don't count.”
“Fine.”
“Don't start doing the math wrong later.”
“Got it.”
Weiran sent the booking information again to their shared group chat.
They had created the group after the renovation began. It contained only the two of them. At first, its name had been “House,” but Enze later changed it to “Our Home.”
All the floor plans, material photos, construction updates, and moving information were stored there.
Now the hotel booking confirmation had joined them too.
Enze looked at the group name.
“Does the hotel count as home?”
Weiran was still checking the details.
“A place to live.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Enze set down his kneepad and leaned against him.
“The hotel is temporary.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“But we're living there together.”
Weiran turned to look at him.
Enze smiled.
“Then it counts as a temporary home too.”
Weiran didn't deny it.
“Whatever.”
The weather was beautiful on moving day.
At seven in the morning, the moving company arrived at the apartment.
Their belongings were loaded in batches. Weiran's professional equipment went to the downtown studio, the furniture and most of the boxes went into storage, and only the luggage labeled “Hotel” was left until the end.
The apartment grew emptier and emptier.
The closets, bookshelves, and kitchen cabinets revealed their interiors one after another as the things hiding them were removed. The bathroom held only two towels and basic toiletries, while the refrigerator was empty except for two bottles of water.
Enze walked from his room to Weiran's, then back down the hall to the living room.
His footsteps echoed through the empty apartment.
“Is there anything left?” Weiran asked.
“I’m checking one more time.”
“You've already checked three times.”
“The last time.”
Enze opened every cabinet, making sure nothing had been left behind.
When he passed Weiran's room, he stopped in the doorway.
For six years, he had knocked on that door countless times.
At first, he would patiently wait for a response. Later, it became two knocks and a pause of two seconds; if there was no objection, he would simply push the door open. It was a tacit understanding that had formed after they began living together—and, for a long time, an exception that belonged only to Enze.
Now the room was completely empty.
Even the bed where he had slept for the first time after getting drunk had been dismantled, waiting to be replaced once the new house was finished.
Enze raised his hand and lightly knocked twice on the empty door.
Weiran stood in the living room, watching him.
“What are you knocking for?”
“The last time.”
“The door isn't going anywhere.”
“That's why I'm knocking.”
Weiran didn't hurry him.
Enze pushed the door open and looked around one last time before coming back out.
After the final batch of boxes was carried away, only their two suitcases and personal bags remained inside.
The landlord was expected to come by that afternoon for the inspection.
They closed all the windows and checked the water, electricity, and gas one more time.
Enze stood in the kitchen.
The kitchen counter was empty, and the stovetop had been wiped perfectly clean.
He remembered their first night after moving in.
Neither of them knew how to use the water heater, so they had spent half an hour figuring it out. The refrigerator couldn't be plugged in right away, so they put the drinks they had bought from the convenience store by the window, hoping the cold winter air would chill them.
Back then, neither of them had imagined that six years later they would buy a house with a yard.
Even less had they imagined that when they finally left this place, they would no longer be merely roommates.
“Weiran.”
“Mm-hmm?”
“Let's take one more picture.”
Weiran was checking the door lock.
“Didn't we take one yesterday?”
“There were boxes yesterday.”
“There's nothing today.”
“That's exactly why we should take one.”
Enze set his phone on the windowsill and turned on the timer.
He walked back to the center of the living room and waved to Weiran.
“Come here.”
Weiran stood beside him.
“Smile.”
“No.”
“It’s the last day.”
“Yesterday you said it was the last time too.”
“Today really is.”
Weiran still didn't smile.
When only two seconds remained on the countdown, Enze suddenly leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
The shutter went off at exactly that moment.
In the picture, Weiran's eyes were slightly widened, while Enze was wearing a very obvious smile. Behind them, the living room was completely empty. Sunlight streamed through the not-particularly-large window, illuminating the pale marks left on the floor by the furniture.
Enze ran over to get his phone.
“It turned out great.”
Weiran took one look.
“Delete it.”
“This one is going in the new house too.”
“No.”
“Put it next to the previous one.”
“Absolutely not.”
Enze immediately added the photo to his favorites.
“Your objection has been overruled.”
When the landlord came to inspect the apartment, she seemed a little sentimental seeing it empty too.
She remembered what the two of them had looked like when she first met them six years ago. Two twenty-two-year-old young men had stood in the living room repeatedly confirming the rent and deposit. They had only been able to afford a secondhand refrigerator.
Now their clothes and bearing were completely different from back then, yet they were still standing side by side in the same place.
“Moving into a bigger house?” the landlord asked.
“Mm-hmm,” Enze answered. “We bought one. It's still being renovated.”
“That’s wonderful.”
The landlord smiled as she put away the keys and paperwork.
“You two are still living together?”
Enze glanced at Weiran.
Weiran was looking at him too.
“Mm-hmm.” Enze smiled. “Still together.”
Only their relationship was different now.
Once all the procedures were complete, the two of them dragged their luggage to the entryway.
Weiran put on his shoes first, while Enze remained inside the door and looked around one last time.
The kitchen, the hallway, the two open bedroom doors, and the living room with all its furniture gone.
Every corner was so familiar that if he closed his eyes, he could see it filled with their life again.
“Let’s go,” Weiran said.
Enze nodded.
He turned and stepped outside.
Weiran pulled the door shut.
Before the lock clicked into place, Enze suddenly reached out to stop it.
Weiran paused.
“What is it?”
Enze looked at the last sliver of space visible through the door.
“I’m home.”
He said it very softly.
It was what he had said every time he pushed open the door over the past six years.
Whether Weiran answered or not, he had always known that person was inside.
Now, saying it for the last time wasn't because he had actually just returned from outside. It felt more like saying goodbye to the place that had accompanied them for six years.
Weiran stood beside him in silence for a moment.
“Mm-hmm.”
He answered just as he had countless times before.
Enze's eyes felt hot, but he didn't cry.
Slowly, he withdrew his hand.
Weiran closed the door.
This time, they walked toward the elevator together.
The hotel sent a car to pick them up.
The hotel wasn't very far from the old apartment, and the route passed through many familiar streets. Enze sat in the car and didn't pull his gaze from the rear window until the neighborhood where their apartment stood had completely disappeared.
Weiran took his hand.
“Sad?”
“A little.”
“If you want to go back, you can't anymore.”
“You’re really good at comforting people.”
“It's a fact.”
Enze leaned against his shoulder.
“I know.”
They hadn't been forced to leave.
Nor had they lost their place to live.
Life had simply reached the point where they needed to say goodbye to their first home.
The hotel was in the busiest part of downtown.
The car entered through a private underground entrance, where the staff were already waiting. Their luggage was taken from them, and a private elevator carried them directly to the top floor.
As the elevator rose, Enze watched the floor numbers change.
“It really is on the top floor?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Why didn't you stay here before when you had complimentary vouchers?”
“Why stay at a hotel for no reason?”
“You could take a vacation.”
“I didn't want to go out.”
“You don't have to go out at a hotel.”
“I could sleep at home.”
Enze thought about it.
That really did sound like Weiran.
When the elevator doors opened, the staff led them through a quiet hallway.
The door to the top-floor suite opened.
The first thing Enze saw was an entire wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.
The city spread out almost completely unobstructed beyond the glass. High-rises, roads, and a river in the distance all fell within view. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the spacious living room and pale carpet.
The suite looked even larger than it had in the pictures.
The living room had a full sofa and dining area, with a small, fully equipped kitchen beside it. Farther down the hall were the primary bedroom and another room, while the bathroom was even more spacious than the bedroom in their old apartment.
After introducing the basic facilities, the staff handed the room cards to the two of them.
“Breakfast can be delivered to your room, or you can eat at the restaurant downstairs. Housekeeping times can be adjusted to your preferences. If you need anything, you can contact us through the tablet in the room.”
Weiran nodded.
“Thank you.”
After the door closed again, only the two of them remained inside.
Enze was still standing in front of the windows.
“It’s so high.”
Weiran put his coat on the sofa.
“Afraid?”
“No.”
“Then why are you standing so far away?”
Enze looked back at him.
“I’m looking at the view.”
Weiran didn't call him out.
Enze walked through the entire suite, opening every cabinet, looking into both bedrooms, and lingering in the bathroom for a long time.
“The bathtub is really big.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Is it bigger than the one in the new house?”
“I don't know.”
“Want to try it?”
Weiran was organizing their luggage. He looked up when he heard that.
Enze immediately added, “I mean, you can try it. Not together.”
“I didn't ask anything.”
“Your expression did.”
Weiran opened a suitcase.
“Come help unpack.”
“Doesn't the hotel have staff for that?”
“You want someone else to put away your clothes?”
Enze walked over to help.
They didn't have that many clothes.
Most had gone into storage, and they had brought only enough for everyday life and work. The primary bedroom's closet was large enough that they could conveniently divide the space between them.
As Enze hung up his clothes, he suddenly smiled.
“What?” Weiran asked.
“Does this count as getting used to the primary bedroom ahead of time?”
“What?”
“Sleeping together and sharing a closet.”
Weiran glanced at the large bed in the center of the room.
“You can sleep in the other room if you want.”
“No.”
Enze answered without hesitation.
“Weren't you just talking about getting used to it ahead of time?”
“That means we have to sleep together.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You can't kick me out in the middle of the night.”
“That depends on whether you kick in your sleep.”
“The bed is so big I won't be able to reach you.”
“Good luck with that.”
Their clothes were hung one piece at a time in the same closet.
Their toiletries went into the same bathroom too.
Enze's kneepads, massage ball, and stretching equipment occupied one corner of the guest room. Weiran set up his laptop, headphones, and the basic equipment he had brought beside the living-room window.
The hotel suite, originally standard and immaculate, gradually began to show traces of their life together.
A half-finished glass of water sat on the coffee table. Weiran's coat hung over the arm of the sofa, and the two cups they had brought from the old apartment sat on the kitchen counter.
The cups were nothing expensive.
One was a dark-blue ceramic cup Enze had bought many years ago. The other was a black mug Weiran had used for a long time. Beside the hotel's brand-new white tableware, they looked somewhat out of place.
Yet Enze felt that the place didn't truly look like somewhere they would live until he saw those two cups.
He took out the dark-blue refrigerator magnet from his personal bag.
The hotel's small refrigerator was built into the cabinetry, and its outer door wasn't metal. The magnet wouldn't stick at all.
Enze tried twice, then could only set it on the kitchen counter.
“It won't stick.”
Weiran stood beside him.
“We'll put it on the new refrigerator.”
“That'll be another year.”
“Put it somewhere safe so you don't lose it.”
Enze found a small clear dish and placed the magnet inside it by itself.
“This way it won't get lost.”
By the time they finished unpacking, it was almost evening.
Enze collapsed onto the sofa and watched the city lights gradually brighten outside.
“We're really staying here for three months?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What after that?”
“We'll see how the renovation is going.”
“What if it's not finished?”
“We'll extend the stay or find somewhere else.”
“I think the hotel staff will all know us by then.”
“Try talking to people less.”
“They'll be the ones who know us.”
Weiran sat down beside him.
“Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
“Order room service.”
“Will it be expensive?”
Weiran turned to look at him.
“You've asked that a lot today.”
“Because it really is expensive.”
“The vouchers can be used for meals too.”
“They cover food as well?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“How many did your client give you?”
Weiran thought about it.
“They'd been sitting unused for years.”
Enze suddenly felt that Weiran's life before this really had been absurdly monotonous.
The hotel vouchers, meal vouchers, and passes to leisure facilities his clients had given him had all been casually put away. He had never once thought of using them for a vacation.
“You have to use the rest in the future,” Enze said.
“Aren't we using them now?”
“The rest too.”
“What do you want to do?”
“After we move into the new house, we can take the occasional vacation.”
“We have a home. Why stay somewhere else?”
“A vacation is different.”
“How?”
“We don't have to clean the room.”
Weiran glanced at the clothes Enze had casually thrown onto the other side of the sofa.
“You don't clean it anyway.”
“You do.”
“Then there's no need for a vacation.”
Enze laughed and leaned against his shoulder.
They ordered a simple dinner.
By the time it arrived, it was completely dark outside. The view from the top floor was even brighter at night than it had been during the day. The city lights stretched into the distance, and the cars became tiny streams of moving light.
The dining table was much larger than the one in their old apartment.
Even so, they still sat beside each other instead of facing one another across the table.
“What time are you getting up tomorrow?” Weiran asked.
“Seven.”
“What about breakfast?”
“Have it delivered at six-thirty?”
“Too early.”
“I have to go to the dance company.”
“The drive is only twenty minutes.”
Enze paused.
The hotel was closer to the dance company than the old apartment had been.
“Then seven.”
Weiran booked breakfast on the tablet.
“What about you?” Enze asked.
“I'll go to the studio at nine.”
“Then you can sleep in.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Will I wake you when I get up?”
“No.”
“What if I do?”
“Go back to sleep.”
Enze looked at him.
“You're really easy to take care of.”
“Who’s taking care of whom?”
“I am.”
“Who’s paying for the food?”
“…The vouchers.”
Weiran raised an eyebrow.
Enze immediately put a piece of meat in his bowl.
“Eat.”
After dinner, they didn't go straight to sleep.
Enze pulled Weiran to the window and sat with him on the bench, looking at the night view.
The hotel was too high and too quiet.
The city outside was bustling enough to seem like another world, while inside there was nothing but the air conditioner and the sound of their breathing.
Enze leaned against Weiran.
“Today feels a little strange.”
“How?”
“We were still in that home this morning, and now we're here.”
Weiran made a quiet sound of acknowledgment.
“It feels like something went missing in between.”
“The movers finished.”
“Not that.”
Enze thought for a long time before finding the right way to put it.
“It feels like I woke up and six years were over.”
Weiran turned to him.
“They're not over.”
“I mean the six years we lived there.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“When we look back someday, today will probably be important.”
“Why?”
“The first time we moved out together.”
Enze lowered his gaze to their hands resting on the bench.
Six years ago, they had each carried their luggage into the same apartment.
Back then, all they knew was that they would become roommates. Neither of them had imagined that leaving six years later would look like this.
They had packed up their life together, closed the door together, and moved into another temporary place together while they waited for the house they had bought together to be finished.
Weiran reached out and took his hand.
“We'll move again someday.”
Enze frowned.
“Where would we move after the new house?”
“When we're old, we might not want to live in a two-story house.”
“You're already thinking about getting old?”
Weiran paused.
He had only been mentioning a realistic possibility concerning the house, but he hadn't expected Enze to seize on the other implication.
Enze turned his face toward him, a smile slowly rising in his eyes.
“So we'll live together until we're old?”
“You're thinking too far ahead.”
“You were the one who brought it up.”
“I said maybe.”
“Maybe still means together.”
Weiran didn't argue.
Enze tightened his grip on his hand.
“Then let's live in the new house first.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“When we're old, we'll find another place together without stairs.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And it has to have a yard.”
“Will you still be able to garden then?”
“We can hire someone.”
“Now you know how to hire people?”
“Being old is different.”
The corners of Weiran's lips curved slightly.
Enze leaned against his shoulder.
They quietly watched the night view for a while.
This wasn't the old apartment where they had lived for six years, nor was it the new house still under construction.
There was no sofa they had chosen together, no sticky notes on the refrigerator, and none of the familiar spots they could find even with their eyes closed.
But Enze didn't feel homeless.
Because Weiran was sitting beside him.
Their cups were in the kitchen, their clothes hung in the same closet, and tomorrow morning they would wake up in the same bed.
Even if it was only a suite on the top floor of a hotel, once the traces of their shared life began to appear again, the unfamiliar place would slowly become somewhere they could return to.
Enze looked up.
“Weiran.”
“Mm-hmm?”
“Can I say it today?”
“Say what?”
“I'm home.”
Weiran looked at him.
Before leaving the old apartment, Enze had stood outside the crack of the door and said “I'm home” one last time to the emptied-out place.
Now, sitting before the floor-to-ceiling window of an unfamiliar hotel, he said the same words again.
Only this time, it wasn't goodbye.
It was a new beginning.
“I'm home,” Enze said with a smile.
Weiran held his hand and answered in a low voice.
“Mm-hmm.”
After a pause, he added,
“Welcome home.”
Enze's eyes curved into an instant smile.
He leaned over and kissed Weiran.
He was no longer as careful as he had been the first time, nor was he so nervous that he might miss the right place. Weiran raised a hand to the back of his neck, letting the kiss deepen slowly in the quiet night, then pulled away before Enze nearly forgot to breathe.
Their foreheads remained together.
Enze breathed lightly, but the smile never left his lips.
“This place counts as home now too.”
“Temporarily.”
“Temporary still counts.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Once the new house is finished, we'll move again.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“This time, you can't just tell me you want to move.”
Weiran looked at him for two seconds.
“I want to move with you.”
Enze was satisfied.
“That’s more like it.”
The city outside remained bright.
And the seventh year of their life together quietly began in a hotel suite they had borrowed for a while.