His Bride Isn’t Me

At eighteen, on the brightest spring day Chaoxin City had seen in years,
Lin Tingting swung her leg at a flying soccer ball, misjudged the angle, and sent the school’s top student straight to the hospital—
and herself straight into his life.

She did his laundry, brought him meals, snuck over the wall at night to feed him takoyaki,
sat with him through the hell of college entrance prep.
Everyone could see it: she was one step away from taping “I like you” across her own forehead.

Later, he got a guaranteed spot at the best university in the capital.
She got into the one next door.
At a winter mixer, under fairy lights and bad slow music,
he almost pressed that long–overdue kiss to her forehead—
right up until a phone call cut straight through the moment.

The next day, he vanished.

Her WeChat was gone from his list, her number was blocked,
and “Shen Qingzai” simply ceased to exist in her contacts.

She finally cornered him at the hospital entrance and heard the gentle boy she’d loved for years say,

“Lin Tingting, I’ve never liked you.
Everything you’ve ever done for me has been nothing but a bother.”

At twenty, before she ever got the chance to confess,
her first love handed down the verdict—
like a death sentence on the rest of her youth.

Chapter 1

“Shane, can you come play soccer with us again next time?”

It was an April afternoon by the soccer field. Shane was standing on the sideline, gulping down water. Soft sunlight fell over the boy talking to him, catching in his messy blond hair and the bright, eager look in his eyes.

A girl holding a bottle of water had been waiting in the distance for a long time. She kept sneaking glances their way. When Shane happened to look over, their eyes met and she dropped her gaze at once, suddenly shy.

“Sure.”

The boy bounced on his feet when he heard that. Then, as if something had just come to him, he turned and ran off toward the girl.

This was Sunrise City at its best, clear sky, soft clouds, the faint scent of cherry blossoms in the air. On the drive home Shane had to pass four intersections, each lined with trees like these, so coming back to his old high school on weekends to play ball before driving back was one of the few real breaks he allowed himself.

This time, he ran into someone he knew.

At first, he was not sure if the person crouching by the food cart was Tina. Then the girl lifted a half tray of takoyaki high in the air and called to the vendor, “Can you put more wasabi on this,” and the doubt in his chest turned into certainty.

Same snack, same extra wasabi. If he remembered right, in another thirty seconds she would be doubled over from the heat.

Sure enough, a moment later Tina shot to her feet, stung by the spice, banged her head on something, and looked up to see Shane standing right in front of her, staring at her without blinking.

Embarrassment flashed in her eyes, quick and sharp. Then she simply snatched the bottle of water from his hand and started chugging.

She drank too fast and began to cough. Shane hurried over and patted her back, trying to help her catch her breath.

Same height, same way of dressing, same obsession with takoyaki. At twenty-three, Tina did not look much different from the girl he had known six years ago.

“So you are back,” he said.

Tina drained the water and twisted the cap back on, trying to pull herself together and look a little more composed. Then she thought about how ridiculous she must have looked just now and gave up on the idea.

“Yeah.”

“When did you get back?”

“A week ago.”

London always rained. When Tina first moved to the UK, every time it rained she forgot her umbrella and ended up soaked nine times out of ten. So when she finally came home, the first thing she did was go back to always-sunny Sunrise City and order the takoyaki she had dreamed about on countless nights, this time with extra wasabi.

“Sounds good.”

Shane looked at the girl in front of him. Her eyes were still clear and bright, as if time had never really touched her. That was all he could think to say.

Tina wore her hair in a low ponytail, and there was still a smudge of wasabi at the corner of her mouth. He pulled out a tissue without thinking and leaned in to wipe it away.

She seemed startled by the movement and blurted, “Thanks, I can do it myself.”

Something tugged in his chest. He was a little startled by his own impulse too. He cleared his throat and asked, “When are you leaving?”

He had seen people in their old class group chat talk about how well she was doing in the UK and how she planned to stay there long term.

“Early May.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “let’s get together again when you have time.”

Only when she saw him turn away and get into his car did Tina finally let the breath out of her chest. The car pulled off, kicking up a gust of dust, and she narrowed her eyes against it.

She wiped at the tears that had gathered and told herself it was just the wasabi. It had to be.

Shane drove slowly. In the rearview mirror, the girl was still standing where he had left her, growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared from view.

This time, she did not run after him the way she used to, all warm smiles and blind faith at his heels.

She just stood there and let the wind sweep in from far away, shaking the cherry petals off his shoulder.

He suddenly realized why the scene on the field earlier, the girl waiting for the boy, had felt so familiar.

Because when she was eighteen, Tina had watched him in exactly the same way.

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