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Lu Guang doesn’t like high-fives.
At first, Cheng Xiaoshi takes him for the lone wolf type. He’s not exactly that, but he doesn’t seem to like being touched and never shares anything personal about himself.
Of course, that only makes him want to poke at Lu Guang’s story more. So, he tries his charm, on and off the basketball court—but he too, is only met with quiet redirections and non-answers.
That’s alright, Cheng Xiaoshi muses nonchalantly. They can play ball anyway.
When Lu Guang’s brilliant last-minute pass to him wins them the last game of the summer, Cheng Xiaoshi decides to commemorate the occasion. A teammate snaps a polaroid of the two of them, side by side, a slim gap between them. Lu Guang smiles softly at the camera, a rare sight. Maybe it was at him too.
The thought distracts him, and he momentarily forgets about Lu Guang’s hang-ups, raising his hand expectantly towards his friend for a high-five.
Lu Guang stares at Cheng Xiaoshi’s outstretched hand, and then down at the fresh photo lying in his own palm.
“Afterwards,” he murmurs, just as Cheng Xiaoshi catches a glimpse of his eyes fading from a bright summer blue.
“First, you only get 12 hours.”
“Wait, why?” Cheng Xiaoshi interrupts, wrinkling his brows.
“Because that’s how far out I can see,” Lu Guang answers, tapping on his watch twice. “Second, follow my lead and change nothing.”
“How?” Cheng Xiaoshi pipes up again, scooching closer to him on the couch. “To follow your lead, I mean. And doesn’t sending me back in time mean things have already changed? Or do you mean that I have the power to?”
Lu Guang’s exhales softly. Of course, Cheng Xiaoshi has picked up on it, the inherent implication in Lu Guang’s rule to not change things.
“You take the perspective of the person who took the photo, so act as they’d act. You’ll hear me, so I’ll guide you along. Third, past or future, just let them be.”
“But…what if I eat too much and throw up when they originally didn’t? Wouldn't that screw up the original timeline?” Cheng Xiaoshi groans, slumping into his couch cushion.
Lu Guang cracks a small smile. “As long as nothing major changes, the timeline will stay intact.”
“Oh, okay,” he sounds relieved. “So, how do we link together?”
That’s when Lu Guang extends his hand. “Like this.”
Qiao Ling likes Lu Guang.
There’s really nothing to dislike about him. Sure, he’s not the loud, cheery type, but Qiao Ling’s got her hands full with that already. Frankly, she appreciates the change of pace, how Lu Guang is always so calm and collected, always on time to meetings, always with the best notes to copy from—a title that’s forced upon him two weeks into meeting them and has been saddled with ever since.
It was surprising when Cheng Xiaoshi brought a new friend into their mix. Qiao Ling wasn’t too sure of how good Cheng Xiaoshi’s judgment of character was, so she had taken it upon herself to screen Lu Guang on his behalf.
She passes him with flying colours after a few days, but that doesn’t equate to her knowing him. He’s a nice guy: smart, reliable, athletic, good-looking, but he refuses to even tell her his birthday!
“Oh, he’s just like that with everyone,” Cheng Xiaoshi brushes aside her concerns with a goofy smile. “Don’t worry about it!”
Qiao Ling isn’t worried so much as inquisitive. Regardless, on that front, Cheng Xiaoshi’s wrong.
Lu Guang isn’t like that with everyone; Lu Guang isn’t with him.
“First, you only get 12 hours.”
“Not that I’ll need all of it this time, but thanks for the reminder!”
“Second, follow my lead and change nothing.”
“You know, honestly, I’d be scared not to follow your lead. I’m pretty good at thinking on my feet and all, but I don’t know these people. You have no idea how many times I froze, just waiting for your voice to blare instructions into my head.”
“Blaring is a rather strong word, Cheng Xiaoshi. Though I might say the same about your voice.”
“Ouch, Lu Guang! But seriously, I’d be lost without you. Your ability is seriously sick!”
“It’s nothing. I simply follow what I see, same as you following me.”
“And we do a great job together, don’t you think?”
“…We’re not bad. We could be better.”
“Sheesh, are you still referring to the time I broke down and cried in front of the entire class? Trust me, that was as embarrassing for me as it was for her! I couldn’t help it!”
“The emotional part is difficult to control, but try.”
“I hope she didn’t take it too hard—”
“Third, past or future, just let them be.”
“...Yeah, I know.”
It hits him differently each time.
Cheng Xiaoshi knows who he is, and he knows he doesn’t belong in any of their stories. At best, he’s just a passing intruder trying to make himself as small as possible. At worst, he can ruin their life, and so much more. Lu Guang indirectly reminds him of that, each time before they dive.
Either way, in 12 hours, he’ll be gone. But some things always linger.
The sense of elated wonder that comes with living on his own for the first time, fading later that night when he realizes that his parents are never coming home. The raw ache of loving and losing someone he can’t have, not being able to look Lu Guang in the eye the day after without welling up. The anxiety of a pessimist who spirals whenever a tiny piece of bad news slides across his desk, and that’s when Cheng Xiaoshi learns it’s remarkably easy to relapse into the empty void that some people name loneliness.
Sometimes he dreams of their lives, so vividly he’s convinced it’s real. And it could very well be, with or without the ghost of Lu Guang’s dispassionate voice in his ear.
“Hey listen, I was thinking of something.”
It was only a matter of time before Cheng Xiaoshi asked him.
Once he knew about Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang couldn’t look the other way. It would be irresponsible to not teach him the rules, to not lead him through space and time, ensuring he uses his abilities the right way.
Of course, Cheng Xiaoshi makes mistakes along the way. Lu Guang did too, once upon a time, but now he recognizes that there can’t exist mistakes to be made, not when time must remain static.
Overall though, Cheng Xiaoshi is good at this. He’s a fast learner. He tries to rein in his emotions, and that stupidly big heart of his—just as Lu Guang asked him to.
But he could slip again. Not out of ignorance, but from feeling too much and a lack of distance. Lu Guang wouldn’t know himself, having long put a wall up between his soul and snippets of someone else’s which he could never touch anyway.
Cheng Xiaoshi tries, but he’s too earnest for his own good. It’s as admirable as it is terrifying, wanting to not be helpless.
Lu Guang takes a gamble, and listens.
The reason she agrees is out of sheer curiosity.
The fact is, she’s made a habit out of making sure Cheng Xiaoshi never has to ask anything of her. He wouldn’t, first off, and he shouldn’t need to. So when he does, Qiao Ling listens to his wild proposal and says she’ll help.
She paints the walls with him and Lu Guang, tears out and redoes the floor tiles, haggles for most of their photography equipment that she still can’t name, and hangs up enough photos to dub the shop a home.
Even Lu Guang looks impressed by the end of it all, and Qiao Ling tries her best to not let that get to her head.
Now, she won’t say this is her calling or anything, but setting up their mysterious side business profile online might have come a little too easily to her. It helps that Cheng Xiaoshi had stumbled over his vague explanation multiple times. When she had looked over to Lu Guang for affirmation, he had simply nodded.
That was enough to work with, so she hadn’t pushed the matter.
That’s not to say that doubt or curiosity didn’t tug at her, but she trusts them.
“First, you only get 12 hours.”
Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t interrupt this time, too amped up to get started with their first ever client. The first two that had showed up at their door weren’t legit, but Qiao Ling kicked them to the curb accordingly, so they don’t count. This one though—a nostalgic mother who wanted to recover the contents of her childhood journal—this was real, simple, heartwarming.
It was something only they could do, and they’d make her incredibly happy in the process. Lu Guang had given his blessing, only flipping through three photos before saying it was possible.
They could do this.
“Second, follow my lead and change nothing.”
Cheng Xiaoshi nods eagerly, his palm already outstretched towards Lu Guang.
Lu Guang looks at him, a faint smile dancing at the corner of his mouth when he speaks his third rule.
“Third, past or future, just let them be.”
“Okay, I got it. I’m ready,” says Cheng Xiaoshi, tilting his head towards him by way of invitation. “I’m so glad we’re doing this.”
Lu Guang’s smile slips for a fraction of a second, but then his hand is out, hovering above Cheng Xiaoshi’s.
“Dive,” and they connect.