Romantic Cellphone

After the letter was sent, the days began to be counted down in late summer.

On the first day, he sat at his grandmother's desk for a long time, staring blankly at the longan tree outside the window.

The flowers on the tree have faded, and small green fruits, about the size of mung beans, have begun to form, hidden under the leaves and almost invisible unless you look closely.

Grandma said they won't ripen until summer, so it's still a long way off.

The next day, he played the cello, specifically "Sunny Day." He had brought this piece from Japan to Taiwan, and the instrument he played had changed from the piano back to the cello.

The bass notes were much deeper than when he played them on the piano before, as if he had pulled a piece of music that was originally floating in the air to the ground and made it solid.

Grandma heard this downstairs and muttered, "It makes me want to cry," but she didn't tell him to stop.

On the third day, he pulled out the map he'd bought near Guanghua Shopping Mall and circled it in red. He wasn't planning on going anywhere; he just wanted something to do.

When he folded the map and put it back in the drawer, he saw the remaining letter paper next to the box of pencils, with light blue grid lines and plum blossoms printed on the edges.

He took out another letter, intending to write a second one, but then put the pen down again.

I just sent the first one and haven't received a reply yet, so I don't know if she received it.

On the fourth day, Hua Hua sent more than a dozen messages on Line, asking him what good food there was in Taiwan, whether he had taken any photos, and whether Fei Niao Jiang had received the letter and why there was no word from him.

Xia Mo replied to each one, adding at the end, "The letter was only sent four days ago, it's not that fast."

"Then call and ask!!!" Hua Hua sent three exclamation marks.

Xia Mo stared at that line of text for a few seconds without replying.

On the fifth day, Xia Mo's mother returned from Taipei City with a box of pineapple cakes, saying it was a gift from a colleague.

She paused at the door of Xia Mo's room, heard him playing the cello, and left without knocking, placing the pineapple cakes on the shoe cabinet by the door.

When I came out to get a drink of water after playing a piece of music at the end of summer, I saw that box of pineapple cakes. The packaging had the words "Taipei Specialty" printed on it, and a golden pineapple was drawn next to it.

He took the box into his room, opened it, and ate a piece. It was so sweet that he drank two glasses of water. But he still carefully put the rest away in his desk drawer.

On the sixth day, Grandma suddenly asked during dinner, "Xia Mo, your letter has been out for several days now, has it been received yet?"

Xia Mo shook her head: "They should still be on their way."

"Did you call and ask?"

"no."

Grandma glanced at him, seemed about to say something, but swallowed her words back. She simply picked up a piece of fish and put it in his bowl. "Eat more fish, it's good for your brain."

"Grandma, there's nothing wrong with my head," Xia Mo said.

"If there's nothing wrong with your brain, then what's wrong with it?" Grandma asked rhetorically.

Day seven. It's almost late summer, so I figured the letter should have arrived. From Taipei to Tokyo, airmail takes about five to seven days; I should receive it today.

He sat at his desk, staring at his phone for a long time. The screen displayed Asuka's phone number; the name "Asuka" was saved in his contacts.

There were no notes, no emoticons, just like her—clean and simple. His finger hovered above the dial pad for about ten seconds before pressing it.

beep - beep - beep -

connected.

"Feed—" Xia Mo had only said one word when a short "click" came from the other end of the phone, followed by a busy tone.

He was hung up.

Xia Mo paused for a few seconds, took the phone away from her ear, and looked at the screen—"Call ended."

He thought it was a bad signal, so he dialed again. Beep—beep—the call connected.

"Hey, Fei—"

Click. Busy tone.

The call ended again. Xia Mo stared at her phone, her brows furrowing.

The signal is fine, the phone is fine, she's the one who hung up.

He took a deep breath and dialed again. This time it rang many times, so long that he thought no one would answer, and then the call connected.

There was no sound from the other end. There was no "feed," no "hello," no one spoke, but Xia Mo knew someone was listening because he could hear very soft breathing.

"A bird?" he called tentatively. There was no response.

"Did you receive the letter?" Still no response. Her breathing became heavier, as if she were taking a deep breath.

"Birds?"

"Why are you only calling now?" Finally, a voice came from the other end of the phone.

The bird's voice was muffled, carrying something that had been suppressed for a long time and was about to overflow. It wasn't anger, but something even more unsettling than anger.

Xia Mo's grip on her phone tightened slightly. "I... I told you when I mailed the letter."

"Is that all?" Asuka's voice rose a half-octave.

"You said 'the letter has been mailed' and that was it? Do you know how long I waited? One day, two days, three days—you told me to check my mailbox every day. I finally received it today, and only then did you call. If you were going to call, why didn't you call sooner? Why wait until the letter arrived to call?"

Xia Mo opened her mouth, wanting to say, "I thought I wouldn't need to call after receiving the letter," but she swallowed the words back.

He suddenly realized that what the bird was saying wasn't logic, but emotion.

Logic can be refuted, but emotions cannot.

"Grandma said," he said softly.

"Telephone calls are too fast, messages are too short. Letters are different; you can write a letter slowly, and read it many times after you're done. So I wrote the letter first. Making a phone call... I didn't think that much about it."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Xia Mo could hear her own heartbeat, each beat clear and distinct in the quiet room.

He heard the bird's breathing change from rapid to steady, and then from steady to somewhat tense.

"So you just write letters?" Asuka's voice was much softer, lacking the harshness it had before.

"It's not just about writing letters. I've already hit you, haven't I?"

"I'll call when the letter arrives." Asuka's tone carried an awkwardness that seemed to say, "I don't want to forgive you, but I don't really have a reason not to."

Xia Mo paused for a moment.

"Are you stupid?" Asuka suddenly said. Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear.

"Um?"

"What era is this way of communicating?" Asuka's voice sounded like she was laughing, but it was hard to tell whether she was angry or something else.

"Write letters? Who still writes letters these days? What era did you travel from? Even if you do write letters, can't you make a phone call at the same time? Writing letters and making phone calls don't conflict."

"You could have called me the day after you mailed the letter to say, 'The letter has been mailed, please check your mail.' Why did you make me wait so many days—calculating the days before calling? Do you know that I have to check my mailbox every day after school, and if I can't find it, then—"

She stopped again.

"So what if you can't flip it?" Xia Mo asked.

The bird did not answer.

There was a rustling sound coming from the other end of the phone, as if there were more than one person talking nearby.

As summer drew to a close, a deep male voice, tinged with laughter, could be faintly heard, followed by a younger voice responding.

"Bird, who fired that?" the voice asked.

"Is it Xia—" Another voice was interrupted before it could finish speaking.

"No!!!" Asuka's voice rose, but this time it wasn't directed at the phone; she turned and shouted to the person next to her.

Xia Mo vaguely heard a few words on the other end of the phone—"Xia Mo," "letter," "read several times."

His heart skipped a beat.

"A bird?" Xia Mo called out tentatively.

"...I'm here." Asuka's voice was muffled, as if she had buried her face in something.

Xia Mo paused for a moment.

"What happened to you just now?"

"It's nothing."

"Is your brother next to you?"

"……Um."

"What did they say?"

"She didn't say anything." Asuka's voice carried a sense of resistance, as if saying, "Don't ask anymore."

Xia Mo didn't press the matter further. He recalled the words he had vaguely heard on the phone earlier—"I've read it several times."

He tapped his fingers lightly twice on the phone case.

"Asuka, do you not like writing letters?" he asked.

Feiniao didn't answer immediately. A few seconds of silence followed on the other end of the line, as if she was hesitating about something.

"If you don't like it, I won't write anymore," Xia Mo said.

He made this decision without hesitation—if she found it troublesome, he wouldn't write it. A phone call, a text message, anything was fine.

silence.

The breathing on the other end of the phone suddenly became heavier.

"Who said I don't like it?" Asuka's voice was very soft, so soft that Xia Mo almost didn't hear it.

"and you--"

"You've already written it, and now you're saying you won't write it anymore?" Asuka pouted. "How can you give up so easily? You have no perseverance at all."

"I have perseverance," Xia Mo said. "I'll practice the oboe."

"That's what you promised Hua Hua. What does it have to do with me?"

The bird's voice carried a hint of resentment that he himself might not have noticed.

Xia Mo held her phone, saying nothing.

A soft laugh came from the other end of the phone. It wasn't Asuka's voice, but a slightly older male voice, as if he was trying to hold it in but couldn't.

"Shojin-nii, are you laughing?" Asuka's voice suddenly rose, not into the phone, but as she turned her head and shouted to the side.

"No," the male voice replied, his tone as flat as if he were saying the weather was nice today, but there was still a hint of amusement lingering in the last syllable.

"I heard you!" Asuka exclaimed anxiously.

"You misheard." Another male voice joined in, younger but with the same unwavering "I just won't admit it" attitude.

Xia Mo listened on the other end, not knowing exactly what was going on.

"You guys—" Feiniao's voice drifted from the other end of the phone, sometimes near, sometimes far, as if she were struggling with someone, "Give me back my phone!"

"You should explain it to them," the younger male voice said, with a tone that carried the self-righteousness of "how can an older brother not help his younger sister?"

"What are you talking about! There's nothing to say!"

"You weren't talking about that letter—"

"Second Brother!!!"

After a series of chaotic noises, the other end of the phone suddenly went silent.

In late summer, I could hear the door closing, followed by footsteps, then the breathing of birds, which were much closer this time.

"Are you still there?" Asuka asked.

"I'm here," Xia Mo said.

The bird took a deep breath and exhaled. Then it took another breath and exhaled again.

"Flying Bird," Xia Mo called to her.

"Um."

"Did you read the letter?"

Asuka didn't answer. After a few seconds of silence, she said something that didn't directly answer the question: "Your handwriting is still so ugly."

"...What did my eldest and second brothers say just now?" Xia Mo decided to change the subject.

"They said the letter you wrote—" Asuka's voice suddenly stopped.

"What did you say?"

"He didn't say anything!" Asuka's voice tightened again.

"They said...that your letter was too short. Yes, too short. Write longer next time. If it's so short, who can read it—no, who can read it clearly? Your handwriting is ugly, so it's impossible to read it if it's too short."

Xia Mo held her phone, gazing out the window at the longan tree. The green fruits on the tree had grown even larger, shimmering softly in the setting sun.

"Okay," he said. "Write something longer next time."

"You should write it more neatly."

"it is good."

No spelling mistakes allowed.

"I have never made a typo."

"Then write it nicely."

"……good."

The bird fell silent. Neither did the summer's end. After a moment of silence, the bird's voice rang out again, this time much softer than before, as if afraid of being overheard.

"I received the letter."

"Um."

"……Thanks."

Xia Mo's fingers tightened slightly as she gripped her phone.

"You're welcome," he said. "It was originally written for you."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. In late summer, one could hear the breathing of birds, one breath at a time, as if they were counting something.

Birds chirped outside the window, and the faint sound of broadcasts from the Guanghua Shopping Mall in the distance blended together, creating a kind of indistinct, warm white noise.

"Your cello," Asuka suddenly asked, "are you still playing it?"

"Um."

"What are you doing?"

"Etude, and Sunny Day".

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

Xia Mo didn't know what Fei Niao was thinking, but he heard a very soft voice—like someone on the other end of the phone, gently, gently venting their pent-up feelings.

"I'm also practicing the timpani," Asuka said. "Tanaka-sensei said we might have to perform on stage again at the graduation ceremony."

"You can definitely do it," Xia Mo said.

"You know that now?"

"I just know."

The bird did not refute this further.

Outside the window, the setting sun was slowly sinking, turning the entire sky orange.

The neon lights of Guanghua Shopping Mall lit up one by one, colorful and bright, looking out of the window of Xia Mo's room like a small patch of the Milky Way shrunken on the ground.

"Flying birds".

"Um?"

"I can come back during summer vacation."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"My dad said so. We can come to Japan for a few days during summer vacation."

It was quiet again.

"Oh," said Asuka.

The voice sounded calm, but Xia Mo heard something hidden behind that "oh"—like a small pebble thrown into water, with no splash on the surface, but ripples spreading outwards from below.

"When are you coming?" Asuka asked.

"It's not decided yet. I'll let you know when it's decided."

"You're not going to write to me again, are you?" Asuka asked suspiciously.

Xia Mo was taken aback for a moment: "Is that not allowed?"

"Okay," said Asuka, "but you have to call when you write. Otherwise, I'll be waiting too long."

Xia Mo held her phone, a wide smile curving her lips.

"understood."

"Also, cell phones must not be turned off. They must not be silenced at night."

"it is good."

"You are not allowed to ignore messages."

"it is good."

"No—" Asuka paused for a moment, "Fine, that's fine."

"it is good."

"How many times have you said 'good' today?" Asuka's tone finally returned to some of its usual tone.

Xia Mo thought for a moment and said, "I don't know."

"Count them."

"Not counting."

"You—never mind. I'm going to eat."

"Um."

"Hang up."

"Um."

The call ended with a notification sound. Xia Mo took the phone away from her ear and looked at the words "Call Ended" on the screen, along with the call duration—fourteen minutes.

Writing letters has its romance, and using a mobile phone has its own romance.

He placed his phone on the desk, leaned back in his chair, and looked out the window at the sky dyed red by the setting sun.

The neon lights of Guanghua Shopping Mall were still flashing, multicolored, and seeped in through the gaps in the curtains, drawing streaks of colorful light on the desk, landing right on the photocopy of the letter that had already been sent.

Xia Mo picked up the photocopy and looked at it. The letter was short, less than a page long.

He remembered what the bird had said, "It's too short," smiled, and pulled a new sheet of paper from the drawer. It had light blue checkered lines and a small plum blossom printed on the corner.

He picked up his pencil and wrote the words "flying bird" on the first line, then stopped. What should he write? He thought for a long time, the pen tip hovering over the paper, not falling.

Outside the window, the sun had completely set, and the sky had turned a deep blue.

The first star lit up. The neon lights of Guanghua Shopping Mall stood out brightly in the night sky, red and green, like a firework that would never go out.

At the end of summer, I put down my pen, folded the letter, and put it back in the drawer.

It's not that I'm not going to write anymore, it's just that I haven't figured out how to write it yet—I want it to be longer, neater, and more visually appealing. I also need to write some things I didn't write last time.

His grandmother called him from downstairs for dinner. He answered, stood up, and glanced back at his phone on the desk as he walked to the door.

The screen lit up; it was a new message. He walked over, picked it up, and read it—it was from Asuka.

"If your handwriting is bad, practice more." Below that is another rule: "Also, don't say things like 'I won't write anymore' next time."

Xia Mo stared at the two lines of text for a few seconds, and the corners of her mouth curved slightly.

He typed a line: "Got it." After thinking for a moment, he added: "There are still many sheets of letter paper left."

He sent it. Then he put his phone in his pocket and went downstairs to eat.

Grandma made chicken soup today, and you could smell the aroma from afar.