The airport was buzzing with activity—passengers rushing around, flight announcements echoing over the intercom, and the occasional sound of rolling luggage.
Zhao Wei didn't notice any of it.
His eyes scanned the crowd like a hawk, searching for her. His heart pounded a little harder in his chest with each passing second, not from fear, but from anticipation. Two months of chatting, late-night calls, and daydreaming had all led to this moment. He straightened his suit, the fabric clinging uncomfortably in the Florida heat, and kept walking.
Then he saw her—or at least, he thought it was her. She stood near the entrance, slightly taller than he had expected. In the pictures she'd sent, she had looked petite, but seeing her in person, she seemed… well, taller. Not that it mattered. He was very tall himself, so height wasn't something he ever cared about. What did matter was that she was here, waiting for him, a warm smile on her face.
"Hi…" she greeted softly in Chinese as he got closer. Her voice was lighter than he'd imagined, almost airy, like a breeze on a warm summer day. Again, not something he minded. In fact, he liked it. It added a touch of elegance to her presence.
Before he could respond, she raised her hands slightly, offering a hug. Zhao Wei didn't hesitate—he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a firm but gentle embrace. She smelled faintly of jasmine, a subtle fragrance that somehow felt familiar despite them never meeting in person before.
He noticed, briefly, that she was… well, kind of flat-chested. But honestly, that wasn't something that bothered him. He wasn't a big-boobs guy anyway. For him, it had always been about personality. And so far, everything seemed fine.
More than fine, actually. Everything was perfect.
They made their way to a small café just outside the airport. It wasn't anything fancy, just a cozy spot with wooden tables, warm lighting, and the rich smell of freshly brewed coffee hanging in the air. Zhao Wei pulled out a chair for her before settling into his own seat. He was still smiling, his happiness from earlier lingering. He ordered a coffee, black—no sugar, no cream, just the way he liked it.
The moment felt surreal, like something out of a romantic movie. He was here, sitting across from the woman he had spent weeks getting to know, talking to every night until he fell asleep with his phone still clutched in his hand. He couldn't believe it was real.
That disbelief, however, was about to take on a whole new meaning.
"I'm a man," she—or rather, he—announced in Chinese, breaking the delicate tranquility of the moment like a thunderclap on a clear day.
Zhao Wei froze.
The coffee cup he had just lifted halfway to his lips stayed there, trembling slightly in his hand as his brain struggled to process what he had just heard.
Huh?
What's a man?
He blinked once, then twice, as if hoping that maybe he had misheard or misunderstood.
But no. He hadn't.
The person across from him—who he had flown halfway across the world to meet, who he had hugged just moments ago—had just said they were a man.
The coffee cup lowered slowly, his hand stiff as if moving on autopilot. He leaned back in his chair, the wooden frame creaking slightly under his weight, and stared at the person in front of him. The man, now looking nervous, shifted uncomfortably in his seat but didn't break eye contact.
"I didn't know how to tell you," he continued in Chinese, voice soft, almost apologetic. "I thought you'd hate me, so I—"
Zhao Wei raised a finger, signaling for him to stop. He didn't trust himself to speak just yet. His mind was reeling, thoughts colliding in a chaotic mess as he tried—and failed—to comprehend what was happening. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out.
For the first time in his life, Zhao Wei was truly at a loss for words.
And then, in a moment of pure, unfiltered shock, he spoke.
Not in Chinese.
Not in the language he had been using his entire life.
No, Zhao Wei, who had consistently failed every English exam throughout high school, suddenly found himself speaking perfect, fluent English.
"What the fuck do you mean you're a goddamned man?" he demanded, his deep voice carrying a thick Chinese accent that only made the words sound harsher.
Our Zhao Wei was no longer fucking happy.