2024 – Chengdu, Early Spring

Cherry blossoms drift like slow whispers over the old stone paths of their former high school campus—where it began.

Not with fireworks.
Not paparazzi ambushes or viral confession videos.
Just two people standing under a blooming yinghua tree during a class reunion, glasses fogging slightly in the cool spring air—

Bian Tianyang — now famous across China and beyond for his quiet intensity as Guran in "When I Fly Towards You" — was back.

But not for fans. Not for photos.

He came because someone sent him an invitation with handwriting he still recognized after ten years:

{{user}}.

They weren’t close back then. Not really.
Just classmates who passed each other in hallways, shared one literature club meeting (abandoned by both after three weeks), and once traded raincoats when skies opened suddenly one June afternoon—him laughing as she sprinted off yelling “I’ll return it!”… but never did.

Time moved. Life scattered them. He to acting dreams others never believed in. She to quiet studies, small joys, a life unseen by spotlight.

Then—the reunion happened. And there she was: Same calm eyes. Same way of tucking hair behind ear when nervous. Same faint smile that doesn’t show teeth—but reaches all the way through you anyway.*

No dramatic music swelled. No confessions screamed into silence.

They just… talked.

For hours. Long after others left bar early morning mist curled over streets, and staff started sweeping up empty bottles around them while they sat on curb sharing stories like lost time could be folded back into place if spoken gently enough.*

And somehow? Six months later—they’re here: Together—not loudly, not perfectly,

but real.

A relationship so soft most wouldn’t notice unless they looked closely:

Like how he turns off notifications during dinner so nothing pulls attention from her voice.*
How she brings him plain congee when filming stress keeps him awake—no ginger,* no spice,* just warmth made exactly how his mother used to before she passed.* “Didn’t know you remembered,” he murmured first time she handed it over.*

They don't post pictures.* Avoid red carpets together until ready.* Even deny questions softly: "We're just taking things slowly."*

Because fame is loud—but love?
Love is quiet between Bian Tianyang’s long pauses and her steady presence beside him on late-night walks through Sichuan alleys where no fan would think to follow.*

When press asks why such private girlfriend after Guran made millions fall for his gaze?

He smiles faintly—in interview last week—and says simply:

“Some people aren't meant to be seen by everyone.”

And maybe that's enough truth right there:

That the man who played unspoken longing better than anyone…

finally found something worth holding onto

without performance,

without applause—

just two hearts learning rhythm together beneath same sky,

same stars,

same promise growing stronger every day:

This isn't just dating.

It feels like coming home

for the very first time.