Chapter 86: The Ephemeral Blossom's Lasting Fragrance

The White Coast lies along the southeastern shore of Spain, stretching for more than two hundred kilometers. Its boundaries are roughly defined as the coastal region from Valencia to the southern tip of Alicante, just beside the city of Villarreal. Here, the climate is pleasant and the sun shines brightly; even in winter, warmth lingers as if spring never ends. Every summer, families flock to the White Coast, renting holiday homes and settling in for weeks at a time.

After touring Madrid, Barcelona, and Villarreal with Yang Chaoyue, Dai Zhiwei brought her to Calpe. The reason they chose Calpe over Villarreal, which is also part of the White Coast, was simple: Calpe is the most enchanting spot along this shore. In the height of summer, tourists come in droves, and the hotels lining the beach are countless.

The peninsula where Calpe sits is considered one of the most beautiful in eastern Spain, its shores dotted with distinctive towns like Denia, Javea, and Altea. Yet, Calpe's global fame comes from the mighty rock rising straight from the sea, towering three hundred and thirty-two meters above the waves. It stands like a guardian, watching over the tranquil Mediterranean.

Though it was only late March, daytime temperatures hovered around fifteen degrees. On reaching the coast, Dai Zhiwei tossed his sandals aside and strode barefoot across the sand, each step leaving a deep imprint that would only be erased when the tide came in.

Yang Chaoyue, barely eighteen and still at the age of playfulness, seemed to treat their walk as a delightful game, deliberately stepping into Dai Zhiwei's footprints. If she missed, she would pout and retrace her steps, carefully reshaping the mark to make it look like a proper footprint.

It was a challenge, given Dai Zhiwei’s tall frame and long stride, and Yang Chaoyue’s attempts to mimic him were clumsy but endearing, making him laugh despite himself.

Throughout the week, apart from the club’s routine low-intensity training, Dai Zhiwei spent all his time with Yang Chaoyue. Although their relationship had not progressed beyond hugs and hand-holding, their feelings for each other deepened swiftly.

After all, Yang Chaoyue had four months left before she was officially an adult, and Dai Zhiwei didn’t wish to rush her, afraid to startle the young girl. For Dai Zhiwei, foregoing passion for pure affection was a refreshing change.

Yang Chaoyue noticed Dai Zhiwei watching her, and perhaps embarrassed that her childish antics had been seen, she gave a silly smile. Then she saw Dai Zhiwei walking toward her.

“Hush,” Dai Zhiwei said nothing, but pulled out a pair of sunglasses he’d bought days before and gently placed them on Yang Chaoyue. The distant sea was already tinged with red, and he didn’t want her eyes to be hurt when the sun rose.

Yang Chaoyue felt his breath close, and shyly whispered, “You’re always buying things for me. You spend so much money, I really feel bad about it!”

Dai Zhiwei’s reply was simple—so simple that Yang Chaoyue wanted to pull her hair. “Then just marry me.”

Yang Chaoyue raised her brows, feigning anger, but soon burst into laughter. “Keep dreaming! If all my admirers lined up, the queue would reach Nantong!”

“You?” Dai Zhiwei looked at her with exaggerated disdain, pressing her nose.

“Ow!” Yang Chaoyue, like a startled kitten, opened her mouth to bite his finger.

“Yuck, yuck!” she exclaimed.

Yang Chaoyue expected that, moving slowly, Dai Zhiwei would easily avoid her, but to her surprise he didn’t, and she actually bit his finger before quickly letting go.

Dai Zhiwei savored the touch of her soft tongue and teased, “Oh dear, I think I forgot to wash my hands after the bathroom today!”

“You’re dead, Dai Zhiwei!” This time, Yang Chaoyue was genuinely annoyed, flailing her arms in a wild punch. But how could she catch up with Dai Zhiwei, whose speed on the pitch was top class?

“Hahaha! Come on, little one, run faster!” he called, taunting as he ran.

After some playful chasing, the two prepared to go into the sea. Today, Yang Chaoyue had chosen a very modest swimsuit, one that didn’t show her stomach, claiming she was turning into a doughnut. She wore a pale purple suit, its slender straps crossing her back and tying at her neck, with a big blue bow at the waist. Her long hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, radiating youthful energy. Her beautiful legs were exposed to the air, her stunning looks drawing admiring glances.

They walked into the shallow water, chatting and laughing. For Dai Zhiwei, it was the first time he could talk so easily with a girl. With others, like Zhong Luchun or any other beauties, desire always outweighed emotion, and after spending time with them, he often felt weary.

But Yang Chaoyue was different. Walking beside her, Dai Zhiwei’s thoughts drifted easily to his first love back in his student days.

“What are you thinking?” Yang Chaoyue caught Dai Zhiwei daydreaming and asked casually.

She herself had an odd feeling, not knowing why, but Dai Zhiwei made her feel incredibly at ease. It was as if she could open her heart to him, sharing secrets her mother didn’t even know.

Is this love?

The two young souls stood in a corner of the shallow sea on the White Coast, gazing at each other, as if trying to decipher what thoughts lay behind the other’s eyes.

Eventually, Dai Zhiwei broke the silence. “Xiao Yue, talking with you these past days has been so relaxing.”

Yang Chaoyue’s heart raced, her cheeks flushing. “I … I feel the same.”

Was he about to confess?

The thought made her want to hide underground. She had crossed the ocean to Spain—why hadn’t he confessed yet? What a jerk.

With that, a mischievous idea sprang to her mind.

Dai Zhiwei stepped forward, suddenly pulling Yang Chaoyue into his arms, about to speak, but she pressed her hand to his lips.

“So you only confess now? Too late!”

Dai Zhiwei was startled, then understood, a smile blooming on his face. He gently licked her palm with the tip of his tongue.

It tasted salty—the flavor of the sea.

“Yuck, you’re disgusting!” Yang Chaoyue glared and withdrew her hand, scolding, “Hmph! You tricked me into coming to Spain, only to confess now? Do you think no one else wants me? I’m naturally beautiful and hard to resist…”

“Oh, you know poetry now? Not bad!” Dai Zhiwei teased.

This man never managed to be serious for more than two minutes when with a girl.

“Hey, you!” Yang Chaoyue, flustered, was about to pound his chest with her fists when she suddenly found herself lifted into the air, her upper body rising above the waves.

Dai Zhiwei raised her high, and as she stared in surprise, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

“I was wrong, I apologize, alright? Don’t be upset. Whatever you want to do, wherever you wish to go, we’ll have fun together today!” Dai Zhiwei said softly.

Yang Chaoyue blinked, then smiled with narrowed eyes. “Alright, I’ll listen to you. This is your turf, after all!”

…

The confession never quite happened, but their relationship was already settled.

Once again, at Madrid Barajas Airport.

Yang Chaoyue glanced at her wristwatch, a domestic brand, though Dai Zhiwei had offered her a Cartier, she had declined. The watch showed noon, and her flight was less than forty minutes away.

Seeing the time, her expression grew bittersweet. She looked up at Dai Zhiwei. “Remember, after the season ends, you must come see me right away!”

Dai Zhiwei nodded, meeting her gaze. “I promise!”

“Everyone online says you’re a playboy. I don’t know if they’re right, but I do know you’re the kind of man someone could fall for.” Yang Chaoyue’s face wore a rare trace of gloom.

“Don’t worry, it’s all nonsense. Besides, with you, I’m content.” Dai Zhiwei stood up. “It’s late, don’t miss your flight.”

“Are we really a couple now?” Yang Chaoyue stood at the gate, looking at Dai Zhiwei with reluctant eyes.

She always felt a bit inferior in this relationship, for Dai Zhiwei was the undisputed star of Chinese football, earning tens of millions a year, while she was just a migrant girl from the countryside.

“Of course! Are you planning to dump me when you get back?” Dai Zhiwei said, feigning a glare.

Yang Chaoyue smiled, hesitated, and said, “I’m going. Don’t call me, or I’ll miss you too much.”

Everything seemed like a fairy tale: two strangers meeting over a meal, experiencing a simple, hazy romance, then returning to their own lives.

One was a football star, the other a dropout.

One in Spain, one in Jiangnan Province.

No one could predict where this love would lead; everything was an unknown.