You Are the Code of My Heartbeat

Dependency Compilation

Cheng Jian smelled caramel while compiling code.

She looked up to see Lu Wan placing a mug carefully on the edge of her desk. It wasn’t coffee inside — steam rose from a milk tea base, its surface crowned with a layer of salted cream cheese topping. Cinnamon dusted the edges like morning frost.

“New experiment,” Lu Wan whispered, as if sharing a secret. “Black tea with sea-salt cream.”

Cheng Jian’s gaze shifted from the tea to Lu Wan’s wrist — where a brown sugar stain stood out starkly against pale skin. Instinctively, she reached over, thumb brushing across the spot. Lu Wan’s pulse fluttered beneath her fingertip, racing like the abnormal data logs in Cheng Jian’s health monitoring program.

"Sticky," Cheng Jian said, withdrawing her hand — voice half a decibel lower than usual.

Lu Wan stared at the wiped patch on her wrist, then grinned. "Cheng Jian, did you know that when you wipe something off me, you always purse your lips first?"

Cheng Jian’s breath caught slightly. She hadn’t noticed that detail about herself — but Lu Wan had captured it precisely and stored it in the `habit_records` database.

A Post-it at the bottom of the mug bore a smiley face and the words "Compilation Reward!" Cheng Jian took a small sip. The sweetness was perfect, tea aroma strong, the salty cream balancing what could’ve been overwhelming richness — exactly matching the taste preferences she’d mentioned offhandedly three months ago.

"Good?" Lu Wan leaned on the desk, eyes sparkling.

Cheng Jian nodded, noticing condensation forming on the mug’s side — droplets leaving a damp ring on the table. She pulled out a tissue to place underneath, a motion so practiced it felt automatic. Indeed, this was just another instance of Lu Wan’s habit — never using a coaster.

"Oh, right!" Lu Wan straightened. "My graduation exhibition next week — do you want—"

"What time?" Cheng Jian interrupted.

Lu Wan blinked. "Three PM, second floor art gallery."

Cheng Jian opened her calendar app, marking the time block red. "I’ll come."

Lu Wan suddenly leaned in — close enough for Cheng Jian to count each eyelash. "You raised your right eyebrow 0.5 cm when you said that."

Cheng Jian froze. Lu Wan’s breath brushed her cheek, carrying the sweet scent of milk tea. Her smartwatch vibrated on the desk, but she didn’t look.

"That’s a happy expression," Lu Wan declared, then bounced away. Her pajama hem flipped slightly, revealing a faint mole shaped like a crescent moon just above her hip.

Cheng Jian’s fingertips tapped the desk unconsciously — perfectly in sync with her current heartbeat rhythm.

---

On exhibition day, Cheng Jian arrived twenty minutes early.

Standing at the entrance hall, she scanned the wall-mounted labels. Lu Wan’s exhibit sat around the corner, tagged with:

《Visualizing Temperature》

Documentation and interactive installation capturing temperature exchanges in daily life. Materials include thermochromatic pigments, metal heat conductors, and real-time data projection.

As Cheng Jian approached, she spotted several glass jars on display — each containing differently colored powders. Labels identified them as thermochromatic pigments, shifting hues based on temperature changes. Most intriguing was the central interactive piece — a semi-transparent acrylic panel etched with intricate circuit patterns, connected to two hand-shaped metal plates.

"Cheng Jian!"

Lu Wan emerged from the crowd wearing a navy-blue dress Cheng Jian had never seen before. Her hair was loosely pinned back, exposing the delicate curve of her neck. As she hurried over, earrings swayed — casting fragmented light spots under the gallery lights.

"You came!" She grabbed Cheng Jian’s wrist, fingertips warm with excitement. "Let me show you the core installation!"

Cheng Jian allowed herself to be led toward the central exhibit. Lu Wan’s palm was slightly sweaty, yet firm — as though afraid Cheng Jian might vanish otherwise.

"This is the main interaction zone." Lu Wan gestured to the acrylic panel. "Visitors place their hands on the metal plates; the device captures body temperature and converts it into color projections."

Demonstratively, she pressed her left hand onto the left plate, then looked expectantly at Cheng Jian.

After a brief hesitation, Cheng Jian placed her right hand on the opposite plate.

Instantly, blue light traced the circuitry on the panel. Thermochromatic pigments began flowing slowly, forming a gradient glow in the projection area between them. Cheng Jian’s cooler region appeared icy blue, Lu Wan’s warmer section glowed orange-red, and their meeting point blended into a soft purple — like twilight skies.

"See," Lu Wan whispered, "this is the temperature gradient between us."

Small text flickered beneath the projection:

「Temperature Difference: 4.2°C. Heat Exchange In Progress.」

Cheng Jian watched the color gradient shift. Physics dictated that heat always transferred from hotter to colder objects until equilibrium formed. This knowledge accelerated her heart — she was passively accepting warmth from Lu Wan, unable and unwilling to refuse.

"Cheng Jian," Lu Wan suddenly leaned close to her ear, voice barely audible beyond them, "your hands are shaking."

Only now did Cheng Jian notice her fingertips trembling slightly — like an overloaded process struggling to execute. The purple zone on the projection expanded further, indicating their temperature difference narrowed to 3.5°C.

"Because you're transferring heat to me," she stated objectively.

Lu Wan laughed, nose crinkling adorably. "No — because you like me."

The sentence struck like an unexpected exception interrupting normal execution flow — causing Cheng Jian’s entire system to momentarily crash. Projection numbers fluctuated wildly before settling:

「Temperature Difference: 2.1°C. Approaching Equilibrium.」

---

On the way home, Lu Wan clutched the exhibition brochure tightly, fingers tracing images on the glossy paper.

"My professor says my installation's too sentimental," she pouted. "Not 'technical' enough."

Cheng Jian glanced at their reflections in the subway window. Lu Wan’s skirt hem swayed gently with the train’s movement, occasionally brushing Cheng Jian’s pant leg.

"Temperature transfer is a physical phenomenon," she replied.

Lu Wan tilted her head. "What about temperature perception?"

Cheng Jian remained silent. Her phone buzzed — a push notification from her health monitor:

「Average Heart Rate Today Increased by 18% From Baseline. Recommend Investigating Cause.」

She locked the screen, watching night scenery blur past outside.

---

Late at night, Cheng Jian organized promotion review materials in her study.

The document already spanned three pages — filled with standard technical specifications and performance metrics. The cursor blinked blankly, waiting. She opened a hidden folder, pulling photos from `/moonshine/` — Lu Wan’s profile smiling under exhibition lighting, the interplay of warm and cool tones on the acrylic panel, and the overlapping shadows of their hands during the projection.

She created a new subfolder named `/equilibrium/`, dragging all those photos inside.

Rustling sounds came from the living room. Walking out, Cheng Jian found Lu Wan curled asleep on the couch, Debug plushie hugged tightly. The graduation dress had given way to familiar old pajamas — that faint crescent-shaped mole peeking just above her waistline, resembling a tiny lunar island.

Cheng Jian gently pulled the plushie free, earning a sleepy grumble from Lu Wan. Instinctively, she reached out — fingers hovering millimeters above that crescent mark, ultimately not touching.

"Cheng Jian…" Lu Wan murmured in her sleep. "Temperature difference… will rise again…"

Cheng Jian stood still, listening to her smartwatch’s rhythmic ticking blend with Lu Wan’s breathing — gradually synchronizing.