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Meiling loves Hong Kong.
That isn’t to say she hates Tomoeda. It’s just that Hong Kong is unquestionably the superior city. And she doesn’t just mean the food or the culture or the fashion – even those are all better in Hong Kong. It that there’s just something about the way the city acts, moves, breathes. It’s strong, bold, fierce.
Tomoeda may have the Clow Cards, but Hong Kong has the magic.
Okay, so maybe she hates Tomoeda a little bit.
Which is why Meiling could never understand how easily Syaoran could abandon Hong Kong for plain, boring Tomoeda. Sure, Tomoeda has Kinomoto, but Meiling doesn’t understand why that means Syaoran has to leave. Yeah, sure, Meiling followed him to Tomoeda once upon a time, but that was always under the assumption that he would come home in the end. Tomoeda was never meant to be their home. It was never supposed to replace Hong Kong.
I love her, Syaoran says when she asks, as if that actually answers anything.
In the end, losing Syaoran is one of the hardest things she ever experiences. It isn’t the same pain she felt the first time she lost him, back when she thought he was hers to lose. This time there’s no earth shattering heartbreak, no feeling of being consumed by rejection, no tears to soak up Daidouji’s lap. This time she spends two years of her life planning the moment Syaoran leaves Hong Kong – two years helping him do everything in his power to leave her.
She spends two years of her life working side by side with him, only for her to wake up one morning to have him gone, leaving her with this hole in her life that can only be satisfied by counting down the days until he returns.
You are important to me, Daidouji writes the week Syaoran arrives in Tomoeda. Please come to me in your hard times.
Meiling thinks of the girl with the camcorder always following Kinomoto around. The girl who was always content with being in the shadows – almost, but never quite at by Kinmoto’s side. The girl who never will be by her side, Meiling thinks. At least not with Syaoran there.
So she writes back and thanks Daidouji for the offer, but Tomoeda is the last place she wants to be. But hey, maybe Daidouji can come to Hong Kong this time?
“Did you ever tell her?” Meiling asks once evening when she calls Daidouji when she’s feeling particularly sorry for herself. “Kinomoto – did you ever tell her that you love her?”
“Of course,” Daidouji says without missing a beat. “I always tell her. She’s my best friend.”
No, Meiling wants to snap. Did you ever tell her? She wants to ask. Does she does know the reason you’re so devoted to her? Does she know exactly how much you love her? Or have you hidden it from her all this time?
She almost says it, but stops at the last second because she already knows Daidouji’s answer: it doesn’t matter how she feels as long as Kinomoto is happy. Which she is. Especially now that she’s been reunited with the love of her life. The one who left everything, including his home, for her. Because he loves her more than anything or anyone else.
“Yes,” Meiling says instead. “Just like me and Syaoran.”
Daidouji doesn’t answer at first and if she weren’t Daidouji, Meiling would have assumed she’d hung up on her. Instead, she imagined Daidjouji smiling softly, sadly, with that look she gives Sakura when she thinks no one notices.
“Yes,” Daidouji says at last. “Just like you and Syaoran.”
The problem with falling in love young is that you always fall hard. It’s the love defines loves for the rest of your life – it’s the love that consumes you, sometimes to the point where you know nothing else.
In the beginning, Meiling and Daidouji traded letters that only focused on Syaoran and Kinomoto – how to get them to confess to one another, how to reunite them, how sickeningly cute they are together. Syaoran and Kinomoto consume so much of their lives that Meiling sometimes questions whether she and Daidouji even can have lives outside of them.
And then a funny thing happens: Meiling and Daidouji go an entire letter without mentioning them. And then another. And another. And another. Until one day Meiling wakes up and realizes that they’ve stopped talking about the other people in their lives, about the love that consumed them for so many years, and started talking about themselves.
I joined my school’s Kung Fu club, Meiling writes. They’re all amateurs compared to me, but I think I can whip them into shape.
If anyone can do it, it’s you, Meiling, Daidouji writes back. My choir concert is next week and I am nervous because I still haven’t perfected my solo.
You will – I’m sure of it. After all, you’re my only rival when it comes to singing!
As it turns out, they just needed to find one another to find themselves.
The first time a boy asks Meiling out, she has no idea how to respond.
Even though she broke off her engagement to Syaoran years ago, the thought of actually going on a date with someone else never really crossed her mind. But then this boy shows up out of nowhere and stands there with this nervous smile and this awkward fidget that it almost reminds Meiling of Syaoran for a moment. So she decides to just go for it.
She starts writing to Daidouji about it the moment she gets home.
Meiling’s only about half way through her letter when Daidouji calls her. “Naoko kissed me,” she says as calmly as she would if she were talking about the weather.
They have been talking more often lately, Daidouji explains. Naoko joined the drama club at school and started getting out the same time as Daidouji did after choir practice, so they would walk home together. A couple of times, Naoko would lend her books and they would meet up to talk about them. There were little things here and there – things Daidouji suspected might have been something, but then decided they weren’t.
Then, this morning, they both had morning duties and finished early. So they started to talk like they normally did. And Daidouji was in the middle of telling Naoko about this book when she leaned in and kissed her. It was short and sweet and Naoko’s lips felt soft against hers.
“So you’re dating now?” Meiling asks and frowns. It sounds strange to even say out loud.
“No. The kiss was nice, but it wasn’t… right,” she says and Meiling knows she’s trying to figure out how best to say what comes next. “I haven’t kissed many people before, but I think there’s supposed to be something else there when you kiss the one. Something more. Something magical.”
Something like what Syaoran and Kinomoto have, Meiling thinks.
The following day she cancels her date. She feels bad for going back on what she said, but she knows it’s better this way. After all, if this was going to be something special, she would know.
Syaoran knows that Meiling and Tomoyo stay in contact because he plays carrier for them every time he travels to and from Hong Kong. It starts off with letters, but quickly grows into much more – Tomoyo sends him with packages filled with custom designed clothing and Meiling sends him back with various trinkets she finds in the Hong Kong markets. So Meiling knows he knows they’re still in contact. But he doesn’t seem to know the extent of their relationship until one break when he walks in on one of their phone conversations.
Normally he’s too busy handling business with his mother or talking to Kinomoto on the phone to notice Meiling and her calls. But this time she gets the call an hour before she’s supposed to meet Syaoran for lunch and loses track of time until he knocks on her door.
“Ne, Tomoyo,” Meiling says while shoving her feet into her shoes. “Syaoran just showed up. I’ll call you later tonight, okay?”
When she hangs up and looks up from her shoes, she finds Syaoran staring at her with this look he always gets when he’s considering something. He stays like that for a minute and it’s just when she’s about to snap at him to just get on with it already, he says, “When did you start calling Daidouji by her first name?”
Meiling purses her lips and looks away.
When she stopped counting down the days until Syaoran returned to her, she thinks.
The day she stopped considering Hong Kong Syaoran’s home, she assumes.
As soon as she realized she realized the thing she looks forward to most – the thing that brings her the most happiness – are Tomoyo’s letters, she knows.
But she doesn’t say any of that. Instead she shrugs and says. “You aren’t the only one allowed to change your mind about Tomoeda girls. I like Tomoyo. She’s a good friend.”
He stares at her for another moment, but with a smile. “I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.”
She does, doesn’t she?
Tomoyo calls her to tell her about this big choir competition that will be held in Tomoeda that year. And about how their school will not only be hosting it, but competing in it as well. And that Tomoyo has the only solo in their piece.
“So this competition is a pretty big deal, huh?”
“It’s a national competition,” Tomoyo says. Her voice is as calm and bright as ever, but something in the way she says it makes Meiling realize exactly how nervous Tomoyo really is, and how important this is to her. “I wish you could see it,” she adds softly.
And in that moment, Meiling knows that it’s finally time to return.
The thing that surprises her the most when she lands in Japan is how similar Tomoeda is to what she remembers. It’s a bit bigger, a bit more grown, but still the same quaint town she remembers from all those years ago. Which she thinks makes it even less like Hong Kong, the city that’s always changing, growing, evolving.
But, she thinks, there’s something comforting about returning to Tomoeda, to the consistency. It’s a warm feeling, a gentle one – one that she thinks could feel a bit like coming home. There’s something unique about the city, she finally understands.
Hong Kong will always be the superior city, but she thinks she finally sees what Syaoran might see in Tomoeda.
She doesn’t tell anyone about her plans – just takes a taxi straight from the airport to Syaoran’s apartment where a very surprised Kinomoto answers the door. She stares at Meiling for half a second before she drops whatever textbook she’s holding, shrieks, and hugs her. Meiling laughs and even hugs her back as Syaoran half runs, half stumbles to the doorway.
“Meiling?” He gaps. “What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet your favorite cousin?” she asks back with a grin. “And I’m here to see Tomoyo’s competition, of course!”
Kinomoto stares at her with wide eyes. “Tomoyo didn’t mention you were coming?” she half says and half asks.
Meiling shakes her head. “It’s a surprise,” she explains. “So don’t spoil it!”
Kinomoto glances at Syaoran, who seems just as surprised as her. But, after a moment, he smiles softly. And, as if some silent conversation passes between them, Kinomoto grins brightly and promises they won’t tell Tomoyo. “She’s going to be so happy to see you,” she adds.
“I know,” Meiling grins cheekily. “That’s the plan.”
The auditorium fills up so quickly that they end up sitting further back than Meiling would prefer. Too far back for Tomoyo to see her through the stage lights, but not so far back that Meiling can’t see her. And it’s the most surreal thing – seeing Tomoyo for the first time in years. Especially when she’s so close yet so far away.
And especially considering it’s impossible to see any details of Tomoyo – the look in her eyes, the curl of her lips, the wrinkle on her nose. There’s only the outline of someone Meiling recognizes. But still there’s something there – something that feels her with warmth when Tomoyo steps forward on the stage. Something that begins in her chest and goes all the way down to her toes.
Something that makes her smile in a way she doesn’t remember ever doing before.
Which all pales in comparison to how she feels after the concert when Tomoyo is in front of her.
And here’s the thing: Meiling’s decision to visit Tomoeda was so last minute that she never once had the chance to consider that she could be nervous about the trip. Not that she would have considered being nervous otherwise – she’s Li Meiling, after all, she’s never nervous. So it’s not that she’s suddenly nervous now, walking up to Tomoyo for the first time in years. Because she doesn’t get nervous. It’s just that her heart is pounding and her palms are kind of sweaty, and the air in the room is suddenly very thin. That’s all. Nerves have nothing to do with it.
Kinomoto runs ahead and reaches Tomoyo first, which gives Meiling a chance to remember to collect herself. Which she’s thankful for because the moment Kinomoto steps back and Tomoyo looks up at Meiling, she forgets how to breathe. And, briefly, she wonders if Tomoyo does too, because they stand there for a moment, just staring at each other like a couple of morons.
It’s Tomoyo who snaps out of it first, because of course it is. Meiling expects her to clap her hands together, smile, and tell her how happy she is to see Meiling again. But that doesn’t happen. Instead, Tomoyo drops her flowers and runs the short distance between them, and wraps her arms around her.
“You came back to Tomoeda for me?”
Meiling smiles and hugs Tomoyo back. “Of course. The concert was important to you. And if it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”
Tomoyo doesn’t say anything, but she hugs Meiling tighter to her. And, for a brief moment, Meiling thinks she can actually feel Tomoyo’s heart pounding against hers.
Tomoyo’s mother insists that Meiling spend the night at their home, even when Syaoran points out that there is a guest room for her at his apartment. He doesn’t push any further than that though, completely aware that staying at his apartment is not the reason Meiling flew all the way to Tomoeda, and the matter is settled.
They drop Kinomoto has her house before returning to Syaoran’s apartment to pick up Meiling’s bag. Syaoran walks Kinomoto to the door and kisses on the cheek before she goes inside. It’s only a small peck, but it speaks volumes because the Syaoran Meiling once knew would have never done something so intimate. She had dreamed of it when she was younger, hoped for the day it would happen, but never genuinely expected it. But she thinks it suits him now – this gentle, affectionate Syaoran who belongs in Tomoeda.
Meiling’s had years of separation to accept that. But Tomoyo, she realizes, has lived it on a daily basis. Has watched the person she loves love someone else, without the space Meiling had to achieve her closure.
But when Meiling turns to check on Tomoyo, she finds her watching Meiling, not Sakura.
Tomoyo smiles at her sweetly and places her hand on top of Meiling’s. And in that moment Meiling thinks that maybe – just maybe – Tomoyo is past closure and already moved on.
It’s not that Meiling necessarily expects things to be different with Tomoyo in person, but she doesn’t not expect it. When she booked her ticket, she assumed that there would be some sort of awkwardness or tension – something to remind them that there’s a huge difference between writing letters to a person and being in front of them for the first time in years. But it isn’t. Which shouldn’t have surprised her, because Meiling isn’t sure Tomoyo has an awkward bone in her body.
They fall into conversation as easily as they fall into their letters. They pick up exactly where they left off the last time they exchanged correspondence – asking updates about the people in their lives, laughing at their inside jokes, even occasionally finishing the other person’s sentence because of course they would say that.
Tomoyo’s face lights up when she realizes she can accurately take Meiling’s measurements. The fit on the last few photos Meiling sent her looked off to Tomoyo. Meiling scoffs at her, play offended that Tomoyo would even think the measurements Meiling sent her would not be perfectly accurate, but stands when prompted.
It’s only then, when Tomoyo’s hands brush along Meiling’s body, that she feels the tension that reminds her that writing letters is, in fact, different than being in front of a person.
The tension comes again later that night when they decide to call it a night and lay down in Tomoyo’s bed. The lights turn off, which is Meiling knows is her cue to say goodnight, roll over, and go to sleep, but she lays there with her eyes locked on Tomoyo’s.
It would be so easy to kiss her, she thinks. She would barely need to lean forward to close the gap between them and take Tomoyo’s lips in hers. There are a millions reasons she shouldn’t, she knows, but she doesn’t care. Because she’s Meiling and she’s messy and selfish and always goes after what she wants, regardless of the consequences.
“Meiling…” Tomoyo says softly, as she tilts forward ever so slight, her lips barely not brushing against Meiling’s.
And in that moment, Meiling realizes she needs to stop, because there are a million reasons why she can’t do this. Because there’s Kinomoto and Tomoeda, Hong Kong and the miles between them. But most importantly, there’s Meiling who is messy and selfish and goes after what she wants regardless of the consequences.
So Meiling fakes a yawn, says goodnight, and rolls over, and tries not to think about the hurt that she imgines in Tomoyo’s eyes.
Syaoran skips his morning classes to see her to the airport. He and Wei show up at Tomoyo’s house the next morning, and Meiling thinks it’s the most relieved she’s been to see her cousin in a very long time.
Tomoyo has morning duties for her class, so she says goodbye to Meiling while Syaoran and Wei wait in the car. She hugs Meiling and thanks her again for coming to support her. She tells her she will use her new measurements and do her best to have the outfits altered by the time Syaoran goes home for the holidays.
She smiles at her as if nothing happened the previous night, but somehow the space between them feels larger by the second.
“You should move back to Tomoeda,” Syaoran says on the way to the airport.
Meiling snaps her head up and stares at him as if he just told her that he and that stuffed animal were best friends now, because where in the world did that come from? Because, if she remembers correctly, Syaoran didn’t even want her in Tomoeda in the first place.
“Daidouji would really like it,” he says and leaves it at that.
Meiling purses her lips and looks out the window. She watches the cherry blossom trees fly by them and, after a moment, asks Syaoran why he moved to Tomoeda. He’s openly surprised by the question, but answers that he moved for Sakura.
“Because you love her,” Meiling adds. “It was never even a question for you – she was here so you came here, because that’s what you do when you love someone,” she explains. “But… what if I don’t want to leave Hong Kong?”
What does that say about her feelings?
Syaoran starts to say something, but Wei pulls up to the airport and she jumps out of the car. When she turns back around to him, she fakes a grin and tells him to hurry up already – it’s time for her to go home.
The weeks that follow are the longest Meiling remember since Syaoran first moved to Tomoeda. It’s strange feeling, because the days fly by. Between her exams, club practices, and her own martial arts training, Meiling doesn’t have time to think about anything outside of her city. But her nights – the ones she normally spent writing to Tomoyo – seem to drag on forever.
Tomoyo’s letters, which she writes with regular consistency, sit on her bedside table, and not a single one even attempt to make Meiling feel guilty about her lack of responses.
Sorry, Meiling writes back after Tomoyo’s fourth letter and second missed call. Been busy lately. Will try to write more next time.
Don’t apologize, Tomoyo writes back. I’m sure whatever it is you’re doing is important.
Meiling almost crumbles that letter up, because of course Tomoyo would say that. Of course she would make it hard for Meiling without even trying. Because it would be so much easier for Meiling to let go if Tomoyo wasn’t so damn patient with her. If she would just snap or scream or call Meiling out or do something – anything – then Meiling could lash back. She could hurt her and ruin this thing they’ve built.
She could break Tomoyo’s heart and let her move on to someone who deserves her. Someone who would love her enough to give up everything for her.
But because she’s Tomoyo, she understands and doesn’t say anything.
And because she’s Meiling, she doesn’t say anything either.
Syaoran calls Meiling on Christmas morning and tells her that he will be late for their meeting at the amusement park because he needs to mail a last minute present to Sakura. He tells her that he will meet her by the Ferris Wheel at noon. Meiling pretends to complain because annoying Syaoran will always be in Meiling’s nature. But doesn’t actually think anything of it, because she’s use to taking a back seat to Kinomoto by this point.
Meiling arrives at exactly noon to a Syaoran-less amusement park.
“Stupid Syaoran,” she mumbles, searching her bag for her phone. “Kinomoto’s bad habits must be rubbing off on him.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” a familiar voice says in Japanese and Meiling freezes. “A lot about Sakura has rubbed off on him, but Li’s still Li. Always in the right place at the right time. Even,” she says, her fingers brushing against Meiling’s shoulders, “If it’s not where you expect him to be.”
Meiling spins around and even though she already knows, her eyes still widen when she finds Tomoyo standing in front of her. Tomoyo just smiles back at her.
“What are you doing here?” Meiling says despite everything else she could say.
Tomoyo grins cheekily. “You did such a poor job kissing me in Tomoeda so I had to come all the way to Hong Kong to fix it,” she says in that way that is both casual and sly and so Tomoyo that Meiling wants nothing more than to run across the space between them and kiss her. To forget everything else in the world and just focus on the girl in front of her.
But she knows she can’t precisely because of the girl in front of her. “I’m not like, Syaoran,” Meiling says. “I’m not going to move to Japan. I don’t want to leave Hong Kong.”
The words hang between them and Meiling knows she should feel bad about it, and she does, but there’s also this sense of relief that comes with finally just telling Tomoyo the truth. Because in all their conversations, in all their long letters, all their late night phone conversation, it’s the only thing she’s kept from her, and the one thing she’s needed to tell her all this time.
Which means it’s over now. Tomoyo will get back on her plane and fly away to Tomoeda while Meiling resumes her life in Hong Kong. The pretenses are over. It’s all over.
“I know,” Tomoyo says instead. “Which is why I’m moving to Hong Kong.”
Meiling forgets how to breathe.
Tomoyo continues speaking, explaining how her mother has always wanted her to study abroad and how she was accepted into the International School in Hong Kong. She explains all these details that Meiling knows are important, but she can’t seem to focus on them because there’s no way this is actually happening.
“Why?” Meiling asks. “Why would you do that? Your mother, Kinomoto, Tomoeda – why would you leave all that behind and move to Hong Kong? Why?”
“Because,” Tomoyo says without missing a beat, “Hong Kong is important to you, and if it’s important to you then it’s important to me,” she explains. “You are important to me, Meiling.”
For the first time since Meiling and Tomoyo began their letters, since they began building this relationship, it finally occurs to Meiling that maybe she doesn’t have to be like Syaoran. That maybe just being Meiling is actually enough for Tomoyo. Enough for them to be happy. Together.
Which is all Meiling needs to finally give in and do what she’s been dying to do for what feels like forever – close the distance between them and take Tomoyo in her arms and kiss her, right there in her city.
In their city.