The Cupid’s Speech

Hello everyone! I’m Cheng Qian, an undergraduate classmate of Jing and Victor – Robinson College NatSci, Class of 2019.

From September 2019 to today, we’ve known each other for a full six years. That may be shorter than the bonds many family and friends here share, but to me it’s been a long, profound journey we’ve walked together – from finishing high school, to university, then to jobs, and now to today’s wedding. From the brunch salmon at Trinity, to the roast-chicken-scented dusk near the Cambridge Station, to midnight espresso martinis in Nine Elms – we’ve left memories together in different cities.

When did it suddenly hit me that we’ve known each other for so long?

A few days ago I was on a business trip in Germany. After two straight weeks of German food I was dizzy – the mere sight of pork gave me a headache. In that moment I missed the taste of home so much. But what had I been eating at home lately? I remembered that last year I mentioned how amazing the chili sauce made by Jing’s grandma was, and Jing’s mum actually mailed me a huge bottle of it. Our family has basically cooked with that sauce all year. That fragrant, spicy taste has become, in my memory, the taste of “home”. It turns out the “taste of home” in my mind actually came from Jing’s home.

We entered Cambridge together and left Cambridge together. At Victor’s place I learned Texas Hold’em, Blackjack, Northeast Mahjong, Sichuan Mahjong, and Japanese Mahjong – skills that might, who knows, change one’s life. We shared countless formals and spent many holidays without our own families around. To me, Jing and Victor long ago became my family in the UK.

Being the celebrant and the first speaker today warms my heart, but figuring out what to say has been hard. No matter how carefully I choose my words, my gratitude and blessings feel inexpressible. Those who read the wedding website closely might have noticed that in Victor’s “our story”, a certain Cupid lent a big hand on the night their feelings became clear. You’ve probably guessed: that Cupid was me. So why not zoom in on that one night and tell you what happened?

8 March 2020 – an ordinary day for most if we don’t count the International Women’s Day, and for me it was supposed to be ordinary too. The plan was simple: finish a Tripos assignment as usual, go to Victor’s place for Mahjong as usual, then go home and sleep as usual. That’s how it should have gone.

The first unusual thing was that the assignment was harder than usual; what I should’ve finished in the morning dragged on until evening. Jing had already been waiting at Victor’s for the whole day. I thought, “I’m doomed – how could I leave her alone at a guy’s place for so long?” I rushed over, only to find the two of them completely at ease, a picture of harmony, as if no one had noticed I was at least four hours late. I was puzzled. Why weren’t they mad? Maybe a little annoyed? Why weren’t they mad at me?

Then they gave me two reasons.

First: we were chatting nonsense over Mahjong and the Coke ran out. Usually when ordinary guests finish the Coke, Victor would say, “Okay, I’ll pour you some,” or gesture toward the bottle, “Help yourself.” But when Jing said she wanted a Coke, I saw a blur of motion – a chunk of muscle flashed past my eyes, saying, “I’ll pour it for you!” He came back with a full glass and placed it respectfully in front of her. Jing took it naturally and just kept chatting. My brow furrowed. Something was up. From the small, the great may be seen – there was definitely more to that glass of Coke.

Second: although I was playing like a brainless amateur (with terrible luck most days), that day my luck was great – I self-drew two or three hands in a row and felt glorious, as if finally washing away past defeats. Jing sighed something like, “I wish I could self-draw too, or at least take someone discarding the winning tile…” And Victor, faster than lightning, declared, “From my hand – whichever tile you want, I’ll discard it for you. If this one won’t do, I’ll change to the next – until you win.” I don’t know if Jing was touched, but I was so shocked I didn’t dare move. Since when did Victor talk like that? Is this the Victor I know? Shouldn’t he be laughing loudly as he throws the next tile – simultaneously dealing all three of us a loss? If the Coke could be explained away (maybe the Coke was about to expire) there was no explaining this mahjong business. These two either were already secretly together, or Victor owed Jing money and didn’t want to pay.

With those thoughts I went home and lay down on my little bed at Robinson. A message popped up from Victor: “Still awake?”

“Hmph,” I thought, “Jing must not have lent him money; now he’s coming to borrow from me.” Kidding. I knew he wanted to sound me out about the evening’s emotional developments.

I replied: “Yep, awake.”

He said: “Did you notice anything? I feel like our relationship is already more than friends.”

I thought, “More than friends? Honestly, people might think you’ve already been together for more than three months. You’ve clearly fallen for her but feel shy about saying it. Since you’re not sure, I’ll go ask.”

So I asked Jing: “Are you two together yet?” She replied with eight words: “I don’t know. I want to ask too.” If she wants to ask, deep down she’s already fallen for him – just also shy to say it.

Well, I’m not shy. So I made a not-at-all-bold decision: I urged Victor to go find her. I said, “Okay, both of you stop talking to me. I may have won four hands tonight, but that’s not the point. You should meet right now, this very minute, and bravely confess your feelings.”

What happened after that, I don’t know.

I imagine Victor threw on his windbreaker, pedalled faster than he ever has in his life toward Fitzwilliam, and arrived out of breath, cursing why Fitz was built on a hill. I imagine he reached the gate around midnight only to find it locked, then cleverly contacted my ex, who was in the same college. Even if the little window of romance had closed for him, he wouldn’t mind opening a big door of love for a new couple.

I imagine that night the two of them poured their hearts out, and were flooded with tears of joy.

I imagine… nothing more. I fell asleep.

Of course, the above is just my imagination – but it could also be true. Who knows?

What I do know is that the next morning I received messages from them. Between the lines, there was the romance and sweetness of love’s first bloom – the gentle warmth of morning sunlight. They said: “Milk tea on us.” Right then I knew everything went well. Mission accomplished; I could fade out gracefully.

Whether I actually drank that milk tea, I can’t quite remember – probably not. Because we all know what happened in March 2020: the pandemic exploded; we were quarantined and scattered; countless unforeseen hardships followed. We were apart for a long time, and only reunited the next year. They stayed by each other’s side and overcame real-world obstacles and trials. At that point, whether I got the milk tea didn’t matter – because today, I get to drink this cup of wedding wine.

Thank you for listening to this story, and thank you to the couple for letting me tell it.