After his mother had gone to sleep, Zhou Ya carried two bottles of decanted lychee wine and a bag of boiled peanuts up to the sixth floor.

Unit 602 was where Ren Jianbai and his wife Lin Tian lived. Zhou Ya didn’t ring the doorbell or knock directly, instead sending a text message.

Before long, the wooden door opened from inside; the living room was very dark, with only the light from the fish tank serving as illumination.

Ren Jianbai held up an index finger to his lips: “Shh, my wife just fell asleep…”

Zhou Ya saw he had a thick jacket wrapped over his pajamas and understood what he meant, tilting his chin and shaking the wine bottles in his hand.

Decades of friendship weren’t for nothing—Ren Jianbai grinned widely, sneakily pulling two glass cups out from the pockets on either side of his jacket.

Because their floor was high up, after Ren Jianbai got married, his parents had moved to another older apartment, leaving this unit for the young couple.

The two brothers, as usual, drank on the rooftop of the Ren family building—they often did this. The rooftop was fully equipped: a folding table opened up, plastic stools set out, looking properly official.

In summer they could even grill charcoal barbecue up here, but tonight there was only the cold wind whistling. Ren Jianbai shrank his neck into his jacket, hunching his back like a little old man, sipping his drink in small mouthfuls.

The fruit wine was sweet and fragrant, refreshing on the palate, but Ren Jianbai still smacked his lips and complained: “This wine tastes too sweet, only fit for young girls to drink… us two ‘mature manly men’ still need beer or hard liquor to feel it.”

“Don’t drink it then, give it back.” Zhou Ya’s long arm reached out, trying to snatch Ren Jianbai’s glass.

Ren Jianbai hurriedly guarded it. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t drink it either.”

“Tch.” Zhou Ya, legs crossed, tossed two peanuts into his mouth, and after chewing them up asked, “So… Fang Long got into a conflict with an employee at the shop?”

Ren Jianbai gave an “mm” of acknowledgment.

That evening Lin Tian had gotten a call from her cousin and learned that something had happened at the shop that afternoon: an employee named Sister Ying had had something go missing from her bag in the storage cabinet in the break room, and suspected Fang Long had stolen it.

But there was no surveillance in the break room, and the other side couldn’t produce evidence. The two of them had argued in the break room, nearly escalating to calling the police, and though Lin Tian’s cousin had mediated as a go-between, the two still parted on bad terms.

Zhou Ya felt that what had actually happened definitely wasn’t as simple as Lin Tian’s cousin made it sound.

He pinched a peanut between two fingers, and with slight pressure, cracked it open. “So what does your cousin think now?”

Ren Jianbai picked up the wine bottle and refilled Zhou Ya’s glass, saying, “She said she’ll investigate, but I doubt it’ll amount to much.”

He glanced at Zhou Ya, his voice muffled. “Cousin also said that until things are investigated clearly, Fang Long should hold off on coming back to the shop for now…”

Zhou Ya’s hand on the wine glass paused slightly, his brows already knitted like mountain ridges and valleys, and he gave a cold laugh: “On what grounds? It’s not even something she did—why shouldn’t she be allowed to work?”

“Right, that’s what I said too.” Ren Jianbai’s nose itched a little; he rubbed it with a bent finger and continued, “But I heard that this afternoon a group of customers came to the shop who knew Fang Long… one of the aunties told the staff to be careful with Fang Long, said her hands weren’t clean—”

“Bang!”

Zhou Ya slammed his empty glass down hard on the table, cutting off Ren Jianbai’s words.

The folding table was already flimsy, and his force wasn’t light—it shook enough that a few peanut shells on top fluttered off. Zhou Ya said nothing, only half-lidded his eyes, slanting a glance at Ren Jianbai; in the shadow, his eyes looked bottomlessly dark.

Ren Jianbai felt a chill run through him, recognizing this as the prelude to Zhou Ya losing his temper.

He gathered the peanut shells on the table closer together, raising both his temper and volume, venting the anger on Zhou Ya’s behalf first: “What kind of people even are these? Blind and foul-mouthed! Did they personally witness our ancestor stealing something? This is malicious slander! Whose hands aren’t clean—I say it’s that gossiping person’s mouth that isn’t clean!”

Zhou Ya knocked a cigarette out of the pack and put it between his lips.

Seeing this, Ren Jianbai picked up his lighter and flicked it to a flame, holding it up to him, asking haltingly, “Hey, A’ya, what if… I’m just saying what if! If it really was our ancestor who—”

“Ren Jianbai, if you don’t want us to fight right now, take that back.” Zhou Ya cut him off again, taking a deep drag on the cigarette before slowly exhaling; the white smoke dispersed in the night wind, revealing Zhou Ya’s gaze, which had turned sharp. “Fang Long has plenty of faults, but at the very least, whatever she does, she owns up to.”

Ren Jianbai choked, only hearing Zhou Ya continue: “Since she says she didn’t take it, then she definitely didn’t take it. On this point about her, I still have some confidence.”

Fang Long took a very long shower that night, her skin burning red all over, the pads of her fingers wrinkled and soaked.

She tilted her head back, eyes open, letting the hot water hit her face, until her eyes stung too much to bear, and only then did she close her eyelids.

The events of the afternoon played vividly in her mind; no matter how she washed, she couldn’t wash away those images.

That evening, Sister Ying had called her to stop, saying something was missing from her bag, asking Fang Long if she’d opened her bag.

The sudden and baseless accusation had made Fang Long’s anger flare, but she’d still patiently pushed down her emotions and asked Sister Ying back why she thought it was her who’d taken it.

There were many people coming and going at the shop entrance, with customers going in and out, so Sister Ying suggested going back to the break room to talk, and Fang Long agreed.

Once back in the shop, the other two employees were huddled together whispering about something; when Fang Long looked over, the two of them stopped at once, unconsciously closing their mouths in unison, and split up to go serve customers.

Entering the break room, Sister Ying took out her own bag, dumping its contents out in front of Fang Long as if venting her anger, saying that there should have been a gold bracelet in there—she’d taken it off before work and put it in the bag, originally worried that wearing it during work she might accidentally lose it, and now the bracelet had vanished.

Fang Long still asked the same question—why did Sister Ying think it was her, and not one of the other two employees, who’d taken it?

Sister Ying didn’t beat around the bush either, saying that this afternoon, while she was checking out that mother-daughter pair of customers, they’d reminded her to be extra careful.

She’d heard from that auntie why Fang Long had been fired from her previous job—it was because her hands weren’t clean, and the woman had also said Fang Long was a repeat offender, that she’d been hauled into the police station more than once for this kind of despicable behavior before!

As for the other two employees, they’d worked together for a year or two—if anyone had really had bad intentions, her gold bracelet would have gone missing long ago.

Fang Long immediately thought of who was behind spreading such things about her; her ears buzzed, her mind going blank.

The thread of reason snapped with a crack. Fang Long, no longer bothering to argue with Sister Ying, directly dumped everything out of her crossbody bag all at once, items clattering to the floor, her phone’s back casing popping open and the battery falling out too.

After that, she took off her clothes one by one.

First the thin fleece vest and hooded sweatshirt, then, kicking off her canvas shoes, she pulled down her denim shorts and pantyhose together.

Just as she was reaching back to take off her bra, Sister Ying’s scream filled the entire small break room.

Actually, Fang Long didn’t remember the details of that moment too clearly—she only knew that she, nearly completely naked, stood barefoot on the cold tile floor.

Disheveled and hair mussed, she must have looked quite a wreck, but she still held her head high and told Sister Ying, chest out, that she hadn’t stolen that gold bracelet, and not to just casually dump the blame on her.

Yes, she had once gone down a crooked path, had spent a period of time unable to distinguish right from wrong, but now she stood upright and open, with a clear conscience before heaven and earth.

…

The water pouring over her face gradually lost its warmth. Fang Long gave an “ouch” and hurriedly turned off the faucet.

Without realizing it, she’d used up all the hot water stored in the water heater tank; it would need to be reheated, otherwise Zhou Ya would only get to take a lukewarm-to-cold shower later.

The mirror was fogged over. Fang Long wiped it a few times, turned around, and looked at the faint scars on her shoulders and back in the mirror.

After a good while, she finally dried herself off and wrapped a towel around her hair.

Her skincare routine was simple—one bottle of toner and one jar of Dabao cream, usable all over her body.

The boutique had recently brought in a batch of high-end Korean skincare products, toners, essences, creams, and even eye cream and lip masks… a full set cost more than her monthly salary, and she really couldn’t bring herself to buy it.

Dabao worked well enough—when it was cold out she just needed a thin layer, and once the weather warmed up, toner alone was enough.

Every month, Fang Long gave half her wages to her aunt; of the remaining half, aside from occasionally going out singing karaoke or eating with friends, she saved the rest.

She wanted to buy a new computer—the old desktop antique at home was one Zhou Ya used to use, truly unable to keep up anymore; she was afraid it would give up the ghost even just opening Minesweeper.

Walking out of the bathroom, the dining room and living room lights were on, but there was no sign of Zhou Ya. Fang Long didn’t think much of it and headed to her own room.

That scene she’d accidentally glimpsed outside the bathroom door that night—Fang Long had chosen to gradually let it fade, so that when she and Zhou Ya crossed paths, it wouldn’t be so awkward.

—Easier said than done; actually, these past few days she’d been trying her best to avoid Zhou Ya, avoiding running into him whenever possible. A face-to-face conversation like the one in the stairwell today hadn’t happened in quite a few days.

At home she usually didn’t close her bedroom door, just leaving it loosely ajar. The moment she pushed it open, Fang Long froze.

By the window, on the desk, next to the old antique desktop computer she’d decorated with sparkly rhinestone stickers, stood a large rectangular box.

It was a laptop.

Fang Long’s heart beat a little faster. She didn’t remember ever mentioning at home that she was saving up to buy a computer—so why would Zhou Ya know?