East Street’s night market didn’t wind down until past three in the morning; by then the whole street was nearly empty, and the food stalls closed up one after another.

They grabbed a bit more to eat; a few people at the table were drinking and playing finger-guessing games, getting rowdier and more excited as they went. Meng Hanmo checked the time and said to Feng Ning, “I’ll take you home first.”

“Okay.” Feng Ning set down her chopsticks too.

She was wearing short sleeves as she went with Meng Hanmo to get the motorcycle; the night air was heavy and cold, the outdoor temperature low enough to make her shiver a little. Feng Ning tilted her head back, breathed out a faint puff of visible breath, and stared fixedly up at the sky.

Meng Hanmo tossed her the helmet and a jacket. “Looking at the stars again.”

“Yeah.” Feng Ning watched intently, even grabbing hold of his arm. “Look with me, find the brightest one.”

Meng Hanmo swung one leg over the motorcycle, tilting his head slightly. “Get on.”

Feng Ning fastened the helmet strap, talking to herself. “Bro, do you know what time the stars disappear?”

“No idea.”

“Four in the morning.” Feng Ning was shivering, pulling the jacket on. “When I was little and didn’t understand things, I used to pester my mom asking where my dad was. Later my mom told me my dad was up in the sky, turned into a star. So for a while I really loved looking at the stars, trying to find the biggest, brightest one — I’d look until morning, and once I couldn’t see them anymore, I’d go to sleep.”

The motorcycle let out a low roar, speeding down the empty late-night street, the scenery on both sides blurring past. Her long hair was tossed up by the rushing wind; she rested her head against his shoulder, dazed for a moment, murmuring to herself, “I miss my dad, actually, quite a bit.”

Meng Hanmo had always been a man of few words, and Feng Ning was consistently strong and cheerful — on the rare occasions she showed vulnerability, he didn’t know how to comfort her, and could only silently stay by her side.

At the mouth of Yujiang Alley, Shuang Yao paced back and forth in her pajamas, flashlight in hand.

“Yao-yao!” Feng Ning jumped down from the motorcycle, all her earlier gloom instantly swept away, rushing over affectionately. “You’re still the best to me.”

“Shh, quiet down, don’t touch me, you reek of oil.” Shuang Yao dodged away in disgust, then waved a greeting to Meng Hanmo not far off. “Hey, Mo-ge.”

Meng Hanmo nodded and turned the bike around. “Get some sleep soon, I’m heading out.”

“Be careful on the road!”

“Mo-ge’s so cool.” Shuang Yao swooned a little.

Feng Ning pinched her arm. “Don’t you dare get any ideas about my brother, I’m warning you.”

All around was darkness; they quietly pushed open the courtyard gate and slipped in. Shuang Yao sighed. “You finally get a day off from the bar, and you go running off to help Mo-ge instead. You two siblings really do have a great relationship. Only, poor me, keeping watch at the gate, covering for you with Auntie Qi, waiting up till the middle of the night, not even daring to sleep.”

Feng Ning shook her head, then nodded, digging at her ear. “Alright, alright, stop complaining, I owe you a meal.”

Monday morning, Jiang Wen walked into the classroom. A few people greeted him, but he acted as if he hadn’t heard.

Passing by Xi Gaoyuan, he suddenly burst out laughing.

Jiang Wen stopped in his tracks and looked at him.

Xi Gaoyuan shot a thumbs up. “Wen, does your face still hurt?”

Jiang Wen lowered his eyes, said nothing, went silent for a moment, then said, eyes narrowing, “Who told you, Zhao Binlin?”

“Hahahahahaha hoho, who else would it be.”

Xi Gaoyuan’s face twisted with laughter, but the moment he caught sight of Jiang Wen’s darkening expression, he stopped himself, zipping his mouth shut with a gesture, saying earnestly, “I know, don’t worry, rest a hundred and twenty percent assured, I won’t say a single word to anyone.”

Jiang Wen walked off without another word.

His deskmate glanced back, curious, lowering his voice. “What happened?”

Xi Gaoyuan put on a mysterious expression. “Can’t say. If I say it, Jiang Wen and I probably can’t be bros anymore.”

Zhao Binlin was at his seat, pen scratching furiously as he rushed through homework, when he heard a thud — Jiang Wen had pulled out his chair and sat down.

Zhao Binlin poked his arm. “Brother Wen, let me copy your homework.”

Jiang Wen tossed his bag aside, leaned back, and glanced sideways at him, his expression giving nothing away about whether he was angry. “You sent it to Xi Gaoyuan?”

Zhao Binlin played dumb. “Sent what?”

He suppressed his temper. “You know what.”

As an absolute top student, Jiang Wen had always been polished and dignified in front of others, composed and reserved, doing everything with poise — when had he ever suffered the indignity of being slapped by a girl.

A young guy is thin-skinned to begin with, and at the time he hadn’t fully sobered up yet, so being laughed at by them in that muddled state hadn’t felt particularly humiliating.

But when he sobered up in the middle of the night, lying in bed in the pitch darkness, staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning — the moment he thought back to how he’d made a fool of himself in public, chasing after Feng Ning shamelessly, asking her over and over who she liked, who she really liked — he immediately wanted to slap himself across the face again.

Zhao Binlin, still savoring the whole affair with relish, leaned over to fan the flames. “What’s up with you, huh, you were so obedient in front of Feng Ning that day, had me watching slack-jawed. My heart just melted seeing little Wen-Wen so well-behaved.”

Jiang Wen was silent for a good while, then suddenly erupted. “F— you, Zhao Binlin, can you stop being disgusting.”

“Whoa, why are you getting worked up over this!” Zhao Binlin’s mouth fell open, staring at him blankly. “Did you just curse? Whoa, in this lifetime — Jiang Wen actually swearing, no way.”

Jiang Wen pulled out his book, lowered his head, propping it up with one hand. “Leave me alone.”

Zhao Binlin pursed his lips, dutifully going back to copying homework, not daring to stoke his fire any further.

Feng Ning was half-asleep when someone shook her awake to collect homework.

When it got to Jiang Wen’s, he stared off elsewhere, not even sparing her a direct glance.

She was dead tired, yawning, too lazy to call out his awkward act, muttering, “Hand in your homework, son.”

Zhao Binlin overheard and cracked up. “Who’s your son, don’t just claim people randomly, no taking advantage.”

Feng Ning grinned wide. “Heh, we both know what’s up.”

Jiang Wen’s eyes finally turned toward her.

Zhao Binlin, from behind, made faces and pointed at Jiang Wen, mouthing something silently. Feng Ning looked for a couple seconds, then caught his meaning. She dropped her playful expression. “Alright, hand in your homework.”

After third period, during the class exercise break, Zhao Binlin leaned in to whisper to Feng Ning as they headed downstairs. “Why don’t you go talk to Jiang Wen? I feel like he still hasn’t recovered from those two slaps you gave him. Might’ve left some psychological trauma or something.”

Feng Ning was taken aback. “Is it really that dramatic?”

Zhao Binlin nodded repeatedly, wry-faced. “Ugh, you have no idea, he’s been sulking all morning, won’t talk to anyone, really upset about it. Just consider it doing me a favor, go coax him a bit.”

Feng Ning raised an eyebrow, sighing languidly. “You guys really do treat him like a baby, needing to be coaxed and everything.”

“You said it!” Zhao Binlin sighed along with her. “I owe you one.”

Class Nine’s PE class happened to run right up against the big recess today; halfway through the period, some of the girls couldn’t take the blazing sun anymore and headed back to the classroom.

Jiang Wen had bruises all over his body from drinking and bumping around two days ago, his bones aching all over. Too lazy to play ball, he sat at the edge of the court watching for a while, then picked up his bottle of water and wandered back to the classroom alone.

“Jiang Wen!” Feng Ning had just jogged a short distance, slightly out of breath.

The person being called pretended not to hear, continuing forward without turning back. In no time, he’d already gone up a flight of stairs.

She smacked his back hard. “Hey, Jiang Wen!” She smacked the same spot again. “I’m calling you, are you deaf?”

He paused, then kept climbing the steps, still ignoring her.

Feng Ning took the stairs two at a time and cut straight in front of Jiang Wen, meeting his eyes head-on.

“What do you want?” His brow furrowed in irritation.

“I have something to say to you, ahem, that thing, you know, about you drinking the other day.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Jiang Wen’s voice was very calm, trying to sidestep around Feng Ning.

“Wait.” Feng Ning suddenly stepped to the side, raising one leg threateningly, blocking his path completely. She tilted her head, half her face in shadow, silently curving her lips, tone turning mischievous. “What? Calling me ‘dad’ back then, and now pretending you don’t know me?”

Jiang Wen’s face stiffened, sweat beading faintly on his nose, his clenched fingers turning white. “What exactly do you want?”

She took two or three seconds to gather herself, then said, “I didn’t mean to slap you on purpose either, isn’t that the fastest way to sober someone up? Really, it works every time. Besides, you have no idea how many times I’ve been slapped by others when I got drunk, I’m used to it. Why do you hold such a grudge over this.”

Feng Ning smiled apologetically, dropping her earlier cheeky attitude, uncharacteristically serious. She made a fist with one hand, then turned it over, opening her palm upward. “There, look, see what I wrote.”

Jiang Wen lowered his eyes slightly.

Scrawled crookedly across her small palm were three words: I’m sorry.

He was silent for a moment, his expression still cold and aloof, then gave a low hum and walked off.

Three air conditioners in the classroom were all running, hissing out cold air.

Zhao Binlin came into the classroom; there were only a few people left. He’d just finished playing ball and reeked of sweat, tugging his collar to wipe himself off.

Jiang Wen stopped the pen he’d been using to work through problems and scooted his chair forward a bit.

As Zhao Binlin squeezed in, his eyes swept over and suddenly stopped, surprised. “Eh? What’s stuck on your back?”

Jiang Wen glanced back over his shoulder. “What?”

“This, a sticky note?” Zhao Binlin peeled the little pink square note off his shoulder. “Who put this here, what’s it say, another love letter from some girl? Pretty creative, actually.”

Jiang Wen, unconcerned, went back to his pen, working out problems on his scratch paper.

Zhao Binlin leaned against the wall, studying it in confusion for a while, hesitating, then suddenly it clicked. “Wait, this has to be from Feng Ning, right?”

Jiang Wen snatched the note away.

He froze for a moment.

What met his eyes was a chibi-style drunken little peacock, wrapped in a fuzzy cape, slumped on the ground. Its tail feathers spread out in a half-fan, its little pointed head topped with a crown, leaning adorably against a giant wine bottle, snoring away in vivid detail.

Beside it was a big-eyed, moe-style girl with long hair, streaming wide tears, head tilted back, a handprint on her left cheek, kneeling atop a line of flowing English script:

——Anapologytothelovelylittleprince

Author’s Note: Translation: An apology to the lovely little prince.

(Might revise the text a bit later, feel free to skip.)