Xu Zhi’s consciousness snapped back at his words, her scattered gaze slowly refocusing as she looked at him.

The boy was drenched in sweat, which trickled down his clean features, all shed for her without reserve. His expression had lost its youthful restraint, replaced by a hint of arrogant mischief and arousal. He was on the cusp of maturity – less experienced than a seasoned man, yet more intense and determined than a boy new to romance.

His back arched like a mountain peak, reminiscent of a mudslide collapse, with sweat pouring beneath the covers. “Then don’t mind me.”

“How can I not? If I’m ruined after one time, what will I do in the future?”

Xu Zhi wanted to kick him. “You’re the one who’s ruined.”

“Don’t move, let yourself adjust,” Chen Luzhou said, gently brushing the sweat-dampened strands of hair from her temple behind her ear.

…

“Your grandfather’s riding a bike!”

He burst out laughing, growing increasingly smug. With both hands propping up his body against the headboard, he was at a complete loss. “Then what do you want me to do?”

Xu Zhi didn’t know how to respond. Her ears grew hotter, her heart more restless. It felt like a knife was pressed against her throat, slowly grinding away, leaving her in limbo between life and death.

A quick end would have been preferable.

As if receiving a signal, Chen Luzhou reached out and turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

“Don’t turn off the light—” Xu Zhi cried out involuntarily, her words cut short as her head nearly hit the headboard.

Chen Luzhou’s hand protected her in time, his other hand bracing against the headboard. His movements didn’t cease as he looked down at her. In the dim room, they could barely make out each other’s silhouettes and intertwined gazes. His eyes grew darker, staring intently as if trying to hook her.

Occasionally, Xu Zhi would softly call his name. He was both proud and teasing; when she called him “Chen Jiaojiao,” he didn’t respond, but when she called “Chen Luzhou,” he gave a soft “Mm.” Then he lowered his head slightly, closing his eyes. His handsome features were furrowed, his expression strained, and his breath caught in his chest, nearly boiling over.

Neither of them had anticipated that last summer’s chance encounter, that fleeting glimpse through a doorway, would lead to this.

They had kissed in the silence of the night, the creaking of wood lasting longer than any cicada’s song in Qingyi’s summers.

…

After they had cleaned up and cuddled in bed for a while, they exchanged some idle chatter.

“You were forceful.”

“To be honest, I wasn’t even trying. If I went all out, you’d be crying all the way home.”

“You should quit basketball.”

Chen Luzhou leaned against the headboard, laughing as he played with her hair. He said in a low voice, “This has nothing to do with basketball. Why don’t you look for reasons within yourself?”

Xu Zhi pondered for a moment, then looked at him with sudden realization.

“Understood?” He reclined lazily, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. He glanced at the time absent-mindedly and tossed it to her. “If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll touch you less in the future. Help me charge it.”

“That won’t do,” Xu Zhi caught his phone and, on a whim, asked, “Hey, can I look through your phone?”

“Want to check your boyfriend’s phone?” He chuckled. “Go ahead.”

Xu Zhi tried entering his previous password, four ones, then turned to look at him. “Will I cry when I come out?”

“Probably not, but I can’t guarantee it,” he said lazily, leaning against the headboard with his eyes half-closed, seemingly a bit tired.

The password was incorrect. “Changed your password?”

“Mm, it’s your birthday.”

Ah, Chen Luzhou was truly impeccable. Xu Zhi put the phone on the nightstand to charge. “Never mind, a boyfriend who uses his girlfriend’s birthday as a password probably doesn’t have any secrets.”

He chuckled with his eyes closed. “Xu Zhi don’t worry. You can check whatever you want. All my passwords are your birthday.” Then, as if remembering something, he added, “Oh, except for my bank card PIN.”

“But I’m only interested in the bank card PIN.”

Chen Luzhou opened his eyes and glanced at her lightly, laughing as he cursed, “Little gold digger.” He then sighed, reached into the bedside drawer without looking, pulled out his wallet, and tossed it to her.

“There are only two bank cards. One is a credit card my mom got for me earlier, for temporary use during the American Mathematical Contest in Modeling. The other is the card I just got at school; I’ve transferred all my money into it. I don’t usually use birthdays for bank cards.”

“Then what do you use?”

“738733.”

Xu Zhi opened his wallet and indeed found only two bank cards, along with an ID card and an A University student card. The photo on the ID didn’t look much like the current Chen Luzhou, but that arrogant air was unmistakably him. Back then, his features were more youthful, like a freshly sprouted white poplar tree, his bright eyes concealing a hint of cold sharpness.

“That’s hard to remember,” Xu Zhi said, focused on examining his wallet. Chen Luzhou smiled without speaking, waiting for Xu Zhi to realize, “Our college entrance exam scores?”

Including his competition bonus points, it added up to exactly 733.

“Mm, those were the only two numbers in my head at the time, so I just entered them randomly. Using birthdays isn’t always safe—” Chen Luzhou stopped mid-sentence, glancing down at his wallet. Suddenly realizing something was amiss, he instinctively tried to snatch it back. “Hey!”

Xu Zhi had already seen it – a photo tucked into the side, of a girl who seemed to have been photographed in the school auditorium. She was certain it wasn’t herself, as Chen Luzhou had never taken her photo at school.

He had never told her if he had ever liked anyone before. Not having dated didn’t mean he hadn’t had a crush on someone. Although the word “crush” really didn’t suit him.

Her heart sank inexplicably, and a surge of sourness welled up inside her. It was a strangely novel feeling; she had never experienced such an emotion before. It was as if someone had unlocked a hidden part of her, and the feeling aggressively coursed through her entire body.

She wanted to hit him, but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Just as Chen Luzhou reached out to take the wallet back, Xu Zhi had already tossed it back to him. She then lifted the covers, got out of bed, and said expressionlessly, “It’s late, I should head back.”

Chen Luzhou was stunned for a moment, then quickly came to his senses and followed her out of bed. “Xu Zhi!”

He had never seen her move so quickly. Xu Zhi didn’t even bother to put on her slippers, walking out barefoot.

Chen Luzhou chased her to the door, grabbing her and blocking the doorknob with his hand. He firmly held onto the handle, pulling her away and keeping her between himself and the door. He knew that if she opened this door and left, she’d be gone faster than a mouse. “Why are you running? Do you run when you’re angry? Then what about in the future? Will you run every time we argue? Make me search for you frantically like last time?”

Xu Zhi stood there like a wooden post, still savoring that unfamiliar, fresh emotion. It was as if a bloodthirsty demon had caught the scent of fresh blood, violently gnawing at her limbs. She gave up resisting, bit by bit, allowing herself to be consumed, absent-mindedly standing there listening to his lecture.

Chen Luzhou had rushed out so quickly that he hadn’t put on slippers either, though at least he was wearing socks. Xu Zhi was standing barefoot on the cold tiles. He pulled out a pair of slippers from the shoe cabinet and placed them in front of her.

“Put these on first.”

Xu Zhi sighed and slowly put on the slippers as he said. She answered honestly, “I’m not running away, and I don’t want to argue with you. I also don’t want to know who you’ve liked before. Why don’t you open the door and let me go back to sleep? I’ll probably be fine when I wake up tomorrow.”

She was used to letting time erode her emotions. No matter how big the issue, she could digest it after a good night’s sleep.

Chen Luzhou leaned against the door with his hands in his pockets, finding it amusing. His gaze moved from her slippered feet to her eyes, giving her a challenging look that seemed to say “Are you kidding me?” He said, “You’ll wake up and be fine even after seeing that photo? The problem will just disappear?”

“At least you’re with me now.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’m thinking of someone else?”

“Can you like two people at the same time?”

“No.”

“Then as long as you like me now, it’s fine. Can you throw away the photo?” She carefully sought his opinion.

Ah, she had convinced herself again.

Chen Luzhou didn’t respond immediately. He seemed quite reluctant to part with it, leaning against the door and quietly studying her. His brows furrowed in contemplation, and after some painful deliberation, he nonchalantly suggested something that would satisfy her even more: “Why don’t we just burn it and be done with it?”

Xu Zhi very quickly and amicably pulled a lighter out of her pocket. “Here, you can use this.”

Chen Luzhou was taken aback. “You smoke?”

“No,” Xu Zhi waved her index finger. “I quit. We just used the lighter to open the wine for Principal Wei earlier, remember? I just put it in my pocket afterward.”

“Alright.”

Chen Luzhou turned and went to the bedroom to get his wallet, then pretended to fetch a bowl from the kitchen. They sat on the sofa with the bowl on the coffee table.

Xu Zhi remained unchanged, leaning against the sofa, her eyes coldly downcast.

Chen Luzhou, seemingly without hesitation, flicked the lighter on with a “click.” The small flame leaped up, bringing a whiff of oil smell into the air. Without even looking, he moved to set fire to the corner of the photo, appearing every bit the heartless scoundrel.

Xu Zhi’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She noticed something was off. The photo was very blurry, and the girl on the auditorium stage was almost indistinguishable. She had vaguely glimpsed a half-captured red banner at the edge of the photo – “Che… School Opening Ceremony.”

Only half of the character “Che” was visible, but she could make out a guess. Che? Jun?

She suddenly remembered something. “Is it Ruijun?”

Seeing that he didn’t react, Xu Zhi became anxious and tried to grab the photo. “Damn it, Chen Luzhou, is this from Ruijun High School’s opening ceremony last summer?”

Back then, Old Qu had asked her to go back and give a speech. In the end, the speech she had worked on all summer was revised word by word by Chen Luzhou. By the end, Xu Zhi was too lazy to make any more changes, and the script was practically written by him.

“Is it?” Now it was his turn to lean back on the sofa, with one arm draped over the back behind her. He started to play coy. “I don’t remember.”

Xu Zhi immediately snatched back the photo. Most of her body had been hidden by the podium. She had worn a plain white shirt that day, a piece of clothing she had only worn once before relegating to the bottom of her wardrobe. It was mainly because the buttons tended to pop off, making it uncomfortable. So she rarely wore it.

“So it’s me?”

“Who else?” He was exasperated.

“Weren’t you abroad with your mom at that time? I remember it was before the shooting incident?”

Those shooting incidents had frequently been trending topics back then.

“I came back for a while.”

The words “came back” were neither light nor heavy. Chen Luzhou glossed over it casually, but what Xu Zhi didn’t know was that at that time, he didn’t even have enough money for a plane ticket. Summer was when ticket prices were at their highest. He had worked tirelessly at several places, mostly in Chinatown, occasionally serving as a translator. He was as exhausted as an ox plowing fields, tired even when taking a breath. But the moment he boarded the plane, he was full of energy again, worried about flight delays, bad weather, in-flight emergencies, this and that, viewing everything around him as potential obstacles.

It was then that he knew he had fallen hard.

But he didn’t want to tell her these things. He felt embarrassed and also felt there was no point in mentioning them. So when he discovered Xu Zhi had seen that photo earlier, he knew these stories would come out, which was why he wanted to snatch it back.

Unexpectedly, she thought it was someone else.

“Your school’s security guard doesn’t recognize people well. I told him Old Qu was my homeroom teacher, and he let me in.”

Unaware of the twists and turns, Xu Zhi put the photo back on the coffee table. The delicate emotions had long been submerged, and her chest now felt light. She was also getting carried away now, propping her hand on the sofa and turning to look at him with a teasing smile: “Chen Luzhou, you’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

Her features were practically beaming with pride.

“Satisfied now?”

“Mm.”

Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling so pleased. He leaned back on the sofa, pondering seriously for a moment.

The next second, he reached out to take the photo and lighter from the coffee table and began to mischievously mess around. “No, we should still burn it—”

Xu Zhi knew he was just teasing her. “Chen Luzhou, be careful, or I might dance on your grave in the future.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll share a grave,” he laughed.

Xu Zhi: “…”

Chen Luzhou stopped teasing her. He put down the photo and lighter, pulled her over, and sat her on his lap. Without any gentleness, he pinched her cheek: “Silly girl, whose photo do you think could be in my wallet?”