Qiu Xing couldn’t stay here indefinitely. The factory always had matters that required his attention. Many decisions Mao Jun couldn’t make on his own, so he had to call Qiu Xing, and some issues were too complex to explain over the phone.

Sometimes Qiu Xing would drive back to handle business, then return. Lin Yiran told him not to go back and forth, assuring him she could take good care of Aunt Fang. Yet Qiu Xing continued shuttling between places, occasionally making the round trip in a single day.

The caregiver, Sister-in-law Lin, had arrived. She was a kind-looking auntie, older than Yu Mei, in her fifties.

Lin Yiran explained to Aunt Fang that this auntie would be keeping her company, so she wouldn’t be lonely when Lin Yiran went to school.

Aunt Fang accepted this naturally, without asking why or inquiring about what happened to Xiao Yu.

The new auntie’s surname was Yang. Her daughter was married and lived out of town, her husband had passed away a few years ago from illness, and she lived alone. Sister-in-law Lin had explained Fang Min’s condition to her, making it clear she was a patient. Auntie Yang wasn’t afraid because she had previously cared for an aunt with mental illness. Moreover, the salary Qiu Xing offered was very generous, and there wasn’t much work to do around the house, so Auntie Yang was quite willing to take the job.

For the first few days, Auntie Yang took meticulous care of Fang Min. Later, Lin Yiran quietly told her this wasn’t necessary—she should treat her like a normal person without special attention.

After that, they got along naturally. The two would chat, cook together, and go out for walks every day.

Neither of the aunties could tolerate air conditioning, finding it too cold. Lin Yiran bought two standing fans, placing them at a distance in each of their rooms.

Auntie Yang turned off her fan before sleeping. She didn’t close her door at night, worried she might not hear if Fang Min needed something.

Lin Yiran, after finishing her shower, went to Aunt Fang’s room to turn off her fan and adjust the window from direct blowing to upward rotation.

Back in her room, she opened her computer. It was almost ten o’clock.

With a hair-drying towel wrapped around her head, Lin Yiran set up a small table on her bed. Only now did she begin the time that truly belonged to her that day.

When Qiu Xing called, Lin Yiran was momentarily surprised. She instinctively checked the time—twelve forty.

“Qiu Xing?” Lin Yiran answered.

Qiu Xing’s voice was clear, showing no signs of drowsiness. He sounded wide awake: “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Hmm?” Lin Yiran blinked, asking him, “How do you know?”

Qiu Xing said: “I can see you.”

“See me where?” Lin Yiran was confused, wondering if she had somehow linked her computer to Qiu Xing’s phone.

“Downstairs,” Qiu Xing said. “What time is it, and you’re not sleeping?”

Lin Yiran let out a small “Ah!” She jumped off the bed, ran to the window, leaned on the windowsill, and peered down.

“Why are you here?” Lin Yiran’s room faced the street, and she carefully tried to identify the car parked below.

“Just got back,” Qiu Xing turned on his hazard lights, and yellow flashes intermittently lit up downstairs.

Lin Yiran hadn’t seen him for several days. She asked, “Do you want to come up?”

Qiu Xing said: “Better not. If she wakes up and sees me, she’ll be frightened again.”

“Hmm…” Lin Yiran then said, “Wait for me.”

Lin Yiran grabbed her phone and keys, changed into slippers, and ran downstairs.

The residential complex at night was empty and quiet, with only intermittent night lamps illuminating small circular areas around them, looking peaceful yet lonely.

Lin Yiran left the complex and ran to Qiu Xing’s car.

She had forgotten to remove the drying cap on her head and was still wearing her pajamas.

“Why are you coming back at this hour?”

Lin Yiran hadn’t seen Qiu Xing for several days. After a full day, Qiu Xing’s stubble had become noticeable, making him look somewhat tired.

“Finished my business,” Qiu Xing said, then glanced at her head. “Washed your hair?”

Lin Yiran raised her hand to touch her head, only then remembering she hadn’t removed the drying cap. She laughed and said: “I forgot.”

Her hair was already dry, but had a slight curl from being wrapped for so long. She casually ruffled it and asked Qiu Xing: “Then why not come back tomorrow?”

“I lay down for a while but couldn’t sleep,” Qiu Xing said.

Qiu Xing wasn’t slovenly. Although he often got dirty from fixing cars, he always kept his beard cleanly shaved and his hair neat.

Lin Yiran reached out to touch Qiu Xing’s chin. The stubble felt prickly against her fingers.

She thought this version of Qiu Xing felt somewhat different from usual—more mature, yet still very handsome.

Qiu Xing’s face remained expressionless, but he gently shook his chin, cooperatively letting his stubble brush against her fingers. This contradiction created a gentleness unique to Qiu Xing.

This was Qiu Xing’s brand of warmth, wrapped beneath his cold exterior.

The tingling sensation on her fingers traveled along her nerves to her heart. Lin Yiran’s eyes curved into a smile as she said: “It feels like I’m scratching a puppy’s chin.”

Qiu Xing slightly furrowed his brow at the word “puppy” and gave her a side glance.

This sardonic glance made Lin Yiran laugh even more.

The street was deserted, with only occasional passing cars. Lin Yiran took off her shoes, bent her legs to rest on the edge of the seat, and hugged her knees. In this quiet night, Lin Yiran felt a long-absent sense of lightness.

But this relaxation and comfort didn’t last long.

Qiu Xing was a destroyer. He shattered Lin Yiran’s peaceful evening.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Qiu Xing asked.

Lin Yiran rested her chin on her knees, looking at him sideways, her voice soft and drawn out: “I have to write… deadline’s the day after tomorrow, and I still owe a lot.”

“You didn’t write earlier?”

Lin Yiran didn’t hide anything and told the truth. Her interactions with Qiu Xing had become more direct recently, and she was more lively than before, actually gradually drawing their relationship closer.

“I couldn’t write at the hospital before, and then with moving and everything, my mind was always unsettled, couldn’t focus.” She let out a small yawn, speaking softly.

“Does my mom often look for you during the day?” Qiu Xing looked at her.

“No, she doesn’t need me to keep her company all the time,” Lin Yiran said. “But I’m always thinking about her, wanting to go out and talk with her.”

Qiu Xing made a sound of acknowledgment, then asked: “How much more do you need to write?”

“Still a lot.” Lin Yiran buried her face in her arms, saying painfully, “Tomorrow’s going to be so demanding.”

Lin Yiran disliked missing deadlines. She viewed these assignments as opportunities, so she always completed them enthusiastically. She could even write a bit about noisy trains. If she felt unable to write, her mind must have been burdened with many things.

“When are you going back to school?” After a moment of silence, Qiu Xing asked her.

“Next month is fine. I can still come back when there’s nothing at school. There are no classes in senior year,” Lin Yiran said.

“Don’t come back,” Qiu Xing said blandly. “Just stay at school.”

Lin Yiran was perceptive and sensitive; she could always catch the emotions behind Qiu Xing’s words.

She lifted her face from her arms and looked at Qiu Xing, as if trying to discern his thoughts.

“…What do you mean?” she asked.

Qiu Xing didn’t answer.

They had never explicitly discussed the approaching expiration of their relationship.

Their relationship had been somewhat ambiguous lately, and with the recent events, Lin Yiran had assumed they would date and become closer.

Now Qiu Xing’s expression and his unjoking eyes made Lin Yiran nervous.

“Qiu Xing?” Lin Yiran called to him. “What do you mean?”

Qiu Xing looked at her, becoming somewhat unsympathetic, answering very directly.

“It’s almost time, isn’t it?”

Lin Yiran’s eyes widened, her voice soft: “And then what?”

Qiu Xing said plainly: “There won’t be any ‘then.'”

Lin Yiran closed her eyes briefly, her palms unconsciously tightening around her arms, her heart sinking heavily.

Qiu Xing was stubborn. He didn’t easily change decisions once made, nor did he hesitate.

Like dropping out of school, like repaying debts.

There was a certain obstinacy in his character. Once he decided on something, he persisted, no matter how difficult the process, he would see it through.

So when he said there was no “then” without joking, Lin Yiran knew he was serious.

Late at night was not the right time to continue this conversation, especially when Lin Yiran still had a deadline to meet.

So Lin Yiran didn’t pursue it further. She remained silent as Qiu Xing escorted her upstairs.

Before opening the door, Lin Yiran glanced at Qiu Xing.

Qiu Xing handed her the drying cap she had taken off earlier. Lin Yiran took it, and suddenly her eyes reddened. Qiu Xing brushed her face with the back of his hand, but Lin Yiran swatted it away.

Qiu Xing smiled silently, lifting his chin to gesture for her to go inside.

Lin Yiran went in without looking back, closing the door behind her.

It had been such a good night. The quiet hours when she and Qiu Xing were alone in the car had been intimate. The moment she touched Qiu Xing’s stubble and he gently shook his chin had been warm.

Yet by the end of the night, this intimacy and warmth had dissipated without a sound.

*

Though Qiu Xing was around, he couldn’t enter the home. At most, he would come by once a day to deliver some fruit or other items.

Since that night, Lin Yiran was no longer open with him and became distant.

They had been like this before—rarely in contact, never chatting idly. Now, when Qiu Xing delivered things, Lin Yiran would go down to collect them, sometimes asking Auntie Yang to get them, not saying anything extra to him.

Qiu Xing didn’t mind being given the cold shoulder, acting as if nothing had happened.

But they needed to talk properly, to clarify what needed to be said. This unclear situation couldn’t drag on indefinitely. Lin Yiran would return to school sooner or later, and Qiu Xing would still have to leave.

Lin Yiran didn’t want to bring it up for now. She wasn’t confident she could persuade or change Qiu Xing, so she could only let it be.

During the break, Zhou Keke messaged Lin Yiran, asking if she had returned home.

Lin Yiran replied that she had.

Zhou Keke then asked if Qiu Xing was around.

Lin Yiran said Qiu Xing should be.

After a while, Zhou Keke called directly, inviting her out. She said she had arranged to meet Qiu Xing and would also invite two other high school friends they were close with.

Lin Yiran hesitated, then agreed.

Besides Zhou Keke and Qiu Xing, there were three other guys at the meal. Back in school, they had been a small group. Two others were working out of town and couldn’t return. Back then, the boys often played soccer together, with Zhou Keke acting as a cheerleader or delivering love letters from girls in other classes.

Qiu Xing hadn’t gathered with them since his freshman year when he dropped out. They had run into each other occasionally, greeting and talking normally, but he just hadn’t had the mood to go out and socialize.

Now, everyone except Zhou Keke was working, and one was even about to get married.

Everyone hadn’t seen Qiu Xing for a long time, but when they met, the familiar closeness was still there, without much estrangement despite the years apart.

No one deliberately avoided talking about family matters. Qiu Xing’s family situation wasn’t a secret, and he wasn’t afraid to mention it.

Lin Yiran sat next to Zhou Keke the whole time. Zhou Keke introduced her as her sister, saying that Qiu Xing had initially asked her to look after Lin Yiran, but later they had no relationship.

Someone jokingly asked Lin Yiran if she had a boyfriend.

Lin Yiran glanced at Qiu Xing from the corner of her eye, shook her head with a smile, and said: “No.”

“What are you doing? Why are you asking that?” Zhou Keke asked bluntly. “Put away those lecherous thoughts, shameless.”

“What did I say? I was just asking!” The guy sitting opposite, surnamed Ding, wasn’t as handsome as Qiu Xing but was decent-looking. “Besides, I’m a single young man, what’s wrong with inquiring?”

“Stop inquiring,” Zhou Keke gave him a disgusted look. “You’re not even qualified to ask. The guys chasing Yiran at our school could form a line from the playground to the cafeteria of the neighboring school. If you want to queue up, I can get you a number now.”

Lin Yiran smiled and nudged Zhou Keke’s arm, asking her to stop teasing. Everyone else joined in joking about the guy. Qiu Xing leaned against his chair, also wearing a smile.

“If we’re finding a boyfriend for Yiran,” Zhou Keke’s gaze swept across the table, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t choose any of you at this table.”

“What’s wrong with our Qiu Xing?” The guy from earlier was sitting next to Qiu Xing and put his arm around Qiu Xing’s shoulder in protest. “You wouldn’t even pick our Qiu Xing?”

“Him? They knew each other first. If they were going to work out, would it have taken until now?” Zhou Keke looked at Qiu Xing and said, “Qiu Xing is indeed much better than you all, he’s been crushing you guys since school days.”

“He was our face back in school, no joke,” someone nearby said.

Qiu Xing sat among the group. Compared to his peers, although his demeanor was more mature and reserved, he still stood out noticeably at first glance.

Lin Yiran sat across from him, watching as Qiu Xing waved his hand with a smile, looking at her saying: “Count me out, I’m not worthy of her either.”