The film ran for 130 minutes, and by the time the audience filed out, it was already past seven-thirty in the evening. The two of them had just finished eating popcorn, and their hands were sticky. The first thing they did after leaving the screening hall was head to the restroom to wash up. Li Kuiyi went first; when she came back out, she took the unfinished popcorn tub from He Youyuan so he could go in. After washing his hands, he scooped up some water and splashed it on his face as well. He raised his head and looked at himself in the mirror before him, letting out a soft breath.

Water droplets clung to the damp hair at his forehead, and the flush on his cheeks had not fully faded — it was almost as if his face were loudly announcing something to the world. He was worried Li Kuiyi might notice something was off, and felt too embarrassed to go back out and face her.

He stalled inside the restroom for a while before finally stepping out. He found her standing around a corner, cradling the popcorn tub as she waited for him. She wasn’t on her phone, wasn’t looking around — she simply stood there, eyes lowered, quiet and still, like a white bellflower that felt neither sorrow nor joy. He walked over, reached up and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, then said in a casual tone, “It’s a bit warm in there, don’t you think?”

Li Kuiyi raised her eyes and caught the faint redness still lingering on his face. She didn’t suspect anything. “I was fine,” she said.

Her expression held nothing but calm. Although He Youyuan had long grown accustomed to her perpetual air of indifference, this was, after all, their first date — he was afraid she hadn’t enjoyed the film, or hadn’t enjoyed coming out with him at all, and a flicker of anxiety rose quietly inside him. He tightened his fingers, steadied his breathing, and asked softly, “Did you have a good time?”

Li Kuiyi looked at his careful, searching eyes, then nodded. “I did.”

The film really had been quite good. Even if the romance felt a little abrupt, it didn’t ruin the whole thing, and she felt the two hours had been well spent. If she were being completely honest with herself, even if she hadn’t enjoyed the film quite as much, she still would have answered “yes” — it was a matter of politeness.

She noticed that the moment she said “I did,” He Youyuan’s eyes lit up all at once.

It was the first time she had ever so directly witnessed what people in novels were always describing as “eyes lighting up” — in that single instant, joy seemed to burst into light within them, like stars had been quenched inside.

But of course, he had to put on a show. He quietly tugged the corner of his mouth, turned his face to one side, and said in a completely unbothered tone, “Oh. I’m… also a little happy.”

Li Kuiyi watched him steadily, thinking: sweetheart, rein in that smile — it’s a little obvious.

She had her own moments of saying the opposite of what she meant, but she usually only did that when she felt safe — like with Fang Zhixiao, because she knew Fang Zhixiao could read her sarcasm and would indulge that small act of mischief from her.

He Youyuan was something else entirely. He didn’t care who he was with — he could pull off his haughty, aloof routine with anyone, spending his days looking like a dog that needed its fur smoothed before it would cooperate.

Li Kuiyi had no intention of smoothing his fur. But she had her own plan, so she said, “There’s a snack street behind this cinema. Are you hungry? Let me treat you to something.”

She was offering to treat him?

He Youyuan was caught completely off-guard and actually froze for a moment. Honestly — he had no idea why Li Kuiyi was suddenly being so kind to him. She had invited him to a film, and now she was offering to buy him food. Could it be that she liked him just a little?

Hormones surged through him; his whole body felt as though it were bubbling over. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. On impulse, he grabbed the popcorn tub right out of Li Kuiyi’s arms, tossed a kernel into his mouth, and said with a crunch, “Sure, I’m actually a bit hungry.”

Not bad as a response, right?

The two of them headed down the alley behind the cinema, where stall after stall of snacks had already formed a long procession, smoke and fire rising everywhere, lights blazing bright. The street wasn’t large, but it more than made up for that with variety — things to eat and things to drink, sweet and savory, grilled and fried, you name it. Li Kuiyi, remembering that He Youyuan’s favorite food was McDonald’s, figured his tastes might be on the picky side, and asked, “What do you feel like eating?”

He Youyuan’s thoughts had already begun to drift, and a trace of shyness — barely perceptible — crept into his voice. “Whatever you feel like having.”

Li Kuiyi had no idea what he was being coy about. She ignored it, thought for a moment, and said, “Up ahead there’s a Yibin Burning Noodles stall. The owner’s apparently from Sichuan — the noodles are really fragrant. Want to try?”

“Sure.”

Behind the “Yibin Burning Noodles” stall, the owner had set up a few small tables for customers who preferred to eat on the spot rather than take away. By this point every seat was already taken. After Li Kuiyi ordered two bowls, they stood to one side and waited a while before a table finally opened up. The table was a little low, and He Youyuan was far too tall — once he sat down on the small stool, his long legs had nowhere to go, and he was forced to crumple them up in front of his chest in a deeply aggrieved fashion, as though someone had wronged him.

Li Kuiyi could see that sitting like that was uncomfortable for him and that eating noodles that way would be even more awkward. Since there was no one else at the table anyway, she said, “You could sit at the corner of the table — then you can angle your legs along the two edges where the table meets. That should be more comfortable.”

He Youyuan’s ears turned quietly red beneath the cover of night. This doesn’t seem great, he thought — he was wearing shorts, and opening his legs like that felt pretty embarrassing.

These were athletic shorts, quite loose.

But he couldn’t very well explain to Li Kuiyi that guys could have wardrobe malfunctions too — too mortifying — so he just sat down the way she’d suggested, his expression perfectly composed, as though nothing were happening at all. However, his elbows had casually settled onto his thighs, and just as casually, they were pressing down on his shorts to keep them from sliding up toward his inner thighs.

Li Kuiyi was propping her chin in her hand, working out how she might return the camera to He Youyuan without making him angry. She was entirely preoccupied with this problem — not making him angry was genuinely an impossible challenge — and had completely failed to notice either his small maneuver or the distracted expression on his face. Her gaze had drifted out of focus, blank and unfixed.

He Youyuan suffered through his embarrassment alone for quite a while. Seeing no reaction from Li Kuiyi’s side of the table, he lifted his eyelids and stole a quick glance at her. In that single glance, he sensed something was wrong: she seemed to be looking at a specific part of him.

He lowered his head and followed the direction of her gaze — and found that what she was looking at was, in fact, his inner thigh.

He had pressed his shorts flat, but he had overlooked one thing: his shorts were very loose, and he was lean, so when he sat down, the legs of the shorts hung slack and open. He didn’t even dare imagine what would be visible looking up through the fabric — his thigh, definitely. But… surely she couldn’t also be seeing his underwear?

Li Kuiyi!

How could she just stare at that?

He Youyuan drew a sharp breath and instinctively went to close his legs — forgetting that the table was between them. With a bang, both his knees collided with the edge of the table. He must have struck the nerve right at the funny bone, because a wave of exquisitely agonizing sensation shot straight up to the crown of his head.

“Mmph—” He let out a muffled groan of pain.

Li Kuiyi was startled by the noise. She snapped back to attention, saw him clutching his knees with a grimace of suffering, and quickly asked, “What happened?”

You have the nerve to ask…

He Youyuan hugged his knees, turned his face away, and said nothing — looking every bit like someone who’d been teased and bullied.

Li Kuiyi guessed he must have knocked himself, but a knock was just a knock — he was a grown person; surely he wasn’t about to burst into tears? She had no idea who he was performing that pitiful expression for.

Just at that moment, their two bowls of burning noodles were delivered. Li Kuiyi picked up her chopsticks, tossed her own bowl of noodles to mix them, and began eating on her own. After a couple of bites, when the person across from her still hadn’t moved, she quietly sighed, picked up his chopsticks, mixed his noodles for him, pushed the bowl over to him, and said, “Eat.”

Well, that was a little better. If you want to coax someone, you should at least look the part.

He Youyuan glanced at her, decided to forgive her for peeking at him, and picked up his chopsticks to eat.

“Is it good?” Li Kuiyi asked.

He Youyuan nodded. “It’s good.”

He must have genuinely found the noodles delicious — or perhaps he was just hungry — because Li Kuiyi watched him eat at a fast pace, though with impeccable manners. Her own bowl was still half full when he finished his.

He pulled a napkin from the box on the table and wiped his mouth. Li Kuiyi asked again, “Are you full?”

Honestly? No.

The bowl had looked large but was actually very shallow, so there wasn’t much noodles to begin with. But He Youyuan thought: if he said he wasn’t full, would she think he ate too much?

“I’m full,” he said with conviction, and to make it more believable, he added, “Didn’t we also eat some popcorn at the cinema?”

“Fair enough.” Li Kuiyi sounded a little regretful. “I purposely ordered a small portion, because there’s a dumpling place called ‘Liu Yi Wan’ nearby that’s also really good — I was planning to take you there after the noodles.”

He Youyuan: “…”

He mulled it over with great composure, then, with a complete lack of shame, said, “Actually… I tend to get hungry again really quickly…”

After the noodles, the two of them moved on to “Liu Yi Wan” dumplings. This place was quite spacious, with tables and chairs at a normal height, so He Youyuan was finally free to stop torturing his legs.

“Their corn and pork dumplings and their pork and salted egg yolk dumplings are the best — what if we each order a different kind and trade a few to try? Would that work?”

“Of course.”

He Youyuan naturally agreed — and privately felt a small thrill, because exchanging food, he thought, was the kind of thing people did when they were close.

Each bowl had twelve dumplings. They traded five.

“Is it good?”

“It’s good.”

Watching him nod obediently, Li Kuiyi suddenly had the urge to ask him something — and she did: “So which do you think is better, these dumplings or McDonald’s?”

As soon as she said it, she regretted it.

This question felt like something a boring adult would ask a child: do you like Mummy or Daddy more?

He Youyuan raised his eyes and looked at her without speaking, but the brightness of laughter flickered in his gaze.

After a moment he finally spoke. “Li Kuiyi, sometimes you really are quite mean.”

The little devilish thought caught out, she let out a small “hmph.” “You’re no better.”

His amusement deepened. “So we’re both alike in that way.”

Who said anything about “we”?

Li Kuiyi let out another “hmph,” lowered her head, and began absently spooning up broth — she was done with him.

Two rounds of carbs in a row had left them both a little too full. Li Kuiyi rubbed her stomach and strolled along the snack street with He Youyuan — partly to walk off the food, partly to find the right moment to return the camera.

The snack street wasn’t all snacks — there were some game stalls too, for ring tossing and dart throwing. But Li Kuiyi had no interest in those; just trying to figure out how to bring up the camera was already taxing enough.

While she was still thinking, several children of about six or seven came running over, all with sweat-damp hair. One of them, with a gap where his two front teeth should have been, tilted his head back and asked, “Uncle and Auntie, do you know where they’re painting plaster dolls?”

Uncle and Auntie?

Both of them felt a jolt: they were only sixteen — had they already reached the age where children would call them uncle and auntie?

Li Kuiyi was still recovering from the shock and had been about to say she didn’t know, when the person beside her lazily drawled, “Call us big brother and big sister.”

The children exchanged looks, then corrected themselves: “Big brother and big sister, do you know where they’re painting plaster dolls?”

He Youyuan, being shameless, pushed his luck further: “Say: handsome big brother and pretty big sister.”

“…Handsome big brother and pretty big sister, do you know where they’re painting plaster dolls?”

The children said it with genuine sincerity — so genuine that Li Kuiyi was already afraid He Youyuan was going to pull some other stunt, and was about to tell him to stop teasing them. But instead, that insufferable person gave a perfectly straight reply: “A place to paint plaster dolls? No idea.”

The children: “…”

Li Kuiyi: “…”

“Do you really not know, or are you pretending?”

He Youyuan looked innocent. “I really don’t know.”

The children huddled together, muttering things like “so mean” and “you’re that tall and you still make us call you big brother” and “we’re telling the teacher,” shooting the two of them a battery of dirty looks before stomping off in indignation.

Truly rotten to the core — Li Kuiyi, implicated by association, silently agreed.

There was absolutely no way she could be rotten in the same way he was. She simply wasn’t qualified.

Faced with someone this terrible, perhaps she didn’t need to worry too much about his feelings, she told herself. When they reached a slightly less crowded stretch, she set down her backpack and pulled out the camera box, preparing to simply hand it back to him.

“You brought the camera?” He seemed genuinely pleased.

“Yes, I wanted to—”

“You want to take photos?”

Li Kuiyi pressed her lips together. “Actually, I don’t particularly enjoy taking photos. For me, a camera is… not very useful.”

The smile on He Youyuan’s face dissolved slowly. He looked a little dazed. “You don’t like it?”

“No.” Li Kuiyi steeled herself.

He was quiet for a long while. She stole a glance at him — he looked at a loss. After a moment, he took the camera from her hands, turned it over a couple of times, and said in a low voice, “I seem to always end up buying things you don’t like.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” He had been bright and uninhibited just a moment ago while teasing the children; now his brows and gaze had gone quiet and subdued. “I bought the camera because I saw you writing in a diary. A diary is a way to record things, and so is a camera — so I thought I’d…”

A diary?

Li Kuiyi considered this. He must have seen her when she was writing the weekly journal for Liu Xinzhao.

If Fang Zhixiao were here right now, she would definitely shout that line again: He thinks about you so much!

She thought so too — he was quite thoughtful. It was just…

What could she do?

She had no way of accepting his feelings.

Just as she was sinking into a tangle of guilt and indecision, He Youyuan bent forward slightly and looked directly into her eyes. “Tell me what you like,” he said, seriously. “Can you do that?”

Li Kuiyi understood — he was already planning to buy her a new gift.

What an absolutely infuriating person.

She took the camera back from He Youyuan, pouted, and said quietly, “The truth is, I just don’t know how to use it.”

“So you do like it, then?” His throat went dry with nerves.

She nodded firmly.

He Youyuan smiled, and couldn’t help reaching out to flick her on the forehead. “Your pride really is something.”

It’s nothing compared to your determination to buy me gifts, Li Kuiyi thought.

“I’ve never used a camera either. Let’s look at the instruction manual together.” He Youyuan opened the camera box as he said this, drew out the manual, and lit it with his phone’s flashlight. “This is the shutter, this is for focusing, and look — this thing even has a timer setting…”

Li Kuiyi leaned in next to him as he talked. A feeling of happiness radiated from him, warm and gentle, wrapping itself softly around her.

Knowledge about cameras was stuffed into her head like force-feeding, and by the time they’d read through the whole manual, she wasn’t entirely sure whether she had actually learned how to take photos.

He Youyuan looked up and said, “Let’s try.”

He loaded the battery and memory card into the camera, turned it on, and selected “Night Scene” mode from the menu.

He stopped a young woman passing by and asked, “Excuse me — would you mind taking a photo of us?”

The passerby agreed. He Youyuan returned to stand beside Li Kuiyi.

For some reason, faced with the camera lens, both of them stiffened. They stared into it, not daring to look away, standing with two fists’ width of distance between them.

“A little closer,” said the young woman.

They each shifted their feet slightly.

“Smile.”

Neither of them was sure whether they actually smiled.

“Done.”

They stepped forward and took the camera back, thanking the young woman several times over, said goodbye, and then began flipping through the photos.

The passerby had experience — she had taken quite a few in a row, giving them plenty to choose from.

As expected, they hadn’t really smiled. Both of their expressions were a little stiff, and they weren’t standing very close together, but somehow — perhaps the night was too gentle, perhaps the lights were too lovely — the camera had captured something in cool tones: something green and tender, something inadvertently intimate.

They flipped to one particular shot.

It was different from all the others. For reasons unknown, he had turned his head to the side, and was looking at her, his gaze settled and intent. Calm, and burning all at once.

Perhaps he had only looked for a single second. But that single second had been lucky enough to pause in the tumble of passing time.

Both of their hearts skipped a beat at the same moment.