Nan Chu looked at him without speaking. The expression in her eyes shifted from probing to something more like amusement.

Lin Luxiao stood with both hands tucked in the pockets of his military trousers, chin lifting slightly toward the door beyond, his expression open and candid as he reminded her: “It’s late.”

Nan Chu raised an eyebrow, and with gracious ease, accepted the invitation. So she stayed on in Lin Luxiao’s home.

Lin Luxiao gave a nod. “Close the door.”

Then he bent down and opened the shoe cabinet, pulling out a clean pair of slippers for her.

Nan Chu shut the door and looked down at him. “……You just said there weren’t any?”

Lin Luxiao turned back inside, tossing a reply over his shoulder.

“I said there were none for a woman to wear.”

“……”

Nan Chu followed him. Lin Luxiao walked over to Da Liu, nudged him with his foot, and gestured for him to scoot inward. “Move.”

Da Liu had been in the middle of a conversation with someone next to him. He glanced back at Lin Luxiao, moved obediently toward the middle — and in doing so, caught a glimpse of Nan Chu from the corner of his eye. With a knowing look at Lin Luxiao, he let his gaze travel back and forth between the two of them with the expression of a man who had it all figured out. He couldn’t resist nudging the brothers beside him. “Hey, hey, hey — this is the first time our Lord Xiao has ever brought a girl home, so don’t anyone breathe a word about it, alright? I don’t want to scare off our little sister-in-law —”

Lin Luxiao sat down and ground his palm firmly into Da Liu’s head — pressing until Da Liu’s skull was nearly being pushed flat into the floor — before finally letting up. He said, voice low: “Stop talking nonsense.”

The words came out with a certain looseness he hadn’t quite intended.

He glanced at Nan Chu and gestured for her to sit.

Nan Chu sat down snugly against Lin Luxiao, occupying just the edge of the seat. The military trousers shifted under her weight, and the man’s large thigh was practically outlined by the fabric — all muscle, hard and solid, yet well-proportioned and even. She tilted her head down for a closer look, and was mildly astonished to find that his physique easily surpassed that of many male models she’d encountered.

Just as Nan Chu was looking, the black hem of the dress drifted against Lin Luxiao’s foot again.

But with his leg pressed by the seat, there was no room to pull back. He glanced at her, tone flat: “Didn’t your mother teach you how to sit properly?”

Nan Chu smiled lightly and with perfect decorum replied: “I’ve got a big backside — sorry about that.”

“……”

……

The friends who had shown up tonight were Lin Luxiao’s childhood companions, the ones he’d grown up with. The chubby fellow out front — Da Liu — had been trailing after Lin Luxiao since they were kids, and if anyone dared say a single bad word about Lin Luxiao, he was ready to beat that person’s teeth in. The man beside him, red in the face from going head-to-head over drinks with a bottle of wine, was named Sun Mingyang — also a tough one. He and Lin Luxiao had actually gotten into a proper brawl as children, going against him on every front. It wasn’t until they’d both grown up that it became clear these two were the only kids from the alley who had both gone into the military. And then there was the man sitting alone in the single armchair, quietly smoking and glancing at his phone with a string of prayer beads on his wrist — his name was Shen Mu.

Da Liu, a natural at making himself at home, pulled Nan Chu enthusiastically into an introduction of everyone present.

Nan Chu, who had grown up starved of close family and friendship, had never experienced anything like this before. There were no words for it, but something inside her felt full — as if, at the far end of a beam of light, people were waving her forward, as if to say, welcome to his world.

Even though the world’s owner was sitting right there, quietly smoking, without any particular sign.

Da Liu’s eyes lit up talking about all of them. “Mingyang and Luxiao are the same — both soldiers. You wouldn’t guess it from how often they used to fight as kids, but Mingyang has always admired Luxiao. Everything he does, he’s learned from following his example.”

At that, a pillow came sailing from Sun Mingyang’s direction. Da Liu had eyes in the back of his head — he dodged sideways without even thinking — and the pillow went directly into Nan Chu’s face.

……

Lin Luxiao glanced over at Sun Mingyang.

Sun Mingyang startled and immediately apologized to Nan Chu: “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! Slipped out of my hand!”

Da Liu grabbed the pillow and hurled it back with gusto, still talking with great conviction: “He threw that at the little sister-in-law! Just wait till Luxiao deals with you later!”

Being called “little sister-in-law” gave Nan Chu the most pleasant sort of jolt. She glanced at the man beside her — still silently smoking — and decided she ought to play the role of gracious and poised “little sister-in-law” with full commitment. She smiled warmly. “It’s nothing, we’re all just having fun.”

Nan Chu was genuinely beautiful — especially tonight, with the way she’d put herself together — and when she smiled, her eyes curved into crescents. Da Liu was immediately half-enchanted out of his senses, thinking to himself: good lord, where on earth did Luxiao find this creature?

Da Liu had been weak in the knees for beautiful women since childhood, and yet somehow had absolutely no luck with them.

Back then they’d all lived around the alley entrance at Heng Street. There had been a fortune-teller there — a blind man whose real name no one ever learned. Over time, as everyone in the neighborhood got to know him, they just called him Li Xiazi. He didn’t seem to mind at all.

It had been a tradition in those parts: when a child was born, the family would bring the child’s birth details to the fortune-teller. By the time Lin Luxiao and his childhood friends were born, their families had all taken their birth particulars to Li Xiazi.

The parents had gone home cradling their few words from the fortune-teller, treating it as tradition — whether it proved right or wrong was something each family silently weighed in their own hearts.

By the time they had all grown up — wild and reckless as only boys that age can be — they heard about this tradition, and Da Liu started pestering the fortune-teller every day, begging to know what the heavens had in store. Li Xiazi shook his head and refused.

Lin Luxiao had no particular feelings about any of it — fate, fortune, Buddhism, Taoism, all of that held no sway over him.

Da Liu, on the other hand, blurted straight out: “How many wives will I end up with?”

It stunned everyone present.

Lin Luxiao, composed as ever at the time, was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He aimed a kick at Da Liu’s backside and laughed: “National regulations say you only get one! How many were you expecting?!”

Everyone burst out laughing. The fortune-teller shook his head, and then told them: I’ll give each of you one word.

Da Liu still remembered the fortune-teller’s words to him.

— Fail to recognize good fortune, and you suffer half your life; fail to recognize the right person, and you suffer your whole life.

He still hadn’t worked out what it meant to this day. He’d long since dismissed it as the old man making things sound mysterious.

Da Liu gathered his wandering thoughts and continued telling Nan Chu: “Honestly — after Luxiao got into the military academy, this kid went and signed up for the university military recruitment right away. And with that reckless personality of his, he somehow stumbled straight into the special forces.”

Nan Chu asked with genuine curiosity: “Who wins when he fights Lin Luxiao?”

“He’s never beaten Luxiao once.” At that, Da Liu remembered a time when Lin Luxiao had gone absolutely cold-blooded about it: “Luxiao is ruthless when he gets going — no stopping him. I remember one time — his younger brother, Lin Qi, you know him, right?”

Nan Chu nodded. “I do.”

Da Liu, hearing that she even knew the little brother, figured this little sister-in-law was basically locked in — even if it wasn’t official yet, it was well on its way. He was even more delighted to treat her like one of his own, and carried on with relish: “Little Qi had a weak constitution growing up — got bullied at school all the time. One time he came home with a busted nose and bruises all over his face. Luxiao was in middle school then. He went right over to the other kid’s place and broke his nose for him. Mingyang, Mu, and I couldn’t drag him back — and then when he got home, his dad put him under house arrest and —”

Halfway through, Da Liu caught a kick in the side.

Lin Luxiao, seated between them, was flicking ash off his cigarette. He looked at him and said with dry mockery: “If you’ve got that much energy to go around telling stories, why not take up performance storytelling instead?”

Da Liu was unimpressed. “I’m keeping the little sister-in-law company! Look at you — just sitting there puffing away, not paying any attention to her, and then you tell me to go do performance storytelling? I ask you — with emotional intelligence that low, how did you ever manage to find a girlfriend?”

Then a sudden thought struck him. His eyes went wide, and he turned to look at Lin Luxiao. “Hey — wait, are you jealous?”

Lin Luxiao simply rolled his eyes. “Get lost.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll get lost, I’ll get lost. Don’t want to disturb you two.”

And Da Liu really did remove himself — over to find Sun Mingyang for a round of finger-guessing drinking games. Sun Mingyang was clearly less than thrilled to have him, slapping him on the head and telling him to get lost too. Da Liu pivoted and went to complain to Shen Mu, who was sitting off to the side, quietly smoking, sipping occasionally at a glass of red wine, his attention entirely on his phone. “Brother Mu, tell me — why are these two soldiers both so rough? Telling someone to get lost at the drop of a hat.”

Shen Mu didn’t look up. “Get lost.”

“……”

Da Liu was quiet for a moment. “Don’t you believe in Buddhism? Isn’t there a rule about no swearing?”

……

After Da Liu migrated away, there was suddenly much more room on the couch. Lin Luxiao shifted slightly to the side.

Nan Chu looked at the small gap that had opened between them and asked: “Why didn’t you explain?”

Lin Luxiao turned to look at her. “Explain what?”

“Explain that I’m not your girlfriend.”

He had known these younger brothers since childhood — their personalities were an open book to him. The more you tried to explain, the more suspicious they’d think you were, and he had never been the type to explain himself anyway. In time they’d understand on their own.

Besides, at the time, he had already decided — this would be the last time he saw Nan Chu. He would drive her home, make things clear, tell her not to come looking for him again. Da Liu and the others would never see her after that, and they’d naturally realize it had all been a misunderstanding. Why waste a cigarette’s worth of time on an explanation?

He had an unlit cigarette between his lips, and he smiled a little, without answering.

He leaned forward, reaching for the lighter on the coffee table — and found that sharp-eyed Nan Chu had gotten there first.

The black metal lighter was held between the young woman’s soft, pale fingers. Nan Chu gave it a casual spin, adjusted the angle, and with slender fingertips gave it a light flick — the lid snapped open. Her thumb turned the wheel.

A flame leapt to life.

A dancing tongue of fire.

Lin Luxiao’s hand was still suspended in midair. He leaned slightly toward her, the cigarette still tucked between his lips.

The room lights were on, and yet somehow this small flame felt brighter.

“Hurry up, it’s burning my hand.” Nan Chu said softly.

Lin Luxiao looked down and gave a low laugh, then leaned in and caught the flame, letting the cigarette catch. He leaned back against the couch, releasing a slow drift of smoke, and glanced sideways at the young woman beside him.

Clear eyes, bright teeth, delicate and heart-stirring.

Without knowing why, the memory came to him — the day he had passed his examinations and left Heng Street.

The old man standing at the entrance of the third alley, and what he had said.

“This child of yours has a proud spine, and a spirit of blood and steel. In time, you’ll be a hero.”

A pause. And then the old man had sighed.

He himself hadn’t put much stock in that sort of thing, but he found it amusing — so he’d asked: “What are you sighing about?”

The old man said: “Since ancient times, heroes have always had a weakness for beautiful women.”