Da Hua was first officer on duty tonight, and had been hoping to get through the sweep early and head home to his wife. The discovery upstairs sent a cold tingle across his scalp. When he made out the young man slumped on the sofa — listless and dull-eyed — he forcibly pushed aside the officer who’d been pulling back his eyelids to check his pupils, and said in a voice tight with shock: “Lin Qi?!”

Every one of them had known Lin Luxiao’s precious little brother back in those younger years.

Da Hua remembered him as a pretty child — cheeks always flushed red, a bundle of mischief with hair perpetually sticking up like a magpie’s nest, the kind of child that made you smile just looking at him.

What he saw now, Da Hua struggled to accept.

The officer he’d pushed aside looked at him in confusion. “Captain Hua…”

Da Hua kept his eyes on Lin Qi, his voice coming out stretched tight: “What’s he done?”

“He used marijuana.”

The word landed like a thunderclap.

His mind went blank for several full seconds. Da Hua pulled himself back, forced his eyes wide open, and looked down at the boy hunched over on the sofa. Thin as a rake, the bit of skin visible at his collar an unhealthy white. His mind kept returning to that seven or eight year old child who’d loved running after them everywhere — and in a blink, this person had grown so much older.

Yet the boy on the sofa now, bent over with his head buried in his knees, face hidden — there was nothing left of who he’d been. He was shaking with the force of suppressing something. Da Hua couldn’t look anymore. He turned away, let out a long breath. “What were you thinking,” he said, half to himself.

Throughout all of this, Nan Chu had not said a single word. She sat quietly to one side, cooperating fully with the officers’ checks.

Da Hua’s anger settled into something more controlled. He reached out and caught a passing young officer by the arm. “Go down and bring my friends up.”

Then he turned his attention to Nan Chu. “And this woman?”

The officer shook his head. “The test didn’t pick anything up. But we still need to take her in for a urine analysis to confirm.”

Da Hua looked at the woman on the sofa with distaste. Nan Chu remained entirely composed — she hadn’t said a word since any of this had started.

There was a sudden sound of footsteps at the door. Da Liu’s voice came in first, ribbing and playful: “Da Hua, what did you want us for — don’t tell me you swept an establishment and found your own ex?”

Then a clear, cooler voice: “Stop talking nonsense.”

Lin Qi heard that voice and immediately went rigid. He glanced at Da Hua, started to rise, to leave — Da Hua pressed one hand down on the sofa.

Da Liu kept going: “True story, I’m not making it up — heard about this one young officer who walked into a sweep and there was his college ex right in the middle of it. The look on his face—”

Still talking, all three of them arrived at the private room door.

Da Liu called out a greeting, stepped inside, and stopped dead. The kid in front of Da Hua — wasn’t that Lin Qi?

And wait—

The girl next to Lin Qi — wasn’t that Nan Chu?

Lin Luxiao was the last one through the door, both hands in his pockets, one shoulder against the door frame, a slight curve at the corner of his mouth as he glanced lazily inside —

And then the smile stopped.

The curve of his mouth faded. He slowly straightened, as though in slow motion.

And the young man on the sofa no longer had even the courage to lift his head.

He had retreated entirely into himself — forehead pressed to his knees, those long-fingered hands locked around his own skull, the tendons on the backs of his hands raised, wrists mapped with bruises. There was pain in it, and remorse, and a kind of pitiable grief.

Nan Chu looked over too. The three at the door had turned to stone.

She was the only one who stayed clear-headed. Her voice was quiet and level as she said to Lin Qi: “Your brother’s here.”

Lin Qi broke down completely — sobbing, ugly, ragged, snot and tears running together.

Lin Luxiao stood in the doorway for a full several minutes.

He looked between the two of them like he didn’t recognize them, back and forth, over and over, as though trying to confirm what he was seeing. When Da Hua finally pulled him out of the room, his eyes were still fixed on those two, as though making one final verification.

Lin Qi hadn’t been able to look at him once. And the girl — she met his gaze directly, with absolute honesty.

Da Hua brought Lin Luxiao out to the hallway, pushed him up against the wall, kept a hand on his shoulder, and was quiet for a moment before speaking. His voice was heavy. “Lin Qi tested positive for marijuana.”

That was the blow that actually brought him down.

Lin Luxiao’s eyes dropped. He said nothing, apparently turning it over. After a long time, he asked: “You’re talking about my brother?”

Da Hua nodded.

Lin Luxiao gave a short, biting laugh. “You remember what he was like as a kid? With that nerve of his?”

Da Hua rolled his eyes. “He’s already been tested. It came back positive. You can believe it or not — either way I have to bring him in.”

Lin Luxiao: “And the girl?”

Da Hua: “The test kit didn’t catch anything. Needs to come in for a urine analysis. Is she Lin Qi’s girlfriend?”

For the first time all night, Lin Luxiao actually swore — something genuinely raw came through in it. “Please. That’s my woman.”

Da Hua stared.

After a moment: “Then what is she doing here with Lin Qi — your family’s dynamics are really something.”

Lin Luxiao, fully furious now, said through clenched teeth: “Stop talking nonsense. If she comes up clean, you send her back to me without a hair out of place.”

That was the demand. But Lin Luxiao’s affairs — Da Hua had always cared about them. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. She won’t be treated badly.”

Da Hua gave him one last look and turned to go, when he heard, from behind him, Lin Luxiao’s voice — very low, very quiet.

“Thank you.”

That sound got Da Hua right in the throat. When had he ever heard this person lower himself like that?

He walked two steps, then turned back. He grabbed Lin Luxiao’s collar and shoved him against the wall. “Who are you thanking? Since when do you say that between us?! If you’re serious about this girl, then she’s my sister-in-law — as long as she’s clean, you’ll have her back by tomorrow, not a mark on her!”

“Call her sister-in-law,” Lin Luxiao corrected.

Da Hua adjusted his grip on his collar. “Right. I’m taking her in. You go back and pack some things for Lin Qi.”

Nan Chu got into the vehicle without looking back at him once.

The police vehicle sounded its siren and moved away, cutting through the night — a warning to all the world.

The red tail lights, bright and then gone.

Lin Luxiao was left with a sudden, bone-deep exhaustion. All these years.

……

Late that night, a piece of midnight entertainment news detonated in everyone’s feeds.

The headline — Prodigy musician arrested at bar on drug charges.

Public opinion came crashing in like a flood of beasts — and before long, a follow-up dropped: Also detained: an actress surnamed N.

In the entertainment world, surnames beginning with N were limited enough.

A quick process of elimination, and Nan Chu’s social media was once again under siege.

“Heard you were doing drugs?”

“You little—, it was definitely her.”

“Get out of the industry.”

“No, no, this isn’t Nan Chu. It’s definitely some nobody eighteenth-tier actress with a surname starting with N — and mark my words, the PR company will come out and clear it up eventually. Don’t ask me how I know. I’ve already gotten hold of the whitewash draft.”

……

Lin Luxiao didn’t have the key to Lin Qi’s apartment. He went back to his own place, put together a few sets of his own clothes, packed them up, and when he was done, leaned on the sofa and smoked, waiting for the call from Lin Qingyuan.

The other end launched in without preamble: “Your brother’s been arrested and where the hell are you?!”

Lin Luxiao held the phone, his gaze exhausted. He said nothing.

He was genuinely tired. Too tired to speak.

“Wasn’t your relationship with him good? He’s been using drugs — you didn’t know?“

Lin Luxiao said coldly: “Do I have to supervise when he uses the bathroom too?”

Lin Qingyuan’s voice cracked with fury: “You insolent—”

“Right. I’m insolent. You’re faultless. Everything is my fault. Mom wanting the divorce was my fault. My brother doing drugs is my fault. Do you really think I know nothing? All these years — ask yourself, with your hand over your heart — have you slept peacefully?”

The day he’d seen Lin Qingyuan and Nan Yueru leaving the hotel together, he’d wanted several times to confront him — why would you do this?

Each time he had held back. Unwilling to tear through the last thin paper screen between father and son.

On the other end, Lin Qingyuan was incandescent, coughing between shouts: “You don’t know anything!”

Then the line cut — he’d hung up.

Lin Luxiao threw the phone down. He scrubbed his face hard with both hands, then drove a foot into the coffee table with full force.

The table scraped backward; the feet caught the floor tiles with a sharp screech that split the silence.

The room was dark. The only window open was in the sitting room — wind rushing in, and with it, moonlight, falling across half his face.

Lin Luxiao sat on the sofa, both hands braced on his knees, his head sinking forward, and drew a long, rough breath through his nose.

His emotions right now were low and agitated together — he couldn’t control it. He hated drugs, had always hated them most of anything. Yet at this moment, the thought that kept turning through his mind was: if Nan Chu had taken something—

If Nan Chu had taken something—

He’d still want her.

He would even willingly go through withdrawal with her — throw himself in entirely.

He’d probably be stripped of his rank. Betray everything everyone had placed in him. Be severed from the path he’d chosen, from everything he’d ever dreamed of.

And then he’d become the very kind of person he’d most despised his entire life.

No. No —

That couldn’t be right.

If Nan Chu had taken drugs, he should end things with her. Go back to being a company commander. Continue the path he’d committed to. Maybe, the way Meng Guohong had suggested, find some suitable girl and marry her and have children, and perhaps that would be how life went.

The year he’d first joined the station — a row of fresh recruits, hair cropped nearly to the scalp, each one of them with their chin tilted to the sky, bellowing that they would protect the country and its people. Not afraid of hardship, not afraid of sacrifice.

The commanding officer had said: Military life gets into the blood. You’ll all become more and more proud of who you are — and even if you’re discharged someday, when you pass someone on the street, you’ll still want to shout: I used to be a soldier. Don’t ever bring shame on your rank.

Ten years of drinking cold water — and yet the blood runs hot.

The rank, above all else, is what you cannot abandon. And love, above all else, is what you cannot receive.

……

Lin Luxiao drove over with Lin Qi’s things. Da Hua was still at the station. “Where is she?”

Da Hua looked at him. “Inside. Do you want to see her?”

Lin Luxiao thought for a moment, then nodded.

Da Hua understood. He clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

The room where Nan Chu was being held was a small space. Just her.

When Lin Luxiao went in, Da Hua reminded him: “Rough conditions. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

Walking in, Lin Luxiao understood at once what Da Hua had meant by rough conditions. The room was large but bare — just a small stool in the corner. Nan Chu was sitting on it, quiet and still.

Lin Luxiao closed the door and stood against the wall for a moment before walking toward her.

Nan Chu startled slightly. Then she stood, and came toward him, throwing herself into his arms — the first thing she said was a rush of words, all at once: “I didn’t touch it. Lin Luxiao. I didn’t touch anything.”

Lin Luxiao paused for a beat. The arms he’d raised to hold her halted in mid-air.

Then that one, grieved voice reached him — and his arms dropped and tightened around her in a single motion, pressing her firmly into his chest. He held her there, rubbing the side of his face against her hair, again and again. In his chest, something gave a long, long exhale.

“Okay.”