That was fairly cutting.

Nan Chu lay in his arms, unable to help laughing. “Bodyguards don’t have your physique.”

Lin Luxiao gave a dismissive hum and turned away from her — clearly committed to giving her the silent treatment.

Right up until bedtime, Lin Luxiao was still silently brooding over the whole thing — no matter what the girl tried, he refused to engage. After washing up, he lay flat on the bed like a corpse. Nan Chu pulled off her trousers and climbed on, wearing nothing but a half-open button-up shirt, draping herself over him and trying to coax him with kisses. Lin Luxiao showed no reaction — just lay still and quiet.

Nan Chu kissed him while her little hands roamed freely over him.

Lin Luxiao, eyes closed, caught her hands and pinned them down. “Sleep.”

Nan Chu ignored him. “Are you angry?”

Lin Luxiao was expressionless. A sound through his nose.

Nan Chu simply straddled him and began undoing her own shirt buttons, one by one.

She pressed against him, felt the shift beneath her, then leaned down to kiss him.

· · ·

She’d finally provoked him enough. Lin Luxiao flipped her over onto her back beneath him, held her hands up and pinned them above her head, both dark eyes fixed intently on her. “Changed your mind about sleeping? Hm?”

Seduction had succeeded.

· · ·

When it was over, it was already past midnight.

Nan Chu was completely finished.

She lay face down on the bed, bare, and couldn’t move.

Lin Luxiao had been exhausted these past few days too — barely rested properly. Done, he pulled her into his arms, pulled the blanket over them, and prepared to sleep.

Then he heard Nan Chu say quietly, close to his ear: “I’m actually quite frightened, you know.”

Lin Luxiao reached over and turned off the light. The room went dark at once, a layer of moonlight seeping in through the window and settling on the thin blanket.

The girl’s voice was muffled. He stilled, and his hand moved slowly along her spine, saying nothing.

Nan Chu lifted her head from his chest. “Are you really angry?”

Lin Luxiao lay there looking at her.

Nan Chu pressed back in, burrowing against him. “When I was little, someone grabbed me and dragged me into an alleyway once. After that, I always wanted to grow up and find someone who could protect me. Then when I became an actress, I was stalked…”

“Stalked?” He finally spoke, his expression shifting slightly.

The girl nodded.

In her earlier years, she’d received disturbing and graphic images, and someone had even dug up her home address and staked out her building — whenever they spotted her, they’d throw things at her. Rocks. Eggs. Anything at hand.

There had been a period when the stalking got so relentless she was on the verge of a breakdown. She would wake at night convinced there were eyes watching her through the window — that specific terror and loneliness were impossible to put into words.

Sometimes walking home at night, she was sure she heard footsteps behind her.

She became paranoid, consumed by suspicion. There was no one she could trust nearby, and Nan Yueru decided she had a persecution complex.

As it turned out, she did.

Two years ago, the psychiatry report stated clearly and plainly: mild depression, moderate persecutory delusion disorder.

Nan Yueru had sent her to a temple called Qingchan to meditate and recuperate.

The abbot taught her about meditation, about the nature of things, about Buddhist teachings, about the cycle of cause and effect.

Only then had she made it through those days of constant dread.

“Every night when I wake up, I always feel like there are eyes watching me from outside the window. Really — Lin Luxiao, look over there, there’s a little girl — staring at us with these big, blood-red eyes…”

Lin Luxiao, his arm still around her, automatically glanced toward the window. Nothing — just drifting curtains and swaying branches.

Nan Chu saw no reaction from him and went flat. “Aren’t you scared?”

Lin Luxiao was an atheist; parlor tricks for frightening children had absolutely no effect on him. His hand smoothed the back of her head. “Go to sleep.”

Nan Chu pressed a precious, deliberate kiss to his lips. “Mm. Goodnight, my squad leader.”

Lin Luxiao suddenly opened his eyes and called her name quietly. “Nan Chu.”

“Mm?”

“I’ll protect you from now on.”

Rest easy. Right here in my arms.

Nan Chu nuzzled against him in reply.

Lin Luxiao’s fingers combed slowly through the loose strands of hair at her ear. “Don’t lose faith in the world, either. What you’ve seen is just a tiny fraction — probably not even one-ten-thousandth of it. In many places you can’t see, most people are decent at heart.”

The girl’s voice was muffled against his chest. “I know — people like you all… and border soldiers, anti-narcotics police, special forces…”

“It’s different. We have a duty. Compared to many people, what we do is easy. You know Shen Mu’s grandfather? Counter-espionage work for the State Security Bureau — he hid it from his family for over a decade. Shen Mu only found out what his grandfather actually did when he was grown. When he finally died in the line of duty, the family never even saw the body. Word was, he was torn apart by wild dogs in Burma…”

Just listening to it was enough to make your heart go cold.

“There are many people in this world doing things for this country in places we’ll never see or know about. All we can do is hold firm what our forebears won for us — and of course there will always be some who feed on the inside, who thrive on chaos, who rage at the world. But you can’t let those people make you doubt the whole of society. Do you understand?”

This gentle, weighty lesson was genuinely effective.

Nan Chu gave an obedient nod. Since she’d come to know him, she’d actually felt an impulse she’d never had before — to love society, to love the world.

“Is this bedtime education?” Nan Chu was getting drowsy, eyes closing as she asked.

Lin Luxiao ruffled her hair. “I’ll tell you a bedtime story every night from now on.”

That said, he soothed her to sleep — and in his own mind, quietly began to calculate: in a few days, he’d have to go home and see the old man.

· · ·

But before he got around to seeing the old man, Da Liu’s father showed up first.

The next day, he was due back at the station. Nan Chu was still asleep. He kissed her awake, thinking he’d take her for breakfast and then see her home before heading to the station himself. Nan Chu refused to open her eyes no matter what — and on top of it, she woke up in a foul mood.

Lin Luxiao lay beside her on the bed, braced on both arms over her pillow, helplessly trying to coax her.

Nan Chu’s grumpy morning temper hit and she gave him a swat. “You are so annoying.”

He who had been warm and pleading last night — you-are-so-perfect-squad-leader-go-faster — was now “so annoying.” Lin Luxiao sat at the edge of the bed in genuine dilemma. When had he ever coaxed a girl like this? The urge was rising to just pick her up and give her a good smack on the bottom to sort her out — but he was afraid she’d actually be upset.

And so he sat there, powerless, at the edge of the bed.

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

Early morning; Lin Luxiao answered the door already in a sour mood. He opened it to find Da Liu’s father — “Old Liu” — standing outside, smiling pleasantly. “Luxiao, morning. Do you mind if I come in?”

Lin Luxiao, in home clothes, hands in his pockets, thought to himself: whether I mind or not, I can’t exactly stop you.

He let him in.

Old Liu came straight to the point. “Did Da Liu come to see you?”

“Yes — last night.”

“Brought a girl?”

“Seemed like it.”

Old Liu’s face went flat. “Don’t play dumb with me. Uncle wasn’t exactly careless with you growing up — and now Da Liu’s going down the wrong path, shouldn’t you help steer him straight? You can’t just push a brother into the fire, can you?”

Lin Luxiao almost laughed. “What fire? How’s this pushing him into anything?”

Old Liu’s expression tightened. “Tell me about that girl.”

“I honestly don’t know her well — first time meeting her last night, barely said two words before they left.”

“You didn’t get a look at her at all?”

Lin Luxiao: “Why would I be looking at his girlfriend?”

Just as he said it, a figure appeared in the bedroom doorway.

A girl — still wearing Lin Luxiao’s shirt, no trousers, the hem covering just past the top of her thighs, long hair a loose tangle. Nan Chu stood there for two full seconds, seemed to piece it all together, slapped both hands over her face, and darted back into the bedroom in a flash.

Old Liu’s jaw dropped.

The next second he looked at Lin Luxiao, who said simply: “Just woke up — let me check on her. Have a seat.”

And walked into the bedroom.

Old Liu sank onto the sofa, shaking his head.

Couldn’t tell. Truly couldn’t tell. This kid was actually—

Nan Chu was scrambling to find her clothes the moment she got back to the room. She searched a while without finding her bra, swept her hair back, turned around — and found Lin Luxiao leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, holding her black bra in one hand. Lace-trimmed.

She walked over, pulled it from him, turned her back, and began putting it on beneath the shirt. Voice low: “Why didn’t you tell me there was someone here?”

Lin Luxiao gave the corner of his mouth a slight pull, amused. “What’s the matter — is it you who can’t be seen, or me?”

“It’s not about that — I just need a moment’s warning. Is that your dad? Look — you didn’t even say a word to me, and I walked out without trousers on. He probably thinks I’m terribly improper.”

As Nan Chu spoke, she had already changed out of the shirt and was putting on her bra, clasping it behind her.

Lin Luxiao stared at the smooth line of her back, swallowed, and reached over — one hand on each side — to help her fasten it. “That’s not my dad.”

“It isn’t?”

Nan Chu was adjusting herself on both sides, the words coming out automatically.

Lin Luxiao watched the deep line she pressed into view at her front, gave a small nod. “Mm, that’s Da Liu’s dad.”

Then added: “Are women’s chests always shaped by compression like that?”

Nan Chu suddenly realized she’d apparently just demonstrated for him, step by step, the complete process of a woman putting on a bra.

She turned away reflexively.

And was immediately pulled back. The man stared at her, amused: “What are you hiding from — how many times has this all been touched at this point.”

“Could you at least keep a little mystique.”

The man was unbothered, with a light laugh. “I’m going out now. Get dressed and come out — make it quick, I’m going back to the station today.”

“It’s fine — I’ll just stay here while you’re gone. I’m on leave for the next few days.”

“You won’t get bored?”

“Not at all. If you can come back after work, come back. If you can’t, I’ll just sleep here alone.”

Without either of them saying so out loud, it really had started to feel like they were already living together.

Lin Luxiao changed and came out. Old Liu was standing in front of a framed piece of calligraphy, staring at it.

It was the one that read:

Every inch of the rivers and mountains is soaked in blood; ten thousand young men become ten thousand soldiers.

Hearing him come out, Old Liu said with feeling: “Your grandfather still had the most powerful brushstroke. Looking at this thing, you can’t help but feel it in your blood.”

Lin Luxiao put on his jacket and came to stand beside him. “Didn’t Grandfather send you several copies as well? This one I took down from his study myself.”

Old memories, old feelings.

Old Liu shook his head, his gaze drifting toward the bedroom. “Your father says you’re never home. Turns out you’ve been keeping a secret here. Which family’s girl is she?”

Lin Luxiao didn’t want to say too much. He knew Old Liu’s attitude — this was still something he’d need to handle with Lin Qingyuan himself. If Lin Qingyuan heard about it from someone else first, he’d only be angrier. So he kept it brief: “When things are official, I’ll send you an invitation.”

Old Liu laughed and shook his head. “You haven’t even crossed the first bridge yet — what kind of invitation? You young people, nothing proper about any of you. Da Liu’s the same — found some girl with no clear background and insists on marrying her and bringing her home. Did you all collectively swallow some love potion? One look at a girl and you’re ready to commit your whole life?”

“That’s not — ah, so what brings you here?” Lin Luxiao changed the subject.

“All right, I won’t interfere with you. Your father’s waiting to deal with you himself. I was going to ask you to help talk some sense into Da Liu — but it turns out you’re on his side?”

“I don’t take sides on things like this. When it came to me and her, I didn’t ask Da Liu or Shen Mu to take sides either — there’s no point. My relationship is always between the two of us. Whether you all support it or not, I’m getting married. That’s just how it is.”

Old Liu pointed at him. “You’re even more stubborn than your father. Your father — didn’t he also swear he’d die before he gave up on marrying your mother? And in the end they still divorced. You think love is just between two people, but you have to consider the girl’s position too. When your father married your mother, do you know how many people cut her down behind her back? Why did they divorce? Your father’s nature probably never told you his side of it either. Go on, find a free afternoon, go home, and ask him yourself. You two — you really should have an open and honest talk.”

· · ·

Nan Chu genuinely did settle into Lin Luxiao’s apartment.

When Lin Luxiao wasn’t back, she ordered delivery and watched TV — a pleasant enough idleness. The first two days he didn’t make it back either way, and sent her a short message: “Assignment. On duty.”

Nan Chu replied with a single character — an affirmative — and flung her phone onto the sofa to go back to the television.

On his end, Lin Luxiao saw that clean, crisp single character and couldn’t help smiling at the corner of his mouth. Then he found himself typing back: “What are you up to?”

The reply came quickly: “Watching TV.”

In the gap between sending that message and waiting for it to go through, a colleague was getting bandaged nearby. He simply put the call through directly.

“What are you watching?”

“The Martyrs. A film.”

“What kind?” He asked offhandedly.

Nan Chu sniffled. “A disaster film. There’s a captain sailing with a crew. The passengers are from all walks of life — teachers, students, elderly passengers, children. Because of the captain’s selfishness and misjudgment, the ship goes down…”

Lin Luxiao leaned against the hospital corridor wall, laughed quietly. “You’re crying?”

“A little moving. At the end, when the rescue boat comes, there’s only one spot left, and a man and a woman haven’t made it on. Guess who gets on?”

She’d even left him a cliffhanger. Lin Luxiao played along and guessed: “The man gave his spot to the woman?”

Nan Chu shook her head, sniffled again. “The man got on himself.”

Lin Luxiao was quiet for a moment, then: “I understand it. Everyone has the right to live.”

“The ending’s not finished yet.”

“Tell me.” He leaned against the wall, patient.

“The two of them were married with a child. After the woman died and the man returned to his normal life, he came across her test results by accident and found out she had already been terminally ill at the time. He finally understood why she had insisted on letting him take the spot.”

The story struck Lin Luxiao as unremarkable, and from someone who’d done as much rescue work as he had, full of plot holes — but Nan Chu seemed to be deep in it and unable to surface.

Women really were creatures of feeling.

“There’s a saying: every star in the sky is the soul of someone who gave their life for what mattered. Think of it that way — maybe you won’t feel quite so sad.”

Nan Chu’s sniffling grew heavier. She rarely cried — even just now watching the film, her eyes had only gone a little red without shedding a tear. But the sadness was immense, a vast weight pressing down.

Nan Chu was still quietly turning his words over, when from across the phone line came a bright, carrying voice: “Squad Leader Lin! Dr. Zhang is calling for you!”

Lin Luxiao instinctively covered the receiver — but it was already too late.

“You’re injured?”

Afraid of the girl sitting alone at home thinking too much, he explained it away casually: “Twisted my arm a bit pulling someone out of the water.”

“You didn’t come back these past few days because of the injury?”

The girl’s voice had lost all its softness. “Very good. Then don’t bother coming back at all.”

Click.

Disconnected.

Lin Luxiao held the phone and turned around — to find Xiao Jiu behind him, head craned forward with perfect innocence. “What happened, Squad Leader?”

Lin Luxiao clenched his teeth and squinted at him, fury rising — and gave him a firm push on the forehead.

“Couldn’t see I was on the phone?! What, you wanted to show off that set of lungs?!”

Xiao Jiu: “Waaaa…”