The charged atmosphere coiled around both of them, winding tighter. Their breathing filled the air. The lamplight fell across the floor, casting two shadows that drew slowly nearer. The hand at her waist pulled tighter and tighter; his sharp nose grazed Lin Weixia’s cheek — an electric sensation, tingling and numbing.

Lin Weixia rose up on her toes, both hands pressed against his chest. Two pairs of lips drifted slowly together, nearly touching—

A knock at the door. Knock knock.

The loaded atmosphere shattered in an instant. He stepped back, releasing his hand from her waist, retreating two paces and leaning lazily against the wall.

Lin Weixia straightened her clothes, walked to the door, and opened it a crack:

“What is it?”

“Hey Weixia, do you have a charging cable?” her classmate asked.

“Yes, one moment.” Lin Weixia answered.

She turned back, rummaged through her bag, folded up a white charging cable, put it in the cable case, and handed it over.

Because of that unexpected interruption, Ban Sheng let Lin Weixia shower first. They ended up each resting in their own separate beds.

When the time came to sleep, Lin Weixia turned over and was about to switch off the last bedside lamp.

Ban Sheng spoke without warning:

“Leave it on.”

Lin Weixia paused. “Alright.”

After returning, things between the two of them were much easier than before, and they found some of their old rhythm again. Lin Weixia began making the effort to message Ban Sheng first.

The messages were all simple everyday things. When Lin Weixia was lying on the sofa at home, Shengxia would climb up and nestle calmly on her chest, staring into space.

Lin Weixia would drape the big coat she had over herself onto the little dog’s head, snap a photo of Shengxia wearing it, and send it to him, captioned:

Shengxia ID photo [peace sign]

Or when she came across a beautiful sunset, or a newly bloomed flower, Lin Weixia would send those to Ban Sheng too. He generally replied when he saw them — though sometimes the reply came very late, by which time Lin Weixia had already fallen asleep.

Wednesday. Lin Weixia and Menzi were having lunch in the cafeteria. She had just set her tray down when she remembered to take a photo and send it to Ban Sheng, typing a message in the chat:

Xia: I’m having cold shredded chicken noodles today. What about you?

Before long, her phone screen lit up. Lin Weixia had just picked up her chopsticks and set them down again, clicking the message open — Ban Sheng’s replies were always brief, no filler:

Ban: Noodles.

Menzi sitting nearby was not pleased. She reached over and took the phone straight from her hand: “Are you actually going to eat this meal or not? Your eyes are practically inside the phone.”

“Menzi, give me back my phone — I haven’t replied to his message yet.” Lin Weixia pressed her palms together, looking at her with those clear, crystalline eyes, a quiet plea in them.

Menzi was immediately at a loss. Lin Weixia had always been so cool and reserved — and so strikingly beautiful — that the slightest display of vulnerability, and not just boys but even Menzi herself couldn’t hold out against it.

“Fine, fine — but eat your food the second you reply, alright?” Menzi handed the phone back.

Lin Weixia nodded at once, took the phone, and typed a reply to Ban Sheng:

Xia: Do you have class this afternoon?

Ban: One class.

Lin Weixia looked at the message. Her fingertip hesitated briefly, then she kept typing:

Do you want to have dinner together this afternoon?

After the message went out, Ban Sheng didn’t reply. The phone screen went dark. Lin Weixia stared at the corner of the phone, then looked up and caught Menzi’s eye, and smiled:

“Alright, alright, I’m eating.”

But even as she ate, her attention kept drifting back to the phone — half-listening to Menzi talk, half-sneaking glances to see if the screen would light up.

After finishing the meal, her phone made the sound of an incoming message. She opened it — Ban Sheng had replied.

Ban: Sure.

Lin Weixia washed her hands, went to the classroom to rest, and after sitting through two consecutive psychology lectures, class was finally over. She headed out of the teaching building with the flow of students, textbooks in her arms.

The temperature had dropped another three degrees today. The sky hung heavy, and even the sound of the wind cutting through felt sharp and jagged. Lin Weixia stood at the cafeteria entrance waiting.

She was wearing a mohair coat in black and white tones, black slim-cut trousers that showed off the long, straight lines of her legs, a thick scarf covering the lower half of her face, and above it, a pair of cool, distant eyes.

Cool and striking.

Passersby glanced over repeatedly, but none dared step forward to ask for her number. Lin Weixia waited about five minutes before a familiar figure came into view.

Ban Sheng was wearing a black coat today, which made his posture look even straighter — tall, lean, and upright. His hand, damp and slightly reddened, held a lit cigarette. His manner was the same as always, unhurried and indifferent, as he walked toward her. At the edge of her vision, the ember glowed red against a pale, grey-white sky, and she had the feeling she had always had—

This scene has come to her in dreams, many times.

He walking toward her.

Her waiting for him.

Ban Sheng came to stand in front of her, lowering his head to look at her:

“Have you been waiting long?”

Lin Weixia shook her head. “No, just five minutes.”

The two of them walked in side by side. Both of them were striking enough to turn heads in any crowd. They had barely set their trays down and sat when the stares from other students began.

Lin Weixia had only picked two dishes — stir-fried beef with celery, and pan-fried eggs with chives — along with a serving of seaweed and spare rib soup.

Ban Sheng grabbed a few things at random, set his tray down on the table with a clatter, and sat down to eat.

Lin Weixia thought back to when the two of them had eaten together in the high school cafeteria. They had both loved the stir-fried beef with celery — they’d always ended up getting nearly the same dishes.

But when she had gone to the window just now, the last portion of beef with celery had been snatched up by her. Ban Sheng’s tray didn’t have it — just something else instead.

Thinking of this, Lin Weixia picked up her chopsticks and moved half the beef and celery into Ban Sheng’s tray. He was bent over his soup, drinking steadily, and glanced up when he noticed her movement.

“Don’t you love celery? In high school I always saw you getting the same dishes as me,” Lin Weixia said.

Ban Sheng understood at once. His long lashes fell, concealing whatever was in his eyes. He picked up his chopsticks, plucked a stalk of celery and placed it in his mouth, his jaw moving slowly as he chewed:

“It’s good.”

They were about halfway through the meal when a young underclassman came in carrying a thick stack of flyers, setting two down on their table with an enthusiastic smile:

“Senior students, please take a look! Hope to see you there!”

Lin Weixia picked up the flyer and read it over — it was for a “Glow Night Run” organized by Jingbei University, starting from Silver Lake on the Jingbei campus and running to Liyan Mountain, a route that would take approximately one hour.

The equivalent of a short-distance marathon.

Lin Weixia was reading over the event rules carefully when Ban Sheng set down his soup bowl, glanced up at her with a cool eye, and said:

“You can’t do it.”

Lin Weixia hadn’t even been planning to enter, but now that he said it, she asked:

“What do you mean I can’t?”

“High school,” Ban Sheng said, giving her two words.

He knew Lin Weixia — her stamina was poor. She could manage sprints, but not long distances.

When Ban Sheng said it, Lin Weixia thought back to the relay race in high school. She hadn’t run it brilliantly, but she had completed her leg all the same.

There was no contempt in Ban Sheng’s tone toward Lin Weixia at all, but something about his certainty stirred a competitive instinct in her.

“I want to enter,” Lin Weixia said.

Ban Sheng raised an eyebrow, reached over and twirled the silver ring on his index finger in a slow, idle turn:

“Suit yourself.”

Lin Weixia’s gaze landed on the ring spinning around the joint of his index finger, and something shifted in her chest. She looked straight at him:

“If I come in first in the Glow Night Run, you give me that ring. Deal?”

Ban Sheng’s hand stilled. He looked at the silver ring, and something passed through his eyes.

Both of them, at the same moment, thought back to that sea-escape during their third year of high school, when she had asked him for the ring. In the end, the two of them had parted badly. When Lin Weixia left, she hadn’t dared ask him for it.

And now, Lin Weixia was actively trying to turn that old regret into something whole.

“Deal or no deal?” Lin Weixia asked.

In the end, Ban Sheng didn’t give her a clear answer. He bent his head, took a sip of soup, and said:

“Come in first, then we’ll talk.”

After getting home, Lin Weixia studied the race rules carefully, then registered.

From that day on, every evening after class, Lin Weixia went to the Jingbei University track and ran for half an hour to build up her endurance.

She figured that running was a lot like studying — and like life. You just needed endurance. Keep working at it, little by little.

The Glow Night Run was held the following Friday evening. Silver Lake on campus was packed — a vast crowd split into two teams, made up of competitors, judges, and a large contingent of spectators who had come to cheer.

After a week of rain, the weather had suddenly turned clear and dry, though it was still cold.

Lin Weixia wore a green-and-white athletic outfit. She had taken off her hearing aids, pulled all her hair back to expose her full forehead, though fine strands kept slipping loose at her temples. She looked fresh and bright.

Both hands tucked in her pockets, she quietly surveyed the spectators gathered beyond the yellow boundary line — boyfriends cheering on their girlfriends, friends clustered together, drinking water and chatting.

The area was noisy, full of faces. Lin Weixia scanned the audience section and didn’t spot Ban Sheng.

Three hours before the start, Lin Weixia had actually sent Ban Sheng a message:

Do you want to come watch me race?

But Ban Sheng still hadn’t replied.

Lin Weixia let her mind drift, thinking in a haze — this has already turned into a bet. She was betting on whether she could take first place, and on getting Ban Sheng’s ring.

Not seeing him here — it would be dishonest to say she wasn’t let down. Maybe Ban Sheng didn’t take the bet seriously at all.

Only she cared.

“What are you thinking about?” Menzi tapped her on the shoulder.

Lin Weixia came back to herself and smiled: “Nothing, just wondering whether I can actually come in first.”

“Of course you can! My best friend is the most amazing person there is!” Menzi said immediately.

The official in the cap blew his whistle again and again. The staff around the course began clearing the area, and the competitors moved to their starting positions.

A gunshot rang out, and the runners surged forward. Everyone had their own rhythm. Lin Weixia was no different.

She ran on the innermost red lane. All along the way, voices in the crowd called out encouragement.

Halfway through, she wasn’t falling behind — she guessed she was somewhere in the upper-middle of the pack. But the further she ran, the lower her threshold dropped. Sweat had broken out across her forehead; her heartbeat had lost its rhythm and was pounding wildly.

All Lin Weixia could do was focus on keeping her breathing steady, counting the beats, driving her arms forward.

The sky had taken on a hazy, dark blue. White lamps hung at the roadside, lighting the path beneath her feet. The winter wind blew against her — she couldn’t feel the cold anymore. After running this far, she was hot all over, sweating through her clothes.

Lin Weixia felt her strength beginning to fail. The road ahead seemed to stretch on endlessly, but she kept pushing forward, mouth slightly open, wind rushing into her throat — her airway burning with pain.

Still she ran, forcing herself to keep going, keeping her breathing even. Then, just as she rounded a bend in the course, her vision suddenly went dark. The scene before her vanished — Lin Weixia’s chest seized with panic. One of the streetlamps along this stretch was broken.

Before registering, she had carefully asked the organizers about the layout of the course.

Lin Weixia was straining to make out what lay ahead when her foot came down on a smooth pebble. Her foot slipped. She lost her balance and fell hard to the ground, her elbow and knee scraping across sharp gravel, a searing pain shooting through her.

Lin Weixia struggled to push herself up from the ground but couldn’t find the strength, no matter how she tried. She simply sat down on the spot and checked her wounds.

One after another, the people behind her ran past. One kind-hearted competitor passing by paused and asked: “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lin Weixia shook her head.

The light in Lin Weixia’s surroundings was very dim. She carefully turned over her elbow to look — the skin had been scraped raw and red. She drew a sharp breath. The pain kept coming in waves, and with it came a heaviness of spirit.

She still had about a third of the course left. She hadn’t even finished.

And he hadn’t come.

Lin Weixia quietly sniffled. She felt so useless — she hadn’t gotten the ring, and she’d let herself end up in this sorry state.

She pulled her knees to her chest, about to reach up and slap herself across the face, trying to force the wetness gathering at the corners of her eyes back down. How did she only seem to grow more fragile as she got older?

She was quietly wallowing in her disappointment when she suddenly felt a tall figure descend over her entirely, like something drawing her into a shelter.

The cool, familiar scent of oud.

Lin Weixia looked up — and found Ban Sheng crouched on one knee right in front of her, his forearm resting across his bent leg, his expression unreadable in the dim light. A sliver of light fell across his face, and the coldness in his features had softened just slightly, edged with something like resigned helplessness.

“Weren’t you going to come in first?” Ban Sheng asked her, unhurried and calm.

“I — I’m sorry. I promised, and I didn’t do it.” Lin Weixia lowered her eyes, pulling the corner of her mouth up in a small, rueful smile.

All around them people were still running past. More than a few girls suddenly noticed a spectacularly handsome man standing at the side of the road — jaw-dropping from behind, breathtaking in profile, with an air of restrained cool. No one could get their feet to move.

“What the hell, are you here to race or to stare at the guy?! Come on!” a companion urged.

“Can I just look for one more second? I haven’t laid eyes on a guy this handsome in forever. Cleansing my eyes.”

“No matter how handsome he is, he’s not yours — can’t you see that guy’s eyes are only on that girl?”

A flurry of footsteps rushed away into the distance. Lin Weixia sat and recovered a little of her strength. She was mustering herself to stand when her feet suddenly left the ground entirely. Ban Sheng leaned down over her, his large hands wrapping around her waist, his other arm threading beneath her arm — and with effortless ease, lifted her up into a bridal carry, striding forward with broad, unhurried steps.

Lin Weixia let out a startled sound, her composure cracking for the first time: “There are so many people.”

“Should I drop you, then?” Ban Sheng answered carelessly, not giving her an ounce of mercy.

He felt the fabric at his chest get gripped tighter. Ban Sheng registered Lin Weixia’s silent indignation, let out an amused breath, his Adam’s apple shifting — then said, with pointed meaning:

“No hat today.”

In high school, the boy had once carried her home on his back. Knowing she was embarrassed, he had taken the cap off his head and pressed it down over hers.

Lin Weixia remembered this too. Her fingers tightened involuntarily around the fabric of his shirt. She leaned against Ban Sheng’s broad chest, felt the strong, steady beat of his heart. The warmth radiating from him enveloped every place she was pressed against him — a tingling, rushing warmth, spreading everywhere, burning.

Afraid she’d fall, Lin Weixia clasped both hands behind his neck, her palms flat against the skin there, feeling the vibration of his throat when he swallowed.

Ban Sheng’s body tensed for a moment, his throat itching. He held her and kept walking, indifferent to the eyes passing them.

Along the way, his voice came quietly, with a hint of a laugh: “Knew you’d lose.”

“Why?” Lin Weixia asked.

Ban Sheng raised an eyebrow and said nothing. He had known from the moment she registered that she wouldn’t make it — even with streetlamps the whole way.

What’s a person with night blindness doing running in the dark.

Ban Sheng carried Lin Weixia all the way to the exit at the edge of the road, then bent down and settled her into the passenger seat. He circled around to the other side, opened the door, and got in, resting his hand on the steering wheel and starting the engine. The GTR let out a powerful roar and, like a phantom uncoiling from a bowstring, vanished from the crowd’s sight.

The car pulled into the underground parking garage at the hospital. After parking, Ban Sheng brought her to the emergency department. Lin Weixia sat in a blue chair while Ban Sheng quickly tracked down a nurse, then came back to stand in front of her:

“The nurse will come treat your wounds in a moment.”

Ban Sheng turned to leave — then found a hand had caught the hem of his shirt. Black fabric was crumpled and gripped in a fist. He lowered his head.

Lin Weixia tilted up a face like smooth jade, her eyes clear and bright. She said nothing, only looked at him — and in her gaze there was the faintest thread of quiet vulnerability.

The moment Ban Sheng met her eyes, he understood. He let out a quiet laugh and raised an eyebrow:

“Want me to coax you?”

“Yes,” Lin Weixia nodded.

She was strong in some ways, but physically — the pain of having wounds treated, the sting of disinfectant — she had always been a little soft about that. This part of Lin Weixia had never changed.

Ban Sheng withdrew his gaze from her face and spoke in an unhurried voice:

“But I need to go pay.”

Lin Weixia let go of his shirt and said a quiet okay. As the man turned and walked away, she watched him go. Her face gave nothing away — but quietly, inside, something sank a little.

He doesn’t comfort her anymore.

She sat with both slender arms propped on the chair, dark lashes lowered, lost in thought.

Then her vision went dark. Something heavy descended — a black coat draped over her head from above, its slightly stiff fabric wrapping around her entirely. Her nose was filled at once with the faint trace of tobacco embedded in his clothing.

All of him.

So much so she could hardly breathe.

The nurse came promptly to treat her wounds. Because Lin Weixia couldn’t see what was happening, she only felt a cold sensation at her knee and elbow, followed by a sharp sting.

And then, before she knew it, it was over.

After the wounds were bandaged, Lin Weixia lifted the coat from her head and held it in her arms. She thanked the nurse.

The nurse tossed the used cotton swabs into the bin, then smiled at Lin Weixia: “Not at all. Your husband specifically told me to be gentle when applying the medicine.”

The word husband made Lin Weixia’s cheeks instantly warm. She rushed to clarify: “Oh no, we’re still in university—”

“Boyfriend, then — which means husband someday,” the nurse said with a teasing smile. “Look at how much he dotes on you.”

The nurse packed up the supply kit and walked off. Lin Weixia gazed at the tall figure not far away, standing at the payment window.

What were they to each other, exactly?

It seemed like something and nothing at the same time. Nothing was clear yet.

After Ban Sheng paid and came back, he stuffed two bags of medicine into Lin Weixia’s hands, then bent down, took hold of her arm, and prepared to walk her to the car. Lin Weixia felt the black coat in her arms buzz and vibrate — she reached in and found the phone, and as she handed it to him, caught a glimpse of the name on the caller ID. Something shifted behind her eyes.

Ban Sheng took the phone, accepted the call, and walked a short distance away to talk.

About five minutes later, Ban Sheng came back, shrugged on his coat, and pulled Lin Weixia to her feet, steering her toward the exit. His lips moved briefly:

“I called you a car. It’s waiting outside. I have something to take care of.”

In other words, she would be going home alone.

Lin Weixia didn’t respond to that. She simply nodded. They walked out side by side. The air between them was a little cooler now. All the way to the hospital entrance, a gust of wind came howling out at them, carrying fine grains of sand. Lin Weixia raised a hand to shield her eyes — and in the same motion, quietly slipped free of Ban Sheng’s grip on her hand.

Lin Weixia walked with a slight limp. Between the two of them, the space was wide enough that someone else could have walked between them. Ban Sheng looked at her twice without saying anything.

She was clearly throwing a small tantrum.

Ban Sheng didn’t move to go after her. He seemed too unbothered to respond. He took out his cigarette case, tapped a Marlboro into his palm, bit down on it, and lit it — the orange flame flaring briefly from his cupped hand, his profile sharp and clean.

Even lighting a cigarette that way. Still breathtaking.

The yellow taxi was not far ahead. Ban Sheng stopped and lifted a hand in its direction. The car slowly pulled toward them. Lin Weixia didn’t pause — she picked up her pace and walked straight for the taxi.

A pale hand pulled open the car door. Lin Weixia bent and got in, leaned back against the seat, and closed her eyes. She felt entirely worn out by the day.

The driver asked where she was headed. Lin Weixia opened her eyes and gave an address. Before the last word had settled, the car door was slapped open again, wind rushing in — and with it, the sound of passing cars and their horns from outside.

The boy leaned in and sat down in that unhurried way of his, his windbreaker unzipped to the collarbone, and the light from outside the window fell just right — straight onto the black butterfly tattoo. Familiar. Cool.

The driver started the car and pulled away. Neither of them spoke. Lin Weixia’s hand rested on the seat — and then a hand, fingers long and clearly knuckled, took hold of it. She felt him ease the ring from his own index finger. Still holding her hand, he guided the ring toward her fingers.

Ban Sheng moved slowly. Their fingers wound around each other, skin touching skin, cold meeting warm — shifting, brushing. At last, he slid the silver ring onto her finger.

The languid edge in his voice softened to something between a sigh and indulgence:

“How do you keep getting more and more like a child.”