Lin Weixia folded the slip of paper and put it in her pocket. Before going to sleep, her head had started to ache. She crouched down and rummaged through her travel bag for a while, but couldn’t find a single painkiller, so she gave up and poured herself a cup of hot water.

Likely the exhaustion of the past week catching up with her, combined with today’s long journey — Lin Weixia drifted into a deep sleep almost immediately. When she woke and pulled out her phone from under the pillow, she blinked at the screen and jolted upright. She’d slept until one in the afternoon.

Lin Weixia scrambled out of bed, tossed on a jacket casually, shuffled downstairs in her white cotton slippers, and found the entire place empty and still, with only thin sunlight filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

She was about to call someone when she spotted a note on the dining table. Lin Weixia walked over and picked it up:

Sweetheart, you looked so tired we didn’t want to wake you. We’ve already headed out to the rime ice drift. Your breakfast is staying warm in the kitchen — eat up, then take the shuttle bus to meet us.

— Menzi [Flying Kiss]

Lin Weixia folded the note, went upstairs to brush her teeth and wash her face, then came back down to the dining table to eat breakfast by herself. She managed a soft-boiled egg and half a bowl of porridge before she couldn’t eat any more.

Her head still ached faintly. Lin Weixia downed a large cup of hot water, which helped a little.

She went back upstairs to change. One glance at the sunlight outside — it looked like a decent day. She got herself together, tidied her hair, and after applying some lip balm in front of the mirror, she headed out.

Before long, Lin Weixia boarded the shuttle bus and joined the rest of the group setting off. The bus rumbled and swayed for over forty minutes before stopping at the rime ice drift scenic area.

Stepping off, Lin Weixia looked up at the red signboard ahead, showed her ID at the entrance gate, then pulled up the QR code on her phone to buy her ticket.

Lin Weixia followed the crowd inside. The scenic area was packed — people clustered in dense groups all around. She noticed the moment she stepped in that the temperature dropped sharply. Cold wind crept relentlessly through her sleeves and collar, and she instinctively hunched her shoulders against it.

Following a volunteer’s directions, Lin Weixia boarded a small green train for a scenic ride through the interior. On either side of the windows stretched endless, mirror-like lakes, their surfaces pale silver — like the belly of a fish — and bizarrely, even at minus ten degrees Celsius, the lake had not frozen over.

The little green train rocked gently along its tracks, and outside, the view shifted from lake to towering columns of frozen rime ice lining both sides of the path, glittering in the sunlight.

Like Christmas trees.

Sky and earth seemed to merge into one, a field of pure, unblemished white.

When the train reached the third stop — the rime ice station — Lin Weixia disembarked. She took out her phone to call Menzi, and only then discovered the battery icon showed completely empty. Just one percent left.

She hadn’t charged it properly the night before.

Silently hoping the phone would hold long enough to get through the call, she pressed on Menzi’s number — and the screen went black.

Meanwhile, at the hot spring scenic area, the group had split into two — men and women going their separate ways to their respective pools. The hot spring pool sat nestled at the foot of a silver mountain, ringed by sweeping rime ice and snow. Menzi changed and slipped into the water with barely contained excitement.

The women gathered and chatted freely. They discussed which of the guys in their party was the best-looking, and one bold soul launched a vote: who would they most want to sleep with, just once?

The unanimous answer was Ban Sheng.

Menzi heard the name and couldn’t help rolling her eyes. She found a spot against the edge of the pool by herself, closed her eyes, and soaked in quiet, unhurried contentment. Steam rose steadily around her, and the heat turned the skin of her neck a soft, faint pink.

Hot and wonderful.

Menzi had been soaking for a good while before she noticed Lin Weixia still hadn’t shown up. She sent a message.

Fifteen minutes later, Menzi stretched her hand out to check her phone beside the pool. Lin Weixia hadn’t replied. Her instincts prickled, and she dialed her directly.

A recorded female voice answered: “We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is currently switched off—”

She called again. Same thing.

“Strange — where is Weixia? Why isn’t she here yet?” Menzi muttered.

The other girls were huddled together talking about the latest season’s clothes. One girl complained her skin always broke out badly in winter. After hearing Menzi’s concern, she said:

“Maybe she just hasn’t woken up yet?”

“That can’t be right, it’s already three o’clock,” Menzi said, checking the time. The longer she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt. “And her phone’s off. Something might have happened.”

Hearing Menzi’s words, a flicker of unease crossed Shi Li’s face. She coughed and deliberately redirected: “If your skin acts up, come find me — I’ve been using this essence toner, do you want to try it?”

“Sure, send me the link,” the girl replied.

The girls chattered on. Then someone’s phone chimed — a news push from the meteorological bureau.

A girl pressed her hand to her chest. “There’s going to be a heavy storm? There’s even hail coming down in the rime ice drift area right now. The people out there must be having a terrible time — good thing we’re indoors soaking in hot springs.”

“Right,” Shi Li said, letting out a strained laugh, her expression visibly guilty.

“This storm sounds serious. I wonder if it’ll reach us here too.”

Eventually, Menzi noticed that Shi Li’s face kept looking stranger and stranger. She stopped bothering with the conversation, picked up her phone, saw the weather alert, and felt a cold unease spreading through her.

Menzi swam over and surfaced right in front of Shi Li, who startled. She shot Menzi a resentful look.

“Shi Li, where is Lin Weixia?” Menzi asked.

Shi Li’s expression stiffened. She covered her guilt with a cough, then snapped, “How should I know? Aren’t you two close? Why are you asking me?”

The other girl’s tone was pointed and cutting. Menzi heard it and gave a small, unreadable smile without a word. Shi Li let out a dismissive sound — and then, before she could react, a shadow fell over her head. A hand pressed down on it, pushing her straight down into the hot spring.

The pool erupted into chaos. Everyone rushed to intervene, calling at Menzi to let go. Menzi’s face held a breathtaking, unhurried smile, and when she heard Shi Li’s embarrassed shouting below the surface, she didn’t release her grip — she pressed harder. Bubbles came burbling up through the water.

“Where did Weixia go? You did something to her, didn’t you?” Menzi’s hand pressed firmly on the back of Shi Li’s neck, pushing down.

Shi Li swallowed a mouthful of hot water. The taste turned her mouth sour, the sound muffled her ears, and the pressure kept building. She was convinced she was about to die. Terrified of the situation — and of the possibility that her face might be damaged — she finally burst into tears. Gasping and broken, she confessed:

“She went to the rime ice drift. This morning I swapped the note you left her.”

The moment Menzi’s hold weakened in shock, Shi Li wrenched herself free with all her strength and thrashed to the edge of the pool, gasping huge, desperate lungfuls of air, coughing until her face went red. Her voice came out thin and breathless:

“I’m calling the police.”

Menzi’s expression darkened. Without a second thought, she stood up from the hot spring. She immediately grabbed a white terry bathrobe, wrapped it around herself over her swimsuit, then hauled Shi Li out of the pool and threw a robe at her too.

Face cold and set, Menzi marched Shi Li out. Shi Li was a complete wreck — makeup smeared all over her face, mascara and eyeliner running together down her cheeks — and on top of everything, she’d swallowed hot spring water and was now nauseous and fighting the urge to vomit.

Without breaking stride, Menzi dialed Ban Sheng with her free hand. He picked up quickly. A low, even voice came through:

“Hello.”

“Come out here.” Menzi’s tone was flat and humorless.

The two girls waited outside the hot spring entrance. Ban Sheng appeared before long, dressed in a black athletic jacket, a cigarette in hand, walking toward them without urgency. Qiu Minghua trailed behind him.

“What is it?” Ban Sheng asked.

Menzi crossed her arms and gave Shi Li — who was standing there doing her best to look fragile and tearful — a sideways glance. “Ask her.”

Ban Sheng’s eyes moved to Shi Li. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze and looked down, murmuring in a small voice: “Lin Weixia — I tricked her into going to the rime ice drift.”

“And I can’t reach her at all now. Her phone’s off,” Menzi added.

The air around them went utterly still. Shi Li’s stomach dropped. She looked up instinctively, trying to explain: “I only wanted to teach her a lesson. I didn’t think things would go this far—”

Her voice shrank smaller and smaller under Ban Sheng’s gaze, until she couldn’t get another word out. Her whole body began to tremble without her permission.

Ban Sheng bit down on his back teeth. His expression went dark and cold. He extinguished the cigarette between his fingers, looked down at Shi Li from where he stood, and his voice came out sharp and quiet:

“Didn’t I tell you not to come, not to embarrass yourself, and that I would never choose you?”

Menzi stood to the side, and now she understood everything. She looked at Shi Li, and for a moment, something like pity crept in.

Shi Li finally lost control. Her shoulders gave out, and her pale face managed a hollow curve of a smile. Yes — from the moment she walked into that gathering by accident, she had fallen for him. And then she let go of her pride, let go of her dignity, and followed him around day after day.

That lighter — Ban Sheng had left it behind at a drinking session. She’d found it by accident and quietly kept it. The tattoo as well — that night, she’d followed him into the private room and happened to stumble upon Ban Sheng searching for his wallet. Unable to find it, he’d taken off his jacket and shaken it out. In the dim light, Shi Li had caught a glimpse of his tattoo, and vanity drove her to go back out and hint at things to the others.

She manufactured an image of ambiguity between herself and Ban Sheng in front of everyone else. He never corrected her or exposed the lie — but only because Ban Sheng didn’t care about anyone, and had never truly registered her existence. Shi Li told herself it must mean something, that maybe he felt something for her too, just a little.

Then Shi Li needed his help with something. After hearing her out, Ban Sheng gave her exactly one sentence:

“Shi Li, we’re not even friends.”

That was a rejection of her feelings. Shi Li had her own pride, and for a while she cut off all contact. But ultimately she couldn’t hold out — and when she found out Ban Sheng was going skiing, she was the first to show up uninvited. Afraid he’d make her leave, she said she was there with someone else.

He didn’t say anything further.

On the way to the ski resort, at the last moment before getting into the cars, Ban Sheng turned his head slightly and nodded toward her: “Ride with Qiu Minghua.”

Shi Li swallowed that too.

When she saw him go upstairs alone, she followed. But Ban Sheng acted as if she didn’t exist, kept his eyes on his phone, and went straight to close and lock the door. When he came out after changing and showering, Shi Li timed it precisely and appeared.

When everyone started teasing about her and Ban Sheng, Shi Li saw him about to say something to stop it — then his gaze landed on Lin Weixia and Jiang Heng speaking quietly together, and his expression changed entirely. He didn’t say a word after that.

Both of them were in the middle of a standoff, testing each other. Knowing there was tension between the two of them, Shi Li didn’t mind stirring the pot further — if nothing else, to get some of this out of her system.

Why should things be this way? Jealousy drove her — Lin Weixia hadn’t done anything, and yet his eyes went only to her.

Falling for Ban Sheng had always been like swallowing poison, one dose at a time. Every joy and grief was hers alone.

He was always the one who stepped back, watching from a distance, untouched by the fire.

Except for Lin Weixia. The moment she was involved, Ban Sheng was no longer the detached, emotionless creature he was with everyone else.

Ban Sheng’s emotions existed only for Lin Weixia.

“Qiu Minghua,” Ban Sheng said, quiet and unhurried, “take her to the rime ice drift. However long my girl has been freezing out there, she can freeze for the same. Double it.”

Ban Sheng withdrew his gaze from Shi Li and turned to leave. After a few steps, something seemed to occur to him. The lighter clicked in his palm — once, twice — and then he let out a quiet laugh. What he said next made the temperature drop:

“Don’t let yourself appear anywhere in her line of sight. Not if you still want to stay in Jingbei without incident.”

After Ban Sheng left, Shi Li’s legs gave out. Her back slid down the wall and she sank onto the ground, buried her face in her knees, and wept without restraint.

Shi Li crouched there crying, and Menzi watched her coldly for a moment. Then something flashed through her mind. She raised her foot and nudged Qiu Minghua, who was hovering nearby, and asked, “Hey. What’s the deal with your brother and that tall girl?”

“What tall girl?” Qiu Minghua blinked.

Menzi, not in the mood for patience, recounted what she’d heard from Lin Weixia — about the incident at the engineering faculty building, where the glass had been shattered by the storm and Lin Weixia had come across Ban Sheng with another girl.

Qiu Minghua ran through the description in his head, matching it up, and frowned. “That’s — that doesn’t add up. The girl you’re describing, I think she’s Hua-zi’s girlfriend. She was just passing on a message. The point was the betting — her boyfriend runs the setup at the bar, and he wanted Ban-ge there. Of course he did. Ban-ge’s loaded and generous — everyone wants a shot at winning money from him.”

“I see.” Menzi nodded.

She then cast a withering look at Shi Li, who was dragging her feet and still crying to buy time before facing the rime ice drift, turned, and went back into the hot spring area to change. She had no desire to keep soaking. She was too worried about Lin Weixia now.

Around five or six in the afternoon, when Ban Sheng carried Lin Weixia back to the standalone guesthouse, Menzi nearly jumped out of her skin.

Lin Weixia lay in his arms, eyes tightly shut. Her face was deathly pale, and her closed lashes still had snowflakes clinging to them. Even her lips were white.

“What happened to her?” Menzi asked, alarmed.

“She’s been out in the wind all day, got rained on too. She has a fever.” Ban Sheng’s dark eyes stayed fixed on the person in his arms, his throat moving. The pain in his gaze was beyond words.

Ban Sheng’s face was grim as he strode up the stairs with Lin Weixia in his arms. Menzi, sick with worry, moved to follow, only to be held back by one of the other guys.

“What are you pulling me back for?” Menzi asked.

He was one of Ban Sheng’s friends. “Let’s not get in the way,” he said. “Hopefully this gives them a chance to work through things.”

Ban Sheng took Lin Weixia’s temperature, gave her medicine, and after that, allowed no one to disturb her. The rest of the group came back late and learned what had happened. After checking that Lin Weixia was alright, they finally relaxed and settled into the living room.

And so they watched Ban Sheng — who normally couldn’t have cared less whether anyone lived or died, who was laziness and indifference personified — standing guard at her room. Later, he personally drove to the supermarket, came back with ingredients, and went to the kitchen to make soup for Lin Weixia.

Menzi had heard Qiu Minghua say that Ban Sheng made extraordinary soup, but in all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen him make it for anyone.

She glanced instinctively toward the kitchen. Through the glass wall, she could see his broad shoulders, and the line of his bent neck as he leaned forward to taste and check the seasoning. In that moment, she suddenly understood —

Loving someone means breaking your own rules, over and over, and offering up everything for them.

In her dream, something like a great beast chased her relentlessly, and Lin Weixia ran forward with all her strength. Then one foot slipped, and she plunged into an endless abyss. She jolted awake in the middle of the night, coughing, her body soaked in cold sweat.

She found herself in an unfamiliar room.

The sheets were grey. On the bedside table sat an ashtray with a few cigarette stubs. The pillow and blanket were all steeped in a man’s scent.

Lin Weixia’s heart lurched. She struggled upright, switched on the small lamp by the bed, and spotted the silver lighter on the table — the one engraved with the word Ban. Her breath eased.

She touched her forehead. Still a little warm. Her throat was painfully dry and she needed water. Lin Weixia reached for the cup on the bedside table, but found it had long gone cold.

She wanted hot water, so she climbed carefully out of bed, took the cup, and made her way out, steps slightly unsteady. Her head felt heavy, and as she stood in the corridor, she spotted a tall figure in the distance, out on the balcony.

The surroundings were completely still, the world dark. Everyone had gone to sleep. The deep hours of the night, the heavy dew — Ban Sheng held his phone against his ear, his neck and shoulders long and straight, lounging leisurely against the railing. His back was draped in a brooding, sinking stillness. Pinched loosely between his fingers was a cigarette, its ember glowing red in the dark, faintly uncertain.

Perhaps it was the silence, but Lin Weixia could hear Ban Sheng’s phone conversation. It sounded like Li Shengran.

They were arguing.

Li Shengran’s voice was sharp, pressing forward, as if intent on tearing apart the easy, devil-may-care mask Ban Sheng wore. But no matter what she said, no matter how cutting, he held his ground with the ease of someone who had everything under control.

Or perhaps a more accurate description was this: Ban Sheng was giving up on himself.

“You out wandering again?” Li Shengran demanded.

“Have you gone to your appointment?” Li Shengran pressed, impatient.

“Forgot,” Ban Sheng said, unhurriedly.

A silence followed. The voice from the earpiece seemed to go quiet. Lin Weixia stood behind him, cup in hand, listening without making a sound.

Then, in the next instant, Li Shengran’s voice tore through the earpiece — raw with fury and hurt:

“Ban Sheng, who are you ruining yourself for?”

Ban Sheng let out a low laugh, just about to respond, when a sound came from behind him — something hitting the ground with a sharp clatter.

He turned. He leaned his elbow back against the railing and his gaze instantly found Lin Weixia, standing there.

Lin Weixia’s eyes went wide with alarm. She seemed utterly afraid of being seen by Ban Sheng — so much so that she forgot to pick up the cup, turning quickly to retreat to her room. Li Shengran’s voice kept going from the earpiece, saying things that could not be heard, and Ban Sheng, suddenly restless and unsettled, hung up the call and strode after her.

Lin Weixia got back to her room and found her coat on the bed. She was hurriedly pulling it on. Ban Sheng came in without asking, his tall frame standing in front of her. He took hold of her arm, eyes locked on her:

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going back.” Lin Weixia, now dressed, moved to leave.

Ban Sheng blocked her. He wrapped his arms around her from the front, hands firm at her waist, and let his lips brush softly against the soft skin below her left ear. His throat moved. “What did you hear?”

“I don’t know — I didn’t catch much. But I don’t want to know what happened to you these past two years. You’re always like this.” Lin Weixia stood still, her eyes carrying a quiet steadiness, her breath thin.

Lin Weixia bowed her head and tried to peel his hands from her waist. Ban Sheng held on. She was no match for his strength. Exhaustion swept over her, and without meaning to, her voice broke into something close to tears:

“I want to go back. I don’t want to — don’t want to be near you at all.”

She’d meant to say it calmly and evenly. But somehow — maybe because she was sick, and her whole body felt terrible — or maybe because so much had accumulated over this time: being pushed away again and again, then coming all this way to clear her head, only to be deceived and left out in the cold all day.

Everything pent up — the grievances, the exhaustion, the ache — finally broke. Lin Weixia’s eyes went red, and tears began to fall, first in silence, then in heaving, uncontrollable sobs.

The cool, defined face across from her met her eyes. Ban Sheng’s lips moved toward her, and with a touch so gentle it was almost reverent, he kissed away the tears from her face one by one, then took them all in.

“The things you want to know — can you give me a little time?” Ban Sheng said, looking at her seriously, something struggling in his eyes.

His hand moved to her pale neck, kneading softly as he kissed her, and spoke with quiet earnestness:

“Last time at Jiuga Mountain — I’m sorry. I was an idiot.”

Last time, he’d left her alone on Jiuga Mountain. This time, because of Shi Li, she’d been out in the cold wind all day. Lin Weixia’s tears were like her squeezing his heart into boiling water, watching it contract over and over in searing pain.

From the truth-or-dare earlier, Ban Sheng had said he’d only ever kissed one girl. Yet he moved through moments like this as though born knowing how — assured and unhurried. He was skilled at this kind of comfort. As their lips met, he cradled the back of Lin Weixia’s head to give her a comfortable angle, his other hand tracing slow lines along her jaw.

Lin Weixia was left dizzy from the kiss. She sat on the bed, head tilted back, the tip of her tongue going numb from being pulled at, a tremor running through her entire body. Then, in a flash of electric clarity, the red mark at Ban Sheng’s collarbone came back to her.

What if Shi Li had left it.

Clarity gathered. Lin Weixia shoved him away with a sharp breath, her transparent eyes still holding teardrops, and began to wipe her lips where he’d touched them. “You — weren’t you just kissing another woman?”

She pointed at the red mark at his collarbone.

Ban Sheng paused for a beat. This was the first time he’d ever heard Lin Weixia curse. He met her resistant gaze and exhaled softly, then slowly peeled the bandage from his collarbone.

Beneath it sat three small bone studs, all in matching silver — in the exact same position as Lin Weixia’s.

“What is that?” Lin Weixia asked, staring blankly.

“Couple’s bone studs,” Ban Sheng said, his dark eyes fixed on her, voice slow. “What else would it be?”

“Shi Li will stop appearing in front of you. Nothing ever happened between me and her.”

He had never forgotten — that promise they’d made together on Silver Cliff Mountain in their final year of high school.

How long had she been waiting?

Lin Weixia sniffled. Something settled in her — like the long-awaited first light of dawn, like dust finally coming to rest. The tears kept falling down her cheeks. She raised her hand to wipe them away, but a hand caught hers before she could. Ban Sheng leaned over and traced his tongue over the tears on her face, drinking them in, his movements almost like a prayer.

The room’s light was dim, soft and amber, and then it went out. Lin Weixia lay on the bed, Ban Sheng’s weight settling over her, lips trailing downward.

For each question Ban Sheng asked, he bit at her lip — eyes damp, breathing growing heavier:

“Still think so little of me?”

Another bite. “And you cursed at me?”

Lin Weixia’s heartbeat surged beyond her control. She went completely still, her fingers interlaced with his broad ones, pressed to the side, unable to move.

She felt the buttons of her cardigan being undone by his mouth, one by one. A wide expanse of her chest was suddenly exposed to the open air, and the cold made her shiver involuntarily.

Lin Weixia’s hands were draped around his neck. Ban Sheng hovered over her, voice gone rough:

“Baby, do me a favor.”

“What?” Lin Weixia asked, completely at a loss.

“Help me take off my shirt.” Ban Sheng’s throat moved.

The room was completely dark. Pale moonlight slipped in through the gap in the curtains, and she couldn’t make out his face clearly, only the rough outline of him. Ban Sheng was wearing just a black short-sleeved shirt — he was perfectly capable of taking it off himself, and yet he was insisting Lin Weixia do it for him.

Lin Weixia shook her head, closing her eyes.

Ban Sheng lowered his head and closed around her lips. Lin Weixia felt his mouth carry a commanding, forceful current, and found herself involuntarily parting her lips, her teeth, every surface of them grazed in careful succession.

Lin Weixia felt heat rising through her entire body. A strange sensation crept up from somewhere deep inside, along with a whisper of fear.

Ban Sheng had kissed her until the corners of his own eyes were red. He was the one who could barely take it — the desire pressing close. He reached up and smoothed the soft hair from her clear, delicate face, voice husky as he coaxed her:

“Weixia, be good.”

Lin Weixia felt Ban Sheng take her hands. The warmth from his broad chest radiated over her. She turned her face to the side. Her hands found the hem of his shirt, one hand trying to find the other side of it — and grazed something instead.

She touched his firm, solid abdomen.

Lin Weixia was kneeling in front of him, a head shorter. Her chin was tilted up by a cold hand.

The warmth of his breath reached her face, her ears — ticklish and numbing all at once — and he let out a low, amused sound:

“What are you touching?”

Lin Weixia was thoroughly startled. She batted his hand away, grabbed the edge of the blanket, and lay down on her side facing away, pulling it over her face.

But Ban Sheng was relentless. He covered her again, and Lin Weixia, unable to take it, instinctively clutched at his arm — and felt something uneven beneath her fingers, like scar tissue. In the dark, she couldn’t see. She could only ask:

“Where did the scars on your arm come from?”

What answered her was a warm, damp kiss. Her ears were terribly sensitive, and her thoughts scattered immediately. That question was swept aside by Ban Sheng without a word.

Lin Weixia felt herself thrown into the middle of the ocean — oxygen-deprived, tossed by the waves. The girl’s long hair and the man’s solid arms tangled and merged, and the two of them faded gradually into a single line.

Lin Weixia had never been so hot. The fever hadn’t fully receded, her consciousness was hazy, and everything in front of her eyes shimmered in color.

Nervous. Afraid.

Ban Sheng suddenly stopped and lay down beside Lin Weixia, breathing against her neck. The emotion in his eyes was impossible to contain — but he pulled himself back, restraining it, and let out a soft, hoarse laugh:

“Better not take advantage of our Weixia, after all.”

He couldn’t take what wasn’t freely given.