After the New Year, Ban Sheng returned to the hospital to continue his treatment, and Lin Weixia came to keep him company almost every moment she had free. Between the time before and after the New Year, Ban Sheng spent a total of four months in the hospital, and his condition grew better and better — he became more and more like himself again.

During that time, the two of them unlocked many things together: they ran together, shared songs they’d found beautiful, and sometimes were childish enough to fight over each other’s ice cream. They watched a great many films together. Lin Weixia was very selective about what she watched — if it wasn’t something she liked, she’d fall asleep halfway through, and when she woke up she’d make Ban Sheng retell the whole thing from the beginning. He was entirely willing to do it.

The one argument they had was when Lin Weixia learned from Cheng Wusuan, in conversation, that Ban Sheng was planning to give up his guaranteed postgraduate spot at Penn and come back to China after graduation.

What concerned Lin Weixia was that Ban Sheng had always intended to go into research — but if he returned from abroad to sit the domestic postgraduate entrance exam, the system required that applicants be graduates.

Which meant Ban Sheng might waste an entire year.

“Why do you want to come back?” Lin Weixia asked him.

“Because you’re here.” Ban Sheng leaned his head against the wall, his tone easy and unhurried.

Lin Weixia looked at him. She knew perfectly well he was thinking about their future together, and she understood what he was worried about.

But Penn’s BME program ranked eighth in the entire country. The research there had matured to the point of surpassing many other fields, and Penn offered resources and lab facilities that were second to none. If he kept going, he would only grow better and better.

“You’ve already given up your dream for me once. You can’t—” Lin Weixia began.

Ban Sheng was leaning against the wall. He opened his eyes abruptly and looked at her:

“You are my dream.”

Once it had been the vast universe. Now it was her.

Her heart jumped involuntarily. Lin Weixia’s face warmed a little. She paused, then looked at him seriously: “Follow your original plan. We won’t be separated again — I promise you.”

Ban Sheng was silent for a long moment, then finally agreed: “Alright.”

Ban Sheng was discharged from the hospital at the end of April, just as summer was beginning to arrive.

That day the weather was clear and bright, the sun generous, the trees full and lush. Every flower bloomed with a clean, fresh fragrance; every leaf was newly born. Birds chirped and sang.

It was as if all of it were celebrating Ban Sheng, singing for him.

Ban Sheng was planning to get a haircut, and Lin Weixia went along with him. He arched one brow, his long fingers running through his soft, long hair, asking with easy nonchalance: “Can you bear to part with it?”

Lin Weixia smiled. “Of course,” she said warmly. “I’ve actually been wanting to change my hairstyle for a while.”

Ban Sheng had all of it cut off — he walked out with a close-cropped buzz cut. The moment Lin Weixia saw him, her heart lurched sharply. The hair was so short the dark stubble beneath showed through; his eyes were jet-black and bright, the lines of his face clean and decisive. He was staggeringly handsome.

Lin Weixia’s long hair was cut too — just to her chest. She happened to be wearing a pleated campus skirt that day, and she looked fresh and lovely.

Ban Sheng stood with both hands in his pockets, smiling as he looked at her, and said simply:

“Beautiful.”

“Come on, let’s go home,” Lin Weixia said.

The two of them went back to Ban Sheng’s place and ate a serving of pasta together. After eating, they curled up on the sofa to watch television. The little dog lay nestled between them, belly flipped upward, coquettishly demanding that its owners rub it.

When evening was approaching, the light was still bright and clear. It was a weekend, and Qiu Minghua had nowhere to go. He sent a message asking Ban Sheng whether he wanted to play basketball.

Ban Sheng’s fingers tapped on the chat box, and he replied lazily:

Sure.

Qiu Minghua sat at the basketball court near Ban Sheng’s place, biting a lychee-flavored ice pop while he waited. From a distance, he spotted his older brother approaching and stood up excitedly — but as the figures drew closer, the smile on his face crumpled.

Ban Sheng and Lin Weixia were wearing matching couple’s sports jerseys, walking unhurriedly toward him. They weren’t holding hands, but the way they occasionally bumped against each other and the knowing glances they exchanged said everything.

Both of them were striking enough to turn heads. The moment they entered the court, the attention of every passerby followed.

Qiu Minghua ground his teeth and said: “I give up. I’m a person, not a dog!”

“Let’s go,” Ban Sheng said, tilting his chin at him.

The two men started their game. Lin Weixia chose a shaded spot and sat on the steps, both hands propped under her chin, watching Ban Sheng play.

The weather in Jingbei was still pleasantly cool. Clouds drifted in from the edge of the sky, and a strong breeze swept past, catching the hem of the boy’s jersey. He ran through the sunlight wearing his basketball clothes, the red wrist guard at his clear-boned wrist flashing with his movement like a tongue of flame. Sweat dripped from his jaw, but his eyes remained jet-black and bright.

Ban Sheng ran with the ball at full speed, like a streak of lightning — leaping, shooting, every motion fierce and seamless.

Lin Weixia could see the aggression and the heaviness that had once lived in Ban Sheng dissolving. The person before her now was like a new, bright star rising.

After two rounds, Ban Sheng sprawled on the steps, both hands propped behind him, lounging lazily in rest.

Lin Weixia brought over a bottle of water and used the chance to coax him: “All done? Tonight I want ice cream — lemon flavor. Two scoops.”

Ban Sheng took the bottle, tilted his head back, and drank deeply. At that, he was in no hurry as he screwed the cap back on, raised his eyes to glance at her, and reminded her:

“You just had some yesterday.”

Lin Weixia’s stomach wasn’t in great shape — every time she ate cold things, it ached. Ban Sheng kept a strict watch over this, generally not letting her eat them; even with her most persuasive pouting, she was limited to once a week at most.

She had accompanied Ban Sheng to play basketball today, thinking he might be willing to bend the rules a little — but this person wasn’t giving her so much as an inch.

Lin Weixia stood in front of him without speaking, her pretty eyes drooping visibly. She was clearly unhappy.

Ban Sheng glanced at her, set the cold water down, and stood up. His tall frame loomed over her, and he let out a quiet laugh:

“Alright. Beat me to one basket, and tonight I’ll take you to get ice cream.”

Her eyes lit up immediately. “Deal,” Lin Weixia said.

“But we agree up front — no cheating,” Ban Sheng said, lowering his head and pinching her face in his hand.

What Ban Sheng didn’t realize was that Lin Weixia was sharper than he gave her credit for. He’d been on the receiving end of her small tricks back in high school — a few minor maneuvers and she could have him completely disarmed.

“Understood,” Lin Weixia said, taking the basketball and walking onto the court.

Lin Weixia dribbled the ball and broke into a run — dribbling, then bending her knees lightly to shoot. Ban Sheng was tall; he swept one long arm and intercepted the ball with ease.

She tried again. Same result.

A flash of frustration passed through her amber eyes.

By the time Ban Sheng had blocked her fifth shot, Lin Weixia had tried pleading with her eyes — but the boy didn’t take the bait. He stood there, lazily and carelessly, completely at ease, absolutely refusing to let her score.

He had the air of someone toying with a cat, entirely in control.

The sixth ball was slapped away with a smack. It bounced off the red floor and rolled to a shadow not far away. Lin Weixia jogged after it, crouched down to pick it up, her dark lashes damp with sweat.

A sudden deflation hit her.

“I don’t want to play anymore,” she said from her crouch, her voice muffled and flat, making no move to get up.

What was the point of him being so unyielding — he couldn’t even let her have one ball.

She’d been chasing the ball around how many times now.

Fine, no ice cream, no ice cream. The more she thought about it, the more aggrieved she felt, her long lashes lowering, her mood sinking — and then, without warning, a long shadow fell over her. Ban Sheng slowly crouched down beside her, looking at her with calm amusement. He reached out and pinched her nose, letting out a quiet laugh:

“Quite the temper on this little girl.”

The pinch made it hard to breathe. Lin Weixia smacked his hand away, still sulking: “None of your business.”

Ban Sheng smiled, his expression carrying a thread of rueful indulgence in that familiar way of his. He pulled her up from her crouch. Lin Weixia stood before him, and he tucked a basketball under his arm, then suddenly crouched back down and said, unhurried:

“Come up.”

“What?” Lin Weixia stared blankly.

Before she could process it, her body responded on instinct to the boy’s cue. She stepped forward, shifted her feet apart — and Ban Sheng reached back, gave her a light tap on the backside to indicate she should sit on his shoulders. Lin Weixia parted her two straight legs, and Ban Sheng’s long hands wrapped around her smooth calves as he rose swiftly to his feet.

An onlooker at the court immediately let out a wolf-whistle.

Lin Weixia found herself perched on Ban Sheng’s broad shoulders, equal parts startled and frightened. She asked quietly: “What are you doing?”

Ban Sheng tilted his chin at Qiu Minghua, who immediately understood and passed the ball up to Lin Weixia. The boy let out an amused hum — clearly coaxing her, his usually cool voice threaded with warmth — and grinned:

“Letting you score.”

And so he held her there, letting Lin Weixia make basket after basket in complete comfort, the sound of their conversation ringing out across the entire court:

“Which hoop do you want?”

“That one.”

“Alright. Your boyfriend will take you there.”

A sweet, soaring joy welled up inside her. It was like being force-fed a piece of candy — even the wind felt sweet.

Among the onlookers on the court, people marveled: “That guy is so handsome — though with a face like that he probably has a trail of people falling for him.”

“Looks like that girl’s already got him tamed though. Look at how hard he’s working to keep her happy,” someone replied.

One girl in a nearby couple couldn’t take it anymore. She pointed at Ban Sheng — who was holding his girlfriend up on his shoulders so she could shoot — and turned on her own boyfriend in outrage: “Look at him! How is there such a difference between you?!”

Dusk settled. The orange fire of sunset painted the sky in soft, cloud-like layers, making one think of the first iced tea of early summer. A through breeze swept past, washing over the two young people.

Qiu Minghua raised his phone toward the pair, who were still horsing around, and called out: “Look over here!”

The girl sat on the boy’s shoulders, her skin very fair, lips red and teeth white. She heard him and turned — her clear eyes full of laughter. The boy was as cool as ever, too laid-back to offer any expression at all — but at the sound of her bright laugh, the corner of his mouth curved up with her.

The same matching couple’s jerseys.

The same matching couple’s cartilage piercings.

The breeze was just right. The sky was bright and clear. With a click, the photograph fixed them both at twenty-one. The image would last forever — and through the smiles on their faces, it overlapped with the awkward, uncertain faces of a boy and girl who had once stood together in front of the university they had promised each other, three years before.

They still loved each other.

Ban Sheng had the photo airdropped to his own phone, then quietly and without fanfare deleted the original from Qiu Minghua’s.

After basketball, the two of them went home to shower and change, and then Ban Sheng took her out to buy ice cream. They went to a dessert shop in a nearby shopping mall.

They sat down at a table. It was a weekend and the place was busy, so service was a little slow. When the bell rang, Lin Weixia couldn’t wait and went to collect their order from the pickup counter. She told Ban Sheng to stay where he was and watch her phone and wallet.

Ban Sheng leaned back in his chair, his straight neck bowed slightly over his phone. Then suddenly someone gave his table a gentle knock. He looked up — and found himself face-to-face with a girl he didn’t recognize.

“Hi,” she said. “Could I have your WeChat? Just to be friends.” She was cute, and spoke with easy confidence.

Ban Sheng simply switched off his phone screen, then pressed his thumb to light it up again. The wallpaper that appeared was the photo they had just taken.

The meaning was clear: taken.

“Sorry,” the girl said. Her face flushed red, and she left.

And that wasn’t all. Once, while Lin Weixia and Menzi were having dinner together, Menzi teased her: “Your partner is something else — it was bad enough putting that photo as his WeChat friend circle background image, but he actually synced it to the campus network. Now everyone knows — you’re his.”

Lin Weixia’s face warmed a little, but deep inside she felt as if she’d been wrapped in thick honey, and even the air she breathed tasted sweet.

Their third year ended quickly. Lin Weixia’s academic record was strong enough to secure a guaranteed postgraduate position at Jingbei University; and Ban Sheng, having finished his year of exchange study in China, flew back to America at the start of summer break to begin applying for his graduate program. His GPA was solid, and he had consistently led in relevant research projects — the application process was going relatively smoothly.

After returning, he threw himself entirely into his applications and into completing his coursework early, working himself into exhaustion. The two of them entered a long-distance relationship.

Sometimes they would leave a video call running without saying anything at all — each of them busy with their own work, and when tired, glancing up at the other on the screen.

That was enough. It was good.

Another winter solstice came around. Ban Sheng had planned to let it pass quietly, but there happened to be a short break, so he flew back. He hadn’t expected that Ban Sheng’s father’s family would also come to Jingbei — specifically to celebrate his birthday.

In truth, while Ban Sheng had been ill, his father had flown in repeatedly to visit him and express his concern. Ban Sheng understood that his father was trying to make amends. He had struggled for more than ten years, and he no longer wanted to live bound to a fierce, consuming hatred. He chose to let himself go.

The relationship between Ban Sheng and his father had thawed a little — his attitude toward him was polite but cool. With his younger half-sister, however, Ban Sheng found he had a natural affinity.

He hadn’t expected that his father would bring the little girl this time. The moment Ban Sheng stepped into the private dining room, a soft little dumpling of a child threw herself at his legs. Not a trace of shyness in her — she called out in a small, milky voice: “Big brother!”

Ban Sheng scooped the little girl up into his arms, and that was that — once he had her, it was impossible to put her down. At one point his aunt tried to get her to climb off, frowning: “Come down now, don’t disturb your brother while he’s eating.”

“I won’t.”

The little girl turned her head away and burrowed right into her brother’s arms. Lin Weixia watched from the side, unable to keep from laughing.

It was their first meeting, and Ban Sheng had nothing prepared to give his little sister. He quietly asked a server for a red envelope, stuffed a wad of money inside, and handed it to her.

The little girl took it, her dark eyes lighting up. She smiled and said: “Thank you, big brother! Guoguo has a birthday present for you too.”

“Really? What is it?” Ban Sheng replied, his voice going soft.

The little girl dug into her pocket and pulled out a handful of fruit-flavored hard candies and pressed them into his hand, then handed him a small astronaut figurine. Ban Sheng went still, and heard her voice at his ear: “Daddy always says big brother’s dream is… outer space! Guoguo saved up her own money to buy this. I hope big brother is happy every day — and don’t forget to come home and visit Guoguo.”

His dark lashes lowered. Emotion rolled through his eyes. Ban Sheng’s throat moved as he swallowed, then he answered: “I will.”

During the meal, Ban Sheng’s father made several attempts to close the distance between them — asking repeatedly about his studies and his life. For every ten questions asked, Ban Sheng offered one perfunctory answer, until his father was left looking rather deflated.

The birthday gathering brought quite a crowd. His father had invited all the relatives, and Ban Sheng’s own friends had come as well — it was lively. What made Lin Weixia feel awkward was that it was Ban Sheng’s birthday, yet his family had given her expensive gifts upon introduction.

His aunt gave her a jade bracelet; his father presented a generously thick red envelope. Lin Weixia was still in a quandary over what to do when a large hand reached out from under the table and covered hers. Ban Sheng gestured for her to accept them, letting out a dry laugh:

“Honestly, you won’t even take a good deal when it’s handed to you.”

Three rounds of toasts in, the cake was cut. Then they started doing drinking challenges — each person more enthusiastic than the last. The noise and chaos grew. Ban Sheng began to find the crowd tiresome, and leaned in to ask her quietly:

“Want to go look at the stars?”

“Now? Is that alright?” Lin Weixia glanced at the full private room.

Ban Sheng gave her a rakish smile, unhurried as ever: “Why wouldn’t it be?”

With that, Ban Sheng tucked his cigarettes and lighter into his pocket and slipped out with Lin Weixia. The GTR rumbled to life, Ban Sheng with a cigarette between his teeth, driving up the mountainside with her.

They sat on an open patch of ground. Seeing that she was cold, he retrieved a blanket from the car and wrapped it around her. The night wind was sharp, and all around them was quiet. Looking down from above, Jingbei’s towers and neon lights were compressed into a small map spread at the foot of the mountain.

Somewhere in the distance, someone was setting off fireworks along the river bank — they shot up and burst into brilliant colors, then transformed into shooting stars and disappeared before their eyes.

The two of them sat for close to an hour. The sky was a deep blue-black, without a single star in sight. Ban Sheng checked the weather notification on his phone — he had seen it was clear and dry today and assumed there would be stars — and let out an exasperated laugh:

“No stars tonight.”

Lin Weixia looked up at the dim sky. It was true — nothing up there. The sky was bright, but there were no stars, and no moon either.

“But I already have one,” she said.

Ban Sheng turned his head to look at her, one brow lifting slightly: “What?”

Lin Weixia’s clear eyes held a light in them as she looked at him, completely serious:

“No matter the reason — the moment you appeared in this world, I came to possess a star I could tell no one about.”

“Ah Sheng. Happy birthday.”

She wanted to tell him that his arrival in this world was worthy of being celebrated. His mother’s death on that day had been an accident. That day was not a curse. The winter solstice was a day worth celebrating.

Lin Weixia said all of this because she had seen how hard Ban Sheng had endured. The withdrawal that came after he stopped the medication, the anguish of waking from nightmares — she had witnessed all of it.

The wind made the leaves murmur and rustle. The place where they sat was wide and open, as if the entire universe had been reduced to just the two of them.

Ban Sheng looked steadily at Lin Weixia, the emotion in his eyes deepening with each passing second. It was the first time anyone had ever told him that his existence in this world was not a curse, but a blessing.

So this was what it felt like to be cherished by someone. Like being wrapped in the scorching warmth of sunlight.

Lin Weixia watched Ban Sheng with quiet expectation, thinking he might say something — but he seemed to have gone shy. His neck flushed red, the color spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He lowered his head, pulled her to her feet, and cleared his throat quietly:

“Let’s go back. The wind’s picking up.”

After she stood, the boy pushed both hands into the pockets of his black windbreaker, leaving Lin Weixia with the view of his back — impossibly cool, impossibly straight — and beneath the dark night sky, the faint but unmistakable red at his ears was still visible.

On the drive home, Lin Weixia sat in the passenger seat, alternating between her phone and sneaking glances at him. Her expression was teasing. The red at his neck and ears still hadn’t faded.

Ban Sheng drove with his eyes fixed straight ahead, and after a long silence he managed: “Stop distracting me.”

“Okay,” Lin Weixia said, trying not to laugh.

Back home, Ban Sheng walked inside and tossed the car keys on the table. He was thirsty, so he poured himself a glass of water, then went to turn on the heat. Lin Weixia followed behind him with her hands clasped behind her back, sneaking glances at him the whole time.

She had only said one tender thing. How was he this affected?

“Are you actually shy?” Lin Weixia said from behind him, tugging the hem of his clothes.

The man let out a quiet, amused scoff but gave no answer. He walked straight over to the balcony and shut the floor-to-ceiling window. After closing it, Ban Sheng sank into the sofa, lazily stretching his neck, joints cracking softly.

Lin Weixia was kneeling on the sofa to reply to messages, and before long she quietly shifted closer — straddling his lap, both legs on either side, her arms wrapping around his neck. The man set his phone down and instinctively reached out to circle her waist.

Lin Weixia, feeling bold, reached up and pinched his still-warm ear. She said, laughing: “Wow. It’s really hot.”

Ban Sheng lifted his heavy-lidded gaze to her without speaking, his expression unreadable. Lin Weixia thought he was simply embarrassed. She swayed a little, arms still around his neck, and softened her voice: “Oh, so you’re going to ignore me now?”

Lin Weixia sat there on his lap, swaying and shifting — and then the sound stopped. She clearly felt something was wrong. Her body tensed, and she instinctively moved to get up.

A cold hand caught her wrist, and she was pulled firmly back down. She met a pair of heavy, dark eyes. The emotion in Ban Sheng’s gaze was right at the surface.

Her heart contracted involuntarily.

“No one has ever said anything like that to me,” Ban Sheng said, his voice low and rough as he looked at her. “But you’re the sun.”

He wanted to keep her safe and close, unseen by anyone else.

A sun that belonged only to him.