Unfortunately, even as every rational alarm bell in his mind was ringing at full volume, Lu Xun looked at Qian Wei standing in front of him and felt none of the restraint or urgency he should have. She was like some forbidden substance stamped with warnings — flammable, explosive, poisonous — and though he knew perfectly well he shouldn’t get any closer, should put distance between them immediately, perhaps the more dangerous something felt, the more the subconscious wanted to close in on it. A strange, weightless pull tugged at him without his permission. Qian Wei was like some beautiful, hallucinogenic flower, and by the time he came back to himself, he was already standing right in front of her, frozen in place, stunned by her devastating beauty, breathing in nothing but her scent, his head spinning.

Qian Wei, the unwitting instigator of all this, had no idea. She walked up behind him and leaned over to peer out the window at the rain. “This is really coming down hard, huh.”

As she said it, leaning slightly forward, the ends of her long hair brushed lightly against Lu Xun’s neck, carrying the same body-wash scent he used himself — the milky one his mother had brought back from abroad. For the first time, Lu Xun realized a simple milk scent could set off this many wild thoughts. And as if that weren’t enough to unsettle him, the mischievous ends of her hair skimmed lightly over his collarbone, his cheek, leaving behind that faint, ticklish sensation. Even after she walked away, the itch seemed to linger — not just on his skin, but somehow all the way down into his chest.

He forced himself to keep staring out the window, then reached for the TV remote as if to distract himself.

“Oh, it’s a typhoon?” Qian Wei said, watching the news, looking startled. “No wonder it suddenly started pouring and blowing like this. Wait, the buses have stopped running?” She looked over at Lu Xun. “So how are we supposed to get back to school? I bet we can’t even get a taxi out there now.”

Lu Xun seemed a little distracted. “Let’s wait until the rain lets up. We can walk to the subway station.”

Qian Wei nodded. “Let’s cook something first, then!”

Lu Xun had seemed off ever since a moment ago. He hesitated for a long while before nodding vaguely, as though only just registering what she’d said, then walked into the kitchen looking somewhat flustered. Qian Wei followed, wanting to help, but he practically shoved her back out, almost roughly.

“Sit down. I’ve got this.”

Qian Wei, happy enough to relax, settled into the living room and turned on the TV. Lu Xun shut himself in the kitchen for what felt like ages, and by the time Qian Wei’s stomach was growling, he finally emerged carrying the dishes, his expression unreadable.

Qian Wei watched him set down tomato and egg stir-fry, celery with beef strips, vinegar-glazed potato shreds, winter melon and rib soup, garlic enoki mushrooms… The food looked bright and appetizing, the colors arranged in a way that made her mouth water.

Just as she was about to compliment him, Lu Xun spoke up first, looking a little embarrassed.

“I followed the cookbook’s instructions exactly, one hundred percent, and it all looks exactly like the pictures. But somehow, the way it tastes is a completely different story.”

“Huh?”

Lu Xun’s face reddened slightly. “It’s kind of bad.”

“It’s fine!” Qian Wei thought — at a moment like this, what a man needs most is encouragement, obviously! She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s the thought that counts, and it’s your first try. I’ll eat every bit of it, no matter what.”

Privately, Qian Wei was pretty pleased with her own reasoning — given Lu Xun’s borderline monstrous learning ability, “kind of bad” was probably just modesty. It couldn’t be that far off…

But after the first bite, she wanted to bite off her own tongue. It was salty — unbelievably, punishingly salty. Turns out “kind of bad” had been an extremely generous understatement. This wasn’t kind of bad. This was catastrophically bad.

Qian Wei said cautiously, “Lu Xun, is it too late to take back what I just said?”

“…”

She could hardly believe it — Lu Xun, usually good at literally everything, hadn’t just underperformed today, he’d gone ten for ten in complete failure, not a single dish even remotely edible. And what really baffled her was that every single dish had failed for the same rookie reason — either way too much sugar, or way too much salt.

She couldn’t help but ask, genuinely puzzled, “Lu Xun, what on earth were you thinking about while you were cooking? These are the kind of mistakes you’d only make if you weren’t paying attention at all…”

Lu Xun looked away, still seeming distracted, and rummaged through the kitchen until he finally produced two cups of instant noodles. “Let’s just eat this.”

So in the end, the two of them sat down together and ate steaming instant noodles for dinner. Unfortunately, once dinner was dealt with, the rain outside showed no sign of easing — if anything, it grew even heavier, and by the time the last subway train of the night had already come and gone, there was still no letup in sight.

The two of them would have to spend the night in the apartment.

Though Lu Xun’s place was nicely furnished, since he only stayed there occasionally, only his own bedroom was fully equipped — the guest room had little more than a bare bed.

Lu Xun gave up his own room, leaving all the warm bedding for Qian Wei, and without a word, went to the guest room next door — which did have a bed, but only a couple of thin summer blankets.

“Won’t you catch a cold?” Qian Wei asked, worried. “It’s winter, and it’s freezing out tonight — even with the heating on inside, those blankets are way too thin. You’re bound to catch a chill sleeping like that.” She wasn’t one to be coy about it. “Why don’t we just share a bed instead?”

Lu Xun blinked, then looked away toward the floor, his tone deliberately offhand. “You’re really not afraid of what I might do to you in the middle of the night?”

Qian Wei stared at him and blinked back. “You wouldn’t.” She tilted her head. “Because you’re a gentleman.”

It was meant as a compliment, but for some reason, hearing it seemed to sour Lu Xun’s mood instead. He didn’t say anything further, just glanced at her once before turning away, as if not trusting himself to look longer, and headed for the guest room. “The guest room’s fine for me.”

Qian Wei woke up to the crash of thunder. In the darkness, she blinked her eyes open groggily, and another peal of thunder exploded right beside her ear, lightning splitting the night sky in the same instant. That jolted her fully awake. She gritted her teeth and pulled the blanket completely over her head, trying to block out the noise — but the more she dreaded it, the worse it got, as if some deity were undergoing a trial by lightning up there, bolt after bolt crashing down one after another. Qian Wei curled up under the covers, trembling.

She was afraid of thunder.

She’d meant to just tough it out, but the more she told herself not to be scared, the more each successive thunderclap gnawed at her nerves, until, at the crash of one final massive boom, her forced composure finally snapped completely. She burst out from under the blanket and, hands clamped over her ears, ran straight for Lu Xun’s room.

To her surprise, Lu Xun wasn’t asleep at all — he sat up from under his covers almost the instant she stepped through the door.

“Qian Wei?”

Right at that moment, a flash of lightning lit up her pale, bloodless face in stark clarity.

That settled it for Lu Xun. “You’re afraid of thunder?”

Qian Wei nodded, a little sheepish. “Can I — can I just sit in your room for a bit?”

“Mm.” For some reason, Lu Xun’s replies had turned clipped, as if he didn’t want to talk much — noticeably colder than his usual self. He didn’t even look at her, just shifted over to the other side of the bed, leaving her a space to sit.

Qian Wei felt a bit awkward too — waking someone up in the middle of the night was bound to be an imposition on anyone.

But Lu Xun didn’t seem inclined to go back to sleep either. He switched on a warm, dim night light and sat up as well, though he kept his face turned away, not looking at her.

“Lu Xun…”

“Your collar.”

“Huh?”

“Your collar’s come open.”

With no pajamas of her own, Qian Wei had ended up sleeping in one of Lu Xun’s white dress shirts. In her half-asleep panic, too busy being scared, she hadn’t noticed — but looking down now, she realized the oversized shirt’s collar had fallen wide open, a button undone, and when she’d leaned forward earlier, the shape of her body had been visible through the gap.

The blood rushed straight to Qian Wei’s face. Red to the roots of her hair, she scrambled to fix her clothing.

Just then, the thunder that had been rolling nonstop suddenly stopped. Lu Xun still wasn’t looking at her, wasn’t saying anything, and the room fell into a heavy silence. Qian Wei grew more and more embarrassed. “No more thunder. Guess I’ll head back to bed then.”

But the moment she stood to leave, as if fate were mocking her, an enormous thunderclap crashed down out of nowhere. Qian Wei nearly jumped out of her skin like a startled rabbit, and without even thinking, she instinctively reached for Lu Xun.

“Lu Xun, help!”

By the time she came to her senses, she’d already thrown herself into his arms. Perhaps because her movement had been so sudden, Lu Xun, now holding her, had gone completely rigid — she could even feel the tension locked in the muscles of his arm. The thunder paused again, and Qian Wei, realizing how she must look, quickly straightened up.

But as she pulled back, her hand accidentally brushed against his. She was startled. “Lu Xun, why are your hands so cold? I knew it, those blankets are no good — you’re definitely going to catch a cold sleeping like this.”

“It’s fine. My hands just run cold, that’s all.”

But his voice, carrying an odd, unnatural huskiness, was far from convincing.

Qian Wei, feeling guilty, refused to believe his reassurance. She reached out to touch his shoulder — a perfectly natural gesture — but Lu Xun flinched away from it, turning his body as if he didn’t want to be touched.

That only confirmed her suspicions. “You’re lying. You must be cold too.”

His voice grew even huskier. “I’m not.”

But Qian Wei wasn’t buying it for a second. “Then let me feel.”

Lu Xun still resisted, and Qian Wei, stubborn now, reached for him anyway. He dodged; in the scuffle, she missed his shoulder but accidentally landed a hand on his waist instead.

She was startled — Lu Xun hadn’t been lying after all. He wasn’t cold. If anything, he was burning up.

Not quite believing it, she touched him again. “Why are you so hot?” she asked, worried. “Lu Xun, are you running a fever? Maybe we should—”

But before she could finish, Lu Xun — who had been avoiding her, cool and distant just moments ago — suddenly turned to face her and pushed her down onto the bed, the motion almost rough.

In the dim glow of the night light, his eyes looked faintly, unmistakably red.

He hovered above her, seeming to fight for control. “Should what?”

Qian Wei, still not sensing any danger at all, reached up to touch his face again, worried. “Maybe you should just come sleep with me after all.”

“Qian Wei. You said that.”

His voice was rough, edged with a barely restrained breathlessness, and there was something almost fierce in the way he stared down at her. “I gave you a chance to run.”

Before Qian Wei could even register what was happening, his mouth came down on hers — and this kiss was unlike any before it, carrying something possessive and almost violent. She finally sensed the danger and instinctively began to struggle. Her resistance seemed to snap something back into place in him, some last thread of restraint, and he pulled back, pushing her away, somewhat roughly.

But right at that moment, another earth-shaking crash of thunder rolled through, and Qian Wei, with no capacity left to think clearly about the danger she was in, reached out and grabbed his hand again — like reaching for poison to quench her thirst.

“Lu Xun!”

That was the final straw. Whatever restraint Lu Xun had left completely gave way.

He stared at her and said, each word deliberate and slow, “Qian Wei. You brought this on yourself.”

His mouth found hers again, then her face, and he pulled her up into his arms until she was sitting astride him. One hand cradled the back of her head while the other slid beneath her shirt, tracing down her back. In the flurry of movement, the collar she’d just fixed fell open again, baring her shoulders completely — and this time, Lu Xun didn’t look away. His gaze fixed openly on her. Qian Wei finally registered the danger and reached to pull her collar closed, only to find Lu Xun’s hand gripping the hem of the shirt, keeping her from lifting it.

“Lu Xun…” Her voice carried a note of unease and hurt. “Let me pull my shirt back up…”

At that, his grip on the shirt finally loosened. His face, in the dim light, was still striking, handsome as ever — but his eyes now held something unfamiliar: raw desire.

Sitting astride him as she was, Qian Wei felt something hard pressing against her, uncomfortable and insistent. Her mind hazy, she reached down instinctively, meaning to shift it away.

“Qian! Wei!” At her touch, Lu Xun’s voice came out through gritted teeth, edged with a fierce, helpless intensity. He leaned in, his mouth grazing her ear, gently drawing her earlobe between his lips, and said, in something between a groan and a whisper, “I can’t hold back anymore.”