During the rehearsal that followed, Lu Xun couldn’t help but break character several more times, and one could imagine how much actual progress got made that afternoon.

The next day, Qian Wei had no choice but to run lines with Lu Xun again. The two of them stumbled through those sweet-to-the-point-of-embarrassing lines, and somehow it turned out to have its own peculiar kind of fun. Qian Wei broke into laughter mid-scene several times, and each time Lu Xun had to stop and wait for her to pull herself together before continuing. He looked a little exasperated about it, yet clearly enjoying himself all the same. Together, even reciting such ridiculous lines, playing supporting characters in someone else’s story, Qian Wei knew that in Lu Xun’s story, she would always be the lead.

“Let’s stop here for today.” Lu Xun flipped through the script. “There’s just the final proposal scene left. Let’s save it for next week.”

“By the way, don’t forget about this weekend.” Having finished discussing the play, Lu Xun brought up the topic as if it were nothing much at all.

Qian Wei feigned surprise and confusion. “What’s happening this weekend? Are we discussing the platform’s traffic numbers?”

Lu Xun was clearly dying inside with anticipation, yet his face maintained an expression as unshakable as a mountain. “Didn’t I mention it last time, at my place?”

Qian Wei kept playing dumb on purpose. “Hm? What thing? I don’t remember.”

At this, Lu Xun finally couldn’t hold his composure any longer. “That was the first time—and the only time—I’ve ever invited a girl to my house. And you forgot?”

Seeing Lu Xun’s expression finally crack, Qian Wei couldn’t help but burst out laughing. It was only then that Lu Xun realized he’d been tricked—this little con artist had remembered perfectly well all along, and had only pretended to forget just to tease him.

Still laughing, Qian Wei nodded. “I know, I know. I’ve been nervous about it ever since you invited me, and I already picked out gifts for your mom and dad ages ago.”

Only then did Lu Xun’s expression finally relax. Probably to maintain his image, he made a show of changing the subject. “Speaking of the website—since the last update, traffic has been growing very quickly. There’s some other good news to share with you too.”

“Hm? What good news?”

“Our A University law school, as the first ‘legal clinic’ partner with the platform, has already taken on two cases through it.”

Qian Wei was a little excited. “That’s fantastic! I heard our school’s ‘legal clinic’ has some public-interest funding, so at least two people will get free legal aid. If both cases succeed, we can promote them—use them as case studies—and that would expand our reach with both clients and the school even more!”

“I’m not finished yet.” Lu Xun smiled and patted Qian Wei’s head. “There’s more good news than that. One of the two clients had actually already been in talks with the Ruiyi firm, and was about to sign a retainer agreement with them. But it turned out a relative of theirs had heard about our website and recommended it, and since the online consultation was free, they figured they’d give it a try. Thanks to yours truly’s professional advice, they recognized the fraud firm for what it was, avoided getting swindled, and chose to work with us instead.”

Qian Wei was practically bursting with excitement. “That’s wonderful! You really are amazing, customer service boy! And the other one?”

“Do you remember those middle-aged people we saw protesting outside Ruiyi’s building that day?” Lu Xun clearly enjoyed Qian Wei’s praise; he smiled. “On Attorney Cheng’s advice, they found their way to our platform too. Even though some of the evidence didn’t have a recording to back it up, there was still a portion of preserved text message records. Once we organized those records along with the full sequence of events, it was already enough to file a complaint against Wang Yue with the bar association and the judicial bureau. And these middle-aged people even managed to track down other victims of Wang Yue’s, and they’re all preparing to compile their own accounts of getting swindled and file a joint complaint. With that many complaints against him, Wang Yue might even be at risk of losing his license. On top of that, we’ve just set up a new industry blacklist section on our platform, where victims can post publicly and expose lawyers or firms like Wang Yue and Ruiyi themselves, to warn other users away from getting tricked. Once the post went up, it turned out there were even more people who’d been swindled by Wang Yue than we realized.”

Hearing this, Qian Wei felt deeply satisfied. “Even if they can’t revoke Wang Yue’s license outright, given the nature of what he’s done, at the very least he should get a suspension of three months to a year. Serves him right!”

“Exactly.”

In that moment, Qian Wei felt that all her and Lu Xun’s efforts hadn’t been wasted. It was as if a tiny spark had been planted in her heart, and under Lu Xun’s care, that spark was already showing signs of growing into a blaze. The original purpose and goal behind creating this platform were being realized, slowly but surely.

When Sunday finally arrived—the day Lu Xun and Qian Wei had arranged for her to meet his family—Qian Wei had been too nervous to sleep since early morning. She got up early and tried on several outfits, one after another, before finally settling on a modest, appropriate one, and only then went downstairs.

Lu Xun was already waiting downstairs. When the two of them looked at each other, there was a certain shy warmth between them. Even though this was technically just a visit, both of them silently understood that it carried the weight of meeting the parents.

Unfortunately, because the road in front of A University’s main gate was under repair, making it hard to pass through, many taxis had chosen to avoid that congested, hard-to-navigate stretch. Qian Wei and Lu Xun waited a long time at the university gate but couldn’t catch a cab. Lu Xun checked the time and had no choice but to switch to public transit.

“Let’s take the subway first. We’ll get off at Cuiling Road station, then transfer to bus route 23, and after three more stops we’ll be right outside my neighborhood.”

With so many A University students out and about on the weekend, the subway car was packed tight. Squeezed in the crowd, Qian Wei’s sharp eyes caught a corner of sheet music peeking out from Lu Xun’s bag.

She leaned in curiously. “What piece is that?”

Lu Xun, uncharacteristically flustered beneath his usual composure, quickly stuffed the sheet music back into his bag. “It’s nothing.”

“So is that why you’ve often said you were busy practicing piano whenever I’ve asked to meet up lately?”

Lu Xun had clearly wanted to change the subject as much as possible, but he ultimately lost the battle against Qian Wei’s bright, curious eyes. His face turned faintly red. “Mm.”

“Is it something you’re playing for the year-end New Year gala? I heard there aren’t enough acts for the show, so they’ve been recruiting all kinds of students who play instruments to sign up. Are you going to perform piano in front of the whole school?”

“No.” Lu Xun turned his head aside. “Today, at my house, I was planning to play it for you.”

He said this, then fixed his eyes on Qian Wei. “When I was learning piano, I made myself a promise—that I’d only ever play for the person I love. Only for someone I truly love.”

“Huh?” Qian Wei thought to herself, smooth talker—and yet, at twenty-eight, you also played for me back when we were nothing more than ordinary colleagues. But it didn’t matter. Just hearing “only for someone I love” was already enough. To love someone was to know full well that what he said might just be to make you happy, that it might not even be entirely true—and yet somehow still feel genuinely, undeniably happy about it.

“But I haven’t touched the piano much lately. I’ve been trying to find time to practice recently, but it might not be my very best performance later.” Lu Xun explained this with total seriousness. “I can play better than that—if you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to come over more often and listen.”

Qian Wei’s eyes narrowed into a smile. “Okay.”

The two of them swayed together in the crowded subway car for several stops, then transferred to the bus, and finally arrived at their destination.

The moment Qian Wei stepped off, taking in a breath of fresh air with relief, she felt a strange sense of familiarity about the surroundings. Though the streetscape had changed somewhat, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been here before. Lu Xun’s home was on the outskirts of City A, in a refined, elegant area nestled against a small mountain range on the edge of the city.

As she followed Lu Xun further along, the feeling of unfamiliar-yet-familiar only grew stronger, until she stood in front of the four large characters reading “An Lan Villa Estate,” and suddenly it all clicked.

“You live in An Lan Villa Estate?”

Lu Xun nodded, a little surprised. “What’s wrong?”

“Isn’t there a small temple near your place, over a hundred years old, said to be especially good at answering prayers?”

Lu Xun blinked. “There is a small temple, and it really is an old building, but I’ve never heard anything about it being especially good at answering prayers. Just last year, the government reclassified our area as part of A City’s new district, and to drive traffic and create a bit of a tourism draw, they started promoting the temple as being especially effective for making wishes. Only recently has it started getting a bit more foot traffic.”

Now it was Qian Wei’s turn to be surprised. “Huh?”

“Do you want to go take a look? Even if the ‘especially effective’ part is just a marketing gimmick, the area around the temple really is quite lovely, very atmospheric.” Lu Xun checked his watch. “We’re still a bit early, anyway—if we go straight to my place now, my parents probably haven’t finished getting the house ready. And I ordered a batch of hairy crabs from the seafood shop downstairs from my building that I need to go pick up. You could go check out the temple and wait for me there.”

Qian Wei nodded, a knot of confusion tangled in her chest, feeling as though countless threads were quietly weaving themselves together into a single complete picture. She headed toward the small path leading up the hill through An Lan Villa Estate, and before long, that familiar little temple appeared before her eyes once again. Lu Xun had been right—probably because the promotion of the temple’s effectiveness had only just begun, there were very few people there right now, nothing at all like the crowded scene of people lining up to make wishes that Qian Wei remembered from her past life.

Standing beneath the deity statue inside the temple, Qian Wei pressed her palms together. Even knowing now that the temple’s supposed effectiveness was just a marketing tactic, she still made her wish with sincere devotion in her heart. People who made wishes didn’t necessarily place all their hope in the divine—sometimes it was simply a way of expressing their resolve to do something, or offering up a heartfelt blessing.

Whatever the reason behind it, the fact that she’d been given this second chance at life was a gift from fate, and Qian Wei offered her devout gratitude to whatever unseen force had granted it. At the same time, her thoughts drifted to everything in her other life as well. She didn’t know whether the life at nineteen and the life at twenty-eight were two parallel worlds. In the world where she was nineteen, she’d gained love, friendship, family—she had a goal worth striving for. But in the world where she was twenty-eight, she had already died. What about Lu Xun, then? What path would Lu Xun’s life have taken?

Whatever the truth of it, if there really are parallel worlds, I just hope Lu Xun can find happiness too. I hope he has someone to love, and someone who loves him, Qian Wei added silently in her heart—even if that someone wasn’t her.

Just imagining that possibility left a bitter ache in her chest, but to love someone was to want them to be happy. Qian Wei didn’t want the twenty-eight-year-old Lu Xun to be alone forever. He was so gentle, so handsome, so utterly captivating—his gaze, his words, his ambitions for the future, his joys and his troubles, all of it deserved to belong to someone truly wonderful.

Leaving the small temple, she took a different path than before. Qian Wei walked with her head down, and mindful of the lesson from her past life, she stepped carefully, no longer daring to check her phone while walking. By strange coincidence, there was, once again, construction going on right outside the small temple—probably related to turning it into an official scenic spot, the road outside was being resurfaced, and a deep pipeline construction pit had been dug. But to Qian Wei’s great relief, this time, the perimeter of the construction pit was clearly marked off with warning tape, with prominent signage posted as well.

Qian Wei let out a sigh of relief, and as she raised her head, she spotted Lu Xun not far away across the street, holding a box of hairy crabs, already waiting for her at the intersection. She waved to him and quickened her pace toward him.

But just as Qian Wei reached the edge of the construction pit, someone suddenly rushed out from behind her. Before she had time to react, the person shoved out their hands and pushed her hard toward the pit. As she fell, Qian Wei twisted around in panic, and just barely managed to make out a face wearing a mask and a cap—she recognized those shrewd, oily eyes beneath the cap. It was Wang Yue.

The owner of those eyes looked at her with a mixture of venom and something like vindictive satisfaction, then turned and ran.

“Qian Wei!”

Lu Xun’s heart-wrenching scream rang out behind her, but Qian Wei no longer had the ability to register it. She crashed hard into the bottom of the pit. She wanted to open her eyes once more, just to see Lu Xun one last time, but it was all in vain—amid the searing pain, her world plunged completely into darkness and silence.