“Damn it, the little thief.”

Two hours later, Zhu Yun and Tian Xiuzhu discovered their wallets were gone. They had just finished eating when a server arrived with the bill in hand.

“Sir, ma’am, will that be cash or card?”

Tian Xiuzhu was leaning back in his chair, lost in his own thoughts. Zhu Yun smiled at the server. “Bring us a dessert — we’ll stay a bit longer.”

The server left. Tian Xiuzhu said, with a touch of admiration, “Quite impressive — pick-pocketed with just a single bump. Like something out of a film.”

“Are you actually impressed by him right now?”

“There wasn’t much money in there anyway. By the way, do you have your ID in your wallet? Give him a call, have him hold on to it.”

“Tian Xiuzhu,” Zhu Yun said, deliberately biting down on the word, “he stole our wallets. Why do you sound like you left something behind at a friend’s place?”

Tian Xiuzhu tilted his head. “So — should we call the police and have them arrested?”

Zhu Yun went quiet.

Tian Xiuzhu smiled. “That’s why I said let it go.”

Her phone rang. When Zhu Yun saw the name on the screen, she sprang up from her seat and moved to a quiet corner to take the call.

“Ren Di.”

“Mm?”

“What were you thinking?” Zhu Yun pressed the phone to her ear. “Li Xun gets out and you couldn’t even mention it to me? Do you know what happened today when he and I —”

“What happened?” Ren Di asked, unhurried. “Did he get furious?”

“…”

Ren Di let out a satisfied laugh. “It was deliberate. What are you going to do about it?”

“Why?” Zhu Yun demanded.

“Because he annoyed me.”

It was the sort of reason that was so straightforward it left you with nothing to argue against.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” Ren Di turned the question around. “You and him — whatever your relationship is, or was — why would news of him getting out need to come from me? Why isn’t he the one telling you?”

Zhu Yun was quiet for a moment, then asked: “When did he come see you?”

“Last night. He’d barely been out a short while. First place he went was Gao Jianhong’s — probably got rattled seeing that person with the surname Fang there — then he came straight to me asking for money. Speaking of which, did you get a good look at his face?”

“What?”

“He looked like the whole universe owed him something. Who owes him? Nobody owes him a damn thing.” Ren Di’s voice turned flat as she lit a cigarette.

“You know, back then, the band was funded by him…”

Zhu Yun swore she had only recalled it in passing and mentioned it without thinking — but Ren Di exploded in an instant.

“Are you blaming me now?”

Zhu Yun immediately backtracked. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Then what do you mean by it?”

Zhu Yun realized that when it came to these two people, she was always the one backing down — Li Xun was one, Ren Di was the other. That had never changed, not from the beginning.

“I just —” Zhu Yun couldn’t think of a good excuse, so she told the truth. “…I’m just a little happy.”

“What?”

After a day of turbulence, everything had slowly settled. Zhu Yun finally realized that beneath all the helpless twists and turns, beneath everything that had changed while some things had stayed the same, there was one simple, ordinary fact — the most ordinary of all, yet the one most deserving of attention and celebration: he was free.

Two years early. Two years might not seem like much to others, but for Li Xun, two years meant enormous uncertainty.

“You’re not angry?” Ren Di asked.

“What would I be angry about?”

“He came out and didn’t plan on looking for you. And with that attitude.”

“He’s always been like that,” Zhu Yun said. “It’s not like you just met him.”

Arrogant, hungry, and wildly disruptive — like a bandit who needed to make sure his own hands were full before anything else could interest him.

“Look at it another way,” Zhu Yun said. “The fact that he’s behaving like this shows he’s not going to fall apart.”

Ren Di burst into laughter.

“I could believe he and Fang Zhijing were getting along like family before I’d ever believe he’d fall apart.”

Some people and some words are simply incompatible.

Burning, pillaging, sweeping through like a storm — either conquer, or die trying.

Right or wrong was hard to say, but it was always how he had been.

“By the way,” Zhu Yun remembered something and warned Ren Di, “don’t give him money just yet. There’s someone with him — someone he met inside. I don’t trust that person. I’m worried he might act recklessly.”

“Your feelings don’t matter — what matters is what he wants to do,” Ren Di said coldly. “When has anyone ever been able to stop him? In that way, it seems like the beast hasn’t completely changed after all.”

“It’ll be fine,” Zhu Yun said, leaning against the spotless marble wall of the restaurant. “He only just found out about Fang Zhijing. His emotions are running high right now — once he calms down, it’ll be okay. Just give him a little time.”

“Still not eating?”

Hou Ning straddled the stool backwards and called toward the bathroom: “We haven’t eaten all day. Let’s go get food.”

The bathroom door opened, and Li Xun came out bare-chested, moving to sit on the windowsill to dry his face.

This was the place they were renting temporarily. From the window, the rooftop of the opposite building was cluttered with discarded furniture and a tangled mess of electrical wires. It was six-thirty in the afternoon. The sky at the horizon was a thick, saturated amber, and the last of the daylight filtered through the old wooden window frame, casting a dark cross-shaped shadow across Li Xun’s back.

A white towel draped over his head concealed his face. Water droplets traced the contours of his body and dripped onto the floor, leaving a thin trail of wet marks.

“Let’s go eat,” Hou Ning said again.

Li Xun tossed the towel aside. “You go. I have somewhere to be.”

“Where?”

Li Xun didn’t answer. He got to his feet — his hair, not fully dried, fell in separate, stubborn strands.

“Where are you going?” Hou Ning asked again.

Li Xun pulled on a t-shirt, walked to the door, and grabbed a black baseball cap from the top of the shoe rack, pulling it low over his face, making his features even harder to make out.

He pushed the door open and left. Hou Ning called after his retreating figure: “Where are you even going?”

Li Xun hailed a taxi. About forty minutes later, the car turned into an ordinary residential area on the west side of the city.

The compound was lit up with pathway lights. Flowers and poplar trees had been planted along the paths, and one or two stray cats darted through the bushes from time to time. In the courtyard, elderly residents sat playing cards. Couples strolled past. In the brightest, liveliest spot at the center, a group of children chased and shouted — loud, but the kind of noise that didn’t grate.

Li Xun checked the building numbers on the nearest block, then walked with his head down along the path. After a short while, a promotional display stand came into view.

Li Xun looked up. Inside the display frame was a full-size promotional photo of a man in form-fitting dance trousers and a deep V-neck, twisted into a pose radiating boundless energy. The photo was life-size — Li Xun had to tilt his head back slightly to see the top, and it had been a long time since he’d had to look at anyone at that angle.

The courtyard gate was half-open. Li Xun stepped inside. A stone-paved path ran through the center, flanked on both sides by a neatly tended lawn and rows of pine trees. Beyond that was a short flight of steps leading up to a closed wooden door, connected to a small balcony. The curtains inside were drawn. Nothing was visible.

Li Xun stood looking at that door and reached into his pocket for a cigarette.

He was just about to light it when the door flew open with a bang. Li Xun’s heart gave a jolt. He looked up. A little girl, six or seven years old, poked her head out. She saw Li Xun — and let out a shriek without warning, cutting through the quiet of the night.

“Miss Chunli, I keep telling you not to open the door — you’ll let the mosquitoes in and then you’ll come complaining to me.”

The man’s voice was warm and unhurried, as smooth and measured as the rumble of distant thunder. The one called “Miss Chunli” screamed and tried to bolt, but a large hand caught her.

“Class isn’t over. Where do you think you’re going?”

As the voice drew closer, a handsome man stepped out from inside. His hair was meticulously styled, and he wore a deep crimson shirt with the collar open, hinting at a well-built chest beneath. He had on a pair of black trousers that showed off the clean lines of his long legs.

He scooped Miss Chunli up with one arm; Miss Chunli dissolved into squealing laughter and pointed toward the figure in the courtyard.

Fu Yizhuo turned to look.

The nearest pathway light was three meters behind the display stand at the entrance. What little light made it this far was barely worth mentioning, and the person standing there was nearly swallowed whole by shadow.

“Miss Chunli,” Fu Yizhuo said, his gaze settling on the baseball cap, leaning in to negotiate quietly with the little girl on his arm. “If you can take that person’s hat off and bring it to me, I’ll buy you a doll tomorrow. Deal?”

Miss Chunli perked up at once. Fu Yizhuo set her down, and she marched right up to Li Xun with complete confidence. She was barely as tall as his hip. One hand gripped his trouser waistband, the other stretched upward as far as it could go — she couldn’t even reach his chest.

Li Xun stood perfectly still.

Miss Chunli looked up. Her gaze met the steady, expressionless look beneath the brim of the cap, and her eyes slowly began to well up.

“Give me the hat,” the little girl said, her voice small and plaintive.

Li Xun still had the unlit cigarette between his fingers. He looked down at her for a moment, then at last tucked the cigarette away and handed her the cap.

Miss Chunli skipped triumphantly back to Fu Yizhuo. Fu Yizhuo took her into his arms and studied the person in the courtyard. “Miss Chunli,” he said quietly, “look at that man over there.”

Miss Chunli turned. Fu Yizhuo asked: “Do you think he’s handsome?”

Miss Chunli stared at Li Xun’s face and nodded, her cheeks going pink.

Fu Yizhuo smiled. “You and I have very similar taste. Go back inside.”

Miss Chunli giggled and scurried back into the classroom.

“And you — come in,” Fu Yizhuo called to Li Xun. Li Xun hesitated for two seconds, then stepped forward.

The dance studio wasn’t large. The floor was clean and smooth, and one wall was covered by a full-length mirror plastered haphazardly with photographs and the little accessories girls tend to love. At this hour, four or five children were still there, running riot, not a bit of dancing happening.

Fu Yizhuo led Li Xun over to the windowsill, where a stack of practice mats was piled up. He gestured at them.

“Sit.”

He settled himself onto a small wooden stool. Given his height and build, his thighs looked like they were about to split the thing open.

“How long have you been out?”

Li Xun gave a quiet laugh.

“Why does everyone use the same opening line?”

“Because you never tell any of us anything,” Fu Yizhuo said.

Li Xun said nothing.

“You’ve changed a bit,” Fu Yizhuo said. “Let me get a better look.”

Li Xun’s gaze dropped to the floor in front of him. Fu Yizhuo leaned in and studied him for a moment, then said: “Actually, no. Still the same as before.”

Over by the children, things had gotten too rowdy — a yogurt drink had been knocked over and spilled across the floor. Fu Yizhuo’s face crumpled in dismay.

“Ah, my floor…”

He got up, went to the back room for a mop and paper towels, and crouched down to clean up the yogurt. Miss Chunli seized the opportunity to ambush him from behind, wrapping her arms around him with all her might. Unfortunately her arms were too short for his broad back — the moment he stood up, she slid right off.

Fu Yizhuo returned to his stool.

“Why did you open a dance school here?” Li Xun asked quietly.

“Are you asking why I opened a dance school, or why I opened one here?” Fu Yizhuo glanced at him. Li Xun looked away.

“The dance school is because I love it. As for why here…” Fu Yizhuo smiled. “Also because I love it.”

“Is it profitable?” Li Xun asked.

“What do you think.” Fu Yizhuo said miserably. “Absolutely dire. I’m practically surviving on nothing but air.”

Another silence.

“But I’m not at all worried about the future,” Fu Yizhuo said.

Li Xun looked over at him. Fu Yizhuo leaned back against the mirror and held Li Xun’s gaze quietly. “And you?” he asked.