Zhou Wan hesitated before kicking off her canvas shoes and stepping into his slippers.

The slippers were too big, fitting her poorly.

She bent down to place her shoes neatly on the shoe rack, noticing there weren’t any other slippers there except the pair she was wearing.

Lu Xixiao lived alone—this entire three-story house belonged to just him, all alone.

“Can I turn on the lights?” Zhou Wan asked.

“Whatever.”

This was the first time Lu Xixiao spoke, his voice as rough as if it had been scraped with sandpaper.

Zhou Wan found the switch on the shoe rack and turned on the chandelier in the living room.

Lu Xixiao, unaccustomed to the sudden light, frowned deeply and raised his hand to shield his eyes.

Zhou Wan saw the messy living room.

Beer bottles lay scattered across the floor, dozens of cigarette butts stuck out of the ashtray on the coffee table, and the air was heavy with an overwhelming mixture of smoke and alcohol.

Zhou Wan went to open the windows for ventilation.

Lu Xixiao lay on the sofa, watching the girl’s busy silhouette. He smirked, lifted a nearby bottle for another sip to wet his throat, and asked: “Why are you here?”

“Jiang Fan asked me to check on you. He said he couldn’t reach you.”

Zhou Wan looked at his face, sickly pale, though she couldn’t tell if it was from injury or lack of sunlight.

Lu Xixiao let out a derisive laugh.

Zhou Wan asked: “Are you hurt?”

He turned his head away without answering.

“Where?”

“What, you want to bandage me up?”

Zhou Wan nodded: “Mm.”

He gave a light laugh, got up, went into the bedroom, and came back shortly with a bag that he tossed onto the coffee table. A roll of gauze fell out, unraveling across the floor.

Lu Xixiao sat back down, leaned against the sofa, and pulled up his pant leg.

He wore loose gray lounging pants, with gauze wrapped around his thigh—bandaged carelessly, as if he’d just wrapped it a few times. Fresh blood was seeping through from inside.

He was lean but fit, his muscles not bulging or showing signs of regular training, but their lines twisted and curved, showing traces of wild growth.

Zhou Wan was startled by the blood, stared for three seconds, then suddenly blushed deeply.

Lu Xixiao watched her reaction with amusement.

“Didn’t you say you’d bandage me up?”

Zhou Wan remained silent, then after a long while took one step forward, but only one, and didn’t advance further.

Having enjoyed her expression enough, Lu Xixiao didn’t push her. He let out a mocking laugh, sat up straight, bit a cigarette between his teeth, and unwound the bloodstained gauze circle by circle, throwing it in the trash.

Zhou Wan stopped looking at him and lowered her head to clean up the mess on the coffee table.

The floor was covered in bottles. Zhou Wan looked around the room and found the water dispenser to get some hot water.

Next to the dispenser was a photo of a beautiful woman with a gentle smile.

She had the same narrow eyes as Lu Xixiao.

From those eyes, Zhou Wan quickly determined who the woman in the photo was.

Lu Xixiao’s mother.

She poured a cup of warm water. Lu Xixiao had finished changing his bandage and was leaning back on the sofa, about to drink more alcohol.

Zhou Wan went over and gripped the bottle: “You’re injured, you shouldn’t drink.”

He disliked being constrained. He looked up, his eyes cold: “Who are you to control me?”

Zhou Wan froze, released her grip, and placed the warm water on the coffee table in front of him.

He finished the remaining alcohol and threw the bottle in the trash.

“Lu Xixiao.”

Zhou Wan didn’t know his past, but she could see the boundless pain beneath his calm exterior. She tried to comfort and encourage him, hoping he wouldn’t continue sinking into depression.

“If your mother were still alive, she wouldn’t want to see you like this,” Zhou Wan said softly.

Lu Xixiao’s movements stopped abruptly as he suddenly sat up straight.

The movement was too large, pulling at his leg wound, but he didn’t even flinch.

“Zhou Wan.” His voice was cold, each word distinct. “Who do you think you are?”

Zhou Wan’s whole body stiffened. Yes, who did she think she was?

She and Lu Xixiao weren’t even friends—what right did she have to stand on someone else’s pain and give advice?

“Or are you trying to say you like me?” Lu Xixiao stared at her. “You don’t want to see me like this?”

He laughed lightly, more mockery than warmth in the sound.

“Fine then, let’s date.”

He grabbed Zhou Wan’s wrist and yanked her toward him forcefully.

His hand was burning hot, but his eyes and voice were cold.

Zhou Wan fell onto the sofa, collapsing against him.

Lu Xixiao wrapped his arm around her waist, forcing her closer to himself.

Zhou Wan’s entire body went rigid, unable to move from this excessive contact.

The current Lu Xixiao was too dangerous—his extreme calmness verged on irrational loss of control. Zhou Wan could barely breathe through the alcohol smell surrounding him.

Lu Xixiao gripped her chin and lifted it, approaching with a cold expression.

Zhou Wan turned her head away forcefully, forcing out a whimper from her throat: “…Lu Xixiao!”

He suddenly released her. Zhou Wan fell back against the sofa, supporting herself with both hands, catching her breath in lingering fear.

But Lu Xixiao hadn’t intended to do anything to her—he only wanted to force out her true reaction.

“Playing with me, aren’t you, Zhou Wan?”

He watched the deeply blushing girl before him with cold eyes, speaking with extreme calmness: “Zhou Wan, you don’t like me.”

He raised his hand to grip her slender neck, roughly pulled her up, and pressed her against the sofa back.

Word by word, he asked coldly: “Why did you deliberately get close to me?”

He was too clear-headed.

Zhou Wan’s little tricks had never escaped his notice.

From that night at the arcade, when she said her name meant “to draw a bow like the full moon,” he had already seen through it.

He just hadn’t bothered to care when he was in a good mood, but now he was tired of pretending and wouldn’t give her any face.

Zhou Wan didn’t speak.

She didn’t know how to explain.

No matter how you looked at it, she was the one who had schemed first, who had used him first.

It was all her fault.

Lu Xixiao’s hand unconsciously tightened around her neck.

Not enough to choke her, but pressing hard against her jawbone, causing sharp pain.

She coughed once: “Lu Xixiao.”

She frowned and said with difficulty: “It hurts…”

Lu Xixiao released his hand, but his sharp gaze remained fixed on her.

“Lu Xixiao.” Zhou Wan stood up, picked up her backpack from the floor, and said softly, “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I won’t appear before you again.”

No matter how much she hated Guo Xiangling, she shouldn’t have done this.

It was neither moral nor fair to Lu Xixiao.

Zhou Wan gave him a slight bow and turned to leave.

Lu Xixiao watched her departing figure.

Her frame was so slight, looking as if a breeze could knock her down as if any force would break her.

When she pressed down on the door handle and slowly pulled the door open, the street light’s fine rays spilled into the living room, illuminating her silhouette as if trimming her with a fluffy golden edge.

Lu Xixiao suddenly remembered that day outside the hospital.

He had a huge fight with Lu Zhongyue and stormed off. Zhou Wan had chased after him, out of breath, her fingers tightly gripping his clothes.

Behind her was the setting sun.

Its glow had also lit up her silhouette, gentle and romantic.

She could barely catch her breath as she looked up at him, her eyes clear, asking if he wanted to eat noodles.

“Zhou Wan.” Lu Xixiao suddenly called out.

Even he didn’t know why.

He just felt that if Zhou Wan walked out this door, they would truly have no connection anymore.

Lu Xixiao thought, he didn’t like Zhou Wan—she was boring and plain. However Zhou Wan was similar to him in certain ways. She was often quiet, never asking questions, as if she had no curiosity. Yet it seemed that she understood everything without him having to say anything.

When she was nearby, Lu Xixiao would feel a rare sense of calm.

Like a tranquilizer meant just for him.

Zhou Wan stopped but didn’t turn around.

Lu Xixiao leaned back into the sofa, sinking into it. He closed his eyes briefly, not looking at her, and said hoarsely: “Zhou Wan, I’m hungry.”