Zhou Wan understood him too well.

She could see through Lu Xixiao’s vulnerability and loneliness, which was why she accompanied him to watch fireworks and snow.

Similarly, she knew exactly how to make Lu Xixiao let go.

When she uttered that word “Brother,” Lu Xixiao released her hand.

Zhou Wan didn’t linger for even a moment—she didn’t dare to—and walked away immediately.

She kept her word.

From that day on, she never appeared in Lu Xixiao’s world again.

Unlike breakups in TV dramas or movies, there was no snow, no illness. After that day, the weather only grew warmer as summer truly arrived, and Lu Xixiao’s body healed day by day.

Lu’s grandfather had thought that given his personality, he would be restless to leave the hospital as soon as he felt slightly better. Unexpectedly, Lu Xixiao stayed obedient until he fully recovered at the end of May before being discharged.

The day he was discharged was particularly hot. Lu Xixiao changed out of his blue and white striped hospital gown into his short-sleeved shirt.

The nurse who had been caring for him had grown quite familiar with him over these days. Catching a glimpse of the faint text beneath his collarbone, she paused and asked, “What’s that?”

Lu Xixiao started, glancing at the mirror opposite.

His expression showed barely half a second of blank surprise before quickly returning to normal. “A tattooed name.”

“Oh,” the nurse smiled suggestively. “Your girlfriend’s?”

“Ex-girlfriend.”

The nurse was taken aback.

She thought of the girl who used to visit the hospital frequently but hadn’t been seen for a month now.

“What about the tattoo then, are you going to have it removed?” the nurse said. “I should warn you though, the tattoo is close to your knife wound, so even if you want it removed, now isn’t the time.”

“Not removing it.”

The nurse raised her eyebrows: “Won’t your future girlfriend be angry when she sees it?”

“If she gets angry, I’ll just find another one,” Lu Xixiao bit down on a cigarette, answering with a casual smile.

The nurse clicked her tongue several times: “What a player.”

“Well, doing something as stupid as getting a tattoo once in your life is enough to learn your lesson,” Lu Xixiao said.

He didn’t notify his grandfather about his discharge. After handling the paperwork himself and heading downstairs, Jiang Fan and Huang Ping had just arrived at the hospital.

Lu Xixiao had been absent for so long that they eventually learned about what had happened that day.

Jiang Fan helped him with his belongings and asked, “Are you fully recovered? Don’t need to stay longer?”

“I’ve been here for over a damn month already.” Lu Xixiao draped an arm over his shoulder, lazy and roguish.

Huang Ping directly snatched the cigarette from his hand: “Still smoking? Got a death wish?”

Lu Xixiao just smiled, not arguing.

Huang Ping drove, in a Volkswagen that was falling apart, with the seat leather peeling off. “Where to?”

“School,” Lu Xixiao said from the back seat, leaning against the window to look outside.

Huang Ping and Jiang Fan both paused but said nothing.

The car stopped at the school gate. Lu Xixiao got out, one hand on the car roof, bent down, and nodded at Huang Ping, saying, “See you.”

It was class time.

The school was quiet except for the sound of students reciting from the classrooms.

Passing the bulletin board, Lu Xixiao turned his head.

The monthly exam had just finished recently, and the results were posted on the board.

He scanned it but didn’t see that name.

Jiang Fan hesitated before saying, “She seems to have transferred schools.”

In an unseen corner, Lu Xixiao’s fingers froze.

“Oh.”

Jiang Fan didn’t know what had happened between them. They had seemed so in love when he called earlier, then suddenly broke up. Breaking up wasn’t enough—she directly transferred schools, completely cutting off all ties.

No matter how you looked at it, this had to be Lu Xixiao’s fault.

What could he have done to anger Zhou Wan enough to make her transfer schools?

“Xiao,” Jiang Fan paused, tentatively asking, “Did you do something to wrong Zhou Wan, making her this angry?”

Lu Xixiao turned his head and sneered.

His expression was so frightening that Jiang Fan immediately raised his hands: “Alright, alright, I won’t ask.”

The whole school knew Zhou Wan had transferred, and the first and second places in the grade rankings had both changed hands. Everyone also knew about his breakup with Zhou Wan.

People weren’t too surprised. Although Zhou Wan had been his longest relationship, this was Lu Xixiao after all. How could someone so free-spirited and playful possibly settle down with one girl at this age?

He returned to the classroom but didn’t listen to the lecture, lying down to sleep as soon as he arrived.

After school, he went back to hanging out and messing around with his old friends, showing no signs of post-breakup depression.

That night they went out for late-night snacks at a food stall with plastic tables and chairs, surrounded by noisy chatter.

Lu Xixiao had barely sat down when girls came over to chat him up.

His serious illness had made him thinner, appearing more sharp and mature, with an inexplicable sense of both fragility and resilience about him—contradictory qualities that made him seem mysterious and drew people in.

A girl offered him a light, and he cooperatively leaned forward, cupping his hands against the wind.

He seemed to have changed, yet also seemed unchanged, always being this way.

Jiang Fan sized up the girl’s appearance—slim waist, long legs, great figure—exactly Lu Xixiao’s old type.

The girl was charming and cheerful, quickly becoming familiar with the rest of the group. Lu Xixiao let her sit beside him, occasionally turning to whisper in her ear.

Someone curiously asked which school she attended, and she raised her eyebrows, asking in return.

They said they were from Yangming.

The girl laughed in surprise: “Oh, you’re still in high school? I’m already a freshman in college, nineteen years old.” She propped her chin on her hand, turning to ask Lu Xixiao, “How old are you?”

A guy nearby answered for him: eighteen.

“Even a year younger than me,” the girl’s eyes were alluring when she smiled, capable of entrancing others. Looking at Lu Xixiao, she smiled and said, “Then I should call you little brother.”

Lu Xixiao’s hand holding the wine glass paused. He looked up, tugging at the corner of his mouth, his tone half-warning, half-flirtatious: “Just try it.”

The girl was perceptive and held up her hands in surrender: “No, no, I wouldn’t dare.”

The girl added them all on WeChat, sometimes messaging Lu Xixiao. When he didn’t reply, she’d contact his friends. This led to her often hanging out with them, becoming increasingly familiar.

She felt the timing was about right—every time Lu Xixiao appeared, he was like a lamb among wolves. If she didn’t act quickly, someone else would snatch him up.

She arranged with the bar beforehand to sing him a song.

A beautiful girl singing a love song as confession was always something worth making a fuss about.

The clamor in the bar came in waves. Through the waving hands, she looked toward Lu Xixiao sitting in the corner.

He hadn’t even looked up, head down checking his phone, his expression indifferent.

She didn’t know that this wasn’t the first time Lu Xixiao had encountered someone confessing through song.

She couldn’t help feeling disappointed, yet she was most attracted to his carelessly roguish demeanor.

At the end of the song, she stepped down from the stage with the microphone, making her way through the crowd to stand before Lu Xixiao, smiling as she said, “Lu Xixiao, I like you. Will you be my boyfriend?”

Lu Xixiao was looking down at his phone—Zhou Wan had sent him a message, after more than a month since their breakup.

To be precise, it was a transfer notification.

A few seconds later, she sent another message: [Lu Xixiao, this is the money you spent on me over the past year. It might not be enough, but this is all I have right now. I’ll pay back the rest later.]

Lu Xixiao’s jaw tightened as he ground his teeth.

After a while, he gave a cold laugh and directly confirmed the receipt.

He tossed his phone aside, looked up, and smiled roguishly: “Sure.”

Over the next few days, that girl often stayed by Lu Xixiao’s side.

She had thought he was just slow to warm up and aloof, but it turned out he simply couldn’t be warmed up at all.

She accompanied Lu Xixiao and his friends to play cards. When he got up to get drinks downstairs, the girl sighed and asked, “Hey, is this how Lu Xixiao always is in relationships?”

Everyone paused.

For a moment, their expressions all flashed with awkwardness.

How to put it…

He was like this in most relationships.

“…More or less.”

“He’s so handsome, I thought he’d be good at relationships.”

“Let me tell you something—many of his previous girlfriends couldn’t stand his personality. They’d argue with him, trying to make him care more, but when he got annoyed, he’d just break up with them.”

“Such a player,” the girl raised her eyebrows. “Were there no exceptions?”

This time nobody spoke.

Lu Xixiao pushed open the door carrying drinks, lit a cigarette, tossed the lighter aside, leaned back in his chair, and continued playing cards.

The girl watched for a while longer until she finally felt bored and said she was leaving.

Lu Xixiao just glanced at her once: “Alright, be careful on your way.”

Days passed like this until the height of summer arrived. Lu Xixiao only returned to school for the basketball tournament, where he won first place again.

He was covered in sweat, the veins on his arms prominent after exercising. His girlfriend brought him water and helped him carry his clothes. His friends said they wanted to go out to celebrate the championship.

“You go ahead,” Lu Xixiao patted his pocket. “I left my phone behind.”

His girlfriend said, “I’ll go with you to get it.”

Lu Xixiao didn’t refuse. The sky was already half-dark as they walked up the empty stairs of the teaching building together.

He went into the classroom and took out his phone from his desk, checking the time.

Suddenly, he paused and bent down to look inside the desk.

After being discharged, he had hardly come to school and never came for exams. Only now did he discover several notebooks on his desk that didn’t belong to him—he never took notes, so these notebooks couldn’t possibly be his.

Lu Xixiao pulled out the stack of notebooks and opened them.

His breathing suddenly stopped.

In the notebooks, the handwriting was neat and careful—Zhou Wan’s writing.

His fingertips curled unnaturally as he opened them one by one.

There were notes for every subject, starting from the first required course, each section recorded completely and neatly, from basic formulas to basic problems to difficult questions.

All were written by Zhou Wan.

He didn’t know when these had been placed in his drawer.

Nor did he know when Zhou Wan had started writing these.

“Xiao,” his girlfriend called from the doorway. “Haven’t found it?”

“Found it.”

Lu Xixiao put the notebooks back in the drawer and walked out of the classroom with his phone.

Later during dinner, while others were laughing and bragging, Lu Xixiao sat to the side, quietly drinking, his brows slightly furrowed as if deep in thought.

He drank one glass after another, without stopping.

No matter how good his alcohol tolerance, he should have been drunk.

But when drunk, his face showed no sign of it, looking much the same as usual, only his aura was more dispersed, making him appear more roguish and alluring.

After dinner, everyone wanted to go to a bar to hang out longer, but Lu Xixiao said, “I’m heading back first.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just a bit tired,” he said, turning to ask his girlfriend beside him, “What about you?”

“Then I’ll head back too.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

His girlfriend was startled, then smiled: “Alright.”

The street was very quiet. His girlfriend’s home was in the opposite direction from his. Lu Xixiao walked with her, a cigarette between his fingers, silent except for occasional responses.

At her doorstep, his girlfriend suddenly asked, “Lu Xixiao, do you have something you want to tell me?”

She had dated many boyfriends before, all kinds, and had no shortage of pursuers.

But she had never experienced this kind of relationship. If she hadn’t been so drawn to Lu Xixiao’s roguish manner, she probably would have broken up with him a hundred years ago.

Lu Xixiao paused and said, “Let’s break up.”

“Give me a reason.”

She had guessed it but didn’t understand. She had seen through Lu Xixiao’s callousness early on and knew he disliked trouble and drama, so she stayed by his side quietly, not making a fuss, thinking things would be different given time.

He exhaled smoke and said, “I want to study properly now.”

Such an excuse coming from Lu Xixiao was laughable. His girlfriend let out a cold laugh: “Lu Xixiao, do you need to brush me off with such an excuse?”

“It’s true.”

Lu Xixiao wasn’t angry, just calmly looking down at her. “Senior year is coming up, I want to get into a good university. I’m sorry about these days.”

“You know you should be sorry.”

The girl was beautiful and had never been treated so perfunctorily in her life. Angry and unwilling to accept it, she asked, “Was there ever a moment in all these days when you liked me?”

Lu Xixiao said, “I’m sorry.”

The girl turned and left, slamming the door thunderously.

Lu Xixiao returned home.

He could feel the alcohol raging through his body, making him unclear-headed, his whole body burning, somewhat out of control.

For the first time in all the days since Zhou Wan left, he opened that guest room.

The blanket was neatly folded, and there was nothing in the room—no trace that anyone had ever lived there.

He opened the wardrobe and saw many clothes.

All the ones he had bought for her under various pretexts before.

She hadn’t taken them.

Not a single piece.

Lu Xixiao closed the wardrobe again, walked to the living room, and sat on the sofa. He opened his phone contacts but couldn’t find Zhou Wan’s number.

Only then did he remember he had never saved her number with a name, but every time he saw that string of numbers, he knew it was her.

He typed in the number from memory and called.

It rang for half a minute before disconnecting.

Lu Xixiao’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

The room was pitch black except for the light from the phone screen. The young man, reeking of alcohol, said nothing, his face stern as he called again.

This time it was cut off after just ten seconds.

Lu Xixiao showed no reaction, no expression, and just persistently kept calling back.

Later, the calls were hung up as soon as they connected.

He didn’t mind, continuing to call back tirelessly.

Around the twentieth or thirtieth time, Zhou Wan finally answered.

The call duration appeared on the phone screen—at 00:00.

Lu Xixiao froze.

He suddenly didn’t know what to say.

Neither of them spoke. Zhou Wan’s end was completely silent, without even the sound of wind or breathing.

It was like they were in a battle of wills, neither speaking first, yet neither hanging up.

Lu Xixiao hazily remembered when they first met, how he would never speak first during calls, how the first few seconds were always silent, until Zhou Wan would speak, never saying “hello” or anything else, always just those three clear syllables—”Lu Xixiao.”

He closed his eyes, and lowered his head, clinging to his last shred of dignity: “Zhou Wan, just say you love me once, and I’ll forgive everything.”

His voice was hard and cold, sounding more like a threat than a plea for love.

The girl’s voice was cool as she called his name: “Lu Xixiao.”

Just those three syllables made Lu Xixiao’s eyes turn red.

Then he heard her say with extreme calmness: “I don’t love you. I’ve been deceiving you all along.”