Lu Xixiao drove into an extremely luxurious residential complex, down to the underground parking garage, and parked.

Zhou Wan got out and retrieved her suitcase.

Lu Xixiao walked ahead while she silently followed behind him. They entered the elevator, and she watched him press the button for the 13th floor.

The elevator ascended and opened directly into the apartment.

Unlike his former villa in Pingchuan City, this place was minimalist in black, gray, and white, every corner exuding coldness.

Still dripping with rain, Zhou Wan didn’t dare move freely for fear of dirtying the floor.

Standing in the entryway, she asked softly, “Lu Xixiao, which room will I stay in?”

He turned his head, raising an eyebrow, saying matter-of-factly: “With me.”

Zhou Wan froze.

“I said you’d keep me company. Don’t you understand what that means?” Lu Xixiao took off his coat, hanging it on a chair. “Aren’t you the expert at using yourself to achieve your goals?”

His voice carried an icy edge.

But after years of living alone, Zhou Wan had grown accustomed to all kinds of harsh words. She wasn’t easily moved to tears by his few taunting remarks.

She just lowered her eyes to look at her toes, feeling at a loss.

“Go shower,” Lu Xixiao said, pointing to a room. “Here.”

…

The hot water here was much more stable than in her rental apartment, temperature-controlled, without worry of sudden scalding or running cold.

Zhou Wan washed her body and hair, changed into the clothes hanging on the doorknob, and dried her hair with a hairdryer.

Then she looked at herself in the mirror.

Her cheeks were flushed red, her skin showing pink, and her freshly dried hair was slightly fluffy, falling over her chest, making her face appear even smaller.

Even at this moment, Zhou Wan didn’t believe Lu Xixiao would do anything to her.

He wasn’t that kind of person.

No matter how much he resented her, he wouldn’t lower himself to force her.

But such a scene was inevitably nerve-wracking.

Zhou Wan took several deep breaths before opening the door and walking out.

Lu Xixiao had already showered, wearing dark gray sleepwear, sitting on the bed with his back to her.

Only then did Zhou Wan realize she had spent so long washing, including her hair and drying it, that Lu Xixiao had to use the bathroom in another room?

She shuffled slowly to the bed, sitting on the edge.

Her movements were so light, as if afraid to disturb the person on the other side.

Lu Xixiao took a bottle of medicine from the bedside, poured out two pills, and swallowed them without water.

Zhou Wan frowned slightly, unable to help asking: “What medicine is that?”

“For insomnia.”

Zhou Wan was startled, but before she could say anything, Lu Xixiao turned off the lights.

The bedroom instantly became pitch black.

He was still the same as before, preferring drawn curtains. The city lights couldn’t penetrate, making it impossible to see one’s hand in front of their face.

Zhou Wan felt him pull back the covers and lie down. Her spine grew increasingly rigid, and just then, he grabbed her wrist. She fell backward, collapsing onto the bed, her long hair spreading out.

Lu Xixiao turned on his side, his hot breath hitting her ear.

“Your acting isn’t as good as before.” Every word of his carried thorns.

Zhou Wan didn’t want to argue with him, trying her best to relax her tense body and nerves. She lifted herself slightly and pulled the covers over herself to lie down.

Between them lay a vast chasm. Zhou Wan clung to the edge of the bed, one wrong move away from falling off.

“Zhou Wan,” he said.

Zhou Wan had no choice but to move toward the middle, stopping immediately when her hand touched his as if shocked by electricity.

Their current relationship was simultaneously the most explicit and dirty, yet the purest and most extreme.

Upon touching his hand, Zhou Wan instinctively turned to look at him.

Though surrounded by darkness, Lu Xixiao’s eyes were bright.

They were narrow, devoid of emotion like dead water, but as their gazes met, he paused for a moment before his eyes suddenly flooded with indescribable emotions. Like a flame ignited in the dark, empty night.

Who knew how many times it had been lit and extinguished, leaving only ashes scattered on the ground?

He suddenly propped himself up with a large movement. The atmosphere was too dangerous—Zhou Wan instinctively raised her hands in defense, but he grabbed them, pinning them above her head.

Zhou Wan raised her legs in resistance, but he restrained them with his knees.

Then he bent down and forcefully kissed her lips.

Zhou Wan’s brows furrowed tightly, letting out a pained “mmph”—it was more bite than kiss.

Chaotic and rough, purely for release.

Releasing every sleepless night of these six years, releasing every inch of his obsession with nowhere to go, releasing her cold and distant “I don’t love you” from that final phone call, releasing the last word she said to him before leaving.

But no amount of release was enough.

The raging fire and obsession surged forward, still finding no outlet.

Even tasting the metallic rust of blood wasn’t enough.

Nothing was enough.

Lu Xixiao raised his hand to her slender neck, forcing her to tilt her head back.

“Zhou Wan.” His voice was hoarse, eyes dark, and face stern, carrying heavy oppression and aggression as he said coldly, word by word: “Call me brother.”

After all, it was that word “brother” that had made him let go of her hand back then.

At this moment, even he couldn’t tell if he was torturing Zhou Wan or himself.

The instant Zhou Wan heard that word, her whole body noticeably stiffened, as if greatly humiliated. She bit her lip tightly and turned her face away, refusing his kiss.

Lu Xixiao turned her face back, tapping it flippantly: “What are you pretending for? Weren’t you the one who seduced your brother back then?”

“I didn’t,” Zhou Wan protested with reddened eyes.

It was her most shameful past, one she never wanted to mention, but Lu Xixiao forced her to face her past self most directly.

From shame, her entire body flushed red, eyes growing wet as she bit her lip, voice full of painful sobs: “Why are you bullying me too?”

Today, she has endured so much bullying.

And now with Lu Xixiao, he still said such words to humiliate her.

But his words sparked Lu Xixiao’s sudden rage: “Who’s bullying who? Zhou Wan, no matter how you break it down, in everything between us, you’re the one who wronged me, damn it!”

Zhou Wan covered her face, curling into herself.

Lu Xixiao knelt on the bed, silently watching her, hearing her broken sobs.

But in the end, he didn’t reach out to comfort her. He got up wordlessly with a dark expression, changed his clothes, and slammed the door as he left.

*

Lu Xixiao didn’t return all night.

Early the next morning, Zhou Wan got up, initially wanting to clean, but his apartment was so clean and sparse that there was nothing left to clean.

She opened her computer, revised her resume, and sent it to several companies.

…

In the following days, Lu Xixiao still hadn’t returned, and all of Zhou Wan’s resumes disappeared without a trace, receiving no response.

She had thought it was because finding work was difficult at year’s end, but her credentials weren’t bad—graduation from a prestigious university, high GPA, and rich internship experience. She shouldn’t have received any responses at all, yet even small companies didn’t reply.

Zhou Wan stared at the empty inbox on her computer screen and sighed.

Her previous company was an industry leader; perhaps it had something to do with them.

Suddenly, her logged-in WeChat in the bottom right corner lit up.

Her college dormitory head was asking in the group chat if everyone wanted to stay up together for New Year’s Eve.

Zhou Wan only then realized today was New Year’s Eve.

Her friends all replied agreeing, and Zhou Wan also responded with “okay.”

…

In the evening, after washing her hair, Zhou Wan went out and took the subway to the agreed-upon hot pot restaurant.

The other three would only come after work, so Zhou Wan got there early to get a number, so they could be seated right away when they arrived. Since graduating college half a year ago, they’d all been busy and hadn’t managed to get all four of them together.

As soon as they met, they started complaining about the strange people and things they’d encountered at work. They asked Zhou Wan, “Wan Wan, how are you?”

Zhou Wan paused: “I’m unemployed now.”

“Why?”

Zhou Wan told them about what had happened these past days.

“Why didn’t you tell us about something so serious?”

“You were all busy, I didn’t want to worry you,” Zhou Wan smiled slightly. “It’s fine, I’ll try sending out more resumes and find another job.”

“But why should you have to? You didn’t do anything wrong!” Her roommate was indignant on her behalf. “Is there no other way?”

Zhou Wan poked at her bubble tea straw, shaking her head.

“Forget it, a company that doesn’t distinguish right from wrong will fail sooner or later! There wasn’t much future staying there anyway, it’s good to change,” her roommate consoled her.

“Mm.”

After eating, the four of them walked around the streets together.

The dorm head was a local, while the other two roommates were from out of town and had bought plane tickets for the next couple of days, so they bought some local specialties to take back home.

There was a famous pastry shop, and they all bought some to take back for their families.

The New Year’s gift boxes were beautifully made, a tasting selection where you could choose the styles and flavors. Zhou Wan bought a box too, and remembering Lu Xixiao didn’t like things too sweet, she bought more coconut and matcha flavored ones.

“There’s still three hours until the new year, want to watch a movie?”

“Sure, let me check if there are any seats left.”

The movie theater was packed on New Year’s Eve, with only three seats left in the front row for one show.

But after watching for half an hour, they regretted it—it was an action movie with some bloody scenes. No wonder there were empty seats; who watches this kind of movie during the New Year?

Still, the action scenes were well shot, and Zhou Wan watched it through to the end.

When the movie ended and the lights came on.

Zhou Wan gently pressed her neck twice, sore from looking up.

The dorm head complained about how meaningless the movie was while walking out.

“I thought it was fine, the plot was quite good,” Zhou Wan said with a smile. “It just wasn’t suitable for today.”

“This movie had too many plot holes, I was frowning the whole time, couldn’t even follow the story.”

“What plot holes?”

The dorm head said: “Like when the protagonist took the knife for his friend! It was just tragedy for tragedy’s sake. At that angle, any normal person would have chosen to push their friend away. Who would stupidly rush over to stand in front of them? At worst, they’d be stabbed in the back, how could it possibly be in the chest? The protagonist is a police officer, doesn’t he know chest wounds are the most dangerous?”

Zhou Wan recalled the movie scene.

That image suddenly collided and overlapped with a memory of her own.

Zhou Wan’s steps faltered, her heart skipping a beat.

“Why?”

“Think about it, there’s even research proving this. In such situations, most people would either back away or freeze. Only 1% of people would rush forward, and from the movie’s position, pushing his friend away from the front would have been both the safest and most effective option. People have an instinct for self-preservation—even if they value someone else’s life above their own, they wouldn’t use that position. They’d take the wound in the back.”

Zhou Wan felt her blood run cold, then boil, her heart racing.

A strange thought surfaced in her mind.

But she dared not dwell on it.

Lu Xixiao was someone who knew how to fight. Back then, when he fought, he was both fierce and precise—many people feared him.

He should have known the optimal solution.

But he hadn’t taken it.

That knife had pierced near his heart, very dangerous, very deep, leaving him unconscious in the ICU for a long time, staying in the hospital for over a month before recovery.

Why?

Why did he do that?

…

Even after returning to Lu Xixiao’s apartment, Zhou Wan was still thinking about this.

After showering, she sat alone by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the street below.

It was past midnight, now the first day of the lunar new year. The streets were lively, with many couples and friends still walking together.

Lu Xixiao still hadn’t returned.

Zhou Wan thought he might have gone back to Pingchuan City.

During school years, Old Master Lu would call him back to the family home for the winter break holidays.

She hadn’t thought of that earlier—if she had, she wouldn’t have bought that expensive box of pastries.

These freshly made pastries had a short shelf life; by the time Lu Xixiao returned, they probably wouldn’t be edible.

Zhou Wan sighed softly, getting up to take the pastry gift box from the dining table, intending to put it in the refrigerator.

Just as she lifted her foot, the door suddenly made a sound.

Zhou Wan looked up.

The door opened, and Lu Xixiao entered with a suitcase. He wore a black coat that emphasized his tall, lean figure and broad shoulders, which were dusted with unmelted snow.

“Is it snowing outside?” Zhou Wan asked instinctively, not having noticed earlier.

Lu Xixiao glanced at her: “Light snow.”

Pingchuan City rarely saw snow, but B City had it every year.

They no longer needed to rush to catch the slow train on New Year’s Eve to see snow elsewhere, like before.

But now that snow was commonplace, it often went unnoticed.

Zhou Wan walked over, helping him move the suitcase aside, noticing a baggage tag on the handle.

She paused, thinking of his fear of heights.

“Did you just get off a plane?” Zhou Wan asked.

“Mm.”

“Can you handle flying now without your acrophobia acting up?”

“It’s okay, not too bad.”

Bearable.

Zhou Wan blinked, then asked: “From Pingchuan City?”

“No,” his voice was slightly hoarse, bloodshot eyes suggesting poor sleep, “business trip.”

Zhou Wan was surprised.

She had thought after their argument, that he hadn’t wanted to see her and had been staying elsewhere these days.

“Have you had dinner?”

“No.”

Zhou Wan checked the time—it was almost one in the morning.

He was still the same as before, never eating meals on time.

“Are you hungry?” Zhou Wan asked softly from the side. “Should I cook something for you?”

Lu Xixiao looked up, regarding her coolly for a moment before saying: “There’s nothing in the fridge.”

“I put some things in there a few days ago.” Zhou Wan paused, watching his expression. “Is that okay?”

He draped his coat over a chair back, saying flatly: “Mm.”

Zhou Wan’s lips curved slightly.

She had bought some frozen breakfast foods, thinking Lu Xixiao could eat them before work, various things like shrimp dumplings, shumai, and noodles.

Zhou Wan bent over at the refrigerator: “Lu Xixiao, what would you like to eat?”

“Whatever.”

“Noodles?”

“Fine.”

Zhou Wan took out plain noodles and chose the freshest tomato, planning to make tomato noodles.

She also brought the pastry box she’d bought earlier to the table: “If you’re hungry, you can try these first. This stack is matcha flavored, the ones below are coconut, not too sweet.”

His kitchen had all the necessary pots, bowls, and chopsticks, but they showed no signs of use.

Probably came with the place when he moved in.

Lu Xixiao had been on a business trip for nearly a week, in some southern city.

He disliked winter, disliked snow, and disliked the howling cold wind. He had planned to spend New Year’s there, but for some inexplicable reason, felt he should return, so he bought a plane ticket and came back that night.

Sitting at the dining table, he could see Zhou Wan busy in the kitchen.

She wore a beige sweater with fitted jeans, slim and straight, showing perfect proportions, her exposed skin glowing white.

After six years apart, she was indeed different from her school days—still gentle, but more vibrant, more eye-catching.

After a while, he picked up one of the elaborately made pastries before him.

He couldn’t remember how many years it had been since he’d eaten such things—to be precise, he had never liked them since childhood, finding them too sweet and cloying.

He took a bite—rich matcha flavor with a hint of bitterness, indeed not sweet.

Just like Zhou Wan.

She wasn’t sweet either, carrying a bitter taste, but the flavor lingered long in one’s mouth.

Lu Xixiao suddenly remembered something—

“Zhou Wan, spend every New Year with me from now on.”

His text message to Zhou Wan that Spring Festival years ago.

He had never deliberately remembered it, hadn’t particularly thought of it in all these years, hadn’t even recalled this message when booking tonight’s flight.

Yet somehow, an inexplicable feeling had pushed him to do this, pushed him to return.

Lu Xixiao closed his eyes briefly, exhaling.

The urge to smoke returned.

He felt his pocket but couldn’t find his lighter—he’d removed it before boarding.

So he took another bite of the matcha pastry instead.

…

Zhou Wan stewed the tomatoes until very soft, the broth rich with tomato flavor, coating each noodle strand. The color was appetizing. She reduced the sauce slightly, turned off the heat, and poured it into a bowl.

“Try it,” Zhou Wan placed the bowl before him.

Lu Xixiao hadn’t intended to eat, but Zhou Wan’s tomato noodles had a sweet and sour broth, with especially appetizing and perfectly chewy noodles.

She used to cook before, but back then she was busy with studies, work, and caring for her grandmother. She only knew how to make the simplest home cooking, just enough to be edible, never experimenting with different dishes.

Lu Xixiao took a bite, and Zhou Wan watched his expression, asking: “How is it?”

“Good,” he said. “Better than that place in Pingchuan.”

In Pingchuan City, they had only eaten at one noodle shop.

It was the first place Zhou Wan had taken him when they met. The taste was indeed ordinary, but it was cheap. Zhou Wan had noticed back then that he barely touched the noodles there.

Recalling the past, Zhou Wan couldn’t help but smile, her eyes curving.

Her smile was beautiful. Her features had matured, gentle and docile in appearance, with subtle brows and eyes, but when she smiled, it added a touch of brilliance. The contrast was particularly striking.

Lu Xixiao was momentarily stunned. He lowered his eyes, asking casually: “Did you cook often in college?”

“No, I was busy studying in college and ate at the cafeteria. I learned these before university,” Zhou Wan paused, saying softly, “after leaving Pingchuan City.”

Lu Xixiao looked up.

Zhou Wan explained: “After leaving Pingchuan City, I worked at a restaurant to save money, learned there for half a year before returning to school, so I graduated a year later than normal.”

Lu Xixiao frowned slightly.

Over these years, it wasn’t that he could not investigate Zhou Wan. If he had wanted to know, he could have discovered everything about her daily life, even what she ate.

But he had held onto his pride. After bending once only to receive an “I don’t love you,” he refused to lower his head again.

He never imagined they would one day sit together like this, calmly discussing the past.

Yet they both only skimmed the surface, neither daring to touch the real past.

“As a chef?”

“Of course not,” Zhou Wan smiled faintly, showing no complaint about the past. “How could I be a chef with my skills? I just helped prepare ingredients and washed dishes.”

Lu Xixiao finished his last bite of noodles.

Zhou Wan stood to take the bowl, intending to wash it.

Just as she turned, Lu Xixiao suddenly grabbed her wrist.

Her steps halted abruptly, her breathing slowing.

His fingers were long and bony, gripping her arm tightly, forcefully, veins slightly visible, sleeve pulled to mid-forearm, the warmth from his fingertips transferring through contact.

His fingers moved down to Zhou Wan’s palm, taking the bowl and chopsticks from her.

“I’ll do it,” Lu Xixiao said flatly.

Zhou Wan: “It’s fine, I’ll wash them quickly.”

Lu Xixiao ignored her, walking straight to the kitchen and turning on the water.

The tall, sharp man seemed out of place at the kitchen counter. Water splashed, wetting his expensive shirt, and those beautiful hands seemed too precious to do any dirty work—at least that’s what Zhou Wan thought.

She reached out, trying to retrieve the noodle bowl from the sink.

Lu Xixiao frowned, pulling her sleeve to move her aside.

When he frowned, he looked particularly impatient and fierce. Zhou Wan glanced at him, pressed her lips together, and stopped moving.

“It’s too late, if you have an allergic reaction there won’t be anyone to bring medicine,” he said quietly.

Zhou Wan was startled.

Back when she worked at the restaurant, washing dishes for several hours each day with hands soaked in water, they would often turn red and purple, wrinkled like rotten carrots.

She had grown used to it, no longer caring about the skin allergy, not even bothering to take medication unless it started itching.

Now it was just washing one bowl, Zhou Wan hadn’t thought anything of it.

But Lu Xixiao remembered.

He remembered everything.

From when Zhou Wan was with him at sixteen until she left, he had never let her touch cold water.

Even now, it is the same.

Oil floated on the water’s surface, but Lu Xixiao paid it no mind. His pale, clean hands reached under the water, efficiently washing the bowl, draining it, and bending to place it in the cabinet.

Zhou Wan stared at his movements, her eyes stinging.

Over these years, she hadn’t cried when her hands were covered in chilblains from washing dishes in winter, hadn’t cried during her lonely senior year, hadn’t cried when she achieved her dream of university admission, hadn’t cried when wronged at work.

But now, watching Lu Xixiao wash a single bowl, her nose suddenly felt sore.

“Lu Xixiao,” she called.

He didn’t answer, just turned around, looking at her impassively.

Zhou Wan dared not meet his eyes, lowering her head as she said softly: “Back then at the abandoned station, why did you shield me like that? You could have prevented yourself from being so seriously injured.”