The maintenance crew arrived swiftly within ten minutes. When a beam of bright light shot in, the two of them seemed to wake from a dream, consciously loosening their grip on each other’s hands. Zhou Jingze leaned against the wall as he stood up, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the piercing light, his voice incredibly hoarse:

“I’m going to the restroom.”

Xu Sui went up to the twenty-third floor to find Hu Qianxi and the others. Pushing open the door, she saw the two of them had been sitting there bickering for twenty minutes. When Hu Qianxi saw Xu Sui arrive, she immediately felt embarrassed and changed the subject: “Sui Sui, hurry and eat. If you don’t come soon, the food will get cold.”

“By the way, where’s my uncle?” Hu Qianxi asked.

Sheng Nanzhou’s phone just happened to receive a message. He glanced at it: “He said he had something to attend to and left early. He already paid the bill and told us to eat.”

“Sheng Nanzhou, are you cheap or what? How come when you’re making amends and apologizing, my uncle has to pay?” Hu Qianxi mocked him.

Sheng Nanzhou replied shamelessly: “It’s because my dad loves me.”

Xu Sui was thinking about someone like Zhou Jingze—with such good family background and natural talent, someone who handled everything with ease and was occasionally arrogant and unrestrained. In public, he was rebellious and unruly, carrying that vigorous, clamorous energy unique to young people. But in reality, he was humble and steady, would say “thank you for your hard work” to the dumpling shop owner, would notice when the weather turned cold that girls shouldn’t drink cold milk, and would always quietly settle the bill during friend gatherings.

How could such a person, blessed with so much love, develop claustrophobia?

Xu Sui thought again of him living alone in Amber Lane, in that big house that wouldn’t often light up.

“Baby, what are you thinking about?” Hu Qianxi waved her five fingers in front of her face.

Xu Sui snapped back to reality, grabbed the juice from the table and took a sip to cover up her distraction, smiling: “I was thinking that you two have finally made up.”

Zhou Jingze disappeared for an entire week—or rather, disappeared from Xu Sui’s world. Every day, Xu Sui would check his WeChat Moments several times, but he never posted anything. His latest update was still from three months ago.

Occasionally, Xu Sui would catch fragments about Zhou Jingze from Hu Qianxi’s conversations, like “I heard Sheng Nanzhou came in second-to-last on the flight technology theory exam, but Uncle got first place,” or “Today, some guy actually confessed to Zhou Jingze!”

Usually, Xu Sui would listen quietly while feeding her cat.

On the weekend, after Xu Sui finished tutoring Sheng Yan, she was just about to leave when Sheng Nanzhou knocked on the door and came in, saying: “We don’t need to go to school for rehearsal this week. We’ll go directly to Jingze’s house in a bit. He has a music room too, so it’ll be convenient for you.”

“Okay,” Xu Sui replied.

After finishing Sheng Yan’s tutoring session, Xu Sui went downstairs to find that Hu Qianxi, Da Liu and the others were already waiting for her. The group followed Sheng Nanzhou to Zhou Jingze’s house.

Sheng Nanzhou pressed the doorbell twice with no response, though the German Shepherd barked once from the yard. Sheng Nanzhou stood by the fence and jumped twice, shouting: “Lord Kui, go wake up your dad!”

The German Shepherd barked twice at them, then used its paws to push open the glass door and ran upstairs, its footsteps echoing as it bounded up the stairs.

Zhou Jingze appeared before them looking drowsy, wearing gray loungewear, his eyelids drooping, expression weary but his face didn’t look too pleased—like someone ready to see which reckless person dared to disturb him.

Zhou Jingze slowly lifted his eyelids to look at them.

“You—”

Before Sheng Nanzhou could finish speaking, “bang”—the door slammed shut in his face, nearly catching his nose. A curse was swallowed by the wind.

Five minutes later, Zhou Jingze changed clothes and opened the door for them again. He casually splashed water on his face, droplets trailing down his cold, sharp jawline.

“Come in,” his voice was hoarse from just waking up, gravelly.

Xu Sui followed behind them. She noticed his yard was very large, with a greenhouse on the second floor that looked like it had been vacant for a long time from the outside.

Zhou Jingze shuffled in cotton slippers, leading them inside. Xu Sui’s first impression of his home was empty, large, monochrome furniture, black sofas.

The gray automatic curtains were tightly drawn. Zhou Jingze searched the living room for a long time for the remote control, then raised his hand to press it toward the curtains. Light poured in, along with wind and air.

“Sit wherever,” Zhou Jingze gestured with his chin toward them.

Da Liu sprawled across the sofa, touching everything in Zhou Jingze’s house, his tone excited: “Zhou-ye, living alone in such a big house must be amazing—no one to control you, and you can throw parties.”

Zhou Jingze smiled without responding.

Zhou Jingze opened the refrigerator. Despite the cold weather, he took out a can of frozen cola, “hiss”—the tab popped open with a sound as he tossed it in the trash. He held up the cola can and took a sip: “Take whatever you want to drink from the fridge.”

“Holy shit, it’s all—” Da Liu went over to look and his eyes widened. The fridge was full of drinks—couldn’t find a single egg or noodle.

“Nothing else, just lots of drinks,” Zhou Jingze smiled roguishly.

Not seeing him for a week, Zhou Jingze seemed to have returned to his casual state, handling everything with ease. The hotel incident seemed to have passed.

After resting for a while, the group followed him up to the third floor. Zhou Jingze pushed open the door, his voice crisp: “I had the housekeeper clean the music room.”

The music room was spacious. On the right side sat a German 1963 record player, with shelves of records of every genre. Zhou Jingze’s cello stood there. When tired from practicing, one could sit on the soft sofa, which had gaming consoles and a projector.

Da Liu jumped onto the sofa, bouncing up and down: “I don’t want to practice anymore, I want to lie here and enjoy life.”

“Sleep then,” Sheng Nanzhou grabbed a blanket and threw it on him, then pressed down hard to keep him from moving.

The two immediately started wrestling. Da Liu pressed his head down toward the bottom of the sofa, his voice muffled: “Damn it, I got a mouthful of fur! I’m turning into a kiwi fruit.”

They talked about wanting to win the championship, but they hadn’t even chosen an official song yet. Everyone had different opinions—they needed to find a song that wasn’t too lyrical, wasn’t too noisy, and was suitable for adaptation, which was somewhat difficult.

“How about Dao Lang? Pretty powerful,” Sheng Nanzhou suggested.

Zhou Jingze was wiping his cello and looked up at him upon hearing this: “Just say you want to get beaten.”

“How about Joanna Wang?” Da Liu suggested his goddess.

Hu Qianxi shook her head: “Too gentle.”

The group suggested several options, including obscure foreign folk songs and famous bands like Guns N’ Roses and The Beatles, all of which were rejected.

“How about Mayday’s ‘Stubborn’? Although it’s well-known, we’re doing an adaptation, so we can play with something different,” Xu Sui said seriously. “And isn’t this a youth singing competition? They represent songs young people like—passionate, dreams, youth.”

“I actually quite like listening to it,” Xu Sui blurted out that she liked it.

Zhou Jingze was slouched on the sofa, elbow propped under his chin. Upon hearing this name, he clearly froze for a moment.

The moment Xu Sui said those words, she instantly regretted it, thinking “oh no” to herself. The next second, Sheng Nanzhou, like he’d discovered a new continent, asked excitedly:

“Xu Sui, Mayday, and ‘Stubborn’ at that! How did you know Zhou-ye likes them, especially this song? Could it be that you like him and did your research in advance?”

Xu Sui had given presentations to over two hundred people with logical flow and wasn’t nervous at all. She could also argue that this artist wasn’t niche at all, that many people liked this group—it was just a matter of probability.

But now, because a certain gaze was lingering on her, Xu Sui’s brain seemed to malfunction, unable to form a single sentence.

“Because… I…” Xu Sui became nervous, unable to piece together a complete sentence.

Everyone held their breath, waiting expectantly for her answer. Suddenly, a deep voice interrupted them:

“Because I told her.”

Everyone turned to look in that direction, including Xu Sui. She didn’t understand why Zhou Jingze was helping her out of this situation.

Zhou Jingze’s expression was impeccably composed, not at all intimidated by everyone’s stares. Sheng Nanzhou was the first to give up, saying “how boring.”

Xu Sui sighed in relief. The topic finally passed.

In the end, everyone unanimously voted and agreed on this song. Hu Qianxi snapped her fingers and directed Sheng Nanzhou: “Howling Sky, go find their record and play it on the record player so we can all listen and get a feel for it.”

Sheng Nanzhou didn’t like this nickname. Curses were on the tip of his tongue, but remembering that the two had just made up, he ultimately chose to endure the humiliation. Sheng Nanzhou propped his elbow on the sofa back, jumped sideways, and walked to the record shelf by the green curtains to start searching.

Zhou Jingze categorized his music by preference. Sheng Nanzhou quickly found the record and pulled it out. He was holding it and about to walk back when he lowered his head and inadvertently noticed a box placed next to the record shelf.

Sheng Nanzhou had always been curious. He pointed at the box: “Bro, what’s this? Why is it sealed with tape? Can I look?”

Zhou Jingze was tuning his cello and glanced over: “Don’t know, probably stuff the housekeeper packed away as trash when cleaning. Go ahead and look.”

With special permission granted, Sheng Nanzhou found a paper knife and cut open the box. Looking inside: “Oh ho, worthy of my Zhou-ye.”

“What? I want to see too,” Da Liu walked over.

Sheng Nanzhou’s words piqued everyone’s curiosity, and they all walked over except for the person in question. This entire box was full of gifts Sheng Nanzhou had received before.

There were unopened perfumes, limited edition figurines, soccer balls, love letters, watches and other such gifts. Some gifts he had even forgotten to unwrap. Da Liu’s eyes went wide with envy: “If I had even a thumb’s worth of Zhou-ye’s appeal with girls, I wouldn’t still be single.”

Hu Qianxi corrected: “It’s not about appeal with women, it’s about the face.”

Da Liu looked even more dejected upon hearing this. Sheng Nanzhou rummaged through the box and saw a beautifully packaged box. He picked it up and opened it—something fell out first, while the gift was a record.

Records weren’t unusual. Who doesn’t cater to someone’s interests when they like them? What was unusual was the small black box that had fallen to the ground. Sheng Nanzhou opened it to find very ordinary finger guards and a tube of ointment, both covered with dust.

“I’m impressed, this is definitely the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever seen. Zhou Jingze, take a look,” Sheng Nanzhou said.

Zhou Jingze looked back. When he saw the finger guards and ointment, he froze for a moment, then straightened up: “Done looking? Come over and rehearse.”

Seeing that Zhou Jingze didn’t care, they had no choice but to stuff everything back and put it back in place. Sheng Nanzhou stood up and played Mayday’s song on the record player.

As the music started, Sheng Nanzhou walked over and slung an arm around Zhou Jingze’s shoulders, his tone gossipy: “You really can’t remember who sent that gift?”

Zhou Jingze wore a black hoodie. He leaned forward to drink his cola, wearing a roguish smirk on his face, his eyes carrying some indifference and coldness:

“So many people send me gifts, do I have to remember each one individually?”

“True,” Sheng Nanzhou patted his shoulder and commented, “Scumbag.”

The music from the record player had better sound quality. Despite the uplifting melody, Xu Sui didn’t say a word throughout, staying unusually silent.

During this rehearsal session, Xu Sui wasn’t really in the right state. Even when they were supposed to have dinner together afterward, she made an excuse about having a stomachache and left early.

On the bus ride back, Xu Sui sat in the back row, her head leaning against the glass window, staring blankly at the scenery rushing backward outside, thinking about that year in high school.

In the second semester of her first year, Xu Sui had just transferred from a small town to Tiancheng High School. On the first day of the new semester, every class in the school was doing a thorough cleaning. Xu Sui carried her backpack, wearing a simple dress, following behind the homeroom teacher through the long corridor toward her new classroom.

The boys and girls in the class were all doing the cleaning. Some girls were carefully wiping their desks. Everyone hadn’t seen each other for a semester—some were chatting, some were fooling around, it was quite noisy.

When the homeroom teacher entered, she tapped the desk with a ruler: “Quiet. This semester we have a new student who will study with us from today. Everyone welcome her.”

“Xu Sui, introduce yourself,” the homeroom teacher put down the ruler.

High school Xu Sui had a bloated figure from drinking Chinese medicine for years. She had also had chickenpox before transferring schools, leaving one or two pimples on her forehead and cheeks.

In short, she was dull and lackluster.

She stood on the platform, speaking quickly, hoping to end this scrutiny soon: “Hello everyone, I’m Xu Sui. I’m very happy to join Class Three.”

Sparse applause arose from below. The homeroom teacher pointed forward: “Xu Sui, you’ll sit in the third row. Go to the administrative office to get your books later.”

After the homeroom teacher left, the classroom returned to its lively atmosphere, no one paying attention to Xu Sui’s arrival. What could attract teenage boys’ attention was either how short the English teacher’s skirt was, or whether the new transfer student was pretty enough.

The girls were even more so—they gathered together discussing newly bought nail polish, or who they went to the skating rink with during evening study hall.

An established group might not exclude someone, but it was difficult for an outsider to integrate immediately.

No one paid attention to Xu Sui’s arrival.

Xu Sui walked toward her seat and wiped the desk with a tissue, but she didn’t have a chair. Xu Sui didn’t know if the chair that originally belonged to her had been taken by some classmate to stand on while cleaning windows, or if there really was one chair missing.

Xu Sui looked around—no one paid attention to her, and her desk mate wasn’t there either.

She walked toward the back and randomly asked a male student: “Excuse me, where can I get a new chair?”

The boy was leaning against the desk playing games on his phone with a group of people. Xu Sui asked three times, but he never looked up, acting as if she didn’t exist.

Embarrassment and awkwardness spread. Sometimes, indifference is often more terrifying than mockery.

Just as Xu Sui was about to turn and leave, a bespectacled boy with a mop came running over shouting “excuse me, excuse me.” Xu Sui couldn’t dodge in time and got mud splattered on her lower leg.

Xu Sui stepped back and accidentally stepped on someone’s sneakers, leaving a clear footprint on the white Nike shoes.

“I’m sorry,” Xu Sui apologized in a low voice.

“No chair?” A cold, textured voice sounded from above her head—very pleasant to hear.

Xu Sui looked up suddenly. At four in the afternoon, the sun shone from the other side of the school building, illuminating the boy’s deep, three-dimensional features—single-fold eyelids, thin lips, sharp jawline.

His school uniform hung loose on him, collar open. His five fingers gripped a soccer ball, and his curved fingers spun it quickly once. Right in front of Xu Sui, he raised his hand and threw it—the soccer ball landed squarely in the basket at the back row. He smiled lightly.

His whole being radiated an aura of casual arrogance.

Xu Sui nodded. He left her with two words: “Wait.”

Ten minutes later, the boy ran to another teaching building, climbed five floors and brought back a new chair for her, his forehead beaded with bright sweat, breathing heavily.

“Thank you,” Xu Sui said softly.

The boy seemed to think nothing of it. Someone in the corridor shouted: “Zhou Jingze, didn’t you say you’d play another game of soccer? How long have I been waiting?”

“Coming,” Zhou Jingze responded.

As Zhou Jingze ran past her, his shirt hem brushed against Xu Sui’s hand. In that moment, Xu Sui caught his crisp mint scent and heard her own heartbeat.

Later, after Xu Sui integrated into the class, she gradually pieced together what she saw and heard about Zhou Jingze. He was tall, had good grades, was the best cellist, had a bold tattoo on his hand, liked eating mint candy, and kept a German Shepherd.

He was popular at school, never lacking female admirers, and often changed girlfriends. Sometimes aloof and distant, but more mature than his peers.

Xu Sui often felt he was truly heaven’s favored son.

Xu Sui didn’t know when she started liking him. During flag ceremonies, she would often steal glances at the boy diagonally behind her until her eyes grew sore. Sometimes seeing him wearing a simple gray hoodie, she would secretly marvel at how someone could make a hoodie look so good.

She looked forward to the bi-weekly seating changes, feeling like she was getting a bit closer to him.

Xu Sui silently liked him without anyone knowing, until the summer of the following year, when she occasionally heard the girls in class talking about Zhou Jingze’s birthday—on summer solstice, June 21st, the peak of summer, the hottest time of year.

During a break to get water, Xu Sui passed through the corridor where the boys were leaning against the railings talking about soccer and games.

She hurried past and stopped at the water fountain at the end of the corridor, unscrewing the cap to get water. She stared blankly at the swaying green tree shadows outside the window.

Suddenly, a dark shadow appeared in the water fountain’s reflection, and the familiar mint scent arrived—it was Zhou Jingze.

Xu Sui tensed up immediately. Zhou Jingze held a transparent cup to get water, slightly bending his waist. The window cast fragmented spots of sunlight on his shoulders.

He gripped the cup, knuckles protruding, fingers pale and slender, curved against the cup wall. Cold water poured out, and mist covered the cup’s surface.

In her peripheral vision, Xu Sui glimpsed his beautiful fingers covered with blisters of various sizes, some already burst, leaving red marks.

He was getting water, and the tendons extending from his knuckles trembled slightly, causing the water in the cup to ripple gently.

His fingers must have hurt terribly.

After he left, cold water overflowed from the cup. Xu Sui stared at the small whirlpool on the surface, thinking about how her classmates said Zhou Jingze often practiced piano until he was the last one to leave.

Born in Rome with absolute talent, yet still worked hard.

After seeing his injured hands from practice, Xu Sui felt moved for the first time, wanting to do something for him. Under the scorching sun, Xu Sui walked through streets and alleys, shopping through malls, wearing out her heels to buy a record by his favorite artist. She hid finger guards and ointment inside the box.

On summer solstice, the sun seemed hotter than usual. Cicadas sang melodiously. Opening a window, wind blew in, rustling the white test papers on the desks.

The second period in the afternoon was PE class. Xu Sui made an excuse about a stomachache to get excused. She planned to quietly slip the gift into Zhou Jingze’s drawer while everyone was away.

Xu Sui walked toward the back row, holding the gift, looking around. Just as she was about to put the gift in his drawer, “bang”—someone kicked the door open. Zhang Liqiang spat: “So damn hot.”

Then his gaze fixed, his expression changed, his tone mocking: “Yo, fatty, you like Zhou-ye too?”

“Too bad he likes pretty girls with good figures. Who would look at someone like you? Hahaha.”

A group of boys laughed one after another. The taste of humiliation was unpleasant, especially being discussed by these boys in their adolescent phase who took pleasure in bullying and didn’t understand respect.

Xu Sui lowered her eyes, her hand holding the gift trembling slightly, her back growing cold.

The boys laughed brazenly. Zhang Liqiang was standing straight when suddenly a forceful soccer ball hit his back. He immediately staggered forward, his back burning with pain.

Zhang Liqiang’s face darkened as he grabbed a nearby chair, ready to smash it. But when he saw who it was, he slowly put the chair down.

Zhou Jingze stood before him, his dark eyes like rock pinning Zhang Liqiang in place, slowly smiling:

“Now that’s no fun.”

Zhang Liqiang gathered two meanings from Zhou Jingze’s words: first, don’t do such degrading things; second, it wasn’t his turn to interfere, or there would be consequences.

Zhang Liqiang backed down and left the classroom with the group.

After everyone scattered, only Zhou Jingze and Xu Sui remained in the classroom. He bent down to toss the ball in the basket and walked step by step toward his seat.

Green fan blades turned slowly overhead. Xu Sui still felt restless inside, her palms slightly sweaty. He came before her, his shadow cast from the window. He reached out his hand from beside his pocket, actively taking the gift from her hands.

Zhou Jingze’s gaze stayed on her as he spoke:

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Xu Sui suspected her brain had malfunctioned when she said this.

After saying this, Xu Sui fled in panic. Actually, from morning on, Zhou Jingze’s desk had been piled with gifts large and small. He really didn’t need to accept her gift.

But he did accept it, and Xu Sui was happy for a long time.

“Ding dong”—the bus stop announcement brought Xu Sui’s thoughts back. She got off and returned to school. She was alone in the dorm.

1017 came up to greet her. Xu Sui petted it, then sprawled lifelessly on the desk. She thought she was somehow different, or that her feelings had been discovered.

But now she knew that Zhou Jingze had acted that way because of his upbringing and the respect he showed others from his core—nothing more.

His helping her out this afternoon was probably also to save her from embarrassment.

He had accepted the gift but never opened it, casually throwing it in a box. The finger guards were covered with dust, the ointment had long expired—it was both gentle and heartless.

Xu Sui remembered Zhou Jingze’s casual, indifferent words from this afternoon that carried a hint of coldness:

“So many people send me gifts, do I have to remember each one individually?”

What she had thought was being seen was just a gentle facade.

Xu Sui rested her chin on the desk, feeling completely drained. 1017 seemed to sense her emotions and curled up like a ball of yarn at her feet for warmth, burrowing in hard. She wrote a sentence in her diary:

I’m starting to want to give up now.

Actually, Zhou Jingze hadn’t done anything wrong. Xu Sui’s gift was just one ordinary gift among thousands. But Xu Sui still felt hurt—it was the pride of someone in love acting up.

For several consecutive days, Xu Sui’s mood remained somewhat calm. She maintained surface composure, attending classes as usual. Occasionally dragged by Hu Qianxi to nearby malls for shopping, she would cos her favorite movie characters in the dorm after buying pretty clothes, posing in front of the mirror.

Seeing Hu Qianxi cos Chaplin with a mustache crooked to the side of her mouth, Xu Sui burst into laughter. But while laughing, her heart felt empty again, with waves of loss passing through.

As someone who loved organizing gatherings, Sheng Nanzhou would arrange get-togethers at least once or twice a week since they all lived near the school. Xu Sui always had legitimate reasons to decline each time.

Like “I have an experiment I can’t leave” or “I just ate, I can’t eat a second meal” and similar excuses that were hard to refute.

On Thursday, while the group was eating at a street-side food stall behind the school, Sheng Nanzhou frowned at a message: “Xu Sui can’t come. She says her cat is a bit sick and she needs to take it for shots.”

Sheng Nanzhou turned off his phone screen and nudged Hu Qianxi, who was seriously eating small yellow fish: “Don’t you think Xu Sui’s been acting strange lately?”

Hu Qianxi gave him a “you’ve got to be kidding me” look. Sheng Nanzhou immediately sought support, casting his gaze toward Zhou Jingze nearby. Zhou Jingze sat there, shoulders slightly lowered, fingers holding a spoon, lazily scooping soup and bringing it to his mouth, replying calmly:

“The soup tastes pretty good.”

Hu Qianxi patted Sheng Nanzhou’s shoulder: “You’re overthinking. She’s probably just stressed about studies.”

When Xu Sui felt suffocated after spending time at the library, she would go to the school rooftop for fresh air. She stood on the rooftop looking at the scenery for a while, habitually looking toward the Beijing University of Aeronautics and Astronautics playground in the northeast corner.

Despite the harsh weather, they still maintained their daily training on the field, shouting powerful slogans and persisting with physical training. Xu Sui wore a white wool toggle coat. A cold wind passed, and she couldn’t help but shiver, breathing into her palms.

Xu Sui was very afraid of cold but liked blowing in winter’s cold wind—a strange habit.

She stood by the railing, rubbing her palms for warmth when her phone rang. Xu Sui answered, and her mother on the other end routinely asked about her studies and living situation.

Xu Sui answered each question. Her mother’s voice was gentle: “Yiyi, I sent you a box of red pomelos. They’re very sweet. Share them with your roommates.”

Yiyi was Xu Sui’s nickname. As for red pomelos, they were a seasonal fruit from the south that her mother sent every winter.

“Okay, thank you, Mom,” Xu Sui replied obediently.

After her mother gave the usual reminders, she said: “Grandma is beside me. Talk to her.”

When grandma took the phone, Xu Sui keenly heard several suppressed coughs and frowned: “Why are you coughing again, Grandma? Are you wearing enough clothes?”

“I’m wearing enough. It’s just that I wasn’t used to the sudden temperature drop a few days ago,” Grandma explained with a smile.

Her mother exposed grandma on the side, muttering quietly: “It’s because your grandma at her age is still trying to stay up late like young people…”

Grandma chattered away sharing things that happened in Liying Town. Xu Sui listened patiently with a smile on her face, finally reminding her to take care of her health.

At the end of the call, grandma’s voice was hoarse but kind: “Yiyi, are you still afraid of the cold in the north? Or have you gotten used to it?”

Xu Sui paused, using her finger to poke at the frost flowers on the cement railing, inexplicably thinking of that carefree face, answering irrelevantly:

“Actually, it’s still a bit cold.”

After hanging up, Xu Sui habitually clicked into Zhou Jingze’s Moments—still blank. She pressed exit with her thumb and casually scrolled through Moments. Suddenly she came across Sheng Nanzhou’s post with text that read—”Thanks to my Zhou-ye,” with a photo attached.

It was a photo from a shooting range. Zhou Jingze wore army green training clothes, holding a gun with one hand, wearing protective goggles, his profile smooth and sharp.

Xu Sui couldn’t look away. Standing on the rooftop, she liked Sheng Nanzhou’s Moments post. A cold wind blew, and she shrank into her collar. Afraid of being seen by him or others finding out something, she pressed her thumb on it and unliked it.

After completing this series of actions, Xu Sui found herself somewhat ridiculous and contradictory. She forced herself not to see him, yet paid attention to everything related to him.

She couldn’t escape.

The express delivery her mother sent was special delivery and arrived within two days. Xu Sui used a paper knife to cut open the box and shared the contents with her roommates, leaving two that she thought she could bring to everyone during rehearsal to taste.

At the very bottom, Xu Sui discovered a package. She unwrapped it to find a pair of knitted gloves with money stuffed inside.

Two hundred-yuan bills, plus several wrinkled tens and fives, and some coins.

Three hundred yuan total.

Looking at the gloves and money, Xu Sui wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, immediately understanding why her grandmother had caught a cold.

On the weekend, since Da Liu had something to do, they moved rehearsal time to the morning. Xu Sui and Hu Qianxi came to Zhou Jingze’s house. Zhou Jingze answered the door.

Not having seen him for a week, Xu Sui felt a bit nervous. The moment the door opened, she instinctively avoided eye contact with him, hearing a hoarse voice with a mocking tone:

“Are you two turtles?”

“Hmph,” Hu Qianxi made a face at him.

They were already waiting in the music room. Zhou Jingze was sleepy and made himself an americano with one hand before bringing it upstairs.

During rehearsal, they needed eye contact, usually switching instruments according to rhythm changes. When it was Zhou Jingze’s turn to make eye contact with Xu Sui for a cue, her eyes only touched his briefly before she lowered her head to play drums.

Zhou Jingze noticed but said nothing.

During break, Sheng Nanzhou praised himself: “We’re simply a match made in heaven.”

“Being uneducated doesn’t need to be so obvious. ‘Match made in heaven’ refers to couples,” Hu Qianxi put down her bass and corrected him from the sofa.

Zhou Jingze’s tongue touched his left cheek as he smiled: “My fault for not teaching properly.”

Da Liu noticed the pomelos Xu Sui had brought on the table: “Are these pomelos sweet?”

“They’re sweet,” Xu Sui replied. She looked around and asked, “Is there a knife? I’ll peel them for you to try.”

“There should be one in the kitchen,” Hu Qianxi said.

Xu Sui nodded and went downstairs with a pomelo. Seeing Xu Sui go down while Zhou Jingze was still slouched on the sofa playing a matching game, Hu Qianxi frowned: “Uncle, as the host, shouldn’t you go help?”

Zhou Jingze had to put down his phone and go downstairs with his hands in his pockets.

Sure enough, Xu Sui stood in the kitchen, her dark eyes darting around looking for a knife. A cold, indifferent voice spoke:

“Above your head.”

Before Xu Sui could react, Zhou Jingze walked over, easily opened the sterilizer cabinet, took out a fruit knife, and directly took the pomelo from her hands, starting to score along the yellow peel at the top.

Zhou Jingze expertly peeled the pomelo’s skin in a few moves, and the bitter-sweet fragrance filled the small space. Zhou Jingze was tall—when he lowered his head, he revealed a section of pale neck.

He took out a segment of red pomelo from the center, peeled off the outer membrane, his fingertips stained with a bit of white pith, and handed it to Xu Sui. She took it and bit into it.

Zhou Jingze continued scoring the fruit with the knife, arranging pieces on a plate, then suddenly asked: “Is something bothering you lately?”

“No,” Xu Sui denied.

Zhou Jingze didn’t speak, just nodded and continued dividing the pomelo into the plate. Xu Sui stood beside him, quietly eating the red pomelo, her lips stained with a bit of red juice.

The pomelo was really sweet. Xu Sui’s cheeks puffed out as she ate seriously, like a little goldfish. Suddenly, a tall shadow loomed over her, tangling with her shadow on the ground.

Zhou Jingze stood before her, his elbow braced against the cabinet behind her as he prepared to put the fruit knife back in the sterilizer. Because of his unexpected proximity, Xu Sui’s heart began racing uncontrollably. She looked up at him with a somewhat dazed expression.

Winter sunlight streamed in, illuminating her nearly transparent pale skin where fine downy hair was clearly visible. Zhou Jingze caught sight of her moist lips stained with a bit of red pomelo juice, his eyes darkening as words he hadn’t intended to say suddenly spilled out:

“So are you avoiding me?”