The rain had grown heavy.

Far beyond the point of merely dampening one’s robe.

Zhang Xingjian, pouring out his heart in the rain, went in and out again and again searching for her, seemingly unable to let it go.

He spoke to the empty courtyard, not knowing whether she was there, whether she could hear him. His internal energy wasn’t enough to sense whether anyone else was in the courtyard, and the noise of the rain drowned out most sounds besides.

Zhang Xingjian felt utterly powerless.

But apart from speaking to an empty courtyard, he couldn’t think of any other way.

If Shen Qingwu had left in a fit of anger, where would she go? How could he find her? Was she angry only for the moment and unwilling to speak to him, or angry for good? Or did she feel the gap between them was too much to bear, and after thinking it over, decide that her “trying it out” ended here?

Zhang Xingjian stood frozen, dazed.

The rain soaked his sleeves, the fine fabric clinging to him, heavy and dragging at every step. Rain wet his lashes, and his eyes, too, seemed caught in their own private downpour, glistening dark—panic, loss, confusion, and grief arriving all at once, tangling his mind and heart into a knot he couldn’t untangle.

Zhang Xingjian lowered his head.

He spoke as though to himself: “Wutong, don’t run off somewhere. I’ll come find you.”

Why did everything have to be so extreme?

But Shen Qingwu was determined to be extreme.

Either he gave way, or she gave way… why couldn’t they talk it through, find some middle ground?

Zhang Xingjian turned, steadying himself, meaning to leave the courtyard and find some way to search for her. Just then, he heard a peal of thunder rumble across the sky.

The thunder struck at his heart and mind like a blow.

Along with the dull ache it brought, he couldn’t help but look up, gazing at the sky through the rain, somewhat dazed—

That vow of Shen Qingwu’s…

That test of lightning he could never get past still left his whole body aching, even now.

Muddled, he found himself believing along with it—that perhaps heaven truly did make oathbreakers pay a price. Lost in that belief, the effect the thunder had on him wouldn’t fade; and the longer he stayed trapped by the sound of thunder, the more it seemed the vow might really be coming true…

A gentleman does not speak of strange occurrences or unnatural forces.

But sometimes… there seemed to be no help for it.

Zhang Xingjian’s face had gone pale as a ghost’s.

As he stumbled, dazed, through the peals of thunder toward the courtyard gate, a figure suddenly appeared ahead of him—carrying a bundle on her back, soaked through, standing before the wisteria trellis at the courtyard entrance. A flash of lightning lit her face clearly.

Zhang Xingjian stared, unable to look away.

Standing there was Shen Qingwu—the very Shen Qingwu he had searched everywhere for and couldn’t find.

At first he thought it an illusion, but after a moment, that figure was still there, watching him with a calm, distant gaze, and Zhang Xingjian knew it wasn’t a trick of his eyes.

He murmured, “Wutong…”

His voice was a little hoarse.

The kind of hoarseness that comes from holding back tears.

With the rain this heavy, his eyes this wet, there was no telling whether he’d been crying.

Shen Qingwu had been angry, hadn’t meant to pay him any attention, had thought his crying was almost amusing—her spiteful heart had slowly settled watching him so lost and bewildered. When the thunder had rumbled, she had jumped down from the tree.

She had stood in the corner for quite a while, watching that dazed, heartbroken figure the whole time.

Unfortunately, wallowing in his own self-pity, he hadn’t noticed her.

Now their eyes met.

Shen Qingwu couldn’t bring herself to say she’d worried the thunder was hurting him too badly, that she’d wanted to check on him.

Instead she said, “I was afraid the lightning would strike the tree, strike me, so I came down.”

Zhang Xingjian’s gaze was deep and still, like a piece of jade, dark and glossy with moisture. Cool and quiet, he said nothing, only looked at her.

Shen Qingwu walked toward him. “A wise man doesn’t stand beneath a crumbling wall.”

Zhang Xingjian still said nothing—

Shen Qingwu came to stand before him.

The thunder kept rolling, peal after peal, enough to fray even Shen Qingwu’s nerves. She looked at Zhang Xingjian’s face—the veins on his forehead trembling, his body rigid, his expression just as taut.

He must be enduring intense pain.

But he didn’t want to show it.

And this fragile beauty of his was, admittedly, quite striking.

Shen Qingwu thought: why wasn’t he showing it? Going by his usual style, shouldn’t he be using this to hold something over her, to demand she stay by his side, demand she take responsibility for him?

She couldn’t figure Zhang Xingjian out.

He’d been sulking at her before, forcing her to apologize, and now he seemed to care about none of it.

Shen Qingwu couldn’t well bring up the old matter, couldn’t well mention that she’d listened to him crying for a good while, and certainly couldn’t indulge herself now in admiring his looks.

She said to Zhang Xingjian, “Go back to your own quarters, go back inside. Close all the doors and windows, cover yourself with the bedding, and sleep. The lightning won’t strike you. That’s a fairy tale only children believe—you have no reason to believe it.”

Zhang Xingjian stared at her, and slowly spoke. “And you?”

Shen Qingwu said, “I… I’m going out for a while.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “To do what? Do you not plan to come back?”

Shen Qingwu took a deep breath.

While sitting in the tree, she’d been thinking over how to explain this. Zhang Xingjian was angry with her; if she went to talk to him, he might not even listen. She had genuinely considered leaving without a trace, but something about that felt not quite right to her.

Torn, Shen Qingwu had sat in the tree, lost in thought for a while…

Lost in thought, lost in thought, until Zhang Xingjian’s breakdown had reached its peak.

Shen Qingwu looked Zhang Xingjian in the eye and said plainly, “I’m going to get back at the people who wronged me.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Then why leave? Can’t you get back at them from here?”

Shen Qingwu said, “I can’t.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Why not? Am I the obstacle?”

Shen Qingwu said, “You’re your teacher’s student. This trip of yours has a purpose of forming an alliance—of course you can’t afford to fall out with your teacher. You…”

Zhang Xingjian said, “So you’re blaming me?”

Shen Qingwu said, “I’m not blaming you. Don’t interrupt me, just listen. The Jiang family upset me—that Jiang Runiang caused trouble herself and deliberately pinned it on me. I understand perfectly well that, because of your teacher, you can’t afford to make a scene over it.

“But I’m different. Your teacher has no ties to the princess, and even less to me. If he dislikes me, that’s my own business. The Shen Qingwu who’s tied to you can’t easily seek revenge, but the Shen Qingwu acting alone can.

“I don’t want to put you in a difficult position, and I don’t want to cause trouble for the princess either. I’ll handle it myself—if the Jiang family wants to make an enemy, let it be an enemy of me, Shen Qingwu, alone.”

Her tone was flat, but she was genuinely trying to persuade him: “So keep your distance from me.”

She even offered him a plan. “After I leave, just say we fell out over this and I refused to be managed, that I left on my own. That way you can mend things with your teacher, and I can go be the villain. You and I have nothing to do with each other.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Nothing to do with each other?”

He was silent for a moment.

He asked, “Then when will you come back?”

Shen Qingwu said, indifferent, “Where’s your next destination? Tell me the place name, and I’ll come find you when the time comes.”

Zhang Xingjian said, calm, “I haven’t decided yet.”

Shen Qingwu said, “Then once you’ve decided, leave a mark at some corner wall. I’ll come look when I have time.”

Having said her piece, laid out her intentions, she felt entirely at ease.

She turned to leave.

Zhang Xingjian’s damp sleeve brushed against her.

She’d expected he might do this, and swung her elbow back to shove him away. But just then, thunder crashed again, and the fingers gripping her wrist trembled, ever so faintly. Her elbow struck his chest with real force, and he took the blow without flinching.

Shen Qingwu’s heart softened for a moment.

And in that softened moment, Zhang Xingjian wrapped his arms around her from behind.

His damp breath brushed against her ear. “Don’t go.”

Shen Qingwu frowned. I’ve said it clearly enough—it’s not as if I’m abandoning house and home, so what are you doing?

She was out of patience, and said nothing, but Zhang Xingjian, arms around her waist, turned her to face him again.

Beneath his long, dense lashes like a rolled-up curtain, his eyes carried a hidden melancholy.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Look up.”

Shen Qingwu looked up.

The next moment, as she earnestly gazed up and past him at an angle, her lips grew damp and soft, pressed by a gentle breath.

Shen Qingwu’s eyes trembled, and she looked at Zhang Xingjian.

He almost never initiated a kiss.

He only occasionally, when overcome with passion in bed, couldn’t help himself. He was the kind of man who kept his emotions and desires under tight, careful control; whatever he might say about being troubled by desire, in truth he was never ruled by it.

Between the two of them.

The one who could never control her emotions had always been Shen Qingwu. The one who stayed calm and gentle had always been Zhang Xingjian.

She was the one who lost her head; he was the one who cleaned up afterward.

Naturally—he was the little immortal gentleman, and she the wicked bandit trying to drag him into the mud.

So what was he doing now?

Shen Qingwu murmured, “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

His eyes curved, ever so slightly.

There was a hint of a smile, though not much of one—more melancholy, more loss, more confusion.

He said softly, “…Watch the moon fall.”

He cupped her chin and leaned down to kiss her.

Shen Qingwu turned her face aside, dodging him.

Zhang Xingjian, never this forceful before, still held her chin, trying to turn her face back, still trying to kiss her.

Shen Qingwu stepped back; he pressed forward.

Shen Qingwu raised her free hand, the one he wasn’t holding, and pushed against his shoulder. The force wasn’t light, though not overwhelming either, and yet Zhang Xingjian still didn’t dodge.

Didn’t even make a sound.

Lightning flashed and thunder roared, pain in his shoulder, his whole body drenched in rain, cold sweat masked beneath the downpour.

Zhang Xingjian held her close, pressing her backward; no matter how she resisted, he was determined to kiss her.

He paid no mind even to the blood drawn from his bitten lip.

The overwhelming pain gave him a different kind of thrill, a sudden gasp of breath from deep within some drowning abyss.

“Thud—”

Shen Qingwu was pressed back against a half-crumbling, dust-covered wall, her head knocking against branches and vines, her mouth full of Zhang Xingjian’s breath.

Rain fell against both their eyes and noses.

Both of Shen Qingwu’s hands were caught and pinned to the wall; in the struggle, the bundle on her back fell to the ground with a soft thud, and neither of them paid it any mind.

Two figures pressed against the wall.

The sound of breathing, the sound of rain, pattering and clinging, mingling together—

Shen Qingwu was furious.

How dare he force himself on her!

And then Shen Qingwu was startled by something else.

How dare he force himself on her—

The back of her hand, held pinned against the wall, brushed against white plaster; she slowly clenched her fist.

Just as she was about to break free of his hold, her gaze drifted downward, unbidden, and landed on his neck.

He had turned his face aside to kiss her.

His long neck, veins faintly pulsing, damp with strands of his hair, was pale as snow beneath the rain. Hair clinging to his neck, hazy in the mist, like mountain fog over melting snow—stunningly beautiful.

Shen Qingwu froze.

The thunder rolled on and on, his mouth pressing against hers without restraint, and yet her heart began to race—

Zhang Xingjian’s breathing grew ragged, muddled.

He could feel Shen Qingwu’s resistance.

He felt that she didn’t want him.

But he was determined to kiss her anyway—

Didn’t she like his face, like his body? If his heart couldn’t keep her, could his body not do it either?

Gradually, sure enough, he felt the woman in his arms begin to give way, Shen Qingwu no longer trying to resist.

Her breathing was no longer calm, tangled with his own, like a pounding heartbeat.

Zhang Xingjian knew—she was feeling it now—

Of course Shen Qingwu felt it.

Anyone pressed against a body and kissed by force like this would feel something. And this man had the softest, most kissable lips in the world.

Simply kissing him was enough to make her feel it deeply.

Most of the time, Shen Qingwu was faithful to her own body.

And so, as Zhang Xingjian, breathless, flustered and out of rhythm, pulled back to catch his breath, Shen Qingwu, leaning against the wall, watched him calmly.

His gaze fell on her.

Shen Qingwu said nothing.

A bolt of lightning cut across the sky.

Shen Qingwu tilted her neck back.

Between lovers, a single gesture was hint enough.

Amid the vivid, dripping green leaves, Zhang Xingjian’s kiss landed on Shen Qingwu’s lips once more, tangling with hers—

He gasped softly against her mouth, murmuring even as he kissed her:

“Don’t go.”

Shen Qingwu let out a muffled sound.

She gave herself over to enjoying his affection.

Zhang Xingjian murmured, “Don’t abandon me.”

Shen Qingwu couldn’t help but object, “I’m not abandoning you. I’ve said it clearly—I need to handle my own business.”

Zhang Xingjian’s lashes were wet. “I know you’re upset. I’ve wronged you.”

Shen Qingwu said, “I’m not…”

Her difficult explanation was swallowed by his nimble tongue.

His skill was growing steadily better, and Shen Qingwu felt her very soul might drift away, kissed and held in his arms.

Shen Qingwu closed her eyes, holding her breath in check.

He wasn’t much stronger than her.

And yet he still had words for her: “I won’t let you leave… If you leave once, you’ll leave a second time. The next time something like this happens, you’ll still choose to walk away. What we have between us is already so slight—if I let you leave again and again, that little bit of feeling will wear away eventually.”

He said softly, “One day, this thin thread of feeling will be worn to nothing at all, and you’ll find it not worth the trouble, and you’ll leave.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Let’s both change, let’s talk about whatever we’re unhappy with… please don’t leave, all right?”

Shen Qingwu was taken aback.

She opened her eyes to look at him.

She had never thought of it that way.

Light shimmered in her gaze.

She thought he was truly… perceptive, clever, calm, clear-headed.

He seemed able to see through every shift in feeling with perfect clarity—an ability she didn’t possess. She stared at him blankly, watching him hold her, kiss her again and again, murmuring in her ear that he wouldn’t let her go.

Shen Qingwu thought: when would she ever become as “clever” as Zhang Yuelu?

Not the kind of clever the world usually meant, but the kind that saw everything with total clarity, that always knew what it wanted and didn’t want.

While she was lost in thought, Zhang Xingjian, thinking her mind had wandered, felt an even deeper pang of sorrow.

Could he really not even hold onto her with his body?

Enduring the twinges of pain, Zhang Xingjian tried a different approach. “Would you really be this heartless, abandon me and walk away? I’m in so much pain right now, my whole body aches—my chest hurts where you struck me, my shoulder hurts, and there’s the blood where you bit my lip… will you really not care?”

Shen Qingwu really was stubborn.

She said, “I won’t.”

Shen Qingwu tried to search for reason amid his affection, tried to grasp at that thread of sense within the chaotic sea of desire; even as he kissed her until she trembled all over, sweat beading on her forehead, she pressed on:

“I’ve made everything clear. I don’t want to drag you into this. I don’t mean anything else by it—why won’t you let me go?

“When have I ever abandoned you? Aren’t we—aren’t we lovers?”

Zhang Xingjian murmured, “But you only agreed to try things with me, not to truly be together with me. How am I to know whether you’re satisfied or not?”

Shen Qingwu said, “Then ask me!”

Zhang Xingjian was about to speak, but Shen Qingwu, startled, cut him off.

She’d been thoroughly confused by him.

Shen Qingwu tried to pull herself out of his warm embrace. “I really have to go now. Stop this.”

Zhang Xingjian lowered his head and kissed her eyes gently.

The sensation was so strong her brows nearly flew up.

Zhang Xingjian looked into her hazy, unfocused eyes and reached up to brush the hair from her face.

Shen Qingwu tried to convince herself: “I really do have to go…”

She wanted to get back at the people who’d wronged her in her own way. She didn’t want to cause trouble for Zhang Xingjian, and she couldn’t afford to lose badly either. She was so clearly aware of all this—so why did she still need to coax him?

Just because he was in pain? Just because he was afraid of thunder?

Damn it.

Shen Qingwu almost wished she could be afraid of thunder herself, so she and Zhang Xingjian could both play weak and see who came out ahead.

Zhang Xingjian watched her, that indignant look still lingering in her eyes even as she sank into his kisses.

He asked, “Shall we sleep?”

Shen Qingwu said nothing.

The rain fell like a curtain, thick and unbroken.

Shen Qingwu lowered her head. “…Sleep.”

The next instant, she was lifted clean off the ground in his arms—

Shen Qingwu had always known that she and Zhang Xingjian were remarkably well matched in this regard.

She couldn’t resist that particular kind of pleasure.

The moment his cool fingers moved against her skin, she would wrap her legs around his waist, hook her arms around his neck, and pull him back against her.

Shen Qingwu had never known before that rainy days had their own particular feeling to them—

The poor forgotten bundle lay outside by the wall, while the man and woman inside listened to the steady, brook-like sound of the rain.

The rain drowned out the soft, restrained sounds of breathing within the room.

Rain gathered under the eaves into little streams, dripping down steadily, and both the man and the woman inside felt as though their very blood and bones were being drenched in both heat and cold at once.

Shen Qingwu wanted to listen to the rain.

Zhang Xingjian grew relaxed and easy, and truly was.

Near the window stood a small couch. The two of them, stumbling their way inside, searched impatiently for a place, and in the end, Shen Qingwu leaned against the wall, sitting on the couch, watching Zhang Xingjian lean down toward her.

The couch was too small.

But it was the lack of space that made everything feel more intense.

Leaning against the wall, Shen Qingwu listened to the rain, breathing in the scent of damp earth mixed with the scent of him. As his knee touched the couch, Shen Qingwu’s hand, languid, pressed lightly against his shoulder, holding him back just slightly.

Zhang Xingjian looked up at her.

Languid as a lioness, hair disheveled and clinging to her neck and face, Shen Qingwu watched, unblinking, this handsome young gentleman drenched from head to toe.

She said, “My couch doesn’t allow this gentleman’s clothes on it.”

Zhang Xingjian raised an eyebrow.

A smile rose in his eyes.

This smile finally reached his eyes—no longer the distant performance from earlier, outside.

He said, “One item off for every visit, how’s that?”

He knew she’d always wanted to look at him.

Shen Qingwu raised an eyebrow.

He’d piqued her interest.

Holding back her impatience, Shen Qingwu nodded slowly. Then she added, “I want you kneeling.”

Zhang Xingjian froze.

Shen Qingwu said, “Can’t manage it?”

Broad daylight, torrential rain, lightning flashing and thunder rolling—how would Zhang Sanlang choose?

Zhang Sanlang chose to get on the couch, whatever it took.

He knelt on the couch; Shen Qingwu, one leg drawn up, watched him kneel before her leg, languid and composed, as he glanced up at her.

His hand fell to the sash at his waist.

Clean, elegant fingers undid the clinking jade pendant, and warm, damp breath drew closer to her.

Shen Qingwu tilted her neck back, wrapping her arms around his slender back; turning her face, she kissed him, and at the instant their skin touched, he trembled ever so slightly—

The rain kept falling, steady and unbroken.

Shen Qingwu sank into the confusion of the moment.

She thought that Zhang Xingjian had, at first, not been particularly skilled at this—merely making do, using his looks to keep her hooked. But over time he’d grown steadily better at it… learning how to please her, watching her reactions, finding his own enjoyment in it as well.

His shyness, his reserve, warred against that other side of his nature—his easygoing indifference, his idle laziness, his intense curiosity.

Sometimes shyness won out.

Sometimes that easygoing curiosity won instead.

This time, the side that clearly won was that innate easiness of his.

Anything went.

Anything held his interest.

Whatever he hadn’t tried before, he found intriguing, eager to try it out with her.

Zhang Yuelu, who never put on airs at any moment, made an excellent partner in bed—

The couch caught a few drops of rain drifting in, dampening a bare shoulder.

But Shen Qingwu didn’t want to move, and Zhang Xingjian had no objection either.

Shen Qingwu, thoroughly entertained, held him and watched him. His robe hung loose and open, like clouds and mist; his face, flushed with desire, and his eyes, as though soaked in water, his breath ragged and disordered.

Zhang Xingjian, sensing something about the way she was looking at him, turned his face aside and pulled his robe closed a little, blocking a bit of the view from leaking out.

Shen Qingwu laughed aloud.

She was thoroughly absorbed in this pleasure.

Adrift in a happy daze, Shen Qingwu heard Zhang Xingjian call to her: “Wutong.”

Shen Qingwu said, “Mm?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Look out the window.”

Shen Qingwu turned her face to look out the window—the sky had grown grayer still, half the courtyard’s leaves caught in the falling rain, pattering steadily. A haze of mist spread through the air; it was the kind of rainy day made for sleeping.

Only the thunder rumbling overhead occasionally drew Shen Qingwu’s attention back to Zhang Xingjian’s face.

The veins on his forehead were trembling, his complexion paler still.

Seeing that she’d noticed, Zhang Xingjian gave an indifferent little smile. “It’s been thundering the whole time.”

Shen Qingwu slowly leaned in, covering his ears, drawing him into her arms.

Clumsy with words, all she could manage was one gentle phrase: “Don’t be afraid.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “That’s not what I meant. I mean—don’t be afraid of that vow.”

Shen Qingwu was taken aback.

His eyes curved, his face pale, sweat beading at his temples, veins trembling, his robe hanging half open.

And yet he was still so beautiful.

The beautiful young gentleman spoke, word by word: “Don’t be afraid of breaking your vow.

“I kept wondering, before—why, even though you’d already agreed to be with me, I was still afraid of the thunder. Now I think I understand why—

“If it strikes anyone, let it strike me first.

“It was I who asked you to break your vow, I who asked you to change your principles, I who wanted your love, who tried to force my way into your heart.

“Wutong, don’t be afraid of breaking your vow. If the lightning falls, let it strike me first—I’ll protect you.

“Perhaps I haven’t done well enough, but talk to me more, and we’ll figure it out together. You come a little toward me, I’ll come a little toward you—don’t, don’t just say you’re leaving, say you want to part ways, the moment we disagree.”

His eyes were wet.

He said softly, “I know you only meant, simply and honestly, that you wanted to leave—not that you meant to abandon me. But I’m still afraid. Please don’t make me this afraid anymore, all right?”

He said to her, “I know I haven’t done well enough. It’s because I sulked at you that all this happened… I noticed from the start that Jiang Runiang didn’t like you, but I didn’t take it seriously. I only wanted to make you jealous—I never imagined you’d get hurt because of it.

“When you were wronged, I didn’t take your side right away. That was my fault. I’ll change…”

Shen Qingwu cut in, “Don’t change.”

He stared at her, stunned.

Shen Qingwu said, “I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

And gradually, she began to understand something.

She asked, “You don’t want me to leave?”

Zhang Xingjian agreed.

He said, “I won’t make you jealous again. If something like this happens again, I’ll handle it right away… I didn’t handle it well this time, and that was my mistake. Don’t feel wronged.”

Shen Qingwu stared at him blankly.

She hadn’t thought of herself as wronged.

But he said, “All right, you’re not wronged… then let me feel wronged on our Wutong’s behalf, all right?”

Something shook loose in Shen Qingwu, and she gazed at him, entranced.

Her eyes grew warm.

She said nothing.

Zhang Xingjian bent down and drew her into his arms, and for one moment, Shen Qingwu felt as though she were being cherished. That unfamiliar sensation, like a cloud drifting through the sky, soft and numbing, left her feeling entirely boneless.

How could a person have no backbone?

In that moment, Shen Qingwu felt as though she could accept losing it, just briefly.

Held in his arms, Shen Qingwu gently tugged at the hem of his robe. As his warm breath brushed her neck, she rehearsed the words in her mind many times over, and finally, working up her courage, she said, halting and awkward: “I really don’t understand all these twists and turns between people…”

Zhang Xingjian said, “You don’t need to. It’s enough that I do.”

Shen Qingwu’s lashes lowered slightly. “Once you’re done with all your business, you still have to deal with the trouble I cause. Doesn’t that tire you? You might not feel tired now, but won’t you feel it eventually?”

Zhang Xingjian asked her, “Do you find eating tiring, or drinking water tiring?”

This time Shen Qingwu understood what he meant.

Zhang Xingjian leaned in, kissed her, and murmured again, begging her not to leave, begging her to talk things over with him, begging her to stay by his side…

Clingy, tangled, utterly unwilling to let go—so annoying!

And it truly did wear Shen Qingwu’s heart down, twist after twist, until it turned as soft and pliant as thread wound round a finger.

Her face flushed from his kisses, Shen Qingwu put on a show of strength, saying coldly, “I find eating tiring. Drinking water too.”

He looked up at her.

He understood her petty mischief for what it was.

His eyes curved in a smile, his voice turning playful: “Little troublemaker.”

Shen Qingwu suddenly sat up, pushed him down flat, and pinned him to the couch—

Zhang Xingjian was startled. “You want to play?”

Shen Qingwu said, indifferent, “Mm.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “I haven’t even…”

Shen Qingwu cut him off. “In a moment. Right now, I’m going to give you… hm…”

She couldn’t find the right words; he supplied them: “A little shock to the system?”

Shen Qingwu blinked, startled, and he sighed good-naturedly and spread his arms, letting her lean over him. A smile lingered at the corner of his mouth—he clearly liked this.

Shen Qingwu cupped his cool cheek and leaned close to his ear, asking softly, “Earlier, when you were looking for me in the courtyard—were you crying?”

Zhang Xingjian stiffened and said nothing.

Shen Qingwu said, “Cry again.”