Exam week officially arrived.

Students were tense with nerves but buzzing with excitement — after all, winter break would begin the moment it was over. During this period, Jiang Ruoqiao was juggling exam revision with the hunt for a suitable short-term apartment. In previous winter and summer breaks, she had always stayed in an apartment owned by the hanfu shop owner she worked for. This year, that was no longer an option. Even though the owner had sent her a message before, she had no intention of going — the contract had been for the photography work, and that contract had long since expired. She could hardly impose on someone else’s property now just because she had nowhere else to go.

At only twenty years old, Jiang Ruoqiao had already made up her mind: she needed to work twice as hard, and secure her own place here as early as possible — even a small one would do. This business of scrambling for rentals was truly exhausting, body and soul.

Finding something suitable was proving difficult. The better listings were snapped up almost immediately, and landlords or agents all made it perfectly clear: minimum six-month lease.

She needed at most one month. As for short-stay guesthouses — several hundred yuan a night, which over a month came to… she’d essentially be working for the landlord’s benefit alone.

That evening, Jiang Ruoqiao sat on the sofa scrolling through rental listings with a deep frown on her face.

Lu Siyan crept over and leaned against her shoulder, wheedling, “What’s Mom looking at?”

Jiang Ruoqiao replied, “Looking at apartments.”

Both of them had been busy lately.

Lu Yicheng had only just come back in, and it was raining outside. Jiang Ruoqiao planned to wait for the rain to stop before heading back to the dormitory — it was still early, not yet eight o’clock.

Lu Yicheng came out of the bathroom. Catching the tail end of the conversation, he casually asked, “Short-term rental?”

Jiang Ruoqiao nodded. “Yeah, it’s proving pretty hard to find.”

Lu Siyan understood — after Dad and Mom sent him to great-grandma and great-grandpa’s, they’d both be coming back here to work and earn money. Without much thought, he blurted out, “But I won’t be here anyway — Mom could just stay here.”

Jiang Ruoqiao’s hand froze on her phone screen. “??”

Lu Yicheng, who was using a towel to blot the rain off his down jacket, also went still. “??”

It had to be admitted — it was a genuinely good idea.

It would solve the problem that had been troubling Jiang Ruoqiao the most. This place was small, but it had two bedrooms. After a quick tidy-up, there would always be a room for Jiang Ruoqiao.

Most importantly, Jiang Ruoqiao had been contributing to the rent here anyway — if she stayed, she wouldn’t need to pay any additional rent on top of that.

It was both convenient and economical!

But…

Jiang Ruoqiao said, without a moment’s hesitation, “No!”

If she had no intention of pursuing a romantic relationship with Lu Yicheng, the idea would have been perfectly fine.

But now, she had already come to see Lu Yicheng as her almost-boyfriend. So no, this wouldn’t do.

She could skip past dating, skip past marriage, already have a child, already meet the family and go to Xi Shi with him — but she could not skip straight to living together. Where was the fun in that? She absolutely did not want to be running into Lu Yicheng while wearing pajamas first thing in the morning, and she was definitely not ready to be sharing a bathroom with him brushing teeth side by side at this stage.

Lu Yicheng came to his senses and nodded as well. “It is a bit improper.”

He also thought it would be convenient, and would save money, but given where the two of them stood right now, living under the same roof would not sit well for her — and it wouldn’t look good if word got out.

Lu Siyan shrugged. “I was just saying. You two look so worked up over nothing.”

Jiang Ruoqiao gritted her teeth. “…”

She was beginning to understand what Zhang Yuchen’s mother had told her — sometimes a child could drive you so mad you felt smoke coming out of every orifice.

In the end, the rental problem was solved by Lu Yicheng. He had a way of making everything seem possible. Lu Yicheng was well-liked — wherever he went, people took to him, especially older people. He simply happened to run into an aunt who lived on the same floor while taking out the rubbish, and they chatted briefly — he mentioned offhandedly that he was looking for a short-term room. Within two days, the aunt brought good news.

There was an apartment upstairs occupied by a couple. Two days ago, the couple had broken up after a fight, but there were still six months left on the lease. The young woman wanted to find a roommate, but with the Lunar New Year approaching, there weren’t many people looking for places to rent. She was willing to let Jiang Ruoqiao rent the smaller of the two rooms for one month — after which she would look for a more permanent roommate online.

The rent was reasonable, within a range Jiang Ruoqiao could manage.

Before winter break officially began, Jiang Ruoqiao packed her things and moved in.

Jiang Ruoqiao was upstairs, Lu Yicheng was downstairs. They weren’t living together, strictly speaking, and yet there was this peculiar, inexplicable feeling — when Jiang Ruoqiao stepped out after a shower, she would involuntarily pause in one particular spot, standing on the tips of her toes, measuring out the space with her eyes. *Down below should be Lu Yicheng’s study… what is he doing right now?*

That kind of wondering, that kind of feeling — it was wonderfully strange.

It left Jiang Ruoqiao unusually soft inside, on this winter night — a sensation she had never experienced before.

Lu Yicheng felt it too.

At night, before sleep, without any particular reason, he would climb out of bed and come to the study, and sit for a while in the chair — not to look at his computer or read a book, but simply to tilt his head back and stare at the ceiling where the paint was beginning to peel slightly. Her room was directly above his study. What was she doing right now?

—

The evening before the holiday, Jiang Yan suddenly extended an invitation, asking their dormitory mates to dinner and drinks. He had specifically said a word to Du Yu and told him to bring Lu Yicheng along.

Du Yu was deeply apprehensive.

Everyone was scared of having Lu Yicheng and Jiang Yan in the same room these days — the air between them always gave off the impression that someone was about to grab a chair and start a fight at any moment.

But the heaviness around Jiang Yan’s eyes had deepened considerably. Over the course of this one semester, every last trace of the high-spirited energy he used to carry on the basketball court had drained away. He clapped Du Yu on the shoulder and said, “I just have some things to say. No provocation, no fighting.”

Du Yu looked to Wang Jiangfeng, who nodded. Du Yu then called Lu Yicheng and asked him to come.

Knowing it was Jiang Yan who had organized this gathering, Lu Yicheng did hesitate — but in the end, he showed up.

During their second year, the dormitory group often chose a restaurant called Xiao Wan Xiang for their get-togethers — good food, good value, very popular, with small private rooms upstairs. When Lu Yicheng arrived, the other three were already seated and debating plans for the winter break. A few seconds of silence fell over the private room. Wang Jiangfeng dragged over the chair beside him and beckoned to Lu Yicheng: “Over here, CEO Lu, sit here.”

Lu Yicheng didn’t look at Jiang Yan. He sat down beside Wang Jiangfeng.

It had been the entirety of a semester since they had gathered like this. Du Yu was feeling nostalgic: “It feels like the last time we all sat down and ate together was a lifetime ago.”

Jiang Yan said nothing, quietly asking the server to add more dishes and specifically saying, “And bring up a case of beer, please. Thank you.”

Wang Jiangfeng passed a bottle of beer to Lu Yicheng. Lu Yicheng held up a hand to decline. “I won’t drink tonight. Early morning tomorrow.”

Tomorrow’s high-speed rail, going to Xi Shi. The nine o’clock train — he’d need to be up before seven.

Wang Jiangfeng didn’t press him.

It was as though the tension between them had never existed. They ate, they drank. Lu Yicheng was as quiet as ever, mostly listening while the others talked. Jiang Yan also didn’t say much. When the meal was winding down, Jiang Yan suddenly called out, “CEO Lu.”

Lu Yicheng looked up.

It had been a very, very long time since he had heard Jiang Yan call him that.

Even if at this moment everything felt calm and easy, it couldn’t change the fact that they were already strangers to each other. Perhaps they could sit down and share a peaceful meal, but they were no longer friends, and would never be friends again in this lifetime.

Jiang Yan’s eyes had gone faintly red at the rims, but he smiled anyway. “You said before that you hadn’t done anything unworthy of a friend.”

Wang Jiangfeng and Du Yu both set down their chopsticks.

Jiang Yan continued, “I believe you.”

“But CEO Lu, you have to admit one thing.” Jiang Yan raised one finger and wagged it slowly. “You really did pull one over on me. I never, in all my life, imagined I’d end up liking the same person as my good friend. You pulled one over on me, and you’ve been on edge about it ever since — because I’ve been right here watching, waiting for the day I can pull one over on you in return.” He went quiet. When he spoke again, his voice was rough, the words coming with great difficulty: “You’d better not give me that chance.”

When all was said and done, looking back over everything that had happened, he had to admit: Ruoqiao wasn’t coming back to him. She would never feel that way about him again.

And he genuinely didn’t have Lu Yicheng’s thoughtfulness, that careful and attentive quality.

He only felt the grief of it — the grief of losing the girl he’d cared for, and of losing the friend he’d hoped to grow old drinking and talking nonsense with.

Lu Yicheng looked at Jiang Yan. He had always been a man of extraordinary composure, never one to quarrel with anyone. Right now, his face was without a smile, and he said with quiet calm: “I won’t give you that chance.”

Jiang Yan burst out laughing, louder and louder. “Alright, alright — you’re the one who’s impressive, CEO Lu is always the impressive one!”

The dinner was over.

The four of them stood outside the restaurant entrance.

Jiang Yan had had some drinks and felt pleasantly hazy. He thought back to that rainy day, the moment he had run into her in the library. She had been shaking her umbrella closed and the water had splashed onto him. He knew, he thought, that he would never forget that moment for the rest of his life.

He had actually wanted to say sorry to her.

But when he thought about it again, he let it go. She probably didn’t want to hear it anymore.

He wouldn’t go to bother her again. He only hoped she would never feel that meeting him had been the unluckiest thing that ever happened to her — because to him, meeting her had been the luckiest thing that had ever happened to him.

“I’m off.”

Jiang Yan walked into the wind, his back to them, one hand tossed out in a casual, casual wave.

That languid ease reminded Lu Yicheng strikingly of the Jiang Yan he had first known, but Jiang Yan’s back was no longer as straight as it had been when they first met. He seemed bent under some invisible weight, cut a solitary and desolate figure in the winter cold.

—

The next morning, Lu Yicheng was awake by six. After washing up, Lu Siyan was up too — as expected, on a holiday, Lu Siyan was no longer sleeping in, and was up even earlier than he would be for school.

By the time Lu Yicheng had breakfast ready, father and son were both seated on the sofa, staring in unison at the clock hanging on the living room wall.

Seven o’clock already.

From here to the high-speed rail station was about half an hour.

But the station was large and there was ticketing to get through, so they needed to allow at least twenty minutes for that — meaning they had to be at the station by eight forty at the latest, and leave the house by eight.

That left them one hour.

Lu Yicheng relaxed.

The two of them sat waiting — waiting for the young Miss Jiang upstairs to wake up.

Seven thirty.

Lu Siyan finally spoke up: “Dad, shouldn’t you go wake Mom up?”

Lu Yicheng hesitated. “Wait a bit longer. It’s a bit early still.”

Running the numbers, they could afford to wait another half hour.

Lu Siyan sighed. “What if Mom forgot to set an alarm? Dad, just go knock!”

Lu Yicheng looked at him. “You go.”

Lu Siyan: “…I don’t dare.”

Mom’s wake-up temper was something to be reckoned with.

Lu Yicheng: *…Like I’d dare either.*

Father and son went back and forth, neither willing to be the one to rouse the sleeping beauty.

Before long, it was nearly seven forty-five.

Lu Siyan was running out of patience. “Let’s just do rock-paper-scissors — whoever loses has to go wake Mom!”

Lu Yicheng: “?”

He sighed. “Fine.”

Both father and son wore extremely serious expressions — neither wanted to lose. Lu Yicheng was even devious enough to apply full examination-level concentration, mobilizing every brain cell to calculate the probability of Lu Siyan throwing rock, paper, or scissors.

As it turned out: experience counts for something.

Lu Siyan lost.

Before Lu Siyan could argue for a best-of-three rematch, someone knocked at the door.

Lu Yicheng got up to answer it. Standing at the door was Jiang Ruoqiao, fully dressed and ready to go, rolling suitcase in hand.

In her other hand, she held a cup — the coffee mug Lu Yicheng had given her some time ago.

She furrowed her brow slightly. “I thought you two weren’t up yet. I’ve been waiting in my room for ages.”

Lu Yicheng: “…”

“Did you not see my messages?” Jiang Ruoqiao asked.

Lu Yicheng hurriedly took out his phone.

As he did, Jiang Ruoqiao happened to catch a glimpse of how he had her saved in his WeChat contacts.

*A-Jiang Ruoqiao.*

Lu Yicheng was still puzzling over his phone, trying to figure out why the message notification hadn’t come through. “How did I not get the notification — I didn’t see it at all.”

Jiang Ruoqiao slowly looked over at Lu Yicheng. Dear heavens, the way she was saved in his phone made her feel rather like she was listed among vendors selling wholesale goods.

“Lu Yicheng, what is this about?” Jiang Ruoqiao reached out and tapped his phone screen.

Lu Yicheng looked up at her. Their eyes met.

He was a little embarrassed and wasn’t sure how to answer… He had only thought that with an “A” in front of her name, she would be the first contact listed in his phone.

“It makes you easier to find,” he said.

Jiang Ruoqiao: “You know WeChat has a pin-to-top function, right? That way you’re always the first conversation in someone’s chat list.”

Lu Yicheng genuinely had not known this.

He rarely explored WeChat’s features, and only occasionally glanced at his Moments feed.

Jiang Ruoqiao leaned in close, reaching out to operate his phone interface. She paused on the option to pin the chat to the top, then remembered this was his phone. She looked at him: “Should I pin myself to the top?”

Lu Yicheng could not help looking at her lashes, at her eyes and brows. “Yes.”

Jiang Ruoqiao smiled a little. “Alright. You can pin other people too, you know.”

Lu Yicheng: “No need.”

—