Lu Yicheng left with Lu Siyan’s change of clothes.

Jiang Yan stayed behind alone, checking his phone and drinking his beer.

Fortunately there was a direct subway line from Lu Yicheng’s apartment to the hotel where Jiang Ruoqiao was staying. He walked as fast as he could, covering the distance in the shortest possible time, and arrived breathless beneath the hotel entrance, simultaneously catching his breath and ringing Jiang Ruoqiao’s number.

Before long, Jiang Ruoqiao came down to the lobby.

Lu Yicheng was already seated in the hotel lobby — a small one, as was typical of this kind of chain budget hotel. Jiang Ruoqiao looked at him with mild surprise. “How did you get here so fast?”

She had just been about to remove her makeup when his call came through.

All told, it couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes — he’d gone back, packed clothes, and made it here.

Lu Yicheng had by then steadied his breathing. He didn’t want to conceal it from her, so he told her plainly: “Jiang Yan came to find me. He’s still at my place.”

This was the first time Lu Yicheng had mentioned Jiang Yan since Jiang Ruoqiao’s breakup.

Jiang Ruoqiao was still for a few seconds, then came back to herself and gave a flat, disinterested “oh” — as though this information held not the slightest fascination for her.

Lu Yicheng passed her the bag.

Even in a situation this hurried, he had organized everything with meticulous care. “In this bag, the towels — the white one is for the face and hands, the coffee-colored one is for bathing. The undershirt and shorts are for sleeping in, along with another outfit. The toothbrush, cup, and toothpaste are at the very bottom.” He paused. “And there’s a storybook.”

Jiang Ruoqiao had long since grown accustomed to his thoroughness.

She quickly looked it over and took the bag. “Got it, thank you.”

“Then,” Lu Yicheng glanced at his watch, “it’s getting late. I’ll head back.”

“Safe travels.”

By now, when they parted, Jiang Ruoqiao had fallen into the natural habit of saying those words.

She called it courtesy and good manners.

Though really, Lu Yicheng was someone who deserved to be treated with such small gestures.

Lu Yicheng inclined his head, but still waited to watch her step into the elevator, and only turned to leave after the elevator had stopped at her floor.

By the time he returned home, Jiang Yan had dozed off on the couch. He stirred at the sound of Lu Yicheng entering, sitting up with bleary eyes.

He had barely slept these past two days, having stood vigil through an entire night outside the apartment building.

He had reached his absolute limit. His eyes were threaded with red, his exhaustion written plainly across him.

Lu Yicheng hesitated, then dragged a chair over and sat down.

The two of them faced each other — or rather, seemed to be standing on opposite sides.

Jiang Yan twisted the corner of his mouth into something close to a smile. “Lu Yicheng — sorry for imposing on you for the night. I genuinely didn’t know where else to go.” His expression went abruptly blank. “Ruoqiao — I couldn’t find her either.”

Lu Yicheng laced his hands together. Perhaps in an effort to appear more relaxed, he crossed his legs in a rare departure from his usual composure, hands resting loosely over his knee.

The picture of a good listener — though that was an illusion.

If Jiang Yan knew Lu Yicheng well enough, he would have recognized this as a defensive posture.

“I know I was wrong,” Jiang Yan said. “But I swear — apart from her, I’ve never had feelings for anyone, and I never will. That day…” He dragged a hand over his face in embarrassment. “I just… I genuinely mistook her for someone else.”

Lu Yicheng simply listened in silence.

“Mistook her?” Lu Yicheng finally spoke, purely out of genuine confusion.

Perhaps because he had never fallen for anyone, perhaps because his experience was entirely zero — but he had always felt that this kind of mistake simply shouldn’t happen.

Would a person really mistake someone for their own girlfriend?

Even in complete darkness, that person should be singular and unmistakable.

By breath alone, by the frequency of breathing, recognition was possible — science had long confirmed this.

“I’d been drinking that day,” Jiang Yan said.

Lu Yicheng gave a soft sound. “Though not that much. Beer doesn’t have a very high alcohol content.”

Jiang Yan said quietly, “I know. It was my fault.”

He didn’t understand it himself. How had he made such a mistake?

“I always thought I would marry her. Honestly, I still think that,” Jiang Yan said, staring at nothing, his voice less like confession and more like talking to himself. “But I suddenly realized — if she doesn’t want to contact me, if she doesn’t want to see me, I have absolutely no way to reach her. I don’t even know where she is right now.”

Lu Yicheng very much did not want to hear any of this.

To close his ears, he had even begun thinking about the paper his senior had sent him two days ago — but Jiang Yan’s words still found their way in, inexorable.

“I can’t understand how things got to this point,” Jiang Yan continued. “We were perfectly fine just recently. We’d promised I’d work hard and earn money to buy her a bag, promised we’d go to an island for the winter holidays to see the sea, promised we’d go see a film on her birthday… and now this is what it’s come to.”

Something in Lu Yicheng’s usually still expression shifted, almost imperceptibly.

He said in a low voice: “Because of you. Because of that sister of yours.”

Jiang Yan looked up. “What?”

Lu Yicheng said, as evenly as he could manage: “Because she walked into your room. Because you mistook someone for her. Jiang Yan — these were two things that should never have happened, and they both happened. That’s why things are this way.”

Was this really such a complicated question, that it required this much anguish to reach an answer?

From where Lu Yicheng stood, as an outsider, it was two things that should not have occurred — that was the cause of this result.

Jiang Yan should not have mistaken someone for his girlfriend.

Equally, Lin Kexing should not have entered Jiang Yan’s room. Whatever their relationship, in those circumstances she had no business being there.

Jiang Yan was taken aback. He picked up the beer from the coffee table and took a long pull, laughing bitterly. “You’re right.”

“I also only realized today that I’m a hypocrite,” Jiang Yan said. “I suddenly found that if she would just forgive me and come back — I could even,” he paused, “even stop going to the Lin family altogether. Stop seeing Kexing.”

The thought was painful to Jiang Yan.

The Lin family had treated him with every kindness, yet in this moment, he had already sorted out in his heart what mattered more.

Of course — it was precisely because he now understood that, that he could not afford to lose Ruoqiao.

Lu Yicheng couldn’t have said what had gotten into him today.

Jiang Yan had come to pour out his feelings, but Lu Yicheng had settled into a state of alert — as though this were a debate — and as a result, hearing this, he found himself wanting to ask Jiang Yan: “Do you think this is some great sacrifice you’re making?” He stopped himself from saying it aloud, in the end.

But do you really think this is a sacrifice?

Are you not simply doing what you should have been doing all along?

Lin Kexing and Jiang Ruoqiao — this was always a choice to be made. Choose one, and you must necessarily draw a clear line with the other. Was that not something to be done as a matter of course?

How had it, in his telling, become a sacrifice, a concession — made for Jiang Ruoqiao’s sake?

Forget it.

Lu Yicheng thought: this isn’t a debate. And even if it were, what good would winning it do?

Jiang Ruoqiao didn’t care one bit about Jiang Yan’s affairs.

She had never liked breakups that dragged on with loose ends — she loathed anything drawn-out, tangled, or halfhearted. Once broken, broken. No contact for the rest of their lives. What happened to Jiang Yan afterward was none of her concern.

Besides, she now faced a matter of far greater importance: the bathing situation of a small human being.

Lu Siyan stood on his tiptoes with considerable effort and brushed his teeth until they were spotless.

Then he washed his face and dried it with the white towel.

And then mother and son stood there, looking at each other.

Jiang Ruoqiao asked, with some difficulty: “Before, at home — did Lu Yicheng help you bathe, or did you do it yourself?”

Even though this was a mother-son relationship… giving Lu Siyan a bath still felt somehow strange.

She had never bathed the little one before.

Lu Siyan immediately said: “When Dad’s home, Dad helps me. When he’s not, I do it myself.”

Jiang Ruoqiao: Oh?

That was quite convenient!

Lu Siyan heaved a small sigh. “That’s how it used to be.”

His “used to be” was, in fact, the future.

Jiang Ruoqiao raised an eyebrow. “That’ll do, then. Go have your bath.”

Having said this, she left the bathroom and sat on the bed, rummaging through her makeup bag for some cotton pads, and began removing her makeup one careful layer at a time.

Lu Siyan stripped off his clothes in three efficient moves, stood under the showerhead without a stitch on, and scrubbed himself clean with somewhat clumsy motions until he smelled fragrant and fresh, then dried himself off and changed into his undershirt and shorts, emerging with just a trace of bashfulness. Perhaps it had been a while since he’d shared a room with his mother — beyond the excitement, there was a touch of awkwardness.

Jiang Ruoqiao had finished removing her makeup. She glanced at him and casually switched on the hotel television, flipping to a children’s channel, then said, “I’m going to have my bath now.”

Lu Siyan, face slightly flushed, answered, “Okay!”

Jiang Ruoqiao burst out laughing, walked over, bent down, and ruffled his curly hair. “Now that’s something new,” she said warmly. “First time I’ve ever seen our little charmer go shy.”

Lu Siyan protested stubbornly, “I’m not shy at all! The water was just a bit too hot. I’m very warm!”

Jiang Ruoqiao didn’t tease him further. Though it was only then that she noticed — a bashful, reticent Lu Siyan truly did resemble Lu Yicheng quite a bit.

The evening was genuinely cozy.

After her bath, Jiang Ruoqiao lay on the hotel’s large bed with Lu Siyan and watched the silly cartoons playing on the screen.

Lu Siyan inched closer to her bit by bit, until he was practically draped entirely over her.

Jiang Ruoqiao found herself taking back what she’d thought — the cartoon wasn’t actually that childish. It was actually quite entertaining. Just as she was getting absorbed in it, she glanced down and found Lu Siyan already sound asleep, breathing steadily. Every time she watched him sleep, something in Jiang Ruoqiao felt as though it were being brushed by a soft feather — perhaps this was what people meant when they said they were being healed.

Watching him, Jiang Ruoqiao felt drowsiness creeping in as well.

She switched off the television and refilled her portable humidifier with purified water.

Then she lay down.

After so many years, this was the first time she had shared a bed with anyone. And that person was her own child.

Strange. Subtle. Happy.

In the latter half of the night, Jiang Ruoqiao woke to find Lu Siyan’s body alarmingly warm, his breath seeming to carry a scorching heat. Her heart lurched. She reached out and placed her palm against his forehead, then — unsure if her hand alone was a reliable gauge — leaned forward and pressed her own forehead against his to feel again. Sure enough, Lu Siyan must have developed a fever.

She was frightened but composed herself quickly.

She pulled several tissues and wiped his forehead, then tucked a few more along his back to absorb the sweat.

Next she called the front desk, asking them to please bring up a thermometer.

Her tone must have been urgent enough, because this hotel’s front desk staff were attentive — an attendant came up promptly with one.

The attendant was clearly experienced with such situations. “For a child’s fever, physical cooling helps — there’s a pharmacy downstairs. Get some fever patches and some children’s fever medication and he’ll be fine.”

Jiang Ruoqiao could not afford to be so casual.

If it were herself running a fever, she wouldn’t be this rattled. But this was a child — how could she dare give him whatever medication she pleased without a doctor’s guidance? What if something went wrong?

She made up her mind at once. She would take Lu Siyan to the hospital.

She couldn’t manage alone, but fortunately both the front desk staff and the attending auntie were wonderfully kind, helping her carry Lu Siyan downstairs. While she waited for the car service she’d called, she sent a message to Lu Yicheng. This was one of those situations she was afraid of handling on her own — hospitals might require all kinds of tests, and she couldn’t possibly carry Lu Siyan and navigate everything by herself.

She was afraid Lu Yicheng might be asleep and not hear the message.

So she dialed his number as well.

After a moment, Lu Yicheng picked up.

In the silence of that late hour, with the small child feverish beside her, she appeared calm but inwardly was already in a knot — and frightened too. Yet, inexplicably, at the sound of his voice, something in her settled.

After she finished explaining, Lu Yicheng responded in a steady, unhurried manner: “Bring him to the children’s hospital — go straight to the emergency department and wait for me. I’m leaving right now. I should get there before you — I’ll register him in advance.”

He paused.

Jiang Ruoqiao’s voice had sounded perfectly composed, yet he found himself adding, almost involuntarily —

“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”