Zhao Qian walked a few steps before realizing Xu Zhinan wasn’t following. She turned to look back.

The young girl was looking down at her phone. The light from the screen illuminated her straight nose bridge with a faint bluish-pink glow, causing her fine eyebrows to slightly furrow.

“Nan?” Zhao Qian asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Xu Zhinan turned off her phone and pressed it to her chest, her footsteps faltering, “I just remembered something I need to do at my shop. You go back to the dorm first.”

Zhao Qian frowned, disapproving, “It’s so late.”

Xu Zhinan casually made up an excuse: “A customer from this morning wasn’t satisfied with the tattoo design. I need to redraw it, and my drawing pad is still at the shop.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“No need.” Xu Zhinan smiled, “Just send me a message when you get to the dorm.”

“Alright.” Zhao Qian said goodbye, “Come back early and be careful.”

Early June weather, after the rain, left small puddles scattered across the ground.

Xu Zhinan’s tattoo shop wasn’t far from the bar, just about a dozen meters away. She ran back to her shop, unlocked it, and went inside, then took out her phone to text Lin Qingye.

[Xu Zhinan: Now?]

[Qingye Ge: Yes.]

[Xu Zhinan: Aren’t you still at the bar?]

[Qingye Ge: I left.]

Xu Zhinan stared at the text message for a moment before replying, “Okay.”

She grabbed a light pink backpack from beside the wooden table, put in a book and a water bottle, then locked the door and headed back toward the bar.

From a distance, she could already see Lin Qingye standing at the side entrance of the bar, his figure tall and straight.

The night wind suddenly grew stronger, with a cold and clear crescent moon behind thick clouds.

Lin Qingye wore a mask and had a cap pressed down on his head. His facial features and jawline were sharply defined. He had a guitar case slung over his shoulder and was leaning lazily against the wall.

Xu Zhinan calmed herself, raised her hand to brush back her wind-tousled hair, and slowed her pace.

She watched as Lin Qingye pulled down his mask, revealing a pale white wrist with clear blue veins. He then took a cigarette pack from his pocket, pulled one out, and put it between his lips. His cheeks hollowed slightly, and the cigarette tip glowed red.

He exhaled a puff of smoke, sensed her gaze, and turned his head to look at her, revealing a pair of jet-black eyes from under the brim of his cap.

Then his hand holding the cigarette lifted slightly, gesturing for her to come over.

At the same time, the weather changed. The sky that had cleared momentarily suddenly began to rain again. Raindrops crashed down heavily. Xu Zhinan had no time to hesitate and quickly ran over to him.

The side entrance of the bar had a narrow eave above it, and the two squeezed together underneath.

The hair she had just neatly arranged was blown messily again, revealing her smooth, beautiful forehead. She raised her hand to hold down her hair and looked up to find Lin Qingye’s eyes.

“Qingye Ge,” she asked softly, “Was it you who paid for our drinks earlier?”

“Yes,” he flicked his cigarette ash and answered casually, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?”

“I decided to come with a friend at the last minute.”

The summer rain came down suddenly and heavily without warning. Xu Zhinan had left in a hurry and forgotten her umbrella at the shop.

“Did you bring an umbrella?” she asked.

He laughed, his voice mixed with smoke, “No.”

“Ah…” Xu Zhinan looked worriedly at the raindrops falling in strings from the eaves.

“Run?” he asked.

Xu Zhinan hesitated. In such heavy rain, they’d probably be soaked if they ran back.

The young girl hesitated anxiously, with a backpack over her shoulder. Her face wasn’t a thin, oval shape without flesh—her bone structure was small, but she still had some baby fat, making her look even more innocent.

Lin Qingye looked at her for a moment, then took off his jacket.

He bit the half-burned cigarette between his teeth, grabbed her shoulder to pull her closer, draped the jacket over her, lowered his gaze, and zipped it up.

Then he directly grabbed Xu Zhinan’s wrist and ran into the curtain of rain.

Xu Zhinan was caught off guard and let out a light exclamation, having to stretch her legs to barely keep up with his stride.

They didn’t go back to Lin Qingye’s apartment but to his nearby studio, not far from the bar—just across a small alley.

However, this alley had an uneven road surface, and they stepped into countless small puddles on the way back.

Water splashed up, hitting Xu Zhinan’s exposed calves, feeling somewhat cool.

The wind howled through the alley. Xu Zhinan was wearing his jacket, which reached to the middle of her thighs, so she didn’t feel cold.

Lin Qingye kept holding her hand until they reached the studio entrance. Only then did he stop, take out his key to open the door, push her inside, and then raise his hand to press the light switch above her head.

He had worn a cap, so while his clothes were soaked, his face was fine.

Xu Zhinan was completely the opposite—after taking off his jacket, her dress underneath was dry, but her hair was completely wet. Black strands clung to her fair neck, creating a stark color contrast.

Lin Qingye roughly brushed her hair, smiling: “I forgot to give you my cap earlier.”

Xu Zhinan had been to this studio a few times before. It had a strong band aesthetic—dark wallpaper as the main color scheme, a sofa cluttered with clothes and pillows, and a complete set of electronic keyboards, drums, and the like.

One wooden shelf was filled with various albums and records, both domestic and foreign, new and old.

Sometimes when Lin Qingye drank too much at the bar or needed to write songs, he would simply sleep here.

He lifted the clothes on the tea table, grabbed the air conditioner remote to turn it on, and glanced at Xu Zhinan: “Go take a shower first.”

His bathroom was very clean, unlike the messy living room outside.

Xu Zhinan leaned against the door, exhaled softly, and her phone vibrated with a message from Zhao Qian.

[Zhao Qian: I’m at the dorm! Are you almost done?]

At the same time, there was the sound of a lighter being clicked outside the door.

[Xu Zhinan: I’ll be a while longer. If you’re tired, just turn off the lights and go to sleep.]

She had stepped in too many puddles while running, and her calves were stained with several mud spots.

After showering, Xu Zhinan put on her original dress, dried her hair, and walked out of the bathroom.

Just as she took her first step out, she paused, blinking slowly.

Lin Qingye had already gone into the bedroom and taken off his wet t-shirt. His back was to her as he sat at the desk with a cigarette between his lips and a pen in his fingers, occasionally writing down a few strokes.

Hearing the sound, he turned to look at her, his gaze scanning her from top to bottom: “Why are you still wearing that?”

“You don’t have any clothes for me here.”

“Wear mine then. All my clothes could be dresses on you.”

That was his way of saying she was short. Although Xu Zhinan wasn’t short, most people appeared short compared to Lin Qingye’s height of 188cm.

She imperceptibly pursed her lips: “It’s not that exaggerated.”

He chuckled softly, no longer arguing with her, and continued writing on the paper: “Then don’t change.”

Xu Zhinan strolled to his side: “What are you writing?”

“Lyrics.”

Xu Zhinan remembered what Zhao Qian had told her that afternoon—Lin Qingye’s band was breaking up, and with graduation in his senior year approaching, there were rumors he might enter the entertainment industry.

“Qingye Ge, what do you plan to do after graduation?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t know.” Lin Qingye had always been casual, yet he could attract attention with every gesture. “Recently, a program producer came to find me. We’re still in talks.”

“What about the band?”

Guan Chi is getting married soon. He’ll probably inherit the family business. Tonight might be our band’s last performance.” He spoke nonchalantly.

Guan Chi was the drummer for the Locust Tree Band. Xu Zhinan knew him.

She responded with an “Oh,” not knowing what else to say.

From the sound of it, he did seem to be planning to enter the entertainment industry…

Lin Qingye had become famous early. At 18, he won the Golden Melody Award for his song “Locust Tree,” becoming the youngest winner. He had unlimited prospects, with countless industry professionals extending invitations, but he had rejected them all.

Even so, he still gained a large fan base.

Xu Zhinan stopped disturbing him as he wrote and pulled back the covers to sit on the bed, her gaze falling on his bare back.

The lines and contours were clear, not excessively muscular or bulging, but still conveying a sense of strength.

She suddenly laughed.

“What are you laughing at?” Lin Qingye asked without turning around.

“I just suddenly remembered something I read before—it would be a shame to put cupping marks on such a beautiful back.”

“Not letting others take advantage of that.” He laughed indifferently, casually saying, “Next time I’ll lend you this ‘beautiful back’ to practice your tattooing skills.”

“…I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“Then you’re not professional enough,” he teased.

Xu Zhinan paused, then asked, “What would you want tattooed?”

“Anything.” He hadn’t seriously thought about it and continued writing lyrics without pausing, casually saying, “I’ll get your name.”

He was always like this—beautiful words flowing effortlessly, making one’s heart race, but when you looked at him again, he maintained that same calm, indifferent demeanor.

Xu Zhinan didn’t know what spell of his she had fallen under.

The junior who came to her tattoo shop that morning had also said he wanted to tattoo her name on himself, and she had found it too childish. But now that Lin Qingye had said the same thing, she couldn’t help but feel her cheeks grow warm.

She knew well it was just a joke.

Xu Zhinan pursed her lips and said nothing more. The room fell silent again.

With nothing to do, she took out a book from her bag.

It was very thick and appeared to have been read many times. The cover was worn smooth, but the pages showed no signs of damage, indicating it had been very well cared for.

It was a Buddhist scripture book, though she wasn’t sure which edition. It also contained some Buddhist deity illustrations with a few lines of small text underneath.

Xu Zhinan calmed herself and read carefully.

Her relationship with Lin Qingye was peculiar.

They were not from the same world.

Xu Zhinan had always been a well-behaved girl from an ordinary family. She had excellent grades. Later, she developed an interest in art and dedicated herself to studying it, leading to her admission into Pingchuan University’s art design program at the top of her class.

Lin Qingye was her complete opposite. He formed a band at 16, won an award at 18, and the height of his fame, rejected all invitations, continuing to perform at bars without constraints. Crowds of beautiful girls liked him; he always lived in the spotlight—flamboyant, unrestrained, arrogant, and mischievous.

Like in the rain earlier, Xu Zhinan would think about using an umbrella, while Lin Qingye would pull her to run wildly in the rainy night.

They were worlds apart.

But after a coincidental encounter, she and Lin Qingye became connected by an invisible thread.

Not tight, yet inexplicably linked.

She knew she shouldn’t become entangled, yet she was unavoidably attracted to Lin Qingye.

She never dared to tell others about their relationship.

Lin Qingye finished writing the last few words. The lyrics were written on a page torn from a notebook, with handwriting that was messy yet attractive.

He folded the paper several times, turning it into a paper airplane, and flew it into the pen holder.

Xu Zhinan was engrossed in reading the Buddhist scripture and didn’t notice his movements.

Lin Qingye leaned against the desk and watched her for a while, then called out, “Nan.”

She started, looking up, “What is it?”

He smiled mischievously: “Time for business.”

Before she could understand what he meant, Lin Qingye stepped forward, knelt on the bed, picked up the Buddhist scripture from her hands, and tossed it aside. The pages fluttered open.

Xu Zhinan let out a small cry as she was pressed down, engulfed by his warmth.

The young man’s features were sharp, his jawline lean and smooth, his Adam’s apple prominent. Always direct, he bent down and kissed her lips.

Xu Zhinan’s heart sank a few degrees as she tremulously raised her arms to encircle his neck, her fingers interlaced at his nape, tentatively kissing him back.

After a while, they separated. Lin Qingye licked his lips and straightened his back.

She had been somewhat brave with her eyes closed, but as soon as she opened them, she was intimidated by his presence and couldn’t look directly at him, glancing to the side instead.

Looking away had unintended consequences—she noticed the Buddhist scripture still lay open.

The Buddhist image faced her, with a faint smile of zen wisdom that seemed to peer into her heart.

Xu Zhinan’s heart palpitated.

Beneath was a line of small text—

The Buddha speaks of life’s eight sufferings: birth, aging, sickness, death, meeting with the hateful, separation from the beloved, not getting what one desires, and the blazing of the five aggregates.

She struggled with a whimper.

Lin Qingye raised his eyebrows, his voice somewhat hoarse: “What’s wrong?”

Xu Zhinan buried her face in the pillow, pleading: “The book, close the book.”

Lin Qingye glanced to the side, laughed unrestrained, and even took the opportunity to tease her: “Is that Guanyin who brings children?”

What is Guanyin, who brings children?

Guanyin Bodhisattva didn’t look like that at all.

His tone was incredibly mischievous, blasphemously disrespecting the deity image. Xu Zhinan was displeased, her tone rarely showing emotion in front of him: “It’s not.”

But even these three words coming from her mouth were soft and weak, lacking any intimidation, sounding more like a pout.

Lin Qingye closed the book and tossed it to the corner of the bed, but the golden spine still faced her.

Xu Zhinan shut her eyes tightly, submitting to Lin Qingye’s control, feeling caught between two forces—immoral and forbidden.

Outside, the rain continued to drizzle.

Her heart pounded like thunder. She kept her eyes tightly closed, like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, pretending the Buddhist book at the bedside didn’t exist.

The overhead light shone brightly.

A moment later, Lin Qingye stopped his movements. The burning light above her head also went out. Then, the young man used his pleasant voice to whisper in her ear.

“Little nun, open your eyes.”