The newly renovated tattoo shop was brightly lit. Xu Zhinan could see every detail on Lin Qingye’s face and body, each one etching itself into her heart, forming an indelible impression she would never forget.

This was the first time she had seen Lin Qingye like this.

She had never seen Lin Qingye look like this before.

Crew cut, a face with distinct features as if chiseled with a knife and axe, every line sharp and clean. He now leaned lazily against the doorframe, exuding an undispersed aura of roughness and defiance.

In this moment, she seemed to see the Lin Qingye from before, yet also to meet an entirely new Lin Qingye.

The night wind howled past.

The man who had wanted a tattoo lacked perception and failed to notice the change in Xu Zhinan’s expression. He continued talking, looking rather cheerful: “Well, Brother Ye, you’re out too, huh?”

Lin Qingye didn’t speak, just gave him a cold look.

The man was stunned, suddenly remembering Lin Qingye’s first words—”Before you hit on a girl, maybe you should find out whose girl she is.”

He looked at Xu Zhinan, whose eyes had already reddened.

Oh dear…

“So she’s your girl?” he asked crudely, pointing at Xu Zhinan.

Lin Qingye raised an eyebrow: “What do you think?”

That settled it.

The man lost interest in getting a tattoo. Spending 800 yuan to hit on someone else’s girl—what fool would make that deal?

He waved his hand and left with a grudging look.

Only Xu Zhinan and Lin Qingye remained in the tattoo shop.

Everything that had happened today was too overwhelming.

In the afternoon, she had learned of Lin Qingye’s release but couldn’t reach him by phone. She thought he would never appear in her life again.

But by evening, he suddenly appeared at her door, his tone casual as he greeted her: “Nan, I’m Lin Qingye.”

As if they had never been separated for those two and a half years.

Yet when they parted, Lin Qingye had blue hair, and she had black hair.

Now at their reunion, she had blue hair, and Lin Qingye had black hair.

Those two and a half years were distinctly marked in Xu Zhinan’s waist-length hair and Lin Qingye’s crew cut.

Xu Zhinan’s eyes burned, and with a blink, large tears fell to the ground.

The moon slowly emerged from behind thick clouds.

Lin Qingye just watched her cry. The relaxed expression on his face gradually disappeared as his smile faded. He stood up straight, took a long stride, and walked to her side.

He opened his arms and said softly: “Come here.”

But Xu Zhinan didn’t move. She stood with reddened eyes, tears falling, refusing to enter his embrace.

Lin Qingye sighed, stepped forward again, and pulled her close, his hand pressing against the back of her head as he drew her into his arms.

Xu Zhinan struggled a bit but couldn’t break free as he held her more tightly.

She cried in his arms.

Who knows how long she cried. Eventually, a large area of Lin Qingye’s shirt was soaked, and Xu Zhinan’s eyes were swollen. Only then did she emerge from his embrace.

Lin Qingye wiped away her tears with his finger and said: “I’m back.”

Xu Zhinan finally believed it.

After two and a half years apart, there was no gap between them.

Those two and a half years had cut into both of them, but now they were healed, their flesh grown together so that it was impossible to distinguish which part was hers and which was his.

The tattoo shop closed early that day.

Xu Zhinan took a tattoo artist’s mask from the shelf for him.

Lin Qingye didn’t take it: “It doesn’t matter if I don’t wear it now. No one should recognize me.”

Xu Zhinan insisted, so he put it on.

He probably hadn’t had time to check the situation online yet.

Indeed, there was less discussion about him now, but people hadn’t forgotten him. At least his fans had never forgotten him for a moment.

Lin Qingye was a figure shrouded in legend.

Formed a band at 16, won the Golden Melody Award at 18, rejected all opportunities to be a bar singer for four years, graduated from university at 23, entered the entertainment industry through “I’m Here for Music,” immediately won the championship as a newcomer, but then suddenly went to prison when his future seemed brightest. Now he was 26.

Xu Zhinan looked at Lin Qingye standing outside the shop door. He was looking up at her tattoo shop’s illuminated sign—the two characters “Nan Nan” written in an elegant, flowing style.

Now, at 26 years old, Lin Qingye.

It was impossible to determine his exact age from his appearance.

It was contradictory—his features were still youthful, but something deeper within him weighed down his years.

Xu Zhinan withdrew her gaze, closed the shop door, wiped away more tears, and walked to his side: “Do you want to come home with me first?”

“Where are you living now?”

“In that residential area over there.” Xu Zhinan pointed in a direction.

“Did you buy it?”

“I’m renting.”

Over the years, Xu Zhinan had accumulated some savings. Her hourly rate for tattoos was now very high, and business was good since the shop had made a name for itself. Although she had recently spent a large portion on expanding and renovating the shop, if she wanted to buy a house, she could afford a down payment in an ordinary area.

But she had never thought about buying a house. With Lin Qingye gone, she always felt like she couldn’t find solid ground.

Lin Qingye: “You’re not living with your mother?”

“No, she’s lived there for so many years, with neighbors she knows, and she’s used to it. My shop is too far from home, and I get back too late at night, so I rented an apartment there.”

She explained the details to him, trying to make up for all the little moments they’d missed in the past two and a half years. But having just cried, her voice still trembled.

They walked back together, passing through small roads to reach Xu Zhinan’s place.

Her apartment was not as grand as Lin Qingye’s, but she had made it very cozy. There was a flower stand on the balcony, and the living room was clean and tidy with a decorative painting hanging on the wall.

Xu Zhinan took a pair of slippers from the shoe cabinet for him and poured him a glass of water.

Lin Qingye sat down on the sofa.

Xu Zhinan sat on the single sofa next to him and suddenly asked: “When did you get out?”

“Today.”

Xu Zhinan’s hand holding the cup paused. She lowered her head, choking up again: “You’re lying.”

“Nan.” Lin Qingye looked at her quietly. “I’m not sure if I can still give you the life I wanted to give you.”

“But only you can give me the life I want,” Xu Zhinan said.

Their eyes met.

Lin Qingye’s heart, battered and polished by two and a half years, was gradually softened and soaked by Xu Zhinan’s tears.

He laughed softly: “What kind of life do you want?”

“I don’t know, but it has to include you.” Xu Zhinan asked in return, “What kind of life did you want to give me?”

“I’m ordinary. I just want you to be brilliant and dazzling, where no one dares to upset you wherever you go, where you can buy whatever you want, do whatever you want.”

Xu Zhinan’s lips curved: “That sounds pretty good.”

Lin Qingye looked up.

The current Xu Zhinan was indeed different from before.

He looked at Xu Zhinan before him. She had found her long hair annoying and tied it in a ponytail, bound high with a strand falling onto her chest—a shimmering blue.

She was still quiet and gentle, but also confident.

“Is that what you want?” Lin Qingye asked.

“Brother Qingye.” She suddenly called out to him.

This form of address hadn’t been used for so long that she felt a bit dazed saying it. She repeated it like a murmur, “Brother Qingye.”

“Hmm?”

“You once told me to believe in you, that you’re Lin Qingye.”

With one sentence, she took Lin Qingye back to the past.

That early morning, he had taken Xu Zhinan to Shi Si’s arcade for an all-nighter, which had been quite fruitful—he was carrying ten pumpkin dolls.

The youthful vigor and confidence remained vivid in memory.

“I believed you. I’ve always believed you,” Xu Zhinan said softly.

He didn’t speak for a while, his lips drawn into a straight line. Then suddenly he smiled: “I went to see Uncle Wang today.”

“And then?”

“I went to get the album, but he said he gave it to you.”

Xu Zhinan was stunned, suddenly understanding his meaning: “You, are you going to start over?”

“I thought about it all night yesterday. I don’t know much, and I didn’t study well in the past. My only talent and interest is music, and I don’t want to give it up.”

Why he had left the industry originally and what kind of public opinion he would face if he wanted to re-enter this circle now—both he and Xu Zhinan knew clearly.

But no matter how difficult.

When the lion king rises, the distant mountains tremble.

Ants cannot shake a tree.

“I don’t know if I can succeed, but I want to try again,” Lin Qingye smiled at her. “It’s also a way to answer you.”

Xu Zhinan went into the bedroom. She had kept that album demo safely all this time, carefully stored in a small iron box with a combination lock.

Lin Qingye sat on the living room sofa, and Xu Zhinan stood in front of him, reaching out with the album between her fingers.

Lin Qingye lowered his gaze, his eyelid twitching.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Nan Nan”

And the image of himself on the cover.

He smiled slightly, took it, and put it in his pocket.

His phone was also there. After seeing Xu Zhinan’s WeChat Moments post last night, he had turned it off and hadn’t turned it on all day.

He turned on his phone and asked: “Your roommate is getting married?”

Xu Zhinan was startled: “How did you know?”

“I saw your Moments post yesterday.”

“…Oh.” Xu Zhinan sat down. “I called you today, but your phone was off.”

Just as she finished speaking, his phone powered on, showing missed call notifications. Then the screen jumped again as Lin Guancheng called.

Lin Qingye stared at the name on the screen for a long time, then excused himself to Xu Zhinan and walked to the balcony to answer.

He didn’t speak, and neither did the person on the other end.

After a while, faint breathing could be heard from the other end of the phone. Lin Guancheng choked up before he could even speak.

Lin Qingye listened to him cry, then said: “Dad.”

“Yes.” He responded, “Where are you now?”

“Meeting a friend.”

“Come home tomorrow.” Lin Guancheng’s voice was thick with emotion. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.”

“Alright.” This time he agreed quickly.

They didn’t chat for long before hanging up. Father and son had never had much to talk about in the past, with minimal communication. After not talking for two and a half years, they had even less to say.

Lin Qingye pushed open the balcony door and went back inside.

Xu Zhinan wasn’t in the living room. He took a few steps forward and found her in the kitchen.

Her back was to him as she stood at the counter. Her exposed nape was slender and fair, with her blue hair divided into two strands hanging down her chest.

“What are you doing?”

Xu Zhinan looked back at him: “Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Neither have I. I’m making noodles.”

Lin Qingye walked to her side, leaned against the counter, and watched her stir the thin noodles in the pot with chopsticks: “You can cook now?”

“I could do a bit before, just never had the chance.” Xu Zhinan pressed her lips together. “You never let me near the kitchen before.”

Lin Qingye paused, remembering which occasion she was referring to, and laughed softly. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her away, taking the chopsticks from her hand: “I’ll do it.”

Soon, two bowls of noodles were ready and placed on the dining table.

The warm yellow pendant light, the steaming noodles, and the countless lights outside the window.

This was the human world.

Lin Qingye let out a soft sigh and took a bite of noodles.

“Earlier at the tattoo shop, did you know that man?” Xu Zhinan asked.

“Yes, I knew him from inside.”

Xu Zhinan paused, belatedly realizing what he meant by “inside.”

She looked up at Lin Qingye, who maintained a normal expression without showing any other reaction. He swallowed his noodles: “Do you often get people like that in your shop?”

“No, that was the first time. Most of my customers are girls.”

He finished his bowl of noodles in just a few bites while Xu Zhinan still had about half a bowl left: “Do you want more?”

“No need, I’m full.”

Xu Zhinan looked at the scar at the corner of his eye and pointed to the area below her eye: “How did you get this?”

Lin Qingye raised his hand and touched the scar: “Fighting.”

“In there?”

He smiled nonchalantly: “Where else?”

When Lin Qingye first went in, many people couldn’t stand his face.

In such a place, everyone had done bad things to end up there. Most had volatile tempers, and conflicts between them occurred frequently.

If you fought fiercely enough, people would be wary of you. That’s why the man in the tattoo shop had been afraid of Lin Qingye.

Xu Zhinan’s eyes reddened again: “Did you win?”

Lin Qingye was taken aback, then smiled: “I won.”

She lowered her head, and tears fell directly from her eyes into the noodle soup.

Xu Zhinan had never been one to cry easily. During these two and a half years, she had eventually stopped crying over this matter. She kept herself busy running the shop, forcing herself not to constantly think about Lin Qingye.

Lin Qingye sighed, got up, and sat next to her. He turned her face towards him, cupped it in both hands, and wiped away her tears with his thumbs, saying gently: “I won, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry.” Her back hunched over as she covered her face with both hands, crying incoherently. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Brother Qingye, I’m sorry.”

She repeatedly said “I’m sorry” between sobs.

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to endure all that. You were so good, so many people liked you. I’m sorry… Brother Qingye, it’s all my fault.”

Eventually, she bent over with her forehead on his legs, crying almost to the point of collapse.

This version of Xu Zhinan was very familiar.

It was like Lin Qingye’s inner self after Shi Heng’s death, except he had buried everything inside and never voiced his apologies and self-blame.

“It’s okay, Nan. It’s not your fault.” He helped Xu Zhinan sit up, pulled her into his arms, and patted her back rhythmically, comforting her softly. “Don’t cry, baby. You don’t need to say sorry.”

In these repeated assurances of “it’s okay,” he seemed to see his former self, who had been unconditionally cherished by Xu Zhinan.

She cried until she was nearly exhausted, with no strength left to clear the dining table.

Lin Qingye took both sets of bowls and chopsticks to the kitchen and rinsed them clean.

It was getting late. Lin Qingye looked at the album, then put it back.

Just as he was about to get up and leave, Xu Zhinan raised her head with swollen, red eyes: “Brother Qingye, are you going back?”

Lin Qingye’s footsteps paused.

He heard her say: “Stay here with me.”