The two of them stared at each other for a long moment — one rubbing his nose and looking up at the ceiling, the other frowning deeply and staring down at the bathroom tiles.

Finally, Xu Huaisong hesitantly slid the bathroom door open.

Ruan Yu hid behind him and peeked out with half her face. She immediately spotted her parents huddled together in heated, whispered discussion. The moment they heard movement on this side, they sprang apart like they’d been electrocuted, began stirring the hotpot with total nonchalance, and turned around to give the two of them a warm, benevolent smile.

It was the kind of smile a teacher puts on when they’ve caught a student in an early romance but don’t want to say it too plainly and embarrass the child — gently guiding, carefully nudging.

Xu Huaisong gave a low cough.

Ruan Yu trailed back to her seat behind him, offered a strained laugh, and said, “It’s nothing — I sat in the car too long today and got a little carsick…”

Xu Huaisong’s upper half remained perfectly composed. His lower half was a different story entirely — his foot quietly shifted over and nudged hers, cutting off her explanation, which sounded very much like someone protesting too much, like someone turning nothing into something with her very own words.

Ruan Yu shot him a smoldering look: What are you kicking me for?

Xu Huaisong was just about to shoot one back, when he suddenly saw Ruan Chengru across the table lean down and haul a bottle of strong liquor up from beneath the table. It landed on the surface with a sharp thud.

“…”

Ruan Yu flinched at the commanding, battle-ready air of it. “Dad, you’re not —”

“Mind your own dinner.” One sweep of Ruan Chengru’s gaze silenced her. He turned to Xu Huaisong then, and said, in a tone both weighty and earnest: “Huaisong, come. Have a few drinks with your teacher.”

Xu Huaisong smiled calmly, sat up straight, nodded, and reached for the cup to pour.

Ruan Yu swallowed. “Dad, you know his stomach —” She slammed the brakes halfway through, quickly redirected, and said, “— why are you pouring so slowly? Let me, let me.” She snatched the cup from Xu Huaisong’s hand and filled it to barely a third of the way, stingy to the last drop.

Xu Huaisong glanced at her, pressed his fist to his mouth, and smiled once — then looked up, caught the stern expression on Ruan Chengru’s face, and schooled his features back into composure. He passed the poured drink over and said, “Teacher.”

Ruan Yu made one last attempt. “Wait — if you drink that, you’ll be over the limit for driving, won’t you?”

Ruan Chengru answered on his behalf. “There’s a spare room upstairs.”

“With liquor this strong, by morning he might still be —”

Qu Lan cleared her throat and gave her a look. “Come on. Come upstairs with Mom and help make up the bedding.”

Ruan Yu said “oh,” rose slowly to her feet, and at the last moment, cast a pained look back at Xu Huaisong. Two words in her eyes, heavy with meaning: Take care.

Xu Huaisong clinked cups with Ruan Chengru, downed the strong liquor without so much as blinking, and his expression didn’t change.

Ruan Chengru glanced toward the staircase, then said, seemingly out of nowhere: “Huaisong, I hear you and little Liu are colleagues. Then you must know — why did I introduce little Liu to Yuyu in the first place?”

Xu Huaisong’s mind moved quickly. He recalled what Ruan Yu had said to him at Principal He’s birthday banquet.

“Then do you know what my dad likes about Attorney Liu?”

“Because he’s a lawyer?”

“Because he’s honest and straightforward, a good person, uncomplicated, not flashy, not the type to bully anyone, and a man of action rather than empty words.”

He recited it back, word for word.

Ruan Chengru seemed briefly taken aback, then shook his head. “Because he’s a lawyer.”

“…”

Ruan Chengru gave him a puzzled look. “What is it?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Please go on — why a lawyer?”

Ruan Chengru nodded and continued. “Because at the time, Yuyu happened to need the help of a lawyer.”

Xu Huaisong frowned. “You mean —?”

“That business with people smearing her name.” Ruan Chengru smiled. “That child thought she’d hidden things from her mother and me so carefully. But really, we’d known her pen name for years and had been quietly following her work all along. Every little wind and movement, we were aware of. She just didn’t want us to see the difficult parts, so she never spoke of them — and we pretended not to know.”

Xu Huaisong went still.

“A daughter grows up. She learns to spare her parents. When things get hard, she stops telling us. So what can we do? We find someone to look after her in our place — someone to protect her, to shield her from the wind and the rain, to face every hardship without flinching.” He said this, then pointed at the empty cup in front of him.

Xu Huaisong nodded in silence.

Ruan Chengru shifted tacks. “Another cup?”

Xu Huaisong reached to pour. He had just picked up the cup when he heard: “Yuyu told me your stomach isn’t good.”

“It isn’t.”

“In that case, you need to know your limits.” Ruan Chengru pointed at the bottle of strong liquor again. “Shielding someone from wind and rain doesn’t call for reckless bravery, or showing off. First, you take care of yourself — then you can take care of her.”

Xu Huaisong set down the cup. “You’re right.”

Ruan Chengru took away the cup in front of him, replaced it with a fresh one, picked up the thermos himself, and poured it full of warm water. “Drink this instead.”

Xu Huaisong drank half the cup, then heard him ask: “Bland, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Bland — so most people do what you just did, drink halfway and call it enough. But tell me, does the life we actually live offer that many dramatic moments? Most of the time, it’s just like this water — plain and unremarkable. There’s no great credit in enduring the storm. If you can endure the quiet, ordinary days — that’s when it counts.”

Xu Huaisong understood what he meant. He drank down the remaining half cup of warm water.

Ruan Chengru smiled. “All right. You’re a student I know through and through. I trust you — go on upstairs.”

Xu Huaisong gave him a nod. “Thank you for tonight’s lesson, Teacher.”

“If you want to thank me, stop calling me Teacher before too long.”

Xu Huaisong smiled. “I will. As soon as I can.”

While Ruan Chengru was gently dispensing wisdom downstairs, Ruan Yu was upstairs fretting over the bedsheets. “Mom, please don’t read too much into things — we know our boundaries…”

Qu Lan glanced at her sideways. “I know. You think I can’t read you? An arched eyebrow, a little sniff — you think I don’t know exactly what you mean?”

She had genuinely been startled at first. But once she saw how Ruan Yu behaved coming out of the bathroom, she and Ruan Chengru both understood they had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Ruan Yu pouted and muttered, “Then why is Dad still making him drink?”

Qu Lan flicked a glance at her and went on smoothing the sheets. “Are you still worried that a couple of drinks is going to ruin things between the two of you? Unless he goes on a drunken rampage down there, what’s going to happen?”

“A drunken rampage is of course not some—”

She stopped midsentence.

Suddenly something felt off.

What had that police officer mentioned earlier this evening? Her attention had been caught up in the case at the time — she had the feeling she had missed something important.

She stared up at the ceiling light and began to replay it in her mind. Slowly, her eyes went wide.

It was Xu Huaisong who had knocked on all those Room 302 doors in Jinjiang City? That drunk who had disturbed the peace in the middle of the night and caused panic among the residents — that was Xu Huaisong?

What kind of person was he when he was drunk?

Ruan Yu stood there in stunned disbelief. After a long moment, she sucked in a sharp breath, hurried out, turned the corner — and crashed squarely into someone.

Xu Huaisong steadied himself, then held her by the shoulders. “What’s the matter?”

Ruan Yu raised her hand and touched his face. “You’re not drunk?”

“No.” He laughed a little. “It’s not as if I can’t hold my liquor.”

“You can hold your liquor — and apparently you can also go on drunken rampages!” She frowned. “Honestly this is mortifying. I’m only finding out now — I haven’t even apologized to the neighbors…”

Xu Huaisong went speechless.

Ruan Yu touched his face again. “Are you really all right?”

He sighed. “I’m fine. I didn’t embarrass you.”

“How much did you actually drink?”

“Barely even the less-than-a-third you poured.”

“You were down there that long and only had that little?”

He smiled. “Because the rest of the time I was drinking soup.”

“Dad made chicken soup tonight? How come no one brought any up for me?”

Xu Huaisong lightly flicked the tip of her nose. “That was a private serving made just for me.”

The two spent the night at the Ruan family home in the outskirts. The following morning, Xu Huaisong flew to the United States to take care of work, and Ruan Yu went to Huanshi.

The film script had formally received project approval and registration clearance, and the title — which had been treading dangerously close to the edge — had also, by some stroke of luck, passed censorship review. Cen Rongzhen gave a sweeping nod of approval and declared filming would begin before the New Year. The official first day of shooting was set for the last day of the Gregorian calendar year. The first scene would be filmed on location at Su Shi No. 1 High School, to capture the auspicious spirit of the season — specifically the New Year’s Eve fireworks moment, right at the stroke of midnight.

On the morning of the thirty-first, a Huanshi car came to collect Ruan Yu for the production launch ceremony. After a full morning of ritual offerings and blessings, she had lunch with the crew, and then the production team departed for Su Shi.

Ruan Yu had been so rushed that it was only once she was in the car that she finally had a moment to check her phone. She was just about to ask Xu Huaisong whether he’d gone to sleep yet, when she saw a message he’d sent four hours ago: Didn’t sleep much last night — turning in early. Set an alarm for twelve hours from now. I’ll be with you for the New Year countdown.

Four hours ago, San Francisco hadn’t even hit seven in the evening. Going to bed at that hour was, for Xu Huaisong, something that had never happened in recorded history.

Still, he had at least remembered the New Year countdown. Ruan Yu didn’t think much of it. He was probably fast asleep by now, so she didn’t reply to his message. She reclined in the back seat, closed her eyes to rest without anything to keep herself occupied, and was just about to drift off — when her phone buzzed.

She looked down. The caller ID read: Zhou Jun.

She jolted fully awake.

She answered, and a voice — slightly hoarse — came through from the other end. “Ruan Yu? It’s Zhou Jun.”

Ruan Yu paused a moment. “You can use your own phone again?”

“Yes — today I… got out.”

Her voice caught for just an instant. A wave of emotion rose in her throat. After a moment, she said: “That’s wonderful.”

The words left her with nothing to follow them. On the other end, Zhou Jun gave a small laugh, and then fell quiet as well.

After a long silence, both of them spoke at nearly the same time.

“Did they solve the case —”

“I’m so sor—”

That second sentence was Zhou Jun’s.

His voice sounded very tired. He was quiet for a moment, then said, “You go first.”

“I was going to ask — was the case solved?”

“It was. Otherwise I’d have had to wait a little longer.”

Ruan Yu didn’t press for the details of who the real culprit was — she had no wish to reopen his wounds. That the case had reached its resolution at this particular moment almost certainly had something to do with the discovery on the winter solstice.

A wave of mixed feelings swept through her. After a while, she heard Zhou Jun say: “About everything before — I never had the chance to say sorry to you in person.”

“It’s all right. Rest for a bit first. Once Huaisong is back from America, let’s all get together for a meal and catch up.”

“He’s in America?”

“Yes.”

“I just tried calling his American number — it went straight to voicemail. I thought he was back home.”

Ruan Yu paused. “His phone’s probably dead. He’s sleeping.”

“I’ll try reaching him again later then.”

“All right.”

Their conversation was thin and spare. Half a year — and it seemed like everything had changed.

When the silence fell for the third time, Zhou Jun was the one who ended the call. Before putting her phone away, Ruan Yu thought back to what he had just said.

In the United States, to protect users’ privacy, the system does not indicate to the caller why a call cannot be connected — it simply routes everything to voicemail uniformly. A dead battery was one possibility, of course, but being out of range or simply not hearing the phone were equally plausible.

After all, Xu Huaisong was such a careful person. It made no sense that he would set an alarm without checking his battery first.

The unease and doubt that had settled over her gradually washed away the surge of complex emotions she’d felt toward Zhou Jun just moments ago. Ruan Yu picked up her phone and dialed an international call.

From the other end came a pre-recorded voice: “This is Hanson. I’m unavailable right now. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”