“Nothing.” Lin Weixia answered quietly.

She put the gauze and medicine away, and as she raised her eyes, she caught another glimpse of those sharply defined muscles — water droplets still clinging to them, and a faint trace of a line down the middle of his abdomen.

Her throat felt a little dry. She looked away: “Put your shirt on.”

Ban Sheng gave a quiet laugh, pressed the cigarette out in the ashtray, and drawled: “Weren’t you staring quite happily just now? Quick to change your tune.”

“I wasn’t.” Lin Weixia raised her voice a fraction.

A rustling sound came from behind her — Ban Sheng reached across her back to grab his clothes, and his shoulder inadvertently grazed her ear. A barely-there brush, and her ear grew even warmer, her breathing slightly unsteady.

Lin Weixia’s eyes shifted involuntarily, catching a glimpse of the black trousers he had on — the drawstring at the waistband loose and undone, like a hint of something forbidden.

“The drawstring isn’t tied.” Lin Weixia reminded him.

Ban Sheng glanced down, then looked back at her with a lazy smile — as though the amusement had reached all the way into his chest:

“Oh? And you said you weren’t looking.”

On the other side of the city, Liu Sijia wandered through the streets. It was the dead of winter, and she was gnawing on an ice cream bar — even as the cold of it made her teeth ache, she wanted the chill to clear her head. A few people stopped to ask for her number; Liu Sijia sent each of them packing with a single raised middle finger.

She didn’t quite know why she had skipped class. Then again, she was unhappy and didn’t want to be there, so she left — there didn’t have to be a reason. She ended up at an internet café and spent the entire afternoon gaming. Her beautifully manicured nails clacked across the keyboard without any real strategy, and she died countless times. But one teammate kept carrying her to victory and saw fit to mock her throughout:

“Tell me honestly — did you go pray at a temple before queuing with me?”

By the time she came out, the sky had darkened. The world had gone a murky grey, dotted with the glow of lights coming on. A moment later, it started raining again.

Light rain though it was, Liu Sijia walked straight into it without a thought, wandering forward without any destination in mind. Without realizing it, she turned into a narrow alley.

Near the end of the alley, a few rough voices drifted out. Liu Sijia came back to herself and tried to get out as fast as she could — walking faster and faster toward the entrance, until she collided with no warning into a solid, hard chest.

Thud — she hit the ground. She was on the verge of scowling and snapping, when she looked up and found herself staring at a familiar face.

Ning Chao blinked at the sight of her. Liu Sijia was looking truly disheveled right now — neat hair in disarray, clothes rumpled and damp all over, only those lips, perpetually a deep shade of red, unchanged.

He broke into an unrestrained laugh, looking down at her from above: “Well. Which little fox got herself caught in the rain?”

Ning Chao had shaved his hair down to a buzz cut, with a Z shaved into his sideburn above his left ear — thoroughly street-cool, more than ever like a neighborhood boss.

Liu Sijia’s eyes went wide with indignation. She struggled back to her feet and walked away, chin up and posture immaculate, smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt hem as she went.

She hadn’t taken ten steps before a voice came from behind: “Hey — feeling sorry for you, want to come with me?”

Liu Sijia stopped walking. She didn’t know why she’d stopped. Half an hour later, Liu Sijia was seriously questioning whether someone had put a spell on her — because here she was, following a classmate who was basically a troublemaker to some place like this.

Not far off to the left was a road sign, the board worn and old, the carved characters reading Goldfish Street — the lettering a little blurred from wind and weather.

Turning into Goldfish Street was stepping into a world she had never entered before. Shops lined both sides, each one lit up in front, people streaming past in noisy, bustling crowds. The woman minding one of the stalls wrapped packages with nimble, practiced hands, all while keeping up a running stream of muttered curses:

“That useless wretch — told him not to drink and he drank anyway. Good riddance. Now I’m free to have my second and third act.”

A moth circled the lamp beneath it, looping twice, while laughter from a customer rose through the light: “Calm down — good business comes with good cheer.”

There was also a stall where an old man sat mending phones, watching a low-budget film on his screen without much care. A customer came to hand over a phone and asked for a price check while they were at it. Ning Chao cut in: “Knockoff.”

All the way down Goldfish Street, people greeted Ning Chao as they passed. The local rough characters and street crowd who saw him straightened up and called out: “Young Master Ning, good evening!”

Ning Chao gave a perfunctory hum. A rowdy young man passed and shouted: “Young Master Ning brought his girlfriend home! Going home!”

The boy sailed past them on his skateboard. Ning Chao gave a cold laugh, picked up two tennis balls from a nearby stall, and whipped them both in one precise throw — they hit the boy square in the back. He stumbled off his board and scrambled away, drawing laughter from everyone around.

The long street turned a corner, and the scene that opened up was a stretch of blue-and-red awnings in alternating rows — open-air grill stalls. The scent of barbecued meat and cumin floated from the grills, and by the entrance stood an ice chest stacked with skewers of meat and vegetables.

“I’m guessing a young lady like you has never been somewhere like this,” Ning Chao said, flicking ash from his cigarette, with a note of mockery. “Condescending to honor us with a visit.”

Liu Sijia’s fox-eyes swept around. Anywhere she saw grease-stained surfaces, she couldn’t help but frown. She said nothing, but it was clear from her whole manner that she found it disagreeable — and her stomach chose exactly that moment to rumble out of turn.

Ning Chao gave a derisive snort, ground out the cigarette, and walked toward a stall called Ning’s. Liu Sijia followed with visible reluctance. As they walked, Ning Chao stopped for a moment, and Liu Sijia — who’d been watching the uneven muddy ground — nearly walked straight into his back.

She was just about to say something when she saw a kind-faced, plainly dressed couple smiling warmly in her direction.

Liu Sijia greeted them politely. Ning’s mother was welcoming and immediately wiped down the table, gesturing for her to sit. Liu Sijia sat down, a cup of hot tea warming her hands.

A moment later, Ning’s mother came over with a basin of hot water, smiling softly, her expression a little tentative: “You must be one of Ning-zi’s classmates. Here — come wipe your face.”

“This towel is clean, never been used. Is the water too hot?” His mother was careful and attentive.

Seeing her son bring home a classmate — well-dressed, striking, and clearly from a wealthy family — she was worried about not treating her well enough.

“It’s just right, thank you.” Liu Sijia quickly took the towel and began washing her face. At this moment, she was nothing like the young queen she showed herself to be at school.

Ning Chao stood in front of the ice chest, holding a plate, and picked up a handful of barbecue skewers. He shot a glance toward them, and the corner of his mouth tugged into the faintest curve. The grilling had been going on for a while. Liu Sijia was sitting there, lost in thought, when a clatter came — a hand with clearly defined tendons set a plate down in front of her.

“Try some. The old man makes it.” Ning Chao tipped his chin toward the front.

Liu Sijia looked over. The man at the grill, busy at work in a blue jacket, must have been Ning Chao’s father. When she’d greeted him earlier, Ning’s father had only given a quiet nod.

She brought her gaze back to the food in front of her. Garlic eggplant, crunchy chicken cartilage, a skewer of beef tallow… it did look pretty good. Liu Sijia picked up a beef tallow skewer and took a bite.

Ning Chao watched her. The queen said with some difficulty:

“It’s all right, I suppose.”

Her mouth said all right, but Liu Sijia couldn’t help reaching for another skewer and kept eating. Ning Chao lowered his head and let out a quiet laugh — but he didn’t call her out on it, and turned away to get back to work.

After a while, the barbecue was getting spicy. Liu Sijia took a sip of water. A bowl of fish ball noodles was brought out. She picked up her chopsticks and took a big mouthful — scalding hot, layered with fragrance, and her appetite came rushing back.

Liu Sijia bent her head and ate, drinking a few spoonfuls of broth. Warmth spread through every part of her body, and the exhaustion began to lift.

Liu Sijia looked up and called over to the person making the noodles: “Thank you — the noodles are really good.”

And for tonight, too.

Ning Chao, mid-task, went rigid for a moment — then kept on working. Liu Sijia sat there and noticed the customers were beginning to come in more thickly, lively and bustling. Her eyes drifted, without her meaning them to, toward the young man at work.

Ning Chao stood at times before the grill, eyes cast down with a cool and focused expression as he worked away at the food. He moved with practiced, unhurried ease.

Then someone called him over. Halfway there, someone bumped him by the shoulder — the tray in his hand flew forward, about to hit a customer. A long arm shot out over their head, and the tray was caught clean and steady. The customer apologized over and over.

The one who’d bumped him was someone he knew — grinning sheepishly and making a show of being sorry. Ning Chao gave a cold laugh, played it cool — and then spun around without warning and landed a punch on him.

Tch. So childish. Liu Sijia thought to herself.

The scene cut. She was just about to call out to him when voices in dispute drifted over. She looked up. Ning’s mother was walking with an uneven limp, still struggling to carry two crates of heavy beer. Ning Chao came at her with a withering scold:

“Mom, if you’ve got nothing to do, go do square dancing with the neighbor lady next door — you’re over here causing chaos and making more work for me…”

Ning Chao, a big guy even at his age, bent down with ease and took the beer crates from his mother’s arms and walked off. For the rest of the evening, Ning Chao was everywhere at once — forehead damp with sweat, moving between tables with quick and agile hands.

“Wait a bit — I’ll take you home.” Ning Chao said, cigarette between his lips, his voice slightly muffled.

“No need — I can get back on my own.” Liu Sijia shook her head.

She took in the busy yet warm scene of the open-air stall and said slowly, with a small pause in her voice: “Your family has a really close bond.”

It had rained all day. After the rain stopped, Ban Sheng took Lin Weixia to a game center. After a few rounds of games, they ended up watching a film together.

The film they saw was Death on the Nile — adapted from an Agatha Christie novel she loved, the kind of crime mystery she enjoyed.

In the screening room, Lin Weixia watched with full attention, barely letting her mind wander. Ban Sheng beside her fell asleep before long. It was he who’d suggested they watch it, yet he was the one who ended up asleep.

Though the adaptation was, admittedly, a bit dull.

When the sweeping panorama of the Nile lit up the screen, Lin Weixia tilted her head and glanced at Ban Sheng beside her. He wore a black hoodie, head resting back against the red seat, eyes closed. The light carved a faint shadow beneath his lashes.

Ban Sheng’s shoulder kept threatening to slip off the armrest — his head tilted gradually sideways, but at some point in the air it would stall, then drift back, over and over in a slow loop.

Lin Weixia’s eyes lingered on the small mole beneath his eyes — that cool, faintly provocative mole — and something stirred in her chest. As if compelled by some force beyond her, she removed the dividing armrest between them, extended her arm, and placed her palm lightly against the side of his neck. She could almost feel the pulse beneath his skin — and then, with the gentlest pull, drew him toward herself.

Warmth and a soft, steady breath reached her.

Ban Sheng’s head came to rest on her shoulder.

One hundred and twenty-seven minutes later, the film ended. The sound of front-row audience members leaving their seats and discussing the plot stirred the young man awake. Ban Sheng’s lashes fluttered. He opened his eyes, lifted his head from Lin Weixia’s shoulder, and reached up to rub the back of his neck. His voice came out a little rough:

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Lin Weixia kept her eyes fixed forward on the main screen, not looking at the young man beside her, and answered with perfect stillness.