Ban Sheng’s throat bobbed. He was just about to speak when a beep came through the line — the call had been cut off. He stared at the darkened screen and frowned in silence.
He fished a cigarette from his trouser pocket and clamped it between his lips, searching around for a lighter, when — all of a sudden — a flame of orange-red appeared before him, held in fingers painted with rose-red nail polish gripping a silver lighter.
It was Big Sis Ji, unwilling to give up.
Ban Sheng stood there with the cigarette between his lips, narrowed his eyes, and glanced at her. That look — like the edge of a blade, carrying a wordless pressure. Big Sis Ji laughed awkwardly and withdrew the flame.
As she walked back inside, the memory of that look told her everything she needed to know. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself, thinking she really had lost her mind tonight.
Ban Sheng was just about to light his cigarette when his phone screen lit up again. He answered, voice low and deep: “Hello.”
Lin Weixia pressed the phone to her ear, her tone a little dry: “My phone died and shut off on its own just now.”
“Right,” Ban Sheng replied.
She had worked up the courage to say those words, and then — of all things — the phone had suddenly lost power. Lin Weixia had frantically found her charging cable and plugged it back in.
Even now, her palm was still damp with sweat. Lin Weixia held the phone while her other hand absently wound and unwound the white charging cable. She paused, then started over:
“I didn’t say that well just now. We’re at an age where saying something like that isn’t quite right. It’s just that I wanted to ask you——”
“For the college entrance exams — should we aim for the same city——”
“Go to Jingbei together to see the snow.”
After she finished speaking, a faint crackle of static came through the line, followed by a long silence. Ban Sheng said nothing. Lin Weixia seemed to hear his quiet breathing, winding itself around her heart, making her pulse flutter unevenly — now slow, now fast.
Her heart hung suspended in the air.
There was a small white mark on the desk. Lin Weixia reached out and picked at it with her finger. She spoke again, her tone unhurried as always: “If you don’t want to——”
“I want to.” Ban Sheng’s voice cut her off, calm and measured.
Lin Weixia switched the phone to her other hand: “Alright, go on then, I’m going to sleep.”
“Alright. Close the window,” Ban Sheng said, then — as though something had shifted — he added: “Goodnight.”
After hanging up, Lin Weixia blow-dried her still-damp hair and got ready for bed. She had just climbed in when her phone gave a soft ding. She opened it to find a text from Li Yiran.
【Your future boyfriend’s got some nerve. The moment you agreed, he bought a round for everyone in the bar tonight.】
Lin Weixia’s eyelashes fluttered. She stared at the message for a long while before putting the phone down and closing her eyes. The night was deep. Occasionally, the distant rumble of cars on the overpass filtered through.
Other than that, things were quiet — yet Lin Weixia tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She couldn’t quite believe she had actually said it. Even trying to fall asleep felt somehow unsettled.
She reached under her pillow for her phone and lit up the screen, only to find that Ban Sheng had sent a message ten minutes ago.
Ban: 【Asleep yet?】
Lin Weixia stretched her two pale, slender arms out from beneath the thin air-conditioned blanket and typed: 【Not yet.】
Almost immediately, another message appeared on the screen. She could practically picture the expression on Ban Sheng’s face as he sent it — composed, confirming in that matter-of-fact tone of his.
Ban: 【You’re sure?】
【Yes.】 — Xia
Ban Sheng had just stepped out of the shower, wearing nothing but a pair of black trousers, droplets of water still clinging to his defined torso. He leaned down, picked up his phone from the coffee table, and read that single affirmative reply. The corners of his lips tugged into a small arc.
That night, he didn’t rely on any sleep aid. His dreams weren’t the boundless darkness or the sea of deep red that usually dragged him under. He didn’t wake in the middle of the night from a pounding heart.
He slept soundly, all the way through.

Lin Weixia had gone to bed late due to the emotional turbulence of the previous night, and as a result she overslept the next morning. She scrambled through her morning routine, slung her black backpack over her shoulder, and rushed out the door.
She hadn’t expected that on a Monday morning she would run straight into Ban Sheng waiting at her front door.
Ban Sheng stood with one hand resting along the seam of his trousers and the other holding breakfast. His middle finger hooked through a white plastic bag — inside were the savory glutinous dumplings and fresh rice congee she always ate — while his other hand played with his phone, head tilted slightly down, his posture unhurried.
He wore the Shengao school uniform, his frame tall and straight — the very picture of a young man of privilege who had condescended to wait for someone.
“What are you doing here?” Lin Weixia asked, slightly out of breath.
At the sound of her voice, Ban Sheng slipped his phone back into his pocket and walked over, handing her the breakfast. His eyes were fixed directly on her:
“Came to confirm. In case you changed your mind.”
Lin Weixia felt a little helpless, but she knew what Ban Sheng needed to hear. She met his gaze and answered, her lips soft and clear:
“I haven’t.”
Ban Sheng ducked his head and smiled briefly, then asked for her keys. She took them out, and he produced something from his trouser pocket — a small dinosaur keychain, swaying in the air before her eyes.
“Won it at the bar last night betting on the match. The dinosaur keychain is yours; the dinosaur cap is mine.”
Ban Sheng passed the keychain to her, but being someone who always liked to hold the initiative, he didn’t simply take her keys and attach it himself. He wanted to watch Lin Weixia take the thing from him and clip it on with her own hands.
Only the very first day, and Lin Weixia could already feel his need for control.
“Oh — maybe not, what if someone sees——” She caught Ban Sheng’s gaze, and her voice trailed off into nothing.
She still didn’t take it. He stepped forward twice, lowered his head, and that casually unruly energy of his settled over Lin Weixia like a weight.
She stepped back. He stepped forward.
There was nowhere to go.
“Lin Weixia, don’t make me kiss you,” Ban Sheng said, leaning down until he forced her to look back at him, all cocky provocation.
Lin Weixia had no choice but to take the dinosaur keychain and clip it onto her keys.
The sky grew brighter and brighter, gilded sunlight spreading wide. Lin Weixia boarded the bus, rode to the Shenlanyizhong stop, and got off — a shadow following at a leisurely, unhurried pace just behind her, the whole way.
He had done this before.
But now, something — was different.
Lin Weixia walked into the classroom with her heart beating just a little too fast, afraid of being noticed. A moment later, Ban Sheng followed her in. The instant he stepped through the door, Qiu Minghua came charging over:
“Ban-ge, what did ‘Day One’ in your social feed mean?”
Lin Weixia’s hand paused on the back of her chair, then she sat down and began eating the breakfast Ban Sheng had bought for her. Ban Sheng passed by her, and the knuckle of his hand — whether deliberately or not — grazed the pale skin of her neck in passing. Light as nothing, neither painful nor itchy.
Like an ice cube. Lin Weixia startled.
The scalding hot congee she’d just sent into her mouth nearly went down the wrong way.
Qiu Minghua was still going on and on. Ban Sheng walked over, grabbed Qiu Minghua’s phone without any change of expression, locked an arm around his throat from behind, and let out a quiet laugh as he gradually increased the pressure:
“None of your business.”
Two back-to-back mathematics classes went by, and most of the class was drowsy and half-asleep. During the break, Lin Weixia received a message from Ban Sheng. She turned her head and glanced out the window.
Ban Sheng was in the corridor talking to someone, his posture casually indifferent — yet he kept glancing down at the phone in his hand, clearly waiting for her to reply.
Ban: 【Lunch together? I’ll take you somewhere special.】
Lin Weixia stared at the screen, her expression troubled. She typed in the reply box: 【Sijia already made lunch plans with me.】
The evening before, Liu Sijia had messaged saying she wanted to have lunch together on Monday — her housekeeper would prepare two portions of bento.
After she sent the message declining him, it was like a stone dropping into water — not a single reply from Ban Sheng after that.
She guessed he had probably gotten upset.
Now that the two of them had made their promise to each other, it was only the very first day — it made sense that he would want to be closer to her, to spend a bit more time together. But Lin Weixia had already made plans with Liu Sijia ahead of time and hadn’t thought to account for him.
With that in mind, she added one more line: 【Next time for sure.】
But Ban Sheng still didn’t reply.
After the third period — Chinese class — Old Liu sent Lin Weixia to the office to collect workbooks. She carried back a towering stack of them to the front of the room, then began distributing them to each group.
When she reached the fourth group’s share, her gaze paused for a moment. She picked out Ban Sheng’s workbook from the pile, intending to hand it to him personally.
Lin Weixia hoped she could use the excuse of returning his assignment to start a conversation. She placed the workbook in front of him and said: “Your assignment.”
Ban Sheng was bent over his drone remote, which seemed to have developed some sort of fault. His head was tilted down, and the tendons along the side of his neck were taut — inexplicably compelling.
Lin Weixia spoke to him. Ban Sheng didn’t even flicker an eyelid. He went right on picking at the remote as if she didn’t exist.
The workbook hung suspended in midair. Lin Weixia quietly exhaled.

The bell for the end of morning classes rang, and the students poured out of the room like fish leaping free of a tank, loudly discussing what to eat for lunch.
Lin Weixia and Liu Sijia walked to the canteen arm in arm, as they usually did — but she could feel that something was off with Liu Sijia’s mood.
There was none of her usual bright, vivid smile. She spoke very little, and on the few occasions Lin Weixia tried to talk to her, Liu Sijia’s responses were absent and distracted.
All of a sudden, Liu Sijia’s phone erupted in a sharp, rapid ringtone. She didn’t even glance at the screen — she pressed it silent immediately, her eyes cold and shattered-looking.
Lin Weixia caught a glimpse. It looked like a call from her mother.
Liu Sijia’s lunch was, as usual, a pitifully sparse diet meal, paired with a glass of green detox juice. Because of that phone call, her mood seemed even worse than before. She pushed a few pieces of vegetable around with her chopsticks, looking thoroughly disinterested.
Then Liu Sijia seemed to have caught wind of some rumor, because she looked over with those sharp, upward-tilted eyes: “Weixia, you haven’t done anything to betray me, have you?”
Lin Weixia slowly chewed a snap pea and asked: “What would count as betraying you?”
Liu Sijia was caught off guard — she hadn’t expected Lin Weixia to turn the question back on her. She was just about to say something when her eyes landed on the small dinosaur keychain on Lin Weixia’s keys. A bad feeling stirred in her immediately, and she fixed Lin Weixia with a suspicious look:
“Where did you get that keychain?”
Lin Weixia’s gaze drifted to Liu Sijia’s collarbone — visible now, protruding above the neckline, the fabric of her clothes hanging loose and empty around her frame. Then Lin Weixia’s eyes moved to the food in front of her, which had barely been touched.
She was eating even less than before.
“Eat more than half of that, and I’ll tell you,” Lin Weixia said, holding out her chopsticks.
The two of them held each other’s gaze for a moment. Liu Sijia relented and bent her head to eat. Seeing that, Lin Weixia got up and went to the canteen counter, returning with a portion of corn and spare rib soup for her.
A short while later, Lin Weixia came back with her tray and set the soup in front of Liu Sijia, then glanced at her lunch — the bento box had been mostly cleared.
Liu Sijia was chewing on a piece of broccoli. She shrugged at Lin Weixia, her tone carrying a note of self-satisfied pride: “I ate. Now tell me.”
Lin Weixia stood in front of her with both hands in her pockets and said nothing for a long moment. Then she bent forward slightly and reached out to firmly pry Liu Sijia’s mouth open.
Liu Sijia winced in pain and instinctively opened wide. Lin Weixia kept her posture, amber eyes calm and perceptive, her voice steady:
“You were pretending.”
Liu Sijia’s performance had been convincing — but not convincing enough. Lin Weixia’s gaze drifted to the trash can in the far corner of the canteen, where the food — still looking perfectly fresh — had been tossed away.
A flash of mortified fury crossed Liu Sijia’s face. She knocked Lin Weixia’s hand away hard, her emotions cracking, her voice rising sharp and shrill as she met her eyes: “What gives you the right to tell me what to do?!”
Bang — Liu Sijia slammed her spoon onto the table. The sound thundered through the canteen. The air went still for a moment, and everyone around them looked over, expressions lit with the anticipation of spectators.
Liu Sijia stood up abruptly and walked out without looking back, moving fast. In her rush, she collided with Ning Chao, who was strolling along at a leisurely pace with a young coconut in hand.
Thud — the coconut hit the ground and rolled, spilling its juice across the floor. Ning Chao’s shoulder took the impact and smarted with the pain; he felt a hot flash of irritation, his face darkening as he grabbed the girl’s shoulder: “What the——”
He stopped cold the moment he saw the look on Liu Sijia’s face. The rest of the words — “what’s your problem” — lodged themselves in his throat. Liu Sijia shoved his hand off without a word and ran.
Lin Weixia stood where she was, her eyelashes rising slowly, watching Liu Sijia’s retreating figure, her thoughts drifting somewhere far away.

As the canteen emptied and the lunch crowd drifted off with their trays, Lin Weixia washed her hands and passed by the convenience store on her way out. She kept her eyes forward, walking right past it — took two more steps, stopped, and went back.

The first afternoon class was an art and calligraphy session. The teacher lectured at the front while students below let their minds wander. Lin Weixia drew idle lines on paper, glancing toward Ban Sheng’s seat a few times.
He still didn’t look at her.
After class, Lin Weixia went up to the front to write a notice on behalf of Old Liu: they needed to order a Chinese language supplementary workbook, and anyone who didn’t want one could come find her to have their name registered.
The second period was physical education. The boys had long since bolted out the door with a basketball, while the girls fixed their hair, checked their reflections until satisfied, and then slowly shuffled off to the changing room.
When Fang Mo called for Lin Weixia to come along, Lin Weixia shook her head gently and gave her a soft smile: “You go ahead. I’ll be right there.”
“Alright, I’m going then!” Fang Mo waved and headed off.
Ban Sheng was still sitting at his desk, hunched forward, fiddling with his drone. Lin Weixia sat in her seat until the last person in the classroom had left.
Neither of them spoke first.
Lin Weixia stood up and walked over to him. Her shadow fell across him as she looked down and said: “Ban Sheng.”
Her voice was very gentle. A faintly sweet, fruity scent drifted over. The hand Ban Sheng held the craft knife with stilled — but he still didn’t look up.
Seeing he still wouldn’t respond, Lin Weixia pulled her gaze from him and walked straight past his desk toward the door. But a hand shot out and caught her by the arm, his dark eyes still cast downward.
“Your assignment,” Lin Weixia said, placing the workbook in his hand.
After she left, Ban Sheng tossed the craft knife onto the desk and rubbed the back of his neck. He picked up the workbook from the table in an unhurried motion — and out of nowhere, a whole handful of sour plum candies cascaded onto the desk.
Ban Sheng froze. He picked up one of the candies and stared at it. The curve at the corners of his lips spread slowly — wider and wider — until all the cold sharpness that usually lived in his expression dissolved entirely, flooded with something warm and unbidden.
Hmph. Trying to win him over, was she?

Physical education class. At the teacher’s instructions, Lin Weixia and a few classmates went to the equipment room to collect tennis rackets. She carried a box of green tennis balls toward the sports ground, and the sound of boys joking and shouting drifted to her on the breeze.
Qiu Minghua was staring at his watch, his expression somewhere between stunned and appalled: “Ban-ge, please just keep that stone face of yours. You keep smiling at me like that and I can’t handle it — it feels like the last smile someone gives you right before they kill you.”
A notification buzz came from Lin Weixia’s pocket. She jostled the box up higher, freed one hand, and pulled out her phone. When she read Ban Sheng’s message, her breath caught. It felt as if the warm air around her had wrapped itself around her, and heat climbed into her cheeks.
Lin Weixia had asked him: 【What did ‘Day One’ in your social feed mean this morning?】
Ban: 【Day one of the final push before the college entrance exams.】