For the past few days, she had been trying to find a way to apologize to Ban Sheng. And now she had just run into him being with another girl.

The feeling right now was a mixture of grievance and guilt.

But the unresolved matter between them still hung in the air, so Lin Weixia suppressed the little girl’s emotions stirring inside her and decided she would make things right with Ban Sheng first — then ask him about that senior girl afterward.

For now, she was still rational enough.

The problem was, Lin Weixia had never really coaxed anyone before.

And this time, it probably wasn’t going to be solved with a single salted plum candy.

Lin Weixia pushed open the convenience store door. The cool air rushed over her, clearing the heaviness from her head and bringing her back to herself. She ordered a bowl of cart noodles, a portion of fish balls, and some kelp.

While waiting for her order, Lin Weixia sat at the counter and sent a message to Wusuan from the side:

Xia: 【Senior, do you know what Ban Sheng likes?】

Her phone lit up quickly — Wusuan had replied, and it was unexpected:

【He likes you most.】

Lin Weixia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She thought about what she had just witnessed, and she genuinely was bothered by it. She went ahead and told Cheng Wusuan about running into Ban Sheng with that senior girl, then replied:

【Not necessarily. And this time, I’m the one who was in the wrong first.】

Wusuan replied: 【Trust me — you are Ban Sheng’s one exception. He has no principles or limits where you’re concerned.】

The convenience store server rang the bell soon after, and Lin Weixia picked up her phone and went to collect her food. She had barely eaten a couple of bites before she thought of something and sent a message to Qiu Minghua.

Xia: 【Qiu Minghua, do you know what Ban Sheng likes?】

Qiu Minghua replied quickly: 【Swimming, I think. Oh, and he likes soup. Because Master Ban doesn’t sleep well, he likes drinking all kinds of calming soups. I’m telling you, he’s been through every soup place in Nanjiang — big or small. He’s basically a soup connoisseur at this point…】

Lin Weixia’s brow twitched. Her sharp instinct latched onto the key point buried in those words. She asked:

【Why does he have trouble sleeping?】

【Ah, I don’t know. Even if I asked him, Master Ban wouldn’t tell me. But if you ask him — now that might have some hope, hehe.】

Lin Weixia didn’t reply to Qiu Minghua again. She finished her noodles and went back for the evening study session.

The next morning, at five o’clock, the sky had only just begun to pale with the faint white of dawn. Lin Weixia stood at the stove, her eyelids drooping heavily, yawning repeatedly, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes.

For a fleeting moment, Lin Weixia thought she had lost her mind — getting up at the crack of dawn to make a calming, heat-clearing soup for Ban Sheng, all for the sake of coaxing him.

Since soup required a long time to simmer, and Lin Weixia also needed to wash up, by the time she had poured the soup into the thermal container and rushed off to school, she was already very late — catching the peak of the morning commute just right.

The school security guard was on foot, chasing after and directing students who were riding their bicycles on the footpath inside school grounds, grumbling: “No cycling inside the campus! Get off and push your bike in!”

Lin Weixia was still catching her breath from lugging the thermal container up to the fourth floor when she spotted Ban Sheng coming toward her from not far away. He had probably just come down from the observatory on that side and was heading into the classroom.

Ban Sheng had clearly seen her too, and he did not look away.

When only a few meters separated them, Lin Weixia was just about to call out to him — when a loud thud rang out and a boy from Class Three came crashing into her hard from behind.

The boy had been in a hurry to get to class.

Lin Weixia’s shoulder flared with pain. She lost her footing and lurched forward, the blue thermal container swinging in her hand, pitching directly toward Ban Sheng.

Ban Sheng reached out with his right hand and caught her firmly and steadily. A wave of cool tobacco scent washed over her. Lin Weixia’s forehead knocked into the collar of his shirt, straight into a stretch of collarbone — a dull, aching impact — but she didn’t hear him make a sound.

At the same time, Ban Sheng’s hand shot out and grabbed the boy who had knocked someone over and was already trying to run. His jaw tightened, his expression darkening — a clear sign that he was about to lose his temper.

“Sorry,” the boy mumbled.

He was terrified of Ban Sheng, hating only his own bad luck for stumbling straight into trouble with him.

Lin Weixia looked up at Ban Sheng and said softly, “I’m fine.”

Only then did Ban Sheng let the boy go. After he left, Ban Sheng released his grip on Lin Weixia’s arm and withdrew his gaze from her.

Just before the hold released entirely, a slender, pale hand closed around his hand — gripping tightly. The warmth transferred, and Ban Sheng felt a sudden burn at the center of his chest. The cold composure on his face finally shifted.

Ban Sheng lowered his head and met a pair of clear, quiet eyes.

“I have something to say to you,” Lin Weixia said, looking at him.

They stood facing each other. Hearing her take the initiative to speak, the tension in Ban Sheng’s expression eased slightly. Students were streaming past in the corridor on both sides, and to keep her from getting jostled, he pulled her to one side.

Lin Weixia held the thermal container out toward him. Her voice paused for a beat: “I made you some soup.”

The thin skin of Ban Sheng’s eyelids flickered. His hand came out of his pocket and accepted the container. He twisted off the lid, and a rich fragrance rose to meet him — sour jujube seed and lily bulb calming soup.

The warmth of the steam drifted upward. It had been made that very morning.

Catering to someone’s preferences was something anyone could do — but for Lin Weixia, this was her way of coaxing him.

Ban Sheng screwed the lid back on and held it without returning it. He let out a faint, amused sound and asked:

“Who gave you the idea?”

Seeing Ban Sheng’s casual attitude and tone, Lin Weixia knew his anger had mostly dissolved. She let out a breath of relief. Then, thinking about how he had given her the cold shoulder for so many days, her voice came out with a touch of grievance:

“I asked a lot of people.”

Just from the deliberately softened tone of her voice, Ban Sheng could read exactly what she was thinking — she was playing up her helplessness because she knew she could get away with anything where he was concerned, deliberately acting pitiful to make his heart soften.

She never received this kind of treatment from anyone else.

“You didn’t speak to me for three days,” Lin Weixia said calmly, a clear accusation.

Ban Sheng looked at her without responding. Under his gaze, Lin Weixia felt a small pang of guilt — as though, in the beginning, Ban Sheng had only been giving her the silent treatment for one class period, and it had been her own stubbornness that made her dig in and refuse to reach out, until eventually neither of them was speaking. The cold war had simply compounded on both sides.

A cold war was a drawn-out battle between two equally matched opponents.

“My part in it was bigger,” Lin Weixia said with a smile, her palms pressed together in a conciliatory gesture.

Ban Sheng recalled something and asked her:

“Qiu Minghua told me this morning you came to the basketball court to find me yesterday?”

“Yes.”

Judging by Ban Sheng’s expression, Lin Weixia could tell that Li Yiran’s claim that Ban Sheng refused to see her had been a bluff — but she understood. He had been angry on his friend’s behalf and was taking Ban Sheng’s side.

“I’m really sorry. I said things without thinking,” Lin Weixia said, pulling gently at the hem of his uniform and stepping a little closer of her own accord, her amber eyes open and steady. “If you’re still not over it, I’ll do whatever it takes—”

Before she could finish the sentence, a shadow fell over her. There in the corridor, in full view of the students passing back and forth on every side, Ban Sheng bent his head, leaned down, and pinched her face.

Lin Weixia winced, her eyes filling with a glimmer of tears. Ban Sheng still did not let go — if anything, he pressed harder.

He really had no idea how to be gentle.

Ban Sheng let out a quiet laugh, his dark eyes fixed on her, somewhere between a sigh and exasperation. His voice settled low near her ear:

“Give me a break — would I actually let you go to the trouble of coaxing me?”

He couldn’t bear it.

He couldn’t stand watching her lower herself to keep coaxing him.

Since the website YCH had posted the photos of Ban Sheng wiping a girl’s tears on the street, its traffic had only continued to climb. Many people logged on daily, waiting to see whether any new sightings had been posted.

Over time, apart from the school’s internal bulletin board, YCH had become the highest-traffic forum at Shengao — precisely because of its anonymity. The administrators rarely stepped in to interfere, so people posted freely and casually.

Gradually, many people began sharing their day-to-day lives there, or venting about whatever trivial troubles were on their minds.

The atmosphere, somewhat surprisingly, had become warm and easygoing.

It had become a place where anyone could confide whatever they wished — a sort of secret refuge.

That group of Class A students had noticed, and they weren’t sure whether it was because Lin Weixia had spent so much time around Ban Sheng and he had indulged her in everything, or whether this was simply the real Lin Weixia all along.

Either way, her presence had grown stronger. Those girls no longer dared to openly go against her. Class Two, Year Two maintained an ongoing atmosphere of peace — at least on the surface.

That weekend, Ban Sheng asked Lin Weixia to come to his place.

After finishing up at the fruit shop, Lin Weixia grabbed a book and took the bus straight to Ban Sheng’s house. When she arrived at No. 1 Nanwan District, it was the housekeeper who opened the door for her.

The two of them walked past the lush green palms in the front courtyard. The housekeeper led Lin Weixia into the main hall, brewed her a pot of Ceylon tea, and smiled warmly: “Little Lin, Auntie will go attend to some things now. Young Master should be upstairs — you can head up and find him yourself.”

“Alright, thank you, Auntie Qin,” Lin Weixia replied with a smile.

After drinking a couple of sips of tea, Lin Weixia went upstairs to find Ban Sheng. She pushed open the door to his room — it was empty. She searched the floors above and below and still could not find him.

Lin Weixia stood downstairs, her phone in hand to send him a message, and pushed open the full-length glass door with her other hand, stepping out to stand before the swimming pool. What stretched before her was an expanse of glacier blue, and the faint scent of chlorine drifted over.

The vivid blue of the pool and the apple-green of the courtyard in the distance formed two entirely different palettes side by side.

Lin Weixia stood at the edge of the pool, tapped open the black profile icon, typed in the chat box, and sent:

【Where did you go? I can’t find you.】

The message sent off into silence, like a stone dropped into still water, with no reply in sight. Lin Weixia was just about to turn and leave the pool area when a spray of water suddenly splashed up at her feet — cool and startling.

“Weixia.”

Lin Weixia instinctively turned. A figure at the edge of the pool surged up from the surface of the water, sending white foam foaming outward. Ban Sheng braced both elbows lazily on the edge, his hair soaking wet, his brow bone sharp and prominent. His face was exposed, along with a half-visible stretch of his chest — taut with muscle — water droplets continuously rolling down.

There was something untamed and reckless about him in that moment.

Ban Sheng shook the water from his hair. Droplets of every size scattered onto Lin Weixia’s eyes, her chest, her arms, running swiftly down along her skin — refreshingly cool, as though dissolving all the heat that the summer had piled on.

His expression was relaxed and easy. The wet black hair against his face made his eyes look darker and brighter, like some large breed of dog.

“Come in,” Ban Sheng called out to her.

Lin Weixia was wearing a black-and-white checkered short-sleeved dress today, exposing a pair of straight, fair legs. Ban Sheng, still in the water, let his gaze sweep briefly across her legs. Something shifted in his eyes for a moment, darkening.

Lin Weixia shook her head and instinctively took two steps back: “I don’t know how to swim.”

But Ban Sheng would not let her leave — he just wanted her to keep him company. His indoor swimming pool was spacious and well-appointed, so Lin Weixia simply settled into a reclining chair nearby and opened her book. On the round table beside her sat two iced drinks — one iced milk tea, one iced plain tea.

Ban Sheng had also asked Lin Weixia to remove her hearing aids, in case he accidentally damaged them while splashing around in the pool.

When Lin Weixia’s eyes grew tired from reading, she would rest them by looking up. She watched Ban Sheng plunge headfirst into the pool and swim forward — his arms, the lines of his back, fluid and full of strength.

Like the beautiful ridgeline along a creature’s spine.

He had not been swimming long before Ban Sheng surfaced in the water, still shamelessly trying to lure her in:

“Come down, I’ll teach you.”

“I’ll keep you company for whatever you want after you swim.”

Lin Weixia’s finger stayed pressed to page 298 of her novel without moving. She was reading a mystery thriller — a deranged doctor who had killed his wife, then methodically cut her apart piece by piece, sealing each piece into plastic bags and storing them in his laboratory.

She was completely absorbed. She paid Ban Sheng’s coaxing no mind at all.

Ban Sheng let out a quiet laugh, then remembered something: “That girl — I should explain.”

If Wusuan hadn’t mentioned it, Ban Sheng wouldn’t even have known that Lin Weixia had seen him that day after school.

Lin Weixia’s long lashes shifted. She closed her book and waited for Ban Sheng to continue. He spoke in a deliberately enticing tone: “Come down and I’ll tell you.”

“Then I don’t want to hear it anymore,” Lin Weixia replied.

Ban Sheng flipped her off, clearly not buying that excuse at all. But he gave up trying to persuade her and dove back under the water, launching into another round of swimming.

Lin Weixia returned her attention to her novel. She read for a good while before, suddenly, Ban Sheng surfaced and pulled himself up to the side of the pool. White water cascaded up onto the edge, leaving a wet patch against Lin Weixia’s calves.

“I think I have a cramp,” Ban Sheng said, his voice coming out slightly raspy.

Lin Weixia immediately shut her book. She walked quickly to the edge of the pool. As she crouched down, the back of her skirt hem dragged through the water on the ground — she did not notice.

Ban Sheng was still in the water, his cold, sharp face looking slightly pale, his handsome brows drawn together in a tight frown, not moving at all.

Seeing him wince like that, the concern in Lin Weixia’s eyes was unmistakable. She bent forward and reached out her hand, her voice gentle: “Are you okay? Maybe try coming up first.”

An arm like pale lotus root extended toward him. The boy reached back slowly, his broad palm settling into her soft, slender hand. Lin Weixia tried to use her strength to pull him out, but Ban Sheng reversed the grip — and yanked hard.

Splash.

Lin Weixia tumbled into the pool. Like someone who had never touched water, she kept sinking, then kept thrashing her arms to push herself back up.

Ban Sheng laughed at first with his head bent, and then he laughed outright, his whole chest vibrating with it.

Lin Weixia swallowed mouthfuls of water and kept sinking. She did her best to mimic the people in movies who held their breath underwater. In that moment, all the pressure and obsessive thoughts she had been carrying for so long seemed to dissolve entirely, vanished.

She actually felt a kind of release she had never experienced before.

But her body kept sinking, and panic began to take hold. Her mind started to blur with alarm. Just as she was at a loss for what to do, Ban Sheng swam down toward her. He came alongside her and wrapped one arm around her shoulder, using his other hand to swim toward the surface.

In truth, the part of the pool she was in was not deep at all — shallow enough for an adult to stand. It was Lin Weixia who had panicked and assumed the worst, never realizing it.

And besides, he was there. He would not let anything happen to her. Ban Sheng had only wanted to tease Lin Weixia — the girl always looked so serious and proper, and he wanted to make her loosen up a little.

Lin Weixia had no idea what he was thinking. After nearly drowning and then breaking the surface again, she gasped and gulped down fresh air, her heart still pounding with the feeling of having just survived something terrible.

All she knew was that the boy in front of her was truly, deeply rotten.

“It’s your fault.”

“I told you I can’t swim.”

The more she thought about it, the more frightened and wronged she felt. She reached out and started hitting Ban Sheng’s shoulder. She really did seem to have been genuinely scared — she kept hitting him, over and over.

Ban Sheng let her. His eyes stayed fixed on Lin Weixia the entire time.

With every hit, the two of them drew a fraction closer. The gaze falling on her was too intense — burning — and the heat of it brought Lin Weixia back to herself. Only then, belatedly, did she sense that something about the atmosphere had shifted.

Ban Sheng was holding her up with one hand braced beneath her, the two of them very close, their breathing soft and tangled together. The water in the pool was cool, yet Lin Weixia felt sweat breaking out along her back, flushed with heat.

A face that could only be described as dangerously handsome was right in front of her. The mole at the corner of his eye — cool on its own, yet somehow suggestive.

Lin Weixia’s curled fingers flexed, and as if under some spell, she reached up and touched that mole. The moment she made contact, a tingling rush swept through her heart. She wanted to pull her hand back, but Ban Sheng caught her wrist.

His eyes stayed on her. Lin Weixia looked back at him, and every time she looked directly into his eyes, she felt as though she were about to fall into a flame — unsure of what might happen.

She tried hard to force herself back to calm. Her hand was still resting on his shoulder from earlier when she had been afraid of slipping, and now, with her nerves wound tight, her fingernails had pressed into his broad shoulder, leaving a spreading patch of red.

It was stark and vivid.

Ban Sheng’s gaze kept pressing down on her. Lin Weixia unconsciously released her grip.

She would rather fall back into the water.

At the very moment she let go, Ban Sheng lunged closer. Her wrist was suddenly pressed against the cool wall of the pool. His presence surged over her like a wave, and his warm, damp breath drew near — then stopped, hovering at a hairsbreadth’s distance, separated by the thinnest sliver of air.

Like a delicate butterfly hovering beneath the tower in spring, almost settling, yet refusing to fall.