The car continued moving forward. The rain grew heavier and heavier, and the roof came down, instantly sealing out the white noise of wind and rain.

The car surged ahead, its tires churning the blinding-white rain into different shapes that vanished in an instant into the rearview mirror.

Electronic music kept igniting the restless atmosphere inside the car. Liu Sijia stood up amid the thundering music and leaned toward Ning Chao, raising her voice to ask:

“Where are we going?”

Ning Chao startled, reaching up to scratch his ear. “I don’t know either, Your Highness — I just realized, when did you get so loud?”

Liu Sijia gave him a smack on the shoulder and shot back: “You’re the loud one.”

She settled back into the rear seat. The group looked at each other — so much for the great escape; they didn’t even know where they were going. After a brief silence, they all said in unison:

“The beach.”

Pleased at the shared idea, Ban Sheng leaned against the car window and said slowly:

“It’s raining right now.”

With a typhoon and heavy rains, the nearby harbor and port operations were suspended, and visitors were forbidden from approaching the coastal areas.

That was simply how Ban Sheng operated — when something came up, he considered the consequences first before deciding whether it was viable.

The group, which had been buzzing with excitement, felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on them. Ban Sheng’s eyes shifted slightly; he noticed Lin Weixia’s brow and eyes clouded with disappointment. He reached out and gave her fair cheek a light pinch, then spoke:

“We’ll keep driving for now. If the rain stops, we head to Kuichong.”

“Yes!”

“That works!”

“Ning Chao, step on it!”

“Feeling better?” Ban Sheng asked, one lazy eyebrow raised.

“Mm.”

Fortunately, even the sky seemed to be on the side of these young people. The car wound around Dahe Mountain, and the heavy rain eased off — the sun actually came out.

Such is summer.

The car turned and followed the base of the mountain forward, heading straight for the sea. After about forty minutes of driving, they reached Kuichong. The group of boys and girls jumped out of the car.

Feet sinking into the soft, fuzzy sand with the damp salt wind blowing in, Lin Weixia took a deep breath — the air after rain, mingled with the earthy smell of coconut tree roots, was incredibly fresh.

Looking out as far as the eye could see, everything was renewed.

The group walked one after another toward the sea. Halfway there, Ning Chao lit a cigarette, then seemed to remember something and waved his cigarette-holding hand at them:

“I’m going to the service station to buy a lighter.”

“Go ahead,” Liu Sijia said, linking arms with the girls, her red lips parting to say, “Let’s go — don’t wait for him.”

Gilded sunlight slanted across the glittering blue surface of the sea. Waves rolled in and lapped at their feet — ice-cold, cold enough to make the girls shriek with delight.

Before long they were splashing each other in a free-for-all.

Lin Weixia laughed happily, retreating step by step, dodging their attacks. It wasn’t long before their faces, arms, and hair were all coated in the damp salty smell of the sea.

Suddenly, a shout rang out from nearby — Ning Chao had a white plastic bag hooked over his fingers, and he called out: “Liu Sijia — come here a sec.”

Lin Weixia, still mid-splash, paused and spotted what he had. She teased: “Hey — someone’s been thinking about your injury.”

Liu Sijia’s usually cool expression grew visibly uncomfortable. She walked toward the beach and looked back to say:

“Don’t go reading into things.”

Lin Weixia glanced around. Everyone was having a great time at the beach — everyone except Ban Sheng, who stood off to the side in his black shirt, smoking and looking effortlessly composed.

White smoke drifted from his arms, their veins prominent, and wafted over to brush Lin Weixia’s face in wave after wave. Standing there doing nothing at all, he radiated an effortless, roguish ease that kept pulling people’s eyes his way.

Ban Sheng had his side to her, smoking alone, gazing with unhurried indifference at the distant sea. She crept up behind him on tiptoe, bent down, scooped up a handful of ice-cold seawater, and splashed it straight at him.

Only she would dare do something like that to Ban Sheng.

Ban Sheng had just been cupping his hands around a flame. The scarlet light of the fire outlined the careless lines of his brow and eyes — when suddenly, a spray of water fell, hitting the lit cigarette tip squarely. With a hiss, it sputtered and died, leaving only a few scattered embers.

The expanse of his broad back, held up by the black shirt, darkened where the water soaked in. Cool white droplets rolled steadily down his neck. Ban Sheng, with his back still to her, unhurriedly removed the cigarette from his mouth.

He exhaled a breath of smoke.

Sensing that something was off, Lin Weixia turned to run — only to find that Ban Sheng, as if by instinct, reached out an arm without turning around and pulled her right in front of him.

Before she could react, the palm of his hand — which she hadn’t noticed him wetting — poured ice-cold seawater directly down the back of her neck.

Ban Sheng’s gaze pressed down on her, his broad hand resting on the soft curve of her waist — warm and scorching. Drops of water trickled from her nape down the snow-white skin of her back, along its smooth expanse, bitterly cold — a collision of heat and cold.

A strange sensation rose from somewhere deep inside her. Lin Weixia avoided his eyes and instinctively wrenched herself free, trying to escape. But Ban Sheng grabbed the back of her neck and started tickling her.

Lin Weixia, who had been keeping her face carefully neutral, couldn’t hold it and burst out laughing, twisting away from each attack. The two were very close; his lips were at her ear, and he let out a low, quiet laugh:

“Still dare to do that again?”

Lin Weixia pressed her palms together, laughing as she begged for mercy: “Never again, never again.”

As the two of them were messing around, droplets had gotten on Ban Sheng’s brow bone and lips. Lin Weixia rose onto her tiptoes, about to wipe them away — when a powerful force came from behind her. Ning Chao, who had finally made it into the water, shoved her from the back.

It looked for a moment as though Lin Weixia was going to fall straight into the sea. Ban Sheng caught her with quick reflexes, but the hem of her skirt was soaked through on one side, and she swallowed a mouthful of seawater — so salty it stung.

Ban Sheng’s expression changed instantly.

His logic had always been peculiar — my person, I can mess with her; no one else can.

And so a new round of splashing began.

Ning Chao wasn’t afraid at all. Two-on-two was fair enough — but he hadn’t anticipated Fang Jiabei joining Lin Weixia’s side. She was a little hesitant at first, but once she got comfortable, she let herself go completely.

Five boys and girls played in the water at the beach. Everyone ended up a mess, but their laughter was real. Each of them briefly forgot the worries weighing on their hearts, set aside the decisions they’d been wavering over.

Every single one of them laughed loudly, with everything they had.

The piercing golden sunlight fell over each of them, freezing this moment in place.

Seventeen, so fearless. Youth, so beautiful.

After a drawn-out battle that lasted over an hour, the five of them were completely soaked. Too tired to bother finding anything to sit on, they plopped straight down onto the sand.

They rested there. Ban Sheng leaned his back back, propped on two long arms in the sand, and said with easy laziness:

“Sleep here tonight? We could set up a few tents.”

Ning Chao snapped his fingers. “No problem — I’ll go buy drinks and snacks in a bit.”

Liu Sijia shrugged. “Fine by me. And I’ve turned my phone off, by the way.” A small, satisfied smile.

Lin Weixia and Fang Jiabei took charge of sending messages to their families. After resting and recovering some energy, the group each picked up their own shoes and walked across the sand — one foot sinking, the next stepping firmer — toward the convenience store.

In front of the convenience store were many mobile stalls: some selling T-shirts and sandals, some selling flowers for photos. The shop owner, seeing that all the customers were good-looking young people, called out cheerfully: “Come shop here — matching couple T-shirts, buy one get one free!”

They were simple white shirts — the shoulder stripe on the men’s style was blue, the women’s was pink. Lin Weixia rested her hand on the shirts. Without overthinking it, she asked easily:

“Want one?”

“Sure,” Ban Sheng said — one word.

Lin Weixia also picked out two pairs of sandals, and the two of them headed to the changing rooms first. Ban Sheng followed behind her at an unhurried pace.

As Lin Weixia turned her head to talk to Ban Sheng, she happened to catch a glimpse of Liu Sijia and Ning Chao still standing in front of the T-shirt display. Ning Chao looked perfectly at ease; it was the girl whose expression was visibly strained.

Fang Jiabei had already chosen her clothes and sandals and was heading to change.

Ban Sheng caught the faint smile at the corner of Lin Weixia’s lips and asked: “What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing,” Lin Weixia said, coming back to herself. She looked up at Ban Sheng. “Hey — I think this is our first time wearing these.”

She was referring to what the shop owner had called “couple’s outfits.”

Ban Sheng glanced at the T-shirt draped over his arm, and seemed to remember something. He gave a brief smile and said: “No, it isn’t.”

“What?” Lin Weixia hadn’t heard clearly.

“Nothing.” Ban Sheng replied.

The group changed quickly and came back out. Before long, the sun sank beneath the sea. Vast sheets of pink-purple clouds spread across the sky like fish scales, as though a layer of golden dust had been scattered across it.

Where sea meets sky, there is always something breathtaking in its grandeur.

Lin Weixia stood there. As the sky darkened, the emotion she had deliberately kept buried seemed to creep back out — a flicker of worry passed through her beautiful eyes, and her face was tinged with a faint, quiet sorrow.

Ban Sheng caught the shift in her mood and asked:

“What’s wrong?”

Lin Weixia was pulled back from her thoughts. She smiled and shook her head. Ban Sheng didn’t push. Just then, a sea breeze blew through and tossed Lin Weixia’s hair into disarray.

A few strands clung to her face. Ban Sheng leaned down and gently brushed them aside, smoothing them back behind her — the gesture easy and natural, gentle with familiarity.

A faint trace of tobacco drifted over. Lin Weixia looked up at Ban Sheng — and indeed saw herself reflected in his eyes.

He genuinely likes her. Lin Weixia thought, with a pang of something sad.

“Go join the others for the low-tide walk while there’s still some light left.” Ban Sheng reached up and ruffled her hair, as he always did.

“Alright.”

Lin Weixia borrowed two bamboo baskets from the convenience store owner and went with Fang Jiabei toward the lighthouse area to comb the shore at low tide. Liu Sijia, on her own initiative, suggested helping the boys set up the rented tents.

Ning Chao had a cigarette tucked behind his ear and was nimbly threading poles and twisting bolts — not a wasted movement, clearly comfortable with this kind of work. The only problem was that there was a princess standing right beside him, and he was constantly worried about accidentally poking her.

Liu Sijia standing there was nothing but a hindrance.

“I’m practically begging you — go join Lin Weixia and the others for the shore walk. Catching crabs, picking up shells — isn’t that more fun? Why are you hovering around me?” Ning Chao said, tipping his chin.

Liu Sijia shifted uncomfortably and rubbed her ear, tilting her chin up: “Who’s hovering around you? Less self-flattery.”

The sky grew dark. The park staff kept blowing their whistles to move remaining visitors out of the deeper water zones and away from the lighthouse area.

The tide was coming in soon.

The path to where Lin Weixia and the others had gone for the shore walk was rough going — lots of rocks along the way. Ban Sheng, worried someone might fall, went to meet them with a cigarette between his lips.

After a half-session of combing the shore, Lin Weixia had only managed to find two small crabs and three shells. Her eyes and brow were warm with contentment.

Having worked so hard to catch the crabs, Lin Weixia then promptly dragged her companion back to release them.

Ban Sheng stood to one side, eyes resting on Lin Weixia as she released the crabs a little way ahead of him. She was bent at the waist, expression focused and sincere, stray wisps of hair constantly falling across her forehead. The pale moonlight caught the curve of her ear, casting a quiet softness.

Once everything was sorted, the group went to a nearby restaurant for dinner — seafood across the board. Lin Weixia ate just under half a bowl of rice.

Ning Chao was talking with Ban Sheng and noticed him, while listening with complete nonchalance, casually slide the bowl of soup Lin Weixia had been about to drink over to his own side. She looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Aren’t you allergic to oysters?” Ban Sheng said, looking at her.

Lin Weixia caught on, and smiled with a small, sheepish laugh. “Oh, right. I forgot.”

Ban Sheng held the handle of the spoon and unhurriedly drank the soup that had been meant for Lin Weixia. Hearing a sound, he glanced up and asked: “Why’d you stop talking?”

“…What am I supposed to say.” Ning Chao stared at him, at a complete loss for words, having swallowed an entire mouthful of someone else’s romance.

When it was Liu Sijia’s turn to eat, everyone simultaneously fixed their eyes on her.

“You’re all being so intense,” Liu Sijia said with a mild complaint — but still obediently put the food in her mouth.

Night fell quickly. The five of them sat on the beach, drinking and singing. Ban Sheng put on a song through his phone; Lin Weixia glanced at it — it was called Paradise. A clear, ethereal female voice rang out, the lead singer’s delivery full of feeling, the Cantonese pronunciation impossibly beautiful:

Everyone is searching for a happy paradise A paradise free of worry Everyone longs for a happy paradise A paradise that creates beautiful dreams

The group leaned against each other, and before long they were wrapped in the song’s light, hazy atmosphere. They stared at the gently rolling sea not far away and fell into thought — each one bringing to mind the secret they’d been carrying. Some of the confusion or pain they’d been holding was drawn out by that intoxicating melody.

The mood turned quietly melancholy. Liu Sijia, who couldn’t stand the weight of it, suggested: “What about we play that card drawing game?”

“Sure,” Lin Weixia said, arms around her knees.

Liu Sijia fanned out the cards. Before drawing, Ning Chao kept muttering a chant under his breath — “spirits above and spirits below, please don’t let me draw the wrong card” — which earned him a flat look from Liu Sijia.

Ning Chao drew a card: a Knight card, which read — What is your dream?

He let out a sigh of relief, then looked down to find several pairs of curious eyes on him. Ning Chao rubbed his head awkwardly: “Honestly? I don’t have one.”

The group exchanged surprised looks. None of them could quite believe that someone as vibrant and alive as he was could have no dream.

“The truth is, now that we’re in Year Twelve everyone’s changed — everyone’s working hard. Even my basketball friends who had almost no shot at university are saying they’re done playing and want to give it one real try. Me though—” Ning Chao laughed at himself, his tone carrying a thread of uncertainty. “Still the same old lazy version of myself. Because I have no drive. I don’t know what someone like me is going to turn into. The reject of society? The boss of the Jinyu Street open-air restaurant?”

“I genuinely don’t know. You’ve all heard the old story about the donkey pulling the millstone — the farmer ties a carrot in front of its head. Right now I feel like that donkey. Going through the motions — going to class, going home to help out at the stall. Lift the blindfold and there’s actually nothing there. Not even the drive to keep moving forward. I don’t even know what my dream is.”

His companions were about to say something comforting when Ning Chao waved a big hand and his expression returned to its usual devil-may-care look. He prompted the next person: “You — hurry up and draw.”

Everyone held their breath. Liu Sijia drew the Witch card — Tell us about your current situation.

The group fell into collective silence. Ban Sheng sat off to the side, elbow propped on his knee, one hand curled around a can of beer. He said:

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine,” Liu Sijia said, shaking her head. She reached up and wiped the too-vivid lipstick from her lips, and began: “My parents divorced when I was very young. I grew up with my dad — he treated me well but wasn’t very involved. My mom is someone who sets impossibly high standards for herself and applies those same standards — to an extreme degree — to her own daughter. I was always pushing myself to try harder just to satisfy her, as if that was the only way to earn a little of her love.”

“I can’t even remember when I started restricting what I ate. It might have been around when my mom stopped coming to parent-teacher meetings, when she moved further away after the divorce, when my dad got a new girlfriend… All of that made me feel out of control. Then I discovered that if I controlled my calorie intake and watched the number on the scale stay within the range I’d set for myself, everything stayed within expectations. That feeling — like I could control my own life, like nothing unexpected could happen anymore. Once the restriction got bad enough, I developed anorexia. I know I’m extreme. The sense of losing control over myself is severe.”

Ning Chao was quiet for a moment, then asked: “Have you ever tried communicating with your mom? Tried expressing how you feel?”

“What?” Liu Sijia’s eyes went wide, her expression startled.

Both she and Wen Liyan had forceful personalities — neither one could back down. Every time they tried to talk it devolved into a fight within two sentences, and they always parted on bad terms.

Looking at Liu Sijia’s expression, Lin Weixia could tell mother and daughter had never actually communicated. She spoke gently:

“You could try talking to your mom. Tell her — I need you. But the prerequisite for any of that is that you have to love yourself first. Stop putting your body through this. Give her one chance. If it doesn’t work, then let it go — some relationships between parents and children come down to fate.”

“Right,” Ning Chao added. “Your life is still so long. Make peace with yourself first.”

Liu Sijia sat with her arms around her knees, head down, not speaking. A tear fell onto the sand and was swallowed instantly by the fine grains. She drained the beer can in her hand in one long pull, then sniffled:

“Alright.”

When it was Ban Sheng’s turn to draw, he reached out casually and took the third card from his left. Everyone leaned in with anticipation. He opened his palm — a Shark card. It read: If the person you love leaves you, what would you do?

The group reacted with a collective sound of intrigue, eyes darting between the two of them with poorly concealed amusement. Ban Sheng had drawn a big one — if he didn’t answer well, those two were going to have a fight.

Lin Weixia looked at Ban Sheng. His expression was unreadable and cool, and she couldn’t quite tell whether he’d be willing to say something so personal in front of everyone. She was thinking about how to smooth things over —

Ban Sheng suddenly spoke: “I’ll sing a song.”

His companions were briefly puzzled, then said — sure, why not. They were all wondering whether someone as cool and guarded as Ban Sheng could even sing; besides, there was no guitar, no accompaniment. What could he possibly pull off?

And isn’t there a saying? God opens a door for you and closes a window — meaning the handsome ones can’t sing.

Ban Sheng still had a cigarette in his hand. He turned his face sideways and began:

A sudden beautiful dream The foam that rises as you leave

The group that had been goofing around went still. Everyone’s mouth fell open — absolutely floored. The further he sang, the more the playful expressions faded from their faces; carried by the emotion in his voice, they began to listen in earnest.

Lin Weixia turned her face and buried it sideways against her knees, eyes open, watching Ban Sheng and listening carefully.

Ban Sheng’s voice carried a trace of roughness from smoking. His manner was easy and relaxed, his pronunciation clean, his tone low and resonant and deeply beautiful — he sang with extraordinary feeling, his phrasing so tender it reached an extreme.

Kicking stones and walking quietly A bus brushes past A sudden thought You and I dissolved into a shooting star The bright night and the black universe All born from the night sky

Lin Weixia was listening to him sing when Ban Sheng suddenly turned and looked directly at her as he continued. His pitch-black eyes locked onto her — steady, unwavering — each word and phrase carrying a depth of feeling that reached its very limit:

I will miss you through stars and moonlight I will press forward regardless of the cost The fireworks in the distance grow more wistful Watching forward and the distance behind

Every line, every look in Ban Sheng’s eyes, was saying — the “you” in this song is Lin Weixia.

The night sea wind blew through. Night always has a way of amplifying emotion. Lin Weixia’s chest felt sour and swollen, like a fine thread wound tight around it. She stared at Ban Sheng, and her dark lashes were faintly, barely wet.

“Kiss her! Kiss her!” Ning Chao and the others cheered.

“You have to kiss after that, there’s no other option.”

“Go for it — don’t be shy.”

Ban Sheng turned his head, reached out, and pulled Lin Weixia — who had her face buried in her knees — upright, looking at her. All around them came screaming and cheering.

Lin Weixia met a pair of deep, dark eyes and felt her heart tremble. Ban Sheng cupped her face with one hand, gave a quiet laugh, then lowered his neck — and pressed his forehead gently to hers. A tender touch of foreheads.

He neither pushed her past her comfort nor left any doubt about his feelings.

Lin Weixia looked at this boy — who seemed on the surface so reckless and indifferent, yet whose eyes held only her.

He was always so thoughtful. So careful.

His tenderness, only ever for her.

Lin Weixia’s eyes ached. A single crystalline tear fell. Ban Sheng noticed her reddened eyes and felt something like a burn in his own chest. He asked softly:

“What’s wrong?”

Lin Weixia sniffled, smiled, and shook her head — answering in a slightly muffled voice: “The wind’s too strong — got sand in my eyes.”

Everyone assumed Lin Weixia had simply been moved — that the emotion had built up and overflowed. Ban Sheng assumed the same.

When it came to Lin Weixia’s turn to draw, she drew a double-sided card — the person beside her had to ask her a question and she had to ask them one in return. Lin Weixia held the card and looked up at Ban Sheng:

“What do you want to be?”

“A shark,” Ban Sheng said slowly. He turned it back on her. “And you?”

A breeze lifted Lin Weixia’s long hair. She raised her hand to smooth it back. She didn’t speak for a long moment — long enough that everyone assumed she wasn’t going to answer.

Lin Weixia looked out at the distant sea. Her fingers gripped a corner of her clothes, knuckles going pale from the force. Then she spoke:

“A fish tank.”

The world fell completely quiet. Even the sound of the wind stopped.

Lin Weixia felt the silence from the boy beside her — and the low, heavy atmosphere that had settled over him.

Everyone understood. A shark cannot belong in a fish tank. A shark belongs to the open sea. And if it ever collided with glass —

The fish tank would shatter. And the shark would escape, carrying wounds all over its body.

Ning Chao didn’t follow their layered meaning — he only sensed that the atmosphere had become strangely unsettled. He tried to smooth it over: “What shark, what fish tank — sharks live in the ocean naturally, and fish tanks are made of glass. They’re completely different things. They don’t belong together.”