Where had Lin Weixia conjured that snow from? Just before the coffee treehouse closed, she had happened to notice the shop was selling gloves. It sparked an idea — she bought a pair of white leather gloves and asked the owner for some sealed ice cubes.

On the way down the mountain, Lin Weixia had scooped a full handful of snow into the gloves, and then, in her wonderfully oblivious way, clutched it close all the way to the bottom. The truth was, she hadn’t even known for certain whether she would run into Ban Sheng.

She simply wanted to try a little harder, to do what she could with what was in her hands — so that the two of them wouldn’t have any more regrets between them.

They ended up drenched in snowmelt together — cheeks, clothes, everything a little damp. A subtle, delicate shift in the air flowed between them.

The sky grew darker and darker, and the wind picked up fiercely. Ban Sheng tilted his head down to look at Lin Weixia and said: “Let’s go back.”

Ban Sheng raised a hand to open the car door, turned sideways, and stepped in. His hand — knuckles sharp and clean — settled over the steering wheel, and through the rearview mirror his deep eyes caught sight of Lin Weixia going around to the other side, reaching for the back door.

His lashes stirred almost imperceptibly.

Lin Weixia’s hand had just found the handle when a click sounded — the doors locked. She pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. She walked around to the front and knocked on the window.

The window rolled halfway down. Lin Weixia said: “The back door is locked.”

“Sit in the front,” Ban Sheng said unhurriedly.

“Oh. Alright.”

She opened the door and got in. The car started and turned around, heading back. Ban Sheng drove with one hand on the wheel; with the other, he reached over to the center console, picked up a box of tissues, and handed it to her.

Lin Weixia took it. “Thank you.”

She pulled out a few tissues and unhurriedly dabbed at the snowmelt in her hair and on her cheeks. Outside the window, the night scenery scrolled past like frames of film running in reverse.

When she was done, Lin Weixia lifted her lashes and looked over at Ban Sheng, who was focused on driving. The line of his profile was clean and sharp. His prominent Adam’s apple slid up and down. His shoulders and brow bone were also touched with dampness.

“Do you want to dry off?” Lin Weixia asked.

Ban Sheng’s brow flicked upward briefly, saying nothing, but he took the tissue she offered him all the same and gave himself a casual wipe.

The car moved at a steady enough pace, but neither of them spoke — only the wind whistling through the gaps filled the silence. Before long it began to rain, thick drops drumming against the car windows.

The interior of the car was very quiet. A faint, undefined warmth drifted through the air. Lin Weixia thought she’d put on some music to ease the awkward silence, and leaned forward to press the switch — only to find that Ban Sheng had reached for the same black button at the same moment.

Their hands collided. His fingertips were cold, making Lin Weixia’s fingers tremble — but she didn’t pull back. Like a current passing between them, their hands rested together, neither quite separating.

A thread of heat bloomed and wound through the air between them. Lin Weixia felt her mouth go dry, and the tissue she was still holding in her right hand was unconsciously crumpled into a ball.

Without making a show of it, Ban Sheng slid his fingers past hers and pressed the switch first, then asked:

“What do you want to listen to?”

“Anything’s fine.”

A piece of gentle, soothing music began to play. Lin Weixia leaned back against her seat and said nothing more, letting her eyes wander over the car’s interior — clean, and bare.

Not even a red good-luck knot hanging from the rearview mirror, the kind people put up to wish for safe travels.

The car went into a turn, winding onto a mountain road that required complete focus. Ban Sheng felt an itch in his throat — the craving for a cigarette was rising. He said:

“Help me find my cigarettes.”

“Sure,” Lin Weixia replied.

Lin Weixia looked over at the center console — nothing there. She leaned down and rummaged through the storage compartment. Her hand found what it was looking for at once: a pack of Marlboros and a lighter.

She was just about to pull them out when she paused, remembering something. With the full pack of Marlboros in her hand, she blinked and told a straight-faced lie:

“The pack is empty. He’s out of cigarettes.”

Ban Sheng’s hand rested on the steering wheel, the bones and tendons of the back of his hand sharply defined. In one smooth motion he turned onto a wide, flat road, then raised his eyes briefly to glance at the storage compartment. He didn’t call her out on it:

“Then don’t bother looking.”

At those words, with a neat click, Lin Weixia snapped the storage compartment shut.

The drive went smoothly — until, halfway there, the car broke down. Ban Sheng got out, lifted the hood, checked the problem, then called someone to come tow the vehicle.

The winter rain fell without end, fine drops pattering against him. He wore a black jacket, and the fabric at his shoulders had already darkened with moisture. Lin Weixia found an umbrella in the car and got out, walked over to stand beside Ban Sheng, and tilted the open umbrella toward him.

Ban Sheng finished saying something quietly into the phone and hung up. He bowed his head, his thumb working across his screen as he checked something.

The two of them stood on the wide road. Not a single car passed in either direction. Only the quiet sound of wind and rain surrounded them.

After a moment, Ban Sheng looked up and spoke to her: “The insurance company says a stretch of road has been temporarily closed due to an accident. There’s a guesthouse about a kilometer from here.”

“Should we just stay there for the night?”

“Alright,” Lin Weixia agreed.

Ban Sheng took the umbrella from her naturally. The two of them walked on, white raindrops tapping steadily on the umbrella fabric. At first there was still a little distance between them, but the further they walked, the more their shoulders drifted together — occasionally brushing close, then gently pulling apart.

After more than twenty minutes, they finally arrived at the guesthouse. This one, called Reunion, was nestled at the foot of the mountain. The courtyard was filled with red camellias in bloom; a few green leaves, beaten loose, lay scattered on the ground.

Two orange gourd-lanterns hung on either side of the entrance. Both of them had gotten a little wet from the rain. Ban Sheng folded the umbrella and stood it by the door, and they stepped inside one after the other.

The guesthouse lobby was spacious and bright. Warm air swept in from the floor the moment they entered. On the large sofa to the left, a group of young people were sitting in a circle playing cards, and bursts of laughter rang out every now and then.

Ban Sheng took out his black wallet, pulled out his ID card and passed it to the innkeeper, then spoke:

“Two rooms.”

The innkeeper took it, clicked to confirm the booking on the website, checked the system, and with an apologetic expression said: “I’m very sorry — we only have one room left for tonight.”

“What kind of room?” Ban Sheng asked.

“A standard twin.”

Ban Sheng thought for a moment, took out his phone and began scrolling through it, about to navigate to the next page — when a hand lightly caught hold of his sleeve. He turned to find a pair of quiet, steady eyes looking at him.

“It’s fine,” Lin Weixia said softly.

The rain outside wasn’t letting up, and going back and forth would only be more trouble.

In the end, Ban Sheng took the room, accepting the ID card and room key card the innkeeper handed back. The two of them walked forward side by side. As they passed the sofa on the left side of the lobby, someone called out to Lin Weixia, voice wavering with uncertainty:

“Lin Weixia—”

Lin Weixia stopped and turned. A pair of amber eyes landed on the person sitting on the sofa — it was a fellow student from Jingbei University, and among them were even a few classmates from her own department.

“Oh wow, it really is you.”

“Hey there, Lin classmate — every time the department organized a get-together, you never came when we invited you. Are you two actually—” one of the boys teased, half-joking and half-complaining.

Ban Sheng stood on the step above, pausing and glancing sideways at the young men and women on the sofa. None of them familiar — they were probably Lin Weixia’s classmates.

Ban Sheng didn’t know them, but they certainly knew him. The moment he turned back, one sharp-eyed girl caught sight of the butterfly tattoo at his collarbone.

That butterfly lay against him with a casual, reckless energy.

What shocked everyone most was — how had these two, who seemed to have absolutely nothing in common, ended up together?! On top of that, Lin Weixia had always disliked social gatherings and generally kept to herself — yet here she was turning up at a guesthouse with a man. The group couldn’t help but buzz with curiosity.

“Are you two together?” one of the boys blurted out before his brain could catch up.

The girl beside him swatted his arm and said: “Don’t just say things like that — when have you ever seen Weixia in a relationship?”

“The car broke down, so we’re staying the night,” Lin Weixia explained.

Lin Weixia didn’t answer the girl’s question — which was exactly what Ban Sheng had expected. He stood with one hand in his pocket, the other idly toying with a lighter, flicking it open and shut, his expression utterly unbothered.

The boy still wasn’t giving up — after all, Lin Weixia was the girl he had pined after for a long time. He pressed: “Then who is this—”

“My high school classmate,” Lin Weixia said.

The group gave a collective “oh” and nodded. That explained it — just friends, which made perfect sense for them to be at the same guesthouse together. It didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Ban Sheng was impossibly cool — he never pursued anyone first, or so people said, but he had a way of drawing people in, and girls were always throwing themselves at him, only to leave disappointed. Lin Weixia, for her part, poured everything into her studies and never went out of her way to pursue anyone either.

The boy thought to himself, his spirits lifting quietly: the goddess was still everyone’s to admire.

Ban Sheng dropped his dark lashes, slipped the lighter back into his pocket, and seeing that Lin Weixia had finished explaining and was about to walk away, he turned to go.

Then, in the next instant, Lin Weixia’s voice rose — calm, open, and unhesitating, right in front of all her classmates:

“But I’m the one pursuing him.”

The words fell, and the air went still for a full second. The boys were devastated. The girls froze for several beats — none of them had ever seen Lin Weixia like this before; she was usually so reserved, never one to put her feelings on display.

Then, once the group had processed the information, they broke into a round of uninhibited wolf-whistles and someone called out: “Whoa — you two better come down and have dinner with us later.”

Lin Weixia exchanged a few words with her classmates, then walked over to that lean silhouette, gave his sleeve a small tug, and said softly:

“Let’s go.”

“Mm.”

The two of them walked upstairs side by side, neither speaking first, falling into a strange, charged silence.

After swiping the card into the room, Ban Sheng tossed his lighter and phone onto the coffee table with a thud, and then click — the light switch went on, and warm amber light poured down.

Ban Sheng began checking the bedside lamps, the curtains, the power outlets, and other inconspicuous spots for hidden pinhole cameras.

The old-style air conditioner began to turn slowly, humming and rumbling. Lin Weixia took off her scarf and coat, found a hanger, and hung them beneath the air conditioner’s fan blade. She looked over at him:

“Do you want to take off your jacket too? Let it dry out.”

Ban Sheng heard her and shrugged off his jacket, handing it to her, then walked off to the other side of the room.

Lin Weixia took it. The fabric still held the warmth of his body, and a faint scent of tobacco.

There were still transparent water droplets clinging to it. Lin Weixia gave his windbreaker a firm shake. With a sharp crack, something fell from the jacket pocket — a white bottle of medicine dropped to the beige floor and rolled forward in a small circle.

Lin Weixia bent down to pick it up, and at the same time a flicker of recognition passed through her — the packaging looked familiar. She was just trying to read the label when—

A hand, knuckles reddened and still damp, reached down first and grabbed the bottle in one swift motion, closing around it so that nothing was visible.

“What’s that medicine?” Lin Weixia asked, calmly meeting his eyes.

Ban Sheng’s expression was languid and tired. He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, then walked to the other side of the room and sank deep into the sofa. The light and shadow cut across his face, making his expression difficult to read:

“Stomach medicine. I drank too much overseas.”

“The water’s boiled. Have some hot water — then we’ll go downstairs for dinner.” Ban Sheng was sunken into the sofa, fingers scrolling quickly across his phone screen.

Lin Weixia nodded. “Alright.”

She walked over and noticed that beside the white electric kettle, a cup of hot water had already been poured — steam misted the transparent glass in a soft white cloud. She reached out and touched the side of the cup.

Just the right temperature.

In some ways, he hadn’t changed at all.

After drinking a few sips of hot water, Lin Weixia felt much better all over. A little while later, she poured another cup and brought it over to Ban Sheng.

Outside, the rain was still falling. They rested in the room for a while.

Half an hour later, Lin Weixia’s WeChat lit up with an impatient message from her classmates. She looked over at Ban Sheng, who was half-reclining on the sofa, nearly asleep, and spoke quietly:

“My classmates are calling us down for dinner.”

Ban Sheng opened his eyes abruptly, raised a hand and rubbed his face. In the evening light his complexion looked even more pale than usual. He got up.

After putting their jackets back on, they went downstairs together — Ban Sheng in front, Lin Weixia a step behind.

When she finished locking the door, she noticed a tall figure had come to a standstill just ahead. Ban Sheng had his back to her. Lin Weixia could only see the straight line of his neck and the line of slightly prominent vertebrae that ran down it — cool and a little distant.

“When your classmates asked you things, you didn’t have to take it seriously,” Ban Sheng said, his back still turned.

He meant what had happened downstairs — when Lin Weixia’s classmates had pressed her, and she had said, in consideration of his feelings, that she was the one pursuing him.

He hadn’t taken it to heart.

Lin Weixia lowered her eyes, took hold of Ban Sheng’s wrist, and rested her hand there. The touch burned a place in his chest. He turned back, tilting his head to look at her over his shoulder — and met a pair of clear, unwavering eyes. She looked straight at him and said, quietly:

“But I want to pursue you.”