Lin Weixia’s voice was muffled as she said, “I wasn’t actually going to return it. I just wanted to make her angry.”

This ring was something Ban Sheng had given her. She would never simply hand it to someone else.

Ban Sheng let out a low laugh. This was the real Lin Weixia — she looked quiet and easy to push around, but she had a very definite mind of her own, and when it mattered, she would strike back and leave the other person stewing without even realizing how it happened.

Lin Weixia pushed the head resting against her shoulder away and said, “Alright. Go to sleep.”

Ban Sheng made a sound of agreement and lay back down. He opened his eyes to find Lin Weixia still there. He asked, “Aren’t you going home?”

“I’m sleeping in the guest room next door. Rest now.” Lin Weixia pulled out a tissue and began to wipe the water that had spilled on the table.

The medication must have taken hold, because Ban Sheng’s head felt heavy and foggy. He had barely lain down before he was asleep. Lin Weixia had said she was going to the guest room next door — she had said that to him.

But she didn’t actually leave.

Lin Weixia sat in the chair, a thin blanket pulled around her shoulders, intending to stay until his fever broke before she left.

She rested her chin in her hand and watched the young man lying in the bed with open eyes. His breathing was slow and even. Long, dark lashes rested below his eyelids. Asleep, Ban Sheng shed some of that cold, unapproachable quality and seemed far more at ease — yet his brow was still faintly knit.

Lin Weixia couldn’t help herself. She extended her hand. When her fingers were three centimeters from those dark, drawn brows, she hesitated — and then let them land, slowly smoothing the furrow away.

Ban Sheng, what are you thinking about?

Lin Weixia sat watch beside him and gradually could no longer hold out. Drowsiness crept over her, her eyelids growing heavier. In the end, she fell asleep sitting in the chair. In the middle of the night, she was woken by a sound. She was always a light sleeper — her eyes snapped open at once.

Ban Sheng was lying there, his forehead beaded with sweat. He kept murmuring in his sleep, shifting restlessly, voice low and indistinct.

His expression was one of anguish, as though he were fighting against something. A dark, oppressive energy radiated from his entire body. It was as if some vast, ravenous nightmare creature had ensnared Ban Sheng in its net and was consuming him piece by piece.

Lin Weixia immediately rose, took his hand, and called to him with extraordinary patience and gentleness:

“Ban Sheng, wake up.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

In the nightmare soaked in blood, Ban Sheng fought on and on. Just as he felt himself about to fall into the abyss, someone suddenly seized his hand with firm, warm fingers, and a gentle, steady voice kept breaking through again and again —

Ban Sheng, it’s okay. That was only a dream.

I’m here.

Ban Sheng’s eyes flew open. Darkness everywhere. The black ceiling. He shifted his gaze — a dim night light had been left on at the bedside, casting a pale glow. In that glow, a soft, reassuring face met his eyes. Lin Weixia.

He had broken out in a cold sweat.

She had been keeping vigil beside him. During the nightmare, Ban Sheng had gripped Lin Weixia’s hand so tightly it had gone red and sore. She had never pulled it free.

Lin Weixia handed him a glass of water, her voice gentle: “You had a nightmare.”

Ban Sheng took the cup, tilted his head back, and swallowed the water in large, urgent gulps. When he spoke, his throat was so hoarse it sounded nothing like his usual voice:

“Thank you.”

“It’s fine. I’m just next door — if you need anything, call me.” Lin Weixia said.

Before leaving, Lin Weixia refilled his glass with warm water. Remembering that he needed a light on to sleep, she left the bedside lamp burning and quietly pulled the door shut behind her.

Ban Sheng sat up, took a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand — a Marlboro — and put it between his lips. He flicked the lighter, lit it, drew the smoke into his lungs, and exhaled. In the lamplight, his face was a stark and ghastly white.

The next day, full daylight. Lin Weixia rose early, boiled a pot of millet porridge as usual for Ban Sheng, and went to take his temperature. The fever had finally broken.

Ban Sheng was sitting at the dining table, slowly eating his porridge. He was wearing a black hoodie with nothing underneath.

“Don’t dress so lightly — your fever only just broke,” Lin Weixia couldn’t help but say.

“Mm,” Ban Sheng said, spooning another mouthful of porridge.

Lin Weixia glanced at the wall clock, then looked at Ban Sheng — he seemed well enough. She lowered her head and began gathering her things, tucking makeup wipes and a small mirror into her bag and zipping it closed. She straightened up, turned to go, and as she left, didn’t forget to remind him: “Remember to buy a thick down coat at the mall. And a scarf.”

Ban Sheng sat where he was, neck bent slightly forward, dark lashes lowered. He neither spoke nor acknowledged her.

Lin Weixia sighed softly, unable to read his mood. She was just about to leave when a hand wrapped around her wrist, gripping it firmly. A wave of heat radiated from his palm.

He wasn’t letting her go.

Her lashes stirred. Then she heard him say:

“Come with me.”

So after Ban Sheng finished his porridge and took his medicine, Lin Weixia accompanied him to a nearby shopping mall to buy clothes. They walked into one of the brand stores, where a staff member in a black uniform rushed over to greet them and ask what they were looking for.

“Just a thick outer coat and a scarf — you can make recommendations to him.” Lin Weixia gestured toward the man beside her.

She was just about to go sit on the sofa and wait while the staff member showed Ban Sheng around.

The staff member opened her mouth to speak, but Ban Sheng cut her off. He bent his neck and looked at Lin Weixia:

“You pick.”

Lin Weixia had no choice but to help him choose. As it turned out, Ban Sheng’s clothes were easy to shop for. His style had always been clean and sharp — black, grey. He seemed to wear only those two colors.

Lin Weixia swept her eye along the rack and selected a thick shell jacket. Ban Sheng tried it on, and it was, unexpectedly, a perfect fit.

He was a natural clothes hanger — broad shoulders, and the structured cut of the fabric made his posture look even more upright, his figure lean and tall. He even looked considerably healthier.

“This gentleman wears clothes so well,” the staff member exclaimed admiringly. “Great build, tall, with the kind of presence you’d expect from a celebrity.”

“This one,” Ban Sheng said.

Lin Weixia’s gaze drifted to the items on display in the store and landed on a black-and-white checked scarf draped on a mannequin. She pointed: “Do you want to try that scarf?”

Ban Sheng couldn’t be bothered. He turned directly to the staff member and said, “That scarf too.”

The staff member broke into a wide smile — such an effortlessly decisive customer was a rare thing. She picked up her walkie-talkie to ask a colleague to pull fresh stock from the back.

At the register, the staff member scanned each item with the machine. When she got to the black-and-white scarf, she glanced at the total on the screen and smiled:

“Hello, your total is forty-eight thousand. If you spend fifty thousand or more with us today, we can offer twenty percent off — and this scarf comes in a couples’ style, so you could pick one up for your girlfriend as well.”

Lin Weixia, standing to the side, looked momentarily startled. She pulled her hand from her pocket and waved it. Looking toward Ban Sheng:

“No, that’s too generous, and besides—”

Ban Sheng was already drawing a card from his wallet. His voice was quiet and unhurried:

“Wrap them both up.”

“Of course, I’ll have a fresh one brought out for you right away.”

Lin Weixia stood by the entrance and waited. She looked down at her feet, watching the reflections of the lights swaying in the polished marble floor.

A hand appeared at the edge of her vision — knuckles clearly defined, reddened from the cold — holding a paper bag. Lin Weixia hesitated:

“I—”

“A thank-you gift,” Ban Sheng said slowly.

In the end, yielding to the pressure of his gaze, Lin Weixia accepted it.

When Menzi heard about this, she was shocked: “What? You two are both wearing matching couple scarves?! This relationship is moving at lightning speed!”

Lin Weixia poured herself a glass of water and thought it over. “Not exactly — he seemed to be buying it to reach the discount threshold.”

“Please. If he just wanted to hit a threshold, why didn’t he toss in a pair of socks? He specifically bought a couples’ scarf and gave it to you — that man’s mind is razor sharp.” Menzi said, hitting the nail on the head.

“And what exactly are you two to each other right now? The way I see it, you’re getting closer and closer — the whole academy is talking about whether you two are actually a couple.” Menzi said.

What Menzi said was true. Since Ban Sheng had been sick, the atmosphere between the two of them had grown warmer and warmer, their relationship steadily improving. Lin Weixia would often message Ban Sheng, and when he saw the messages he would reply. The two of them could even be spotted together in the school canteen from time to time.

They’d been seen together by many people on campus. The earlier rumor had been that psychology department’s Lin Weixia was chasing Ban Sheng.

Now the rumor had become: they were definitively, undeniably together.

“I’ll find a moment to confirm things,” Lin Weixia said.

Their relationship really was quite good these days. Lin Weixia could more or less count on finding him when she looked for him, and his manner toward her was no longer so evasive.

But there were times Ban Sheng wouldn’t answer his phone, and during those times he was generally either at a bar or spending the night at some club, unreachable by anyone.

Unless he chose to appear on his own.

On Thursday evening, Lin Weixia came out of the library, took out her phone, and sent Ban Sheng a message.

Xia: [Are you on campus? Do you want to grab dinner together?]

No one replied. Lin Weixia put her phone back in her pocket and walked directly to the engineering building complex. She knew Ban Sheng’s department had mandatory evening study hall twice a week, and tonight he should be in a classroom.

Lin Weixia made her way to the fourth floor, the third classroom. Students were quietly doing their own work. She stood on tiptoe and scanned the room — Ban Sheng was nowhere in it.

Just then, she ran into a girl walking back from the hallway with a thermos of hot water. Lin Weixia asked: “Excuse me — is Ban Sheng here?”

“Ban Sheng?” The girl seemed amused. She screwed the cap back on her thermos and let out a sigh. “He almost never shows up for evening study hall. He’s basically perpetually absent. You might actually find him at a bar. Our professors are all tearing their hair out over him, but his grades and credits are the highest in the class. A genius, I suppose — they do tend to live by their own rules.”

“Thank you,” Lin Weixia said.

She turned and walked toward the stairwell. As she descended, she called Ban Sheng’s phone, but the receiver kept up its cold, indifferent ringing, until after a moment a standard female voice cut in:

“We’re sorry, the person you are calling is temporarily unavailable.”

She tried again. Still no answer.

Lin Weixia stood in the open space in front of the empty teaching building. The streetlamps cast a cold light. A bitter wind swept through, stinging her face raw.

She switched to a different number and called Qiu Minghua directly. He picked up almost immediately. She asked, in an even tone:

“Where is he?”

After hanging up, Lin Weixia put her phone away and walked to the school gate, hailed a cab, opened the door, and got in. She gave the destination address quietly.

The car windows shut out the cutting wind outside. She held her phone and kept sending messages to Ban Sheng.

Xia: [I’m coming to find you now.]

Still no reply.

The driver arrived at Visit Bar approximately thirty-five minutes later. Lin Weixia murmured her thanks, got out, and walked toward the entrance beneath the sign bearing both English lettering and a skull graphic.

She pushed the door open. A wall of electronic music and DJ sound slammed into her, loud enough to make her ears ache.

Lin Weixia covered her ears and gave the private room number to a staff member in a low voice. A server in a red uniform led her to the elevator.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Lin Weixia walked to a door carved with vintage floral patterns, both hands tucked into her pockets.

She pushed it open. A wave of heavy cigarette smoke hit her at once. Through the haze, she could barely make out any faces.

Young men and young women were sprawled around a long sofa, playing drinking games, shot glasses stacking up, bottles covering the table and the floor. In the corners, couples whispered to each other.

The entire room was dim and charged with a provocative, chaotic energy. Everyone’s eyes glittered with excitement. Their energy was loud and feverish. Whenever someone had to drink, the group erupted in cheering and taunting.

A cluster of people had gathered together, and one young man was pouring drinks into two rows of empty glasses — white beer foam bubbling up, quickly filling each one.

A girl pressed down excitedly on the arm of the one pouring: “This round is for Ban Sheng — his tolerance is legendary, isn’t it? He’s supposed to be basically immune to alcohol. Let’s see if we can get him drunk!”

“Yes! In that case, pour a little extra.”

“I’ll drink to that!”

“Drink up.”

The subject of their attention — Ban Sheng — was sunk deep in the sofa, black jacket carelessly open, showing the sharp line of his throat, his swallowtail butterfly tattoo stretched between his collarbones. He held a glass loosely in his hand and was laughing with an air of complete indifference.

The glass reflected his image back — that cold, severe face, boredom seeping from the corners of his eyes. He wore his face like a mask. A striking outer shell, and beneath it — a man in freefall.

Lin Weixia didn’t know how long she stood there. It wasn’t long before someone noticed her and called to Ban Sheng:

“Ban bro, another girl came looking for you.”

Ban Sheng turned lazily to look. The moment his gaze landed on Lin Weixia, the smile at the corner of his mouth disappeared. His expression shifted — once, then again.

Ban Sheng’s circle here was a constantly rotating cast. These people didn’t know the situation. They had never seen Lin Weixia, and had no idea what the two of them were to each other.

They began filling every empty glass on the table, catcalling and whistling, urging Ban Sheng to hurry up and drink.

Ban Sheng’s jaw went tight with barely contained irritation. He picked up one of the glasses. Just as he was about to drink, a shadow fell over him, and the faint, sweet scent of white peach reached him. The girl stood in front of the whole group, her voice calm:

“Can I drink for him?”

Ban Sheng’s jawline went rigid. He didn’t speak. The lamplight rested on his face for two seconds. His expression was utterly blank.

The group took in the sight of a beautiful girl and someone immediately spoke up: “Sure — but Ban bro lost a game, so the rules of the game still apply. If a beauty is taking his place, how about drinking half? Seems fair.”

“Works for me!”

“Drink!”

The group preferred watching a spirited, beautiful girl take a drink over forcing it on a guy. They kept it up, cheering and egging her on, none of them noticing that Ban Sheng had gone very still beside them, expression turning dark, the air around him pressing dangerously low.

Lin Weixia picked up one of the glasses and was about to drink when a long, wide hand stopped her. Ban Sheng rose abruptly, seized her arm, and in full view of everyone, steered her out of the private room.

The door slammed shut with a thunderous bang. The group inside jumped. They looked at each other in bewilderment.

“What the — what just happened? Every girl I’ve seen him with before, it didn’t matter how much they drank — he never even lifted an eyebrow.”

“That girl might be the one he’s always held a candle for.”

One girl pushed back, skeptical: “You’ve been reading too many novels. She’s probably just another girl in a long line of many.”

In the narrow alley beside the bar, a cluster of young men and women were smoking. They were well used to Ban Sheng appearing with girls and took no particular notice — except for one young man leaning against the wall with a cigarette, both arms tattooed with floral sleeves, who greeted him:

“Ban bro. Coming down for a smoke?”

“Ban bro, how many have you put away tonight? Want me to go back in and pad your count?” someone teased.

Ban Sheng barely raised his eyelids — like a blade glancing past — and said nothing. But his eyes made his meaning perfectly clear: try it if you want to cause yourself pain. The group instantly fell silent, drew on their cigarettes, and minded their own business.

Outside, the rain had started again. The two of them stood in the narrow passage along the side of the bar. A draft blew through, lifting the hem of his jacket.

Rain came down in a close, steady curtain, drumming loudly against the blue tin awning above them.

The rain slanted in at an angle. Lin Weixia’s black clothing was dotted with drops, a few of them landing on her pale cheeks.

Ban Sheng wordlessly frowned and pulled Lin Weixia, who had been standing in the open, back under cover.

He was holding a red-and-white hard pack of Marlboros. He tapped one out, put it between his lips, and fished a silver lighter from his jacket pocket.

A click. An orange-red flame leaped from the lighter’s flint wheel. He dipped his head to light the cigarette. Grey-white smoke curled from his lips, caught by the wind, and drifted to settle against Lin Weixia’s neck.

Like his breath, enveloping her completely.

“What are you drinking for?” Ban Sheng’s voice was low and weighted, his gaze fixed on her.

“Because I don’t want you spending all your time in places like this. Can you ease up on the smoking and drinking?” A pair of clear, sharp eyes looked steadily at him.

The expectation in her eyes silenced Ban Sheng entirely. He had no answer. He didn’t know how to answer. He went through one cigarette after another, the artery along his neck rising and falling with slow, barely perceptible pulses.

The smell of cigarettes and alcohol hung thick on him. Dark shadows had settled below his eyes. The exhaustion on Ban Sheng’s face was unmistakable — he moved through everything as though he could barely summon the energy to try.

Lin Weixia didn’t like this version of Ban Sheng at all. She liked who he used to be.

The Ban Sheng who once stood before the whole school — teachers and students alike — and spoke with a steadiness that made the future seem like something already spread out before him, everything within his reach.

She missed the Ban Sheng who once ran with everything he had on the track field, pushing until even the sun seemed to chase after him, until he crossed the finish line to a roar of voices and stood there telling her: there’s nothing I’m not good at.

That proud, reckless boy.

Not this.

“Ah Sheng, I don’t like who you are right now.” Lin Weixia looked at him as she said it. She kept her eyes open and wide. They still turned red at the corners, against her will.

The hand holding the cigarette trembled, just slightly, beyond Ban Sheng’s control. He didn’t answer. A long pause, and then:

“Stop worrying about me.”

The two of them fell into a silence like the quiet before the end of something. Only the rain, hammering hard against the tin overhead. It might have been that — an ending.

Then Lin Weixia pulled her hand from her pocket and, right in front of him, reached out and took the lit cigarette from between Ban Sheng’s fingers.

Without thinking, Lin Weixia raised that barely-smoked cigarette to her own lips and began to smoke. Her pull was clumsy and forceful — she had no experience — she drew too deep on the first breath, directly into her lungs, and discovered at once how harsh and strong it was.

She didn’t know, as it turned out, that you didn’t have to inhale all the way down.

Her lips exhaled a pale cloud of smoke. Lin Weixia didn’t know how to smoke, but she kept at it stubbornly, choking, her whole body racked with coughs.

Ban Sheng’s dark pupils contracted violently. He moved to take the cigarette from her at once. Lin Weixia turned her head away and wouldn’t let him.

His temples throbbed with anger, his expression darkening:

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Lin Weixia hid the cigarette behind her back, retreating two steps. The rain fell like a curtain at her back, and distant neon lights blurred and faded into the background.

She looked up at Ban Sheng. Her cool, clear eyes held a stubbornness — and beneath it, a wetness threatening to surface. When she spoke, her words sounded nothing like a joke:

“I’ll fall with you. If you want to go to hell —

“I’ll follow you there.”

Ban Sheng’s gaze rested on Lin Weixia’s face for a full three minutes. Headlights from a passing car swept across his cheek and moved on. Something in his face shifted — like a flame pressed down and then, slowly, extinguished. He gathered up every cigarette in his pockets and every lighter he had and shoved them all into her hands. At last he surrendered:

“You — I’m actually afraid of you.”