Ban Sheng went at her again and again through the night, until by the end Lin Weixia was barely breathing, very nearly passing out from exhaustion. He put on a pair of trousers and carried her to the bathroom to wash her clean.

The night lay deep and still. Lin Weixia had long since fallen into sleep. Ban Sheng lay at the edge of the bed, reached out, and drew a Marlboro from the cigarette case on the nightstand. The white cigarette rested between his lips — he glanced at the girl sleeping with her cheek pillowed on his arm, then thought of something, took the cigarette out, and dropped it into the bin.

She was his now.

The next morning, Lin Weixia woke feeling as though every part of her had been taken apart and put back wrong — aching everywhere. Her legs were no longer her own.

She groped blearily for her phone under the pillow, and when she caught a casual glance at the time, she froze. It was this late already.

Today was her first day of her internship.

Lin Weixia struggled out of bed. Her arms, neck, and thighs were covered in marks, deep and faint in turns. Before she could do anything, a smooth, cleanly muscled arm reached over and pulled her back in.

A thin strap slipped from one shoulder, leaving half of a beautifully curved pale shoulder exposed. The man leaned down again and began to trail his lips over that soft spot on her shoulder.

The tingling, electric sensation came in waves. Lin Weixia drew a sharp breath and pushed him away with some effort: “I’m going to be late for work.”

The man’s voice carried the morning’s rough edge:

“What work — didn’t I give you enough money?”

After his mother’s passing she had left him a substantial estate, which had since been managed by a professional asset management team. A portion of the money he’d also invested and run as businesses over the years, and he’d made quite a lot.

“It’s just that I have some time lately, so I found… a job, ouch, stop biting, at a psychological counseling center. Come on, get up,” Lin Weixia said in broken phrases.

Ban Sheng’s hand slid over her, clearly not planning to let her go. He murmured:

“I’ll drive you.”

“No.”

Lin Weixia finally slipped away, took the opening, and scrambled out of bed at full speed. She would arrive at work in a GTR? Was she out of her mind?

After washing up, Lin Weixia had been planning to just put on sunscreen and leave — but when she looked at herself in the mirror, her neck and collarbone were covered in vivid, unmistakable marks.

She let out a small sigh.

Lin Weixia found her powder compact and dusted her neck in layer after layer until the marks were barely concealed.

Outside, the sun was fierce — threading between the leaves on the walls, casting mottled patterns on the ground below. Lin Weixia had rushed out without thinking and ended up grabbing Ban Sheng’s cap on her way out the door.

Wearing his cap, she walked five minutes to the subway station and rode the train to her destination — the Kangyang Psychological Counseling Center.

A colleague roughly seven or eight years her senior led her through the place — warm and patient, explaining the daily duties and what to keep in mind.

Lin Weixia’s role at the center was as a counseling assistant, handling client appointment scheduling, initial consultations, and preliminary intervention work.

The work came naturally enough to her. What she hadn’t expected was that on her very first day on the job, she would run into Jiang Heng.

An inexplicable awkwardness.

Jiang Heng acted as if nothing had ever happened between them, smiled, and greeted her. He had arrived before she did. When he saw she was uncertain about something at work, he came over to guide her carefully and patiently, and didn’t do anything that crossed any line.

If anything, Lin Weixia was the one left feeling embarrassed.

After lunch, everyone drifted to the break room in the counseling suite. Lin Weixia had just sat down when Ban Sheng called and she hurried back out with her phone in hand.

She stood by the corridor window chatting with him, and when they were nearly finished, Ban Sheng remembered something he’d meant to bring up. He raised a brow and asked:

“When are you moving in?”

Wind blew through the open window. Lin Weixia reached up and tucked a blown strand of hair behind her ear, gave a light cough, and put on a prim face: “Ask me nicely.”

A soft laugh came through the earpiece — low, like the sound of him close to her ear at night, carried through a crackling line. Lin Weixia felt her ear tingle and instinctively tilted her head away.

Ban Sheng tossed his silver lighter onto the table, his tone lingering and unhurried:

“Then who was the one crying and begging me last night? Seven, eight times?”

Lin Weixia closed her eyes and the image was right there — him bent over her, sweat falling into the hollow of her collarbone — and yes, she had trembled and begged for mercy more than once. The more she thought about it, the hotter her face got, and she cut him off immediately:

“I’m done talking, I’m going for my afternoon rest.”

After she hung up, Lin Weixia slipped her phone into her pocket and walked toward the break room with a faint, private smile on her face. She turned the corridor corner and nearly walked into Jiang Heng.

Jiang Heng was drying his hands on a paper towel. He asked: “Getting used to things here?”

“Yes,” Lin Weixia nodded, then thought of something: “Though — why are you interning here? You’re not in psychology, as I recall.”

“Right, I study new media. There’s a special series on mental health I want to research, and my family happens to know the owner of this clinic, so they had me come and help out.” Jiang Heng pushed his glasses up and explained.

Lin Weixia pushed the door open and nodded: “I see.”

The two of them got along reasonably well at work. But the care Jiang Heng let slip from time to time — occasionally sliding an extra-bought coffee onto her desk, or leaving her a small snack — made Lin Weixia a little uncomfortable.

Yet every time she looked up into his eyes, she saw only openness and sincerity there, and she would think maybe she was reading too much into it.

On Friday, the entire Puyang Counseling Center staff worked overtime. Lin Weixia sat at her workstation and texted Ban Sheng:

I’m working a little late today — go ahead and eat, don’t wait for me.

Before long, her screen lit up with a reply: How late?

Lin Weixia typed and sent: Around nine, so go eat first.

Five minutes later: Ban: Sure.

Lin Weixia sat at her desk tallying up a spreadsheet of recent client visits and organizing case reports. The other staff were either stepping out of consulting rooms or buried in their own tasks. The office was very quiet — only the sound of keyboards and pages turning.

Occasionally someone would toss a biscuit across to a colleague, share a brief grin, and then get back to work.

Lin Weixia worked overtime until nine. Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. She rolled her neck, packed up her things, and walked out with a few colleagues.

Seven or eight people chatted as they went down the stairs and out of the counseling center. Through the revolving glass doors, a wave of heat rolled in, and the clamor of traffic and the blinking of lights outside pulled them instantly from work mode back into the world.

They stood in front of the Puyang Counseling Center, and someone suggested hotpot. Lin Weixia could never keep public transit routes in her head and was checking her phone for transfer lines when—

“Weixia, are you coming? Let’s all go together, treat ourselves — it’s rare we all eat out like this.” Her colleague looked at her.

Lin Weixia hesitated. The night wind picked up and brought a thread of cool air. Jiang Heng was standing nearby. He noticed a small piece of white paper caught in her soft, long hair and reached over without a second thought to take it off, smiling:

“Come along.”

The group gave a collective knowing sound, exchanging loaded glances between the two of them. Just as someone was about to start making noise about it, Lin Weixia was about to open her mouth to clarify—

A voice like an ice cube dropped into water came from behind — low, possessive:

“My wife.”

Her heart lurched. Lin Weixia turned around. Behind everyone stood Ban Sheng’s conspicuous GTR, parked at the roadside.

What the group saw was a tall, straight-backed young man approaching slowly. His features were striking, the lines of his face clean and faintly reckless. The closer he walked, the clearer the black swallowtail butterfly tattoo at his collarbone became.

He looked like he kept a butterfly living on his skin.

Three cartilage studs were pierced along one prominent collarbone.

It was only after a beat that it registered — those studs were in exactly the same position as their colleague Xiao Lin’s.

Ban Sheng walked over and took Lin Weixia’s hand naturally, then greeted the group.

Jiang Heng’s expression went rigid.

The person who’d started the teasing felt a little sheepish: “Xiao Lin, is this how blunt you young people are about dating? Honestly, it’s adorable.”

Lin Weixia’s face went pink. She tried to pull her hand free and failed. “He says things he doesn’t mean — this is my boyfriend, Ban Sheng.”

Ban Sheng exchanged greetings with everyone, chatted briefly, and then took Lin Weixia’s hand and left.

On the drive home, Lin Weixia glanced over at Ban Sheng. He was driving with no expression, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

He didn’t even need to think about it — he was irritated.

Lin Weixia tugged the hem of his shirt and played the sympathy card: “I still haven’t eaten.”

Ban Sheng’s knuckled hand rested on the steering wheel, his voice unhurried:

“I’ll cook when we get back.”

Beyond that, he didn’t say another word to her.

The car moved at speed. They drove into the underground garage of the building and parked. The two of them sat inside, the atmosphere still tense. Ban Sheng sat in the driver’s seat, lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, and said nothing.

Still sulking.

Lin Weixia undid her seatbelt with a click, finding him a little funny. She spotted a can of cola in the car, picked it up, and worked it open with some effort. With a pop, foam rushed out and a little spilled onto her hand.

But she was considerably better at opening cans than she used to be.

She held a can of cola out in front of him. Ban Sheng raised his eyes and found a composed face looking back at him, tone gentle:

“Don’t be angry. I meant to tell you — I’m working at the same place as Jiang Heng. I forgot because things got busy.”

The truth was, Ban Sheng wasn’t actually angry at Lin Weixia. It was the image of Jiang Heng reaching over and touching her hair that made his blood run hot — if it weren’t for Lin Weixia’s colleagues being right there, he would have dealt with that hand personally.

Lin Weixia, thinking he was still upset, leaned in, and her soft, damp lips brushed his.

A brief press. A quiet sound.

The moment of contact sent adrenaline rushing through her like a current.

She was just about to pull back when the man’s eyes went dark. His hand shot out to wrap around the back of her neck, and he leaned in and kissed her back — the other large palm cupping her backside — drawing her in as he kissed.

Lin Weixia ended up straddled across his lap. The deeper the kiss went, the more her thoughts scattered — his lips and tongue wound around hers, leaving her no air to breathe. Lin Weixia, tentatively, sucked in return.

Ban Sheng’s body went rigid.

Then — an overwhelming tide of it, a consuming occupation. Lin Weixia’s hands were around his neck, her thumbs drifting unconsciously along the cool pale skin at his nape, finding the vertebra there, and her whole body shuddered at intervals.

Fire and ice at once.

The parking garage was empty. Occasionally a car would pull in, its horn sounding a short note, sending Lin Weixia’s heart lurching — and then he would do something to bring her right back.

The car’s interior was sealed. The tinted windows were shut. Nobody outside could know what was happening within.

Lin Weixia was on Ban Sheng’s lap, her fingers moving from his neck into his hair. She had worn a white cotton button-up today; his palm, rough with calluses, moved over her, and a shiver ran through her.

They kissed and kissed, low, unsteady breathing filling the car, until finally the corners of Ban Sheng’s eyes were tinged with heat he could no longer suppress. Lin Weixia was flushed all over, her lips still wet with something that belonged to both of them.

“Back inside,” Ban Sheng said, his voice hoarse.

He breathed out, his throat working. Then he reached over and carefully, methodically re-fastened Lin Weixia’s shirt — button by button, steady and even.

He moved her back into the passenger seat.

If she stayed there any longer, he was going to combust.

Ban Sheng sat in the car, rolled down the window, and smoked several cigarettes before the rising desire finally settled.

Back home, Ban Sheng cooked the dishes Lin Weixia liked. After eating, the two of them curled up on the sofa to watch television.

Over the weekend they shared the same space, each doing their own thing. When the work was done, evening had come, and they went out together to walk Shengxia. Ban Sheng had been feeding Shengxia so well lately that the little dog had grown noticeably plump — and as a result, had become increasingly attached to him.

After dinner they came home, and around ten at night, Lin Weixia went to the bathroom to shower.

In the meantime, Ban Sheng was sprawled lazily on the sofa watching television. The phone he’d left at his side started making a series of quiet ding sounds.

Lin Weixia’s phone.

Ban Sheng paused with the remote control in his hand, glanced at the lit screen on the side table, and narrowed his eyes.

Notifications kept jumping up in the message bar.

Three of them in total.

All from Jiang Heng.

Ten minutes later, Lin Weixia came out in a cream-colored spaghetti-strap sleep dress, toweling her damp hair at the back of her neck, a damp patch spreading across the fabric at her shoulders.

“Someone sent you messages,” Ban Sheng said, tilting his chin at her.

Lin Weixia sat down beside Ban Sheng and unplugged her charging phone. She saw the name and tilted her head to look at him, testing the waters:

“You didn’t look through my phone?”

“Why would I? That’s your privacy.” Ban Sheng said it as naturally as breathing.

Lin Weixia remembered now — it had always been this way. Whoever called, Ban Sheng would ask her permission before answering on her behalf, let alone going through her phone. In this respect, he had always been very respectful of her privacy.

“But you’re welcome to look through mine,” Ban Sheng said, handing his phone over.

Since Ban Sheng had offered it on his own, Lin Weixia didn’t see the point of being coy. She thought of something, scrolled quickly through his WeChat contact list — there wasn’t much there. His recent conversations were few. The roving crowd he’d run with during his illness — he’d deleted all of them.

Then Lin Weixia thought of something and teased him:

“You were jealous just now, but think about how many girls you’ve been ambiguous with in the past.”

Ban Sheng clicked the television off. He turned and looked at her, his throat moving, eyes meeting hers:

“I always had a half-dead attitude about everything. I never cared about other people, never bothered whether or not they came near. I never touched anyone, never went anywhere alone with anyone.”

“Those two years… including all the time before things between us were fully confirmed — I always thought you liked Liang Jiashu,” Ban Sheng said. The corner of his mouth pulled slightly. His jaw was taut, his tone straightforward. “But I was genuinely a bastard. I owe our Weixia an apology.”

Ban Sheng had rarely laid himself so bare in front of her, and Lin Weixia stood there, motionless. She looked at him and felt that some things needed to be said clearly between them — no more misunderstandings, no more quiet suspicion.

“Ah Sheng — then let me be honest with you too. I met Jiashu in middle school; we relied on each other for a long time, and he’s a very important friend to me. But I was too young then — I never thought about it in those terms.” Lin Weixia looked at him steadily. She was a little embarrassed, but she said it anyway: “My school years were fairly heavy ones. I wasn’t paying attention to feelings, and I never knew what it was like to be moved by someone — not until I met you.”

When she transferred to Shengao in high school, Lin Weixia’s personality was like a block of ice — the same toward everyone, caring about nothing. She didn’t know what it meant to like someone. It was a boy named Ban Sheng who forced his way into her world, and all the jealousy, all the liking, all the pettiness and heartache she ever felt — it was all because of him.

The tension in Ban Sheng’s jaw eased into a relaxed line. He said quietly: “Then I’m fairly lucky.”

Jiang Heng invited Lin Weixia to dinner, saying he had something to tell her. After thinking it over, Lin Weixia agreed. She figured this was a good chance to clear things up — after all, the two of them still had to coexist in the same workplace.

Sunday evening at seven, Lin Weixia arrived at the Singaporean restaurant Jiang Heng had suggested. Halfway through the meal, Jiang Heng set down his fork, seeming unable to hold it back any longer. He looked at the composed Lin Weixia across the table:

“Weixia — why are you still tangled up with him? I don’t think you two are right for each other.”

“What makes you say that?” Lin Weixia set down her fork as well.

Jiang Heng hesitated, then said: “Didn’t he have some sort of mental health issues? And I heard that he—”

The even expression Lin Weixia had been wearing shifted into something cooler and more distant. She looked at Jiang Heng and asked, cutting directly to the point:

“Jiang Heng — after what happened at the guesthouse, we didn’t contact each other for a long time. If we hadn’t happened to meet at this internship, would you have reached out to me again?”

“No,” Jiang Heng admitted. A flash of awkwardness crossed his face.

After the ski trip, once Jiang Heng had seen Lin Weixia and Ban Sheng entangled with each other, he had let it go. But then, running into Lin Weixia again at the Puyang Center — Jiang Heng had wondered whether that was fate’s way of offering him another chance. So he had decided to try.

“You’ve been pursuing me for a long time, you say — but in high school, I turned him down three times. I even lied to him.”

“He changed his major for me. He gave up the astrophysics he loved. And we’ve both done a great deal for each other.” Lin Weixia’s voice was calm, her gaze sincere as she looked at him. “We’re going to do well together. I hope you find the girl you’re meant to spend your life with.”

After dinner, Lin Weixia and Jiang Heng parted ways amicably at the door. Night had fallen, and not far away, a black car was parked at the roadside with its hazard lights blinking.

Lin Weixia walked over, opened the door, and got in. Ban Sheng was in the driver’s seat, face set in its characteristic cool expression. What came out of his mouth was thoroughly aggrieved:

“I’ve been sitting out here for an hour.”

He paused, then added, unhurried:

“Alone. And I haven’t eaten.”

“Then tell me what you’d like to eat. My treat,” Lin Weixia said, smiling.

Ban Sheng tilted his head and thought for a moment, then smiled: “Let’s go home.”