The weekend shaved ice they had agreed on never happened in the end.

Lin Weixia lay on the bed scrolling through her phone and saw Liu Sijia send a string of praying-hands and kneeling emojis. She couldn’t help laughing, and typed in the reply box and hit send:

【It’s fine.】

The weekend routine was as usual — helping out at her aunt’s fruit shop. Lin Weixia spent what remained of her time doing homework. On Sunday evening, Lin Weixia washed her hair, opened the window, and lay on the bed drying her hair with a towel while continuing with Little Women from where she had left off. A faintly tart green lemon fragrance drifted in.

Water droplets trickled from her half-dried damp hair onto the cotton nightgown, soaking a small patch of her back. Lin Weixia had just read to the part where Jo says to the male lead, Laurie:

“Look at me — plain and awkward and odd.”

“But I love you, Jo.”

Lin Weixia was about to read the heroine’s response when her phone beside her buzzed with a vibration. She tapped to open it — a message from Fang Mo:

【Weixia, have you been on the school intranet forum? It’s already exploded.】

Lin Weixia replied: 【Oh? What happened.】

Fang Mo: 【Ban Sheng and Liu Sijia!! Honestly, do you not go online on weekends?】

Then Fang Mo sent a Weibo link. Lin Weixia didn’t have a Weibo account, so she logged in as a guest. A user with the ID “Multicolored Black” had posted a photo with the caption: Today.

It was a photo of a blue swimming pool. Beyond it was a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking an apple-green courtyard. A white garden hose was still spraying water.

In the photo, you could make out a section of a boy’s broad, fluid shoulder line — pale skin, the vertebrae at the back of his neck clearly defined, exuding a languid air. The boy was underwater, his back pressed against the edge of the pool, resting.

A shaft of daylight fell perfectly across him, carrying a hazy, provocative quality.

Lin Weixia didn’t recognize most of the commenter IDs. She scrolled down with her thumb:

A: 【That’s Ban Sheng’s house — mine is in that area.】

B: 【Oh wow, Sijia, you went to Ban Sheng’s place!?】

C: 【Impressive — Liu Sijia. I remember Ban Sheng never lets anyone use his pool.】

D: 【Get together already — no one suits each other better than you two.】

…

The phone vibrated again. Fang Mo sent a row of excitement emoji and added:

【Looking at this, Ban Sheng is so handsome. I thought I’d never see him swim again after that thing before—】

At a certain moment, a person experiences something like innate intuition. Lin Weixia’s eyelid gave a sudden heavy twitch, and she asked: 【What thing from before?】

After sending the message, the reply box showed the other person typing. Lin Weixia’s throat tightened. She stared hard at the screen. In the end, Fang Mo sent a head-scratching emoji:

【Never mind — I misremembered. orz】

The next day — Monday. The excitement had died down somewhat compared to the week before.

Lin Weixia had barely sat down when Liu Sijia came over, arms behind her back, and sat across from her. Her eyes were brighter than usual.

“Sorry — you know, this weekend I—” Liu Sijia’s lips curved upward involuntarily. She paused, keeping her voice as measured as she could, then said: “But I have a gift for you — here, open it.”

Lin Weixia took it. She opened the box — inside was a school bag. A black Japanese-style soft-leather backpack, finely crafted, that could either be carried by hand or worn on both shoulders, the style simultaneously retro and charming.

On the front of the bag was a classic logo — most of the well-off A-students at school wore the same brand. It wasn’t cheap. This particular style was very popular at Shengao.

“This is too valuable — I can’t accept it,” Lin Weixia pushed it back.

Liu Sijia tilted her head, her ponytail falling to one side. She was doing her chin-tightening exercises, and she extended one finger to push it back:

“No — this is my apology for standing you up this weekend. Besides, I bought one for myself too. I just wanted us to have matching ones — how embarrassing if you won’t take it and I’m the only one with it.”

High school students proclaimed their friendships openly and unabashedly. Girls who were close would wear the same clothes, carry the same bags, use the same pencil cases. It was a tradition among girls.

Using the same things meant two people were good friends.

Lin Weixia’s eyelashes fluttered. Her tone was sincere: “Thank you — I’ll take good care of it.”

“Right — Weixia, I went to Ban Sheng’s house this weekend. We’re much closer now,” Liu Sijia’s eyes curved upward at the corners, overflowing with a little excitement.

Lin Weixia had her exercise book open and was checking answers, not even raising her head: “It seems Cupid has shot an arrow through both of you.”

“So even you are laughing at me now—”

As if anticipating Liu Sijia’s next move, Lin Weixia slid off her stool and darted backward — still holding her red pen — but Liu Sijia had already reached out and gotten her in the ribs.

Lin Weixia was extremely ticklish. Uncontrollably, she broke into peals of laughter. Facing Liu Sijia’s relentless advance, she turned to run — and collided straight into someone. The person stepped back, and to keep her from falling, reached out and caught Lin Weixia’s arm.

The first thing she registered was a faint tobacco scent drifting from the person — mixed with dark woody undertones. Her head bumped into a broad chest, and beneath the rigid school uniform fabric, a young man’s bones were still growing, brash and slightly unyielding.

In her line of sight was the neatly pressed school uniform. To the left of where she could see, a name badge hung — the character engraved on it was “Ban.” Lin Weixia gave a startled jolt, her heart skipping a beat, and immediately stepped back.

Ban Sheng looked at her, releasing his grip at the same moment.

As the distance opened between them, Lin Weixia saw that the front of Ban Sheng’s school uniform now had a red mark on it — the product of the red pen in her hand.

“Sorry,” Lin Weixia said.

Just then Liu Sijia caught up and, upon seeing Ban Sheng, beamed a radiant smile: “Morning.”

“Weixia didn’t mean it,” she said, her whole body stepping in front of Lin Weixia, blocking Ban Sheng’s view.

Lin Weixia stepped aside. She didn’t know what Liu Sijia said to him, but the two of them went out together and stood in the corridor. Students trickled in one by one carrying their breakfasts. Morning reading was still some time away. Lin Weixia put a white earbud in her left ear and started doing homework.

In truth, the earbud carried no sound at all — she wore it whenever she didn’t want to be disturbed.

At that moment Fang Mo turned around and tapped Lin Weixia on the shoulder. Lin Weixia removed the earbud and opened her amber-colored eyes in a silent question.

Her skin was very pale, her black hair draped smoothly behind her. Fang Mo suddenly felt that Lin Weixia looked rather like a cat — quiet and beautiful.

“What is it?” Lin Weixia asked.

Fang Mo snapped back to attention and gestured for her to look out the window, her tone full of envy: “Those two look like they’re in a TV drama.”

Through the glass panel, Liu Sijia stood in her school uniform, hands clasped behind her back, talking up at Ban Sheng with bold, uninhibited confidence. The boy wore a simple school uniform, single-shoulder carrying his black bag, his throat moving up and down as he leaned lazily against the wall.

They really were a pleasing sight to look at.

Yet some of the girls in the class were staring at the two with bitter, resentful eyes — looks sharp enough to pierce straight through Liu Sijia.

A moment later the two came back into the classroom one after the other. The chatter in the class grew louder, everyone casting meaningful glances in their direction. Liu Sijia reacted the same way she had to the comments under that Weibo post — she ignored it all, didn’t engage, let everyone speculate freely, and rumors of the two being together grew more and more intense.

Rumors have the least basis in fact.

But they latch onto the mind’s craving for excitement — and people end up believing what they want to believe.

Ban Sheng never said a word about it.

He never cared about other people’s opinions.

During the break, the classroom was again buzzing with activity. Lin Weixia sat on her chair, and the conversation nearby drifted into her ears.

“What the hell — Boss, what’s that thing on your uniform? Who had the nerve to draw on it?” Qiu Minghua looked genuinely shocked.

Ban Sheng, slumped deep in his chair, heard this and cast a lazy glance downward. A few careless strokes of ink had landed on the fabric — admittedly, it did look like a rough little heart. He gave a low, dismissive laugh, as if hinting at something:

“Probably some heartless stray cat.”

Lin Weixia felt her heart tighten. The fingers pinching the book pages nearly tore them. She got up and walked out, intending to go to the office to fetch homework papers.

The school uniform ink-pen incident was just a minor interlude. Ban Sheng and Lin Weixia didn’t have any further encounters, and Lin Weixia took to actively avoiding him. Her instinct told her: Ban Sheng was dangerous — best to steer well clear.

But whether it was deliberate or not, whenever she and Liu Sijia were together, Ban Sheng would find some reason to call Liu Sijia over, leaving Lin Weixia by herself.

After all, he only needed to stand there and raise a hand slightly, and even someone as proud as Liu Sijia would willingly come running.

At first Lin Weixia thought it was a coincidence — but after it happened enough times, she began to feel it was intentional on Ban Sheng’s part.

On Wednesday evening, they were heading to basketball club practice, so the two planned to stay and eat dinner at school. At the school cold drink kiosk, Lin Weixia stood at the window in her school skirt, a strip of her pale, soft calves visible, ordering: “Boss, two salted lemon seven-ups.”

Liu Sijia stood under a phoenix tree in the shade, fanning herself with one hand.

Nanjiang’s heat — even the air itself was scalding. After waiting a while, the salted lemon seven-ups were ready. Lin Weixia held both cups, eyes curving with a smile as she instinctively turned to look for Liu Sijia.

Instead, she spotted Ban Sheng standing there with both hands in his pockets, his neck tilted down slightly as he talked to Liu Sijia.

Liu Sijia was at a distance, and when their eyes met, her gaze carried a look of apology.

Dinner was clearly not happening tonight.

There was no way she could feel no disappointment — Lin Weixia forcibly pressed that feeling down and still smiled warmly at her. She turned and walked toward the school gate, deciding to go get some wonton soup.

Lin Weixia fished out her white earbud and put it in her left ear, took a sip of salted lemon seven-up — a refreshing coolness flooded across her tongue — and kept walking. Then a long arm reached across and groped near her ear, through her jet-black, smooth long hair, and casually made off with her earbud.

Lin Weixia turned — it was her seatmate Ning Chao.

Ning Chao listened for less than three seconds, realized there was no music at all, and handed it back expressionlessly, giving her a thumbs-up:

“Impressive.”

Lin Weixia was amused by his startled expression. She noticed that Ning Chao, whether he was in school uniform or not, was always in a pink T-shirt — never even repeating the same one.

She suspected Ning Chao had an entire wardrobe full of pink T-shirts.

“Do you really like pink?” Lin Weixia asked.

Ning Chao made an affirmative grunt, then added: “Of course — that’s your seatmate’s lucky color.”

As he spoke he caught sight of the salted lemon seven-up in Lin Weixia’s right hand, and reaching sideways tried to steal it. The other hand was carrying a packed cold drink in a bag.

Ning Chao didn’t actually want to drink it — he just wanted to tease her. He thought this girl always had such a calm, gentle demeanor, and wanted to see a different expression on her face.

Her emotions were far too contained.

Lin Weixia instinctively stood on tiptoe to grab the cold drink Ning Chao was holding high above his head, but he kept switching it from his left hand to his right. The two were quickly in a playful tussle.

From Ban Sheng’s angle, the two looked rather intimate — Ning Chao was a full head taller than her, his arm brushing against her shoulder from time to time. Lin Weixia didn’t seem to notice, and in the end she was exasperated into laughing when Ning Chao placed her salted lemon seven-up on top of the perimeter wall.

The warm last rays of the setting sun stretched the two’s shadows long behind them, radiating an undisturbed, beautiful quality.

Ban Sheng’s eyes darkened in an instant. He crunched the candy in his mouth with a snap and swallowed it whole, then said flatly:

“Just remembered something — heading out first.”

The situation shifted abruptly. Liu Sijia didn’t know why Ban Sheng’s mood had suddenly dropped so low — he said a few words and left.

That left her as what, exactly? Her heart soured.

But this was just the beginning.

Within just one week, rumors spread through the school that Ban Sheng had stood Liu Sijia up over the weekend. The story grew wilder with each retelling — saying Liu Sijia had been dumped, that Ban Sheng had feelings for someone else, that he was involved with an older female student from a higher year.

What seemed to confirm the rumor was that Liu Sijia stopped coming to school for the following week, remaining on leave the whole time.

Lin Weixia called, but the line went unanswered every time. She also got Liu Sijia’s address from the homeroom teacher and went to visit her after school, but Liu Sijia refused to answer the door.

Lin Weixia was very worried — she was afraid something might happen to her.

Someone as strong-willed as Liu Sijia — to be reduced to this state, the only thing that could have shattered her self-esteem must be Ban Sheng.

Lin Weixia decided to go find Ban Sheng. Looking for him in class would attract too much attention. She knew Ban Sheng would never show up at basketball club. But supposedly, twice a week, he would play basketball with Li Shengran’s brother in Court No. 4.

Fang Mo had seen this by chance while on cleaning duty in the gymnasium.

In the evening, Lin Weixia went to Court No. 4. From a distance, she could already hear the sound of a basketball thumping against the floor. Ban Sheng was wearing a red jersey and dribbling — the loose fabric made his shoulders and back look even broader and more upright, his arms taut with clean, fluid muscle lines.

Ban Sheng stood outside the three-point line, fingers with clearly defined knuckles gripping the ball firmly, then leaped to shoot. His elbow straightened, the ball traced a parabolic arc and dropped through the hoop.

Li Yiran lay sprawled in the audience seating steps at the front, completely boneless, with an empty beer can beside him. He lay there in a state of dissolute abandon, and still managed to critique Ban Sheng’s technique:

“Not bad — want your senior to teach you a couple of moves?”

Ban Sheng sent him a middle finger in return.

Lin Weixia stood there. She had heard of Li Yiran — a third-year student, one year older than them, Li Shengran’s half-brother on the same father’s side. Though a third-year, he had maintained a reputation as an alcoholic admirably well. At the same time, he was also famously gifted at mental arithmetic.

People tend to extend unusual tolerance to geniuses.

The teachers at school could only turn a blind eye.

Lin Weixia spoke: “Ban Sheng — I need to talk to you.”

Ban Sheng turned. A sweatband wrapped around his forehead made his eyes look even deeper and sharper. Sweat trickled along his clean jawline and dripped onto his collarbone. His gaze swept quickly across her and he replied:

“I’m busy.”

Before he could turn away, Lin Weixia’s breathing tightened slightly, and she insisted: “Five minutes.”

Ban Sheng glanced at Li Yiran lying on the floor. Li Yiran, who had been lying there with eyes closed, leisurely opened them, dragged himself off the floor, picked up the beer can beside him and lobbed it into the trash bin. Then, being deliberately mischievous, he said:

“Ah Sheng — out of all the girls who’ve come looking for you, this one’s by far the most striking.”

Ban Sheng lifted an eyebrow and looked at him — a silent, pressuring stare. Li Yiran shrugged and left.

Only the two of them remained in the court. Ban Sheng looked at her, then suddenly tossed the ball he was holding to Lin Weixia. He spoke slowly:

“Get past me with the ball. If you manage it, you win.”

Lin Weixia instinctively caught it steadily, thought for a moment, and nodded. She didn’t know how to play basketball — Liu Sijia had dragged her into the club and she was really just filling a quota. Her athletic ability was average. But right now she had no other choice but to tough it out.

Lin Weixia gave the basketball a bounce and started dribbling. Ban Sheng stood in her way. Lin Weixia moved with the ball — every time she tried to shoot, Ban Sheng didn’t even need to jump. With the height advantage of a full head over her, one long arm extended effortlessly and blocked every attempt.

She tried a different approach — a fake shot, holding the ball up in front of him and feinting, hoping to catch him off guard and shoot in a different direction when he wasn’t ready. But Ban Sheng didn’t fall for any of it, and blocked her again.

No matter what method Lin Weixia tried, Ban Sheng could predict her next move. And the whole time, he maintained that casual, languid manner — the posture of someone indulging a game, no matter how you played it.

After more than ten minutes, a light sheen of sweat had formed on Lin Weixia’s forehead. Her fair cheeks had turned faintly pink — whether from the exertion or the frustration.

Ban Sheng raised an eyebrow slightly, lowered his neck, and slowly turned the wristguard in his hands.

A pair of amber eyes moved gently.

The basketball hit the floor again. Without any warning, Lin Weixia gripped the ball and charged straight toward him. Ban Sheng happened to have his head lowered — and a clear, guileless face suddenly filled his pitch-black pupils.

Lin Weixia had gotten almost flush against him, and she tilted her head up to look at him. From Ban Sheng’s perspective, her skin was extremely pale, her pupils clear and bright, her black lashes trembling slightly.

Her eyes fanned open in a lovely almond shape.

The distance between them narrowed endlessly. Their breathing — one taut, one slow — wound around each other.

Ban Sheng caught a faint, sweet fruity scent from her. His throat shifted. He felt a momentary itch.

Lin Weixia gazed at him intently, as if her eyes had room for no one else, her pace slow but deliberate: “You have a mole under your eye.”

Not a grain — a mole. Ban Sheng’s mole sat on his left cheek beneath his eye, close to the bridge of his nose — small, adding a hint of allure to an otherwise cool set of features, clinging there like a small shadow, and all the more bewitching for it.

Almost no one usually noticed it.

But she had.

Ban Sheng was briefly stunned.

Lin Weixia seized the moment, turned sideways, cradled the ball, and hurled it with force. The basketball brushed the rim and slowly circled — then dropped through.

She let out a quiet breath of relief. The clarity returned to Lin Weixia’s eyes, and she stepped back, creating distance between them.

On the path along the drainage channel at the back of the court, a slender hand wrapped around a faucet, knuckles arching, pale blue veins standing out more sharply than usual. The faucet was turned on — a white column of water poured into the basin below, splashing up flowers of water one after another.

Ban Sheng bent at the waist and lowered his head, scrubbing his face carelessly with cold water, droplets scattering everywhere. Lin Weixia stood to the side and spoke:

“Why toy with Sijia? You agreed and then stood her up.”

Giving someone hope and expectation, then hurling them to rock bottom.

That was Ban Sheng.

The rushing sound of the water cut off abruptly. Ban Sheng raised his head — his hair wet, water droplets still clinging to his high, straight brow bone. His gaze pinned her directly in place, his voice unhurried:

“For that — you’ll have to ask yourself.”