Time flew. In their second year of graduate school, Lin Weixia and Ban Sheng both received wedding invitations from Fang Jiabei. The date fell right during summer break, so they rushed back to Nanjiang and attended together.

After Fang Jiabei had enrolled at a normal university in the southwest, she had kept in touch with everyone every year. Since she would take the same long-distance high-speed rail home with classmates from the same hometown during winter and summer breaks, they all looked out for one another on the journey.

Through that connection, she had gradually fallen for an upperclassman, and the two of them had dated from their first year all the way through graduation.

In the end they both returned to Nanjiang to work. After talking over the past two years about getting married, they met each other’s families and locked in the wedding date.

On the day of the wedding, Liu Sijia couldn’t make it back in time due to other obligations, but she sent a generous gift through a mutual friend. On the card, she offered Fang Jiabei her blessings and greeted every friend by name, saying she was looking forward to their ten-year reunion.

Ning Chao’s unit had been dispatched to help with earthquake relief efforts following a seismic event in the southwest region, so he couldn’t attend in person, but he had a friend deliver a gift on his behalf.

The wedding venue was a forest park in the Qinglian Mountains. Lin Weixia and Ban Sheng sat in the close-friends section. On the stage, Fang Jiabei was radiant in a white gown — shaped and polished by the passage of time and growing up, she had blossomed into someone more confident and beautiful than ever, no longer the girl who used to slouch and shrink herself into the shadows out of insecurity.

When she stood on stage and said to her groom, “Thank you for bringing me happiness,” tears shimmered in Lin Weixia’s eyes. Ban Sheng sat beside her, leaning over with that rakish face of his, and asked:

“What — ready to get married yourself?”

Lin Weixia sniffled, shot him a glance, and replied: “Dream on.”

Ban Sheng raised his eyes to look at the clean, serene line of Lin Weixia’s profile, and gave a loose smile: “I am dreaming on.”

Lin Weixia was still immersed in the emotion stirred by Fang Jiabei’s beautiful wedding when the phone in her lap let out a “ding.” It was a message from Menzi:

[I ran into Ning Chao.]

Far away in the southwest, in a border town called Baiying. Over the past three years, Menzi had been working as a documentary filmmaker, producing work steadily and maintaining a high profile in the industry, with no shortage of invitations coming her way. But one day Menzi suddenly found that she could no longer make anything at all. She promptly closed her studio, came out to the mountain region alone to do volunteer teaching, hoping to settle herself and find some inspiration along the way.

The earthquake, however, struck without warning. At the time she was in the classroom teaching the children when the ground began to shake uncontrollably, the plaster peeling from the walls in chunks, the whole building threatening to topple.

The moment the alarm sounded, Menzi made a snap decision and led the children outside. On the open ground of the school playground, she worked continuously to disperse the crowd — even as her heart was in a panic, she forced herself to stay calm and systematically took roll.

When she discovered two children were missing, Menzi turned and sprinted back into the swaying concrete building. She grabbed the two terrified, sobbing children from the classroom and ran.

But luck was not on her side. The concrete structure, after shaking for a few minutes, collapsed like dominoes, and the rubble came crashing straight down on Menzi. She had no time to dodge — in the very moment she ran clear of the building, she was struck and went down hard.

Rain began to pour in torrents partway through. The teachers and security guards from other classes were either taking roll or trying to calm people down, amid the cries of children, the scene was utter chaos.

Firefighters and police arrived in succession and began organized rescue operations. Menzi was helped to sit on a stone by a colleague. The pain in her back was so severe she couldn’t straighten her waist, so she pressed her entire face down against her knees and cursed under her breath from the agony.

Menzi was gritting her teeth against the pain when she suddenly heard someone shout: “Captain Ning, there are still people over here—”

Her heart lurched. She looked up — and of all people, in this place, she saw Ning Chao.

The man’s military green uniform made him look tall and straight, his features were chiseled and hard, his hair cut close to his head, his eyes dark and brilliant.

Ning Chao had clearly spotted her as well. Emotion churned in the depths of his eyes. He paused for a moment, then noticed the injury on her back, shifted his cold gaze away, and walked on to continue the rescue.

Throughout the entire process, Menzi kept her eyes fixed on Ning Chao. His shoulders were broad; he scooped two injured people into his arms and strode toward the medical tent, then turned and went back, clearing the site again and again, running back and forth, sweat streaming from his brow down along his jaw, his gaze always steady and resolute.

Not until dusk fell and all the on-site rescue efforts were essentially in place did Ning Chao walk over to her. His dark eyes swept over her briefly, then he crouched down and said:

“I’ll carry you on my back.”

Menzi didn’t move. She sat there, battered and disheveled, her drenched hair plastered to her striking face, looking at him:

“Are you a good police officer now?”

After the daytime wedding ceremony, everyone returned to the hotel for the evening banquet. At the reception, Ban Sheng had barely touched any alcohol — when people toasted him he drank only a token sip — but Lin Weixia was a different story. She had discovered a delicious rice wine at the banquet and, while he wasn’t paying attention, secretly had quite a lot of it.

By the time Ban Sheng realized, Lin Weixia was half-drunk, her cheeks flushed a vivid pink, beaming at everyone she looked at. His expression went slightly dark, but seeing how happy she looked, he let out a sigh and couldn’t bring himself to say a word of reproach.

When the banquet concluded, Ban Sheng brought her out. Lin Weixia’s whole body was pressed against his broad chest, only about fifty percent conscious.

Ban Sheng hadn’t driven today. He stood out on the wide road, raised his hand to flag down a car, got in, and gave an address.

Lin Weixia sat quietly enough in the vehicle without causing too much commotion. She leaned against Ban Sheng’s shoulder and murmured that she was hot. Her hand, with its distinctly visible pale blue veins, reached over to the car door, found the button, and pressed it down. The window slid open and the damp night breeze drifted in.

Outside the window, neon signs and evening storefronts retreated one after another as the taxi turned left onto a street. A blue road sign stood at the entrance, with four characters engraved on it: Minyue East Road.

Her heart gave a sudden jump. Sealed memories were pried open. Lin Weixia slowly lifted her head from his shoulder and looked out the window to the right. This street had barely changed — people had been talking about adding a new metro line for years, but the roadwork had been ongoing ever since.

A few new shops had appeared, and the old ones were still there.

Her amber eyes drifted idly along the street, and then, at the sight of that familiar dumpling restaurant, her gaze froze. That dumpling place had reopened!

“Driver, please stop for a moment,” Lin Weixia called out.

The driver pressed the brakes and the car came to a stop. Lin Weixia pushed open the door and turned to tell Ban Sheng, who was sitting beside her: “That dumpling place actually reopened. Wait here — I’m going to grab a takeaway order.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before she had already jumped out of the car. A voice called out behind her; Lin Weixia didn’t quite catch it. She hurried across the road and walked into the dumpling shop.

The blue roller shutter was rolled all the way to the top, the light box in front of the shop glimmered faintly, and just outside the door a stove was set up with steam billowing from the pot in a steady stream of white mist. The same couple was running things as before — a few tables of customers were seated inside, the fluorescent bulb overhead casting its light down, everything arranged just as it always had been, giving off a warm, welcoming feel.

Lin Weixia walked in. The alcohol was starting to hit, so she dragged over a red plastic stool and sat down, gave the owner a smile, and said: “Boss, one takeaway order of beef dumpling filling, please.”

“Coming right up.”

A plateful of plump, round dumplings went into the pot, steam rising without stopping. Lin Weixia took out her phone and scanned the QR code on the wall. She asked: “Boss, how much is it?”

The owner was a man somewhere around forty-five or forty-six, silently tending to the boiling dumplings. His wife had been about to answer when she instinctively glanced toward whoever had just come in behind Lin Weixia — and smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling with fine lines: “You’re here.”

The finger pressing on her phone screen paused. Lin Weixia turned around and saw Ban Sheng walking in unhurriedly, both hands in his pockets.

He stood at the shop entrance, tall and lean, the fluorescent light stretching his shadow long. Ban Sheng exchanged a few familiar, warm words with the owner.

The owner’s wife even brought out a plate of candies and enthusiastically asked him what he wanted to eat.

Ban Sheng smiled lightly and gestured to say it was fine, then, not quite able to refuse her, accepted a token couple of sweets, tucked them behind his back, and — when she wasn’t looking — quietly passed them to Lin Weixia, who was sitting behind him.

The owner’s wife caught Ban Sheng’s little gesture and understood at once. She said with a smile: “So you finally brought your girlfriend.”

Ban Sheng glanced back at Lin Weixia and said with a smile:

“Yes.”

Lin Weixia sat there completely at a loss. She couldn’t understand how Ban Sheng could be on such familiar terms with the owner. Seeing the confusion on her face, the owner, who had been quiet all along, spoke up:

“Several years ago, my wife fell seriously ill. We had no money, no children to rely on, so we closed up the shop. This young man tracked us down somehow and gave us a sum of money, telling us to use it to get my wife treated. After she recovered, I thought — he hadn’t even given us an IOU — so I got in touch with him again, thinking that however hard I had to work, I would earn the money back and repay him. But no matter what I said, the boy refused to take it. He only had one request.”

“He said that if we were willing, he would like us to reopen the shop. If the revenue wasn’t good, that was all right — he would cover it.”

The owner’s wife’s lined eyes turned a little wet. She reached up to wipe at them, then recalled: “I asked the boy what his reason was for doing all this. He said—”

At the time the boy had been wearing a black windbreaker, sitting in the shop, a half-healed bloody wound still visible on his wrist, his face pale. After laying out his requests to the couple, they had been puzzled and mystified.

Ban Sheng raised a hand and rubbed his eyelids. His dark eyes were downcast, as though he were carrying a bottomless weight of things unsaid. He tugged at the corner of his mouth and spoke:

“I didn’t get to finish eating last time I came.”

The owner’s wife went on, still sighing at the memory: “This boy — that’s what he said, but in all the years he was abroad, whenever he came back on holiday he’d come sit in our shop, wouldn’t eat a thing, wouldn’t say a word, would just sit at that table until we closed up for the night. We’d ask if he wanted any dumplings, and he’d say: next time.”

“Next time I’ll bring her with me.” Ban Sheng smiled, a gleam of quiet hope in his eyes — and then he left.

Ban Sheng said that every time. And not once did he ever bring anyone with him.

Because this was the place where Lin Weixia had treated him to his first meal. The place where the two of them had grown close.

It was also the regret of their separation — when all was said and done, they never did get to finish that one plate of dumplings.

Lin Weixia couldn’t say a single word. Her heart surged and swelled, like enormous waves crashing in one after another, filling every last corner of her heart until it was packed full.

Everything that had to do with Lin Weixia — he spared no effort. And then—

He turned every regret into something whole.

In a long stretch of time she had never known about, Ban Sheng had loved her for so very long.

Ban Sheng saw the look on Lin Weixia’s face — as if she were about to cry — and reached over to touch her face, his manner easy and playful:

“Tsk, Auntie Zhang, you’re exaggerating — it’s not that deep. I just genuinely like your dumplings. I was craving them myself.”

“I’ll take her and get going now. We’ll come back and see you both another day.”

Walking out of the dumpling shop, Lin Weixia had only gone a couple of steps before she started whining that her head was spinning and she needed him to carry her. Ban Sheng had no choice but to accept his fate — he hoisted her onto his back and carried her all the way home.

The summer night breeze was gentle, the night air dreamlike. Passing under a banyan tree now and then, you could hear the chirping of insects. Lin Weixia’s arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, her face buried against the man’s broad shoulder, and she said softly:

“How are you so good to me.”

Ban Sheng couldn’t bear for her to stay sunk in that tender, sorrowful mood, and deliberately changed the subject. His throat moved, and he raised an eyebrow:

“This good — do you like me?”

“I like you.” Lin Weixia lifted her face and quickly kissed his cheek.

The alcohol working on her, and pressed against Ban Sheng’s back like that, Lin Weixia breathed in the clean, cold scent that clung to him, and it settled her completely. Her eyelids grew heavy. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t hold on. She fell asleep against his back.

After bringing her home, Ban Sheng carried her to the sofa and tucked a soft pillow behind her head.

Later the alcohol hit harder, and Ban Sheng could see Lin Weixia was quite drunk — she even whispered that she felt unwell. He let out a quiet sigh, walked over, and — as though tending to a precious grandmother — undid the top two buttons of the shirt at her collar, then pulled off her shoes and socks.

He walked to the dining area, opened the refrigerator, took out a jar of honey, picked out an apple, and went to the kitchen to brew her a sobering tea.

By the time Ban Sheng had finished brewing the tea and turned off the stove, his eyes automatically went to the sofa in the living room where she had been lying.

It was empty.

Then came a “crack” from a slightly off angle ahead — the sound of a canned drink being crushed flat. He looked up.

Lin Weixia was sitting on the floor, her back against the double-door refrigerator, seven or eight scattered beer cans lying beside her.

Her long hair fell softly down her back. Because she was so warm, she had reached up to undo two more shirt buttons, baring the upper part of a white undergarment, the rounded curve of which was just faintly visible.

Her eyes looked as though they were brimming with water, and she kept saying she was thirsty and wanted ice cream.

If Lin Weixia had been fifty percent drunk before, the additional drinks she had just had made her completely and thoroughly drunk.

This single sight was enough to ignite a reaction in Ban Sheng.

He walked over, his tall, imposing shadow falling down over her. Lin Weixia let out a little alcohol-breath hiccup, and when she saw Ban Sheng crouching down, she immediately grabbed his arm and complained:

“You — where did you hide my ice cream?”

Her white cheeks were flushed pink, her dark lashes thick and soft, delicate as butterfly wings, pitifully adorable in a way that made one want to take advantage.

Emotion churned and surged in the depths of Ban Sheng’s eyes. The gaze he fixed on her shifted, and a low, cajoling voice rose up:

“Weixia, let’s play a game. You do what I say.”

“Be good, and I’ll reward you with a box of ice cream.”

The eyes that had been dull and dim lit up all at once. Lin Weixia lifted her face: “Deal.”

Ban Sheng’s gaze dropped to her moist, red lips, and his voice went hoarse beyond his control:

“Kiss me.”

Lin Weixia’s head was swimming heavily. She hesitated. The light fell on Ban Sheng’s cool, defined face — he wasn’t doing anything at all, just waiting for her to make the first move, like a patient, coaxing hunter.

She wavered for a long time.

Ban Sheng stood up, opened the refrigerator, and the cold air rushed out — but it couldn’t do anything to put out the fire inside him.

He found a box of lemon-flavored ice cream hidden in the very top freezer compartment, crouched halfway down, elbow resting on his thigh, and watched her with an air of composure.

Lin Weixia’s eyes lit up instantly like two little lamps. Ban Sheng tore open the ice cream, scooped a spoonful, and brought it to her lips.

Lin Weixia instinctively opened her mouth, and when she went for a second bite, Ban Sheng lazily pulled it back. Her soft lips grazed his index finger — just barely, faint as a breath of air, yet like an electric shock.

Ban Sheng had let her have just the smallest taste of sweetness.

If she wanted her reward, she would have to show him what she was made of.

Lin Weixia, much like a little cat, inched forward. Her moist lips pressed against his cold ones and gave the tip of his tongue a soft, light pull. She felt the shock travel through her own body as well — a full-body shiver — and then she retreated, asking tentatively:

“Was that okay?”

She still had a smear of cream on her lips.

The sweetness of the ice cream she had tasted lingered between them, mingled with her own clean scent. Ban Sheng swallowed with difficulty, his throat straining, a heavy, tight ache pooling in his lower abdomen. His eyes slanted toward her, and he spoke with deliberate calm:

“Not enough.”

Lin Weixia thought it over briefly, then pressed herself against his chest again. Because Ban Sheng was so tall, and hadn’t lowered his head to accommodate her, she tilted her face up — and pressed her lips directly against the sharp prominence of his Adam’s apple on his pale neck.

Then she extended the tip of her tongue and gave it a light lick and bite.

The man’s Adam’s apple, jutting from his long, pale neck, was still faintly streaked with fast-melting white cream.

The charged, teetering atmosphere of push-and-pull was stoked to its very peak.

Ban Sheng went rigid for an instant. His body betrayed him. He immediately seized her hand, the dark color in his eyes deepening by a shade, the look in them crashing down on her like a gale-force storm, as he pulled her fully beneath him, his lips pressing down.

Lin Weixia tilted her head back, passively receiving his deep kiss — but at the very moment she had him thoroughly swept up in desire, she snatched the box of ice cream right out of his hand, then shoved him away with full force.

Lin Weixia ran with the ice cream all the way to the balcony, latched the floor-to-ceiling glass door from the inside, sat down on the floor, and ate her ice cream with great satisfaction — even raising her eyebrows at him triumphantly.

She was drunk, yes — but the craving for ice cream was absolutely real.

Ban Sheng let out an exasperated laugh and let her be. Lin Weixia had started the fire and then run away from it herself.

He had no choice but to go take a cold shower to cool himself down.

When he came out of the bathroom, Ban Sheng raised a hand to wipe the water droplets from his jet-black hair and looked up — and there was Lin Weixia, sound asleep against the balcony glass door.

He walked over, pressed the fingerprint pad on the wall, and the floor-to-ceiling glass door slid open in response. He came to Lin Weixia’s side.

The moonlight was hazy, falling softly across Lin Weixia’s cool, understated face. She was sleeping deeply — worn out from all her mischief, probably. Her lashes lay still and shut, and in her hand she still held a box of half-eaten ice cream, now half-melted.

Ban Sheng took the ice cream from her hand, then scooped Lin Weixia up in his arms. She naturally nestled into the man’s chest, her consciousness slipping further into the blur of sleep, letting out a small yawn:

“Tomorrow morning I want fried crullers from Chen’s, and… soy milk.”

Ban Sheng glanced down at the girl in his arms, his tone indulgent:

“Mm. I’ll get them for you.”