At this moment, eleven o’clock at night, one hour until midnight, snow and wind swirling, fireworks blooming high, the entire nation’s people reunited with their families, while she stood on the main road braving the cold wind for a full fifteen minutes before finally hailing a taxi to Zhaohua Pavilion, half an hour’s drive from here.

No countdown celebration anywhere could compare to the cluster of nightclubs at Zhaohua Pavilion. Right now, this place was hotter than anywhere else. Following Ban Wei’s directions, she arrived at the most famous establishment. Luxury cars lined the entrance, familiar faces from the industry coming and going. They were restricting entry, claiming there was a private booking. Fortunately, Long Qi was also a “familiar face,” and the manager, showing her some respect, invited her in. Inside the venue, electronic music was deafening, strobe lights making faces blur indistinctly. She carried Zang Xipu’s coat and her own handbag in one hand, using her other hand to push aside people blocking her path, weaving through the surging crowd. Scantily clad foreign models brushed shoulders and bumped elbows with her. Those perfume scents, rum smells, and menthol cigarette smoke slipped through her nostrils in quick succession.

…

The menthol cigarette smell.

Her footsteps unconsciously slowed. She shifted her gaze because of the familiar scent mixed within. The overhead lights switched rapidly, purple then blue, bright then dim. Her heart drummed like thunder as she looked left and right, then forward, moving toward where the cigarette smell grew increasingly strong. The deeper into the inner circle she walked, the more familiar faces she passed—all the cronies she’d met while carried along during her underground relationship with Jin Yiken. Whose venue this was became increasingly obvious, and her heart grew increasingly agitated. The DJ spun records, the electronic music suddenly becoming piercingly prolonged. She frowned, people around her covered their ears, and at the same time, the people blocking her path finally moved aside.

And so, five meters away.

In the center of the inner circle.

In the turbulent world before her eyes.

She finally saw Jin Yiken bathed in heavy red light.

The piercing electronic music continued, the crowd beside her still raising their hands high in revelry, while she, a solitary quiet individual, stood incongruously amid the celebrating masses, watching Jin Yiken smoking. Smoke swirled around him. She seemed able to hear the “crack” sound of the cigarette filter’s menthol bead being crushed when he held his Marlboro between his lips, hear the “click” of his lighter, the sound of tobacco burning. She watched the cigarette held between his right hand’s fingers as his hand dropped to his side, the ember glowing, smoke rising, drifting from his waist to his arm, his shoulders. His other hand was tucked in his pants pocket. He stood with his back to her, talking with others. The smoke drifted, affected by subtle air currents.

Jin Yiken—not seen for over a month, yet as if reborn from flames, his figure increasingly upright.

A large new tattoo adorned his arm, depicting his Alaskan Malamute. He curved his lips at a friend’s joke beside him, world-weariness and cold indifference between his brows. His jawline was more pronounced than before. Even without speaking, he exuded an overwhelming aura of “causing trouble,” ready at any moment to drag you into hell then push you into the furnace of fire, letting you die yet letting you live.

Yes, this was that Jin Yiken.

The phone in her handbag vibrated. She reflexively brought it to her ear but couldn’t process a single word. She only knew to step forward, but someone suddenly appeared beside him.

In just one second.

Slender fingers grasped his hand that was tucked in his pocket, wanting to speak with him, suggestively shaking it. Jin Yiken’s gaze shifted from its original position to this position, but the piercing electronic music wouldn’t stop. He frowned slightly, unable to hear what the other person was saying, then at the beckoning of the other’s hooked index finger, he lowered himself to bridge the height difference, bowing his head.

The moment he lowered his head, Wu Jiakui kissed him on the cheek.

The silver short chain around Wu Jiakui’s neck sparkled, just like the light in her eyes.

In that instant, Long Qi couldn’t distinguish whether what was agitating in her ears was electronic music or tinnitus or Ban Wei’s declarative sentence, while Jin Yiken and Wu Jiakui’s reactions were both like seasoned performers playing along.

She couldn’t see the expression on his face.

She only saw him stub out the cigarette between his fingers into a glass on the table beside him, pat Wu Jiakui’s shoulder—neither pleased nor rejecting, but some kind of mutually understood, accustomed response—then ambiguously turn past Wu Jiakui and head in another direction. Wu Jiakui’s fingers slid across his tattooed arm, couldn’t grasp it, couldn’t hold on, letting him brush past her. She tossed her hair, like a cat that had secretly drunk holy water—craving the taste yet calmly remaining in place, smiling as she watched him disappear into the crowd.

This wasn’t the first time.

These two people obviously weren’t doing this together for the first time.

On the phone, Ban Wei’s voice transmitted from distant to near, somewhat louder than usual. Long Qi didn’t hear clearly and unconsciously asked something in response. Ban Wei repeated: “I said Wu Jiakui’s widower is Jin Yiken—damn it, it’s actually Jin Yiken. She chased him in England until the entire study abroad circle knew about it. You actually didn’t fucking know about this?”

And Wu Jiakui, tossing her hair for the second time, turned her head and happened to see Long Qi five meters away.

Five meters away stood Long Qi, making no sound yet burning with fire.

Wu Jiakui’s hand movement paused slightly, her smile slowly fading. Long Qi held the phone to her ear, listening to Ban Wei’s repeated questioning. The two women’s eye contact at this moment was like a silent scene of “catching adultery,” performing mutely in this den of sensory pleasures.

…

“Anyone you grab in the study abroad circle knows—she enrolled in that school’s classes. During that fashion show period I mentioned, she spent every day sitting in his classes. They’ve gotten this entangled, and I’m asking what the hell you’ve been doing, Long Qi?”

Ban Wei continued chattering away, pouring all the fire of delayed intelligence onto her, this “insider.” She silently watched Wu Jiakui. After three or four seconds of brief reaction, Wu Jiakui finally smiled at her, just like the smile they’d exchanged at five in the morning on set.

Then she walked toward the heavy red light.

“…Then do you know,” Long Qi didn’t follow, asking Ban Wei unhurriedly, “how far they’ve gotten?”

“Damn it, how would I know,” Ban Wei was agitated. “Jin Yiken likes your type. Do you think Wu Jiakui is the same fucking type as you from head to toe? How would I know if he goes for Wu Jiakui’s type? Anyway, Wu Jiakui is really into him, and anyway, I’m also fucking into Wu Jiakui! How the hell did those two even meet?!”

A gaze from overhead flickered briefly, as if someone was watching her. She looked up toward the second-floor corridor and saw Jin Yiken’s profile passing by the railing, but then he walked deeper inside, followed by a male friend and two tall women. His back was obscured by the three people’s laughing and talking figures. Wherever he walked, those two girls’ gazes followed him.

Only then did Long Qi realize that for a long time, she had overlooked one thing.

Jin Yiken was devastatingly handsome, smart, possessed a powerful independent personality. She had always understood that people like him would have lines of girls chasing after him wherever he went. When she didn’t care for him, she had repeatedly distanced herself from him using “predictably unfaithful” as her reason. But truly speaking, from high school when Long Qi established a relationship with Jin Yiken, aside from the nominal Bai Aiting and Dong Xi who “fought because of her,” this person had never attracted any romantic entanglements.

Right, no flocks of admirers, no casual flings. His social media accounts didn’t even contain casual chats with girls beyond three sentences. He naturally carried an aura of “I have a girlfriend,” keeping those girls ready to fall in love with him outside a clearly defined boundary. Despite possessing such capabilities, his heart hung on Long Qi’s tree, single-mindedly hanging there for a full three years.

However, once he abandoned this consciousness, once he completely and thoroughly returned to single status.

Then, there were countless forests waiting to ignite fierce flames for him.

Because she had possessed him so effortlessly, she had never felt a sense of crisis, never imagined there would be such a day when Jin Yiken, who had never received any special treatment from her, could now carelessly become someone else’s heart’s desire, could clearly see her yet treat her as just one of these common admirers, glance and just glance, no longer caring, more distant than strangers.

…

How dare he.

Ten minutes until midnight. She immediately went up to the second-floor viewing area, circled twice without finding anyone, but instead discovered Wu Jiakui’s aunt and her assistant at a secluded corner near a wall. Wu Jiakui’s aunt looked displeased, scolding the assistant. Upon seeing her arrival, she preemptively advanced to confront her: “Where’s Jiakui? Where’s our Jiakui? Why did you bring her here for no reason! Just have fun yourself—why drag her into it!”

Wu Jiakui’s aunt, as her agent, had long been displeased with Long Qi based on some hearsay rumors. Smiling on the surface, privately she did everything possible to reduce contact between Wu Jiakui and her, always thinking she would corrupt Wu Jiakui. Today she tore off the carefully maintained facade, illogically dumping this blame on Long Qi’s head. Long Qi wanted to go to the private room area behind the wall but was held by the aunt demanding answers. Extremely irritated, she directly pulled away her hand and replied: “You’re asking me for answers? Your precious niece has been fooling around with my ex-boyfriend for over a month behind my back. He’s far more experienced than I am at ‘corrupting people’! Instead of pestering me, you’d better hurry and drag her back to give me an explanation, Auntie?!”

Sister Wu was stunned. The assistant behind her who had been on the phone suddenly reacted, covering her other ear and asking loudly: “Kuikui, Kuikui, Sister Wu is here looking for you. Where are you…”

Long Qi reached out and took the phone, just placing it at her ear when she heard half of Wu Jiakui’s response: “Don’t let her come over.”

Then came a “click” sound, like the phone touching some flat surface. Aside from that, there was no other noise—it sounded like she was in some soundproofed private room. Reacting quickly, she entered the corridor behind the wall, Sister Wu and her assistant calling her name while following close behind.

However, Wu Jiakui’s end gave no further response, nor did she hang up. Long Qi forcefully called out her name once, like sinking into a boundless sea without echo. Just as she was about to hang up the phone, that end suddenly transmitted a low murmur—the voice had distance from the phone, recorded unclearly by the device. Yet Long Qi’s steps slowed because she heard it crystal clear, perfectly clear—it was from Wu Jiakui: “Jin Yiken.”

Neither light nor loud, mixed with her rare girlish melancholy and thoughts, as if Jin Yiken was right there in the room with her.

All the blood in Long Qi’s body flowed backward.

Her steps quickened, rapidly scanning each private room, like she’d gone mad, but still couldn’t find them. Yet on the other end of the phone, undisturbed, the words continued: “I confessed—I looked up all your news before coming to England. I know what you’ve been through, know you’re in the most disappointed and resistant state toward women and love. I also said, I don’t mind. No matter how long you want to languish in this state, I’ll accompany you.”

…

“You don’t remember me, so I’ll tell you my story over and over again. I won’t compare myself to the people you’ve loved, but I swear I won’t be fickle or ungrateful. You say my purpose is too strong—yes, my purpose is exactly that clear. I accompany you because I want you. I hope that when the day comes that you’re willing to walk out of this low point, the first person you see will be me, only me.”

…

“I’ve accompanied you enough—if his eyes only see you, that’s an eye disease!” With a crash, she burst into a private room, disturbing a group’s revelry. Long Qi found neither Jin Yiken nor Wu Jiakui among the faces looking at each other in bewilderment, turned and went to the next room. On the other end of the phone, her voice couldn’t penetrate that space at all. The conversation continued. Wu Jiakui said: “But you don’t know, being with you is something that requires powerful restraint.”

“He damn well knows!” Long Qi was agitated again, yelling at the phone. “His whole bag of pick-up tricks—he’s just using you to get at me! You can see it with your toes!”

…

“I like you very much, but can’t like you too much. I really want to possess you, but must proceed gradually… My father likes raising fish. Every time before he changes to a new tank, he first puts in one fish to adapt to the new water quality. After a month, if the fish is still alive, the water has been successfully conditioned and new schools of fish can move in. If the fish doesn’t survive, he can only continue conditioning the water—any schools of fish that enter will die. This type of fish that takes the lead is called a ‘tank-breaking fish.'”

…

As Wu Jiakui’s words fell, with half a minute until midnight, the main venue in the distance transmitted unified countdown voices. Long Qi finally reached a private room at the deepest part of the corridor. Unlike the clamor of the other rooms, this room’s door was tightly closed, the light dim, no music. Her breath still surging, chest heaving as she approached, and then through the glass panel in the center of the door… she saw Jin Yiken and Wu Jiakui inside.

Only the two of them.

Jin Yiken sat on the sofa, both elbows resting on his knees, cigarette between his fingers, head lowered, smoke swirling around him. And Wu Jiakui knelt before him.

Yes, Wu Jiakui, who always carried an air of pride, was now in a humble, devout posture kneeling before him, back straight, grasping his hands on his knees, looking up at him like looking up at the Lord, saying word by word: “Jin Yiken, I am that tank-breaking fish.”

…

Long Qi turned the door handle. The door was locked from inside and soundproofed. Agitated, she pounded once. No reaction from inside.

“Jin Yiken!” She pounded forcefully again.

On the low table behind Wu Jiakui, a phone lay face-up, lit up showing “call in progress.” Jin Yiken kept his head lowered throughout—impossible to tell if he was looking at Wu Jiakui or at the floor. His face showed no expression, no emotional fluctuation. Only the cigarette between his fingers burned silently.

“In your world, whether it’s a month or a year, I’m willing to endure,” Wu Jiakui said. “But today I want to ask for a hint, perhaps even a reward, to let me know if I’m slightly more special than others, to make me understand whether you’ll ultimately kill me… or let me live.”

She reached up to touch Jin Yiken’s face: “And I one hundred percent guarantee that if you’re with me, you’ll forget Long Qi completely.”

Then, straightening her back even more than before, simultaneously pulling Jin Yiken’s collar, Long Qi watched helplessly from outside the door as she kissed Jin Yiken. In the distance, the grand countdown ended, followed by earth-shaking cheers. The cigarette between Jin Yiken’s fingers dropped some ash, but he had no reaction. And because he had no reaction, Wu Jiakui pressed her advantage, wrapping her arms around his neck. After the dragonfly-touch of initial contact, she entered a deeper level of lingering. The phone by Long Qi’s ear finally slipped from her palm, falling silently onto the thick floor.

In this city, fireworks bloomed high, universal celebration. She stood in a nearly mad nightclub, watching two people silently kissing in the quiet room. Every second carved away flesh, blood flowing. Their overlapping figures made her think of those two people who had colluded out of loneliness on that snowy day in senior year. At the same time, she finally understood what Jin Yiken must have felt when he saw Dong Xi’s painting back then.

It was a feeling of utter despair.