Zhou Zheng’s lip bore an obvious wound.

Lin Shuang felt hollowed out, unable to muster energy for anything, and gave him the cold shoulder for two days straight.

He was in the school office prepping lessons, and in a free moment that afternoon came by carrying a pair of badminton rackets: “Want to go to school to play?”

There was nothing going on at the shop; she sat alone, absorbed in her game, and though the sun outside was bright, she silently shifted her attention back to her phone screen.

“It’s supposed to rain again tomorrow — today’s the last clear day.” He handed her a racket. “Want to get some exercise? My badminton’s mediocre — you can teach me a bit.”

Lin Shuang was actually quite good at badminton — back in the day she’d been the top seed in her class — though she hadn’t picked up a racket in years.

“Half an hour.” She checked the time, glancing up at him, her gaze cool. “You knew I was good at badminton?”

Zhou Zheng smiled bashfully: “I’ve only just started learning, I play terribly — you’re definitely better than me.”

Lin Shuang reluctantly accepted the flattery.

The two of them went, one after the other, into the school’s court.

With her long legs and arms, her swing was loose and free, and with her own improvised rules thrown in for good measure, she smashed the shuttlecock hard enough that Zhou Zheng was left scrambling, running all over with no way to keep up.

“You’re no good at this, Teacher Zhou.” Lin Shuang teased him. “Already surrendering, this soon?”

At the mid-game break, Zhou Zheng was already drenched in sweat, his face flushed red, hands on his hips, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

He went back to the stands to rest, unscrewed a bottle of water, and passed it over to her from a distance.

Lin Shuang went over and took the water from his hand.

The two sat side by side, with one seat’s space between them.

Zhou Zheng drank his water and wiped his sweat; Lin Shuang looked down at her phone. Neither spoke, and his breathing, still a little rapid, could be heard.

His sleeves were rolled up high, exposing most of his forearms, his hands resting on his knees as he gazed at the net at the center of the court. After a while, he suddenly asked her: “Are you upset with me?”

“No.” Lin Shuang denied it flatly.

“I know you’re upset.” he said in a low voice.

“It’s happened a few times now — you’re deliberately teasing me, aren’t you?” Zhou Zheng said, gripping the empty water bottle, eyes lowered. “If we actually kept going… would that be the end of us?”

Lin Shuang was clearly caught off guard.

His voice was flat: “I know — you’re never going to be interested in someone like me. It’s boring, isn’t it? Deliberately toying with me for fun.”

“Teacher Zhou has so little confidence in himself — isn’t that being a bit too self-deprecating?” Her tone lightened.

“Because you said it yourself, the first time we met.” Zhou Zheng looked up at the sky. “That line — everything about me is a problem, to you.”

He stood up and walked down the steps.

Lin Shuang called after him: “Zhou Zheng, then what exactly are you after, staying by my side all this time?”

“I’m not after anything. I just like you, that’s all.” He scooped up the shuttlecock, his gaze steady and searching as he looked at her, his tone certain. “Lin Shuang, I like you a lot.”

It didn’t sound like a heartfelt confession — it sounded like he was stating that “the weather’s nice today.”

Even he himself had never imagined that one day he’d say those words so naturally.

She’d heard plenty of people tell her they liked her, and even more who’d told her they loved her, and couldn’t help but laugh, her smile radiant: “What do you like about me? Besides having a pretty face, what else is there worth liking?”

He smiled too.

“Maybe… being good-looking is a kind of healing power in itself, and deserves to be cherished by more people too.”

“Want to play another round?” He handed the racket back to her. “Let’s really play this time.”

She took the racket, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth: “Do you want to compete with me? Then place your bet — do you think you’ll win, or I will?”

He shrugged, swinging the racket in a clean motion: “Either way, the winner is always you.”

Unexpectedly, in this match — best of five, first to three — the winner was Zhou Zheng.

His playing style was steady, his technique solid too; Lin Shuang was skilled at drop shots and smashes, but her greatest weaknesses were stamina and backhand returns to the back court. Once Zhou Zheng noticed this, he targeted her weakness with a sustained long-rally offensive, and by the end her strength gave out, and she sat down on the court, hugging her knees, unable to get back up.

Lin Shuang felt deflated.

Probably because she’d been beaten so thoroughly, she couldn’t psychologically accept this reversal in the balance of power.

Zhou Zheng stopped, racket in hand, and walked over, seeing her drenched in sweat, her face flushed, sunlight glinting on her cheeks; his heart softened for a moment.

“Get up.” He reached out a hand.

She was breathing hard, looking up at him, her eyes dim and dazed, using his strength to pull herself up; her knees buckled, and he caught her, steadying her waist.

“Tired? Want me to help you along?” he asked gently.

Lin Shuang, unwilling to admit defeat, put her hands behind her back, her expression stubborn, and said flatly: “No need.”

She trailed slowly behind him for a few steps; Zhou Zheng walked to the edge of the court, looked back at her, then turned and strode back.

He looked at her steadily for a moment, then suddenly reached out and took her hand: “Let’s go.” His voice was low, and he added: “Actually, I fouled just now — technically I lost. You won.”

Lin Shuang’s steps were heavy, dragged along by his hand, catching the scent on him — sweat mixed with a raw, warm smell, not unpleasant at all.

That evening, Zhou Zheng took her out to eat, treating her to an upscale Western restaurant in the city. Lin Shuang’s arms were sore from playing badminton, and Zhou Zheng was attentive and thoughtful, laying out her napkin and cutting her steak for her.

Lin Shuang hadn’t expected him to be so practiced with Western dining etiquette.

“Back in college, I once saw an ad for a restaurant, and a single steak on the menu cost as much as my whole month’s living expenses… I got curious what that steak tasted like… so I applied for a job at that Western restaurant.”

“Did you end up eating it, then?”

“No — even after getting paid, I still couldn’t afford anything at that restaurant. I went to the Western food counter in the school cafeteria instead, and ordered a synthetic steak.”

Over the meal he talked about his part-time work in college — he’d apparently held all kinds of jobs, running around for side gigs no matter the season, with his only holiday each year being returning to Beiquan City for the Spring Festival at year’s end.

Lin Shuang had lived a similar kind of life too — the longest part-time job she’d held was working at a milk tea shop, though the pay was too low, nowhere near enough to cover living expenses and tuition. Fortunately, that kind of life hadn’t lasted too long; later she’d relied on her looks, picking up work as an event hostess and print model, and the income had been decent enough.

The restaurant was on the top floor of a shopping mall; after dinner, passing by the boutiques downstairs, Zhou Zheng asked her: “Want to browse a bit?”

“Are you paying?” Lin Shuang asked him seriously.

“Mm.” He nodded seriously.

“Nothing worth buying.” She showed little interest.

“How about a pair of shoes? For playing badminton.” The short boots she’d worn to play today had taken quite a beating from all the running around.

Lin Shuang thought it over, and figured there was no harm in it.

They went down to a sporting goods store on the lower floor, where, with the sales clerk’s guidance, Zhou Zheng picked out the most expensive, most attractive pair.

The clerk chattered on with the introduction while Lin Shuang sat on the fitting stool, scrolling through her phone.

When the shoes arrived in her size, she couldn’t be bothered to bend down, kicking off her short boots and reaching out for the new pair instead.

He came over to help, his expression calm, kneeling on one knee, gently supporting her knee as he put the shoes on for her, tied the laces, and helped her to her feet.

The clerk, standing to the side, let out an admiring exclamation, covering her mouth with a laugh: “Miss, your boyfriend is so thoughtful — you two make such a loving, well-matched couple.”

Since when had they become “well-matched”?

Zhou Zheng asked her: “Do you like them? Do they fit well?”

The shoes were a limited-edition collaboration, quite trendy in style, comfortable to wear too; Lin Shuang usually preferred heels and ankle boots and wasn’t especially enthusiastic about this kind, but she nodded: “They’re all right.”

“Then these it is.”

The shoes were priced at 1,899. After Zhou Zheng paid, Lin Shuang asked him: “How much do you take home a month?”

“Close to six thousand,” he replied. “After the New Year the school’s giving raises, so it might go up a bit more.”

Lin Shuang said nothing.

He took a taxi and saw her home again, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

This time Lin Shuang didn’t ask him whether he wanted to come up.

She really was a bit tired, standing before him with her eyes lowered demurely, looking a little wilted.

“See you.”

She turned to leave slowly.

Zhou Zheng caught hold of her sleeve.

“Shuangshuang.” He stepped closer, his fingertips touching her cheek.

“Can I kiss you?”

His lip still bore the wound she’d bitten into it.

Lin Shuang lifted her eyes, looking at him without expression, her gaze falling on the wound at the peak of his lip.

She was only puzzled — why did he ask her, before kissing her?

This wasn’t like some social nicety of an invitation — between a man and a woman it was naturally a game of chase, you pursue, I retreat, an unspoken match of equals.

But with Zhou Zheng, he never seemed to play by the usual rules.

Lin Shuang didn’t refuse, but didn’t nod either — she only tilted her chin up slightly.

He found himself with nowhere to hide in her clear gaze, seeing his own reflection in her pupils.

The man smiled gently, and a soft kiss landed on the corner of her mouth.

She gave no response, loosely gripping his sleeve, eyes open, motionless, letting him kiss her.

Zhou Zheng’s kiss carried a faintly ticklish quality, like the fluttering wings of a soft moth, like the touch of a fish’s mouth against a finger feeding it. She tilted her head slightly to the side, silently enduring his affection.

His hands couldn’t stay idle — he stepped in closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his embrace.

She kept her eyes open, watching him gently close his eyes mid-kiss, his expression focused, carrying a touch of innocent anticipation; his lashes were black, not long, but very thick, the lines of his eyes distinct — when he looked at people, there was always a sense of careful attention.

In truth all of this was tedious and a waste of time, and yet there always seemed to be threads like spider silk winding around her, tangling her up again and again.

Perhaps she’d fallen into a trap without even realizing it.

Just like these past six months — him always showing up at the milk tea shop as if it were nothing, talking to her as if it were nothing.

This kiss was light as nothing at all, lingering far too long on her lips; in the end, she too slowly closed her eyes, and amid his lingering warmth, a hazy trace of reluctance to let go began to grow.

Lin Shuang wrapped her arms around his waist and back, quietly nestling into his embrace.

“Shuangshuang, do you want this to end?” he asked her quietly. “When are you planning to end it?”

Buried against his neck, her long lashes blinking, she asked him: “My friend’s wedding is tomorrow — I already told her I’d bring my boyfriend. Will you come with me?”

Lin Shuang heard his breathing suddenly falter, and the corner of her mouth curved up as she pulled him even closer.