The car sat outside Lüshuangzhai. Yan Sishi was behind the wheel, a cigarette burning between his fingers.

He held it there and let it burn itself down in stillness, then pressed it out in the ashtray. Only then did he open the door and step out.

Today was Yan Sishi’s grandfather’s eightieth birthday. The entire Lüshuangzhai venue had been reserved for the occasion.

The hotel owner had personally presented a formal letter of greeting and sent an ornamental jade sculpture of a welcoming pine tree, wishing the old man long life.

Yan Sishi was making his way toward Lüshuangzhai when he came face to face with Wen Shubai, who was heading out.

Wen Shubai was dressed in a formal dark teal suit, tie precisely knotted — clearly treating this as a serious occasion.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming. Your family’s old man has been at me all night to call and hurry you along.” At the sight of Yan Sishi, Wen Shubai let out a breath of relief and put away the phone he had been about to dial.

Yan Sishi’s expression was weary and flat. “Who’s all here?”

Wen Shubai turned and fell into step beside him. “There’s something you should probably know in advance.”

“…Right.” Wen Shubai studied his expression. “Your grandfather is bound to be displeased — but it’s his birthday today, with so many guests here, he’s not likely to make a scene.”

Yan Sishi’s eyes went still and dark. He said nothing.

At the entrance, the pair of wide-open antique carved wooden doors — Yan Suizhang stood with a woman Yan Sishi didn’t recognize.

Not what he had imagined a “home-wrecker” might look like. This woman wore her long hair pinned up, a cream-colored suit dress, and carried herself with a quiet, refined composure. She appeared to be in her early to mid-thirties, no older than thirty-five.

The woman spotted Yan Sishi first. She gave Yan Suizhang a discreet nudge with her elbow.

Yan Suizhang was in the middle of exchanging pleasantries with a guest. He glanced over, his expression unchanged, then excused the guest with a word and finally looked at Yan Sishi. His tone was measured: “You came.”

Yan Sishi didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow.

Wen Shubai stepped in to smooth things over, smiling as he said, “See, Yan Senior, he’s here. I did my job and got him here. Let’s go up and keep Grandfather company for a bit.”

Yan Suizhang gave a small nod. “Go on.”

The moment they stepped inside, familiar and unfamiliar faces surged forward — a chorus of “Young Master Yan,” “Second Young Master Yan”…

The titles carried a faint rot of another era, as though someone had dusted off forms of address from two or three centuries past and pressed them onto people’s heads. Yan Sishi found it deeply distasteful.

He responded to none of the fawning and walked straight upstairs.

Upstairs in the private hall, the air carried a blend of sandalwood incense and the faint smokiness of tea.

Grandfather Yan, usually a man of few smiles, was today surrounded by guests and not stinting on warmth.

Seated close beside him was Fang Shumu — who had also reined in the sharp, edgy style she usually wore, stripped away her earrings and the silver skull pendants, and put on a white satin dress. She looked entirely the well-bred young lady from a distinguished family.

Fang Shumu saw Yan Sishi come through the door and promptly alerted Grandfather Yan. “Grandfather, look who’s here.”

In an instant, everyone at the round table except Grandfather Yan and Fang Shumu rose to their feet and, in one smooth motion, moved aside to leave the seat next to Grandfather Yan open.

Grandfather Yan rose too, reaching out toward Yan Sishi in delight. “Xiao Yan, come over here!”

A barely perceptible look of exhaustion crossed Yan Sishi’s eyes, but he went all the same and sat down beside his grandfather.

Grandfather Yan said with a laugh, “Xiao Yan still gives his grandfather face. Last year when that old man of his had his birthday, he didn’t even bother to show up.”

Fang Shumu’s father, Fang Pingzhong, said with a laugh: “Sishi was still abroad last year — surely once he’s back in the country, he wouldn’t miss his own father’s birthday? Right?”

The truth was that everyone who moved in the same circles knew perfectly well: Yan Sishi had gone abroad at eighteen, and until the second half of last year, had not returned to the country even once in all that time. Even this past New Year’s and the Lantern Festival, he hadn’t made the trip home. If not for Grandfather Yan’s eightieth birthday, it seemed likely he still wouldn’t have appeared tonight.

Fang Pingzhong looked at Yan Sishi, as though hoping to get some confirmation for this diplomatic save he had just made.

Yan Sishi gave him a cold sideways glance and declined to accept his goodwill.

Fang Pingzhong’s smile went a little stiff. He reached for his teacup and drank from it to cover the awkwardness.

Grandfather Yan laughed it off. “All that matters is that he’s here.”

Fang Shumu lifted the teapot and poured a cup for Yan Sishi.

Yan Sishi accepted it, said thank you in a tone utterly devoid of feeling, then set it very gently on the table — and from that point on, never touched it again.

Those seated at this table were the close family members and old friends of the Yan family, all with a strong interest in Yan Sishi’s current situation.

Questions came at him one after another. Yan Sishi answered them simply, his manner not exactly warm — but beyond that, there was nothing anyone could find fault with.

Before long, Yan Suizhang, having finished greeting the guests, came upstairs with that woman.

The atmosphere immediately shifted — with Yan Suizhang now the dominant presence.

Dishes arrived at the table. The intricate ritual of toasting had its own logic — who to honor first, who next, what occasion to invoke — and Yan Suizhang moved through it all with flawless, polished ease.

With the wine flowing, the room grew warm and animated.

Fang Pingzhong took his daughter Fang Shumu by the hand, raised his glass, and came around to Yan Sishi to offer a toast. He had even found himself a graceful pretext: “Sishi, you and our Mumu grew up together, and since things were settled so long ago — now that you’ve confirmed you’ll be based here in the country, you and Mumu will be seeing a great deal of each other. No need to be distant. Let me raise a glass to you, and may your career—”

“What things? Who settled what?” Yan Sishi cut him off.

Fang Pingzhong froze.

Yan Sishi looked at Fang Shumu — as if directing the same question to her.

Fang Shumu looked momentarily stricken.

She pushed Fang Pingzhong in the direction of his seat, and said under her breath, “Dad, go sit down. I told you not to pull this kind of thing.”

Fang Pingzhong: “Alright, alright, I’m staying out of it then…”

Glass still in hand, Fang Pingzhong went back to offer a toast to Grandfather Yan.

Fang Shumu rested a hand lightly on the table and looked at Yan Sishi. Amid the clink of glasses and the flush of drinking, none of that glamour had touched him — he remained as coolly removed as ever.

“I’m sorry. My dad means no harm. He just has a habit of overstepping.”

Yan Sishi’s voice was exceptionally calm. “I don’t like people interfering in my decisions. Especially elders.”

Fang Shumu fell silent for a moment, a little embarrassed.

She had invited Yan Sishi out several times, always without result.

Their offices were barely two kilometers apart, and he wouldn’t even spare a lunch hour for her.

The family had been pressing her to move closer with him, urging her to seize the opportunity. She had complained once in exasperation: He has to actually agree to see me first!

And so tonight, Fang Pingzhong had leaned on the authority of a family elder and dusted off a childhood joke — a so-called childhood betrothal between the two families made twenty years ago — to use as leverage.

But everyone who knew anything about Yan Sishi knew that this was precisely the kind of thing he was immune to.

He was a man who could defy his own father.

Fang Shumu pushed on, saying, “That’s also my fault. I don’t know why you have such a problem with my father — he’s an elder after all…”

Yan Sishi looked at her, expression thoroughly flat. “You don’t know?”

Fang Shumu pressed her lips into a thin line.

The tension in the air was about to become unbearable when a senior guest invited Fang Shumu for a toast, giving her a way out.

The moment Fang Shumu left, Yan Suizhang came over with the woman on his arm.

Yan Suizhang was more direct: “Since you’ve come today, stop sulking afterward. Beicheng isn’t that big — there’s no point in giving people something to gossip about…”

“Do you think I came today out of consideration for you?” The cold in Yan Sishi’s voice was something like river ice on a long winter night.

Yan Suizhang’s expression darkened.

At that moment, the woman on his arm seemed to sense a storm gathering and quickly said with a smile, “It’s all the same no matter whose sake it’s for — we’re all family…”

Yan Sishi laughed.

The laugh was colder than his voice. “And who exactly are you family with?”

The woman’s expression froze.

Yan Suizhang felt his temper flare — but mindful of the guests surrounding them, though visibly displeased, he kept his voice low. “Yan Sishi. You came here for your grandfather’s birthday, or to create a scene? No one asked you to fulfill any duty as the eldest grandson — that’s your grandfather being generous. Whose face do you think you’re making a scene in front of? Nobody begged you to come…”

Yan Sishi rose to his feet.

Grandfather Yan looked over. And with that, every gaze in the room turned their way.

Yan Suizhang’s expression went rigid and dark.

He had been afraid Yan Sishi would ignore propriety entirely and throw one of his aloof, cold tantrums in front of everyone.

Yan Sishi walked over to his grandfather’s side, and when he spoke, his voice was perfectly composed. “I had the gift sent directly to the house — you can take a look when you get home and see if it suits you. A friend has a flight tonight. I’ll excuse myself for now to go share a drink with him.”

Grandfather Yan understood perfectly, but smiled and said, “Go on — you have grandfather’s blessing. Just don’t drink too much.”

Yan Sishi gave a small nod, didn’t spare Yan Suizhang another glance, and walked out.

Wen Shubai was seated at a nearby table and had followed the entire main table exchange closely.

He used the excuse of stepping out to the bathroom and went after him.

Yan Sishi heard the thud of footsteps down the wooden staircase and paused, turning back.

Wen Shubai stood on the step above, grinning down at him. “You were a real firecracker tonight — where are you going to drink? Want me to buy you a round?”

“No need. Stay. Keep them company.”

“You sure?”

Yan Sishi waved a hand and turned back, continuing down the stairs.

Back in the car, he lit another cigarette. He took two puffs and extinguished it.

The late night air was hot and damp, and the breeze across his skin only made the agitation worse.

Yan Sishi tipped his head back and rested against the headrest in silence for a moment, then got out of the car.

He’d had a drink — couldn’t drive. He didn’t want to call a designated driver either. He’d just leave the car here for now.

He set off down the road on foot. Past the busy stretch, the noise of people began to fade.

Ahead, screened by lush, dense foliage, a square paper lantern glowed at a corner — printed with the name of a wine bar.

Turn at the mouth of the alley, walk fifty meters — and there was the wine bar’s signboard.

Yan Sishi pushed the door open. The bell above it chimed.

It was a small place, well-hidden — but far from empty. About half the seats were taken.

The bar was playing Cantonese songs from a golden era. Voices murmured here and there, punctuated occasionally by the light clink of glasses. The atmosphere was surprisingly tranquil.

The owner noticed he was a new face and made a move to offer attentive service — but reading his demeanor, seemed to conclude he wasn’t in the mood for conversation, and quietly withdrew after setting down the drink.

Yan Sishi sat at the bar counter and finished an entire glass of ice-cold whisky.

Still, the noise of the birthday banquet seemed to echo in his ears. He felt as though the cloying smell of all that alcohol had somehow seeped into his skin.

He took out his phone. The bar wasn’t far from Lüshuangzhai — he had half a thought to message Wen Shubai to come over for a drink.

But for some reason, as the message was about to send, the impulse deflated. He deleted it and closed out of WeChat.

He sat still for a moment, then opened his phone’s contact list.

Xia Li, for once not working late, was at home with Xu Ning — they’d settled under the air conditioning and were watching a variety show, while Xu Ning entertained her with firsthand gossip from the entertainment industry, now that she worked as a screenwriter.

Her phone rang.

She looked at the name on the screen, dropped the half-finished handful of cherries she’d been eating, and got up and headed to her room.

Xu Ning laughed. “I could tell who it was just from how you reacted.”

Xia Li pulled the door shut and answered.

That voice — always clear and clean — carried a faint edge of roughness now. He asked her directly: “Are you working?”

“No. Watching something at home.”

“Do you have time to come out for a drink?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

Xia Li took the phone away from her ear and checked the time. “If it’s far away…”

A brief silence on the other end.

Then she thought she caught a very quiet exhale. That voice said: “It is a bit far. Never mind… I’m sorry.”

Xia Li looked out the window. The Beicheng night skyline had its own kind of glittering, flowing energy.

It wasn’t too late yet.

She couldn’t turn away a voice that had, just then, sounded two notes lower than usual.

So she said: “Then you’ll need to call me a car.”

Going out on short notice, Xia Li didn’t have time to put on any makeup. She just changed her clothes, grabbed a small bag with her phone and keys, and headed out.

As she came out of the bedroom, Xu Ning glanced at her from the couch. “Going out?”

“Yes.”

“When will you be back?”

“Not sure. If it’s late, don’t wait up — just go to sleep.”

Xu Ning, who made every effort to avoid going out if she could help it, maintained her entire social life through her phone. She found it genuinely hard to comprehend what kind of force could drag someone out of the house at this hour, when lying around at home doing nothing was so clearly the better option.

Xia Li waited downstairs for only a little while before the car Yan Sishi had called arrived.

It really was quite far — nearly forty minutes to get there.

The driver followed the navigation and stopped. Xia Li stepped out and could only see the paper lantern on the ground — she couldn’t find the entrance to the bar.

She sent Yan Sishi a WeChat message saying she couldn’t find the place.

Yan Sishi told her to stay where she was.

It was mid-June. Standing in the evening breeze for even a short while, a thin layer of perspiration had already risen on her back.

Xia Li looked around. She heard footsteps, and turned.

That was when she realized there was a narrow alley in the darkness — and Yan Sishi was walking out of it toward her.

She quickened her pace to meet him. When she reached him, she caught a faint trace of alcohol.

The shirt he was wearing had a noticeably more formal cut than what he usually wore — and yet the way he looked just now, in it, had a quality of something languid and graceful giving way — carved jade beginning to tilt.

They walked inside together.

In the depths of the narrow, dark alley, only the faint glow of the bar’s signage offered any light.

Xia Li heard Yan Sishi say, “Traffic was bad?”

“A little.”

“It took so long.” Because he was walking, his voice seemed to rise and settle faintly, like fog drifting. “…I thought you weren’t coming.”

Xia Li’s heart gave a quiet, unsteady flutter.

Those words, for no particular reason, left her chest faintly, quietly flooded.