The already small break room suddenly grew dimmer. Jin Chao stood up from his chair and walked to Jiang Mu, then slowly leaned back against the desk, just one step away from her. Jiang Mu looked up at him as he lowered his gaze, his brow bone casting shadows across his face. He picked up a spiral gear from beside him and said, “I hear you’ve been asking San Lai about me. Found out anything interesting?”

Jiang Mu nervously clutched her backpack strap. Lately, whenever she had a chance to be alone with San Lai, she would try to subtly inquire about Jin Chao. But as roundabout as she was, San Lai was even more evasive. Sometimes their verbal tai chi would spiral off into space, leaving her with nothing learned in the end.

Jin Chao held the gear by its center, his other hand giving it a light spin. As it rotated slowly in his hand, he pulled his lips into a slight smirk: “Why are you so eager to know about me?”

Jiang Mu stared at the spinning gear, her voice muffled: “Because… it’s you.”

Jin Chao nodded, his voice carrying a hint of detachment: “That night when I told you to come less often, it seems you didn’t understand.”

Jiang Mu met Jin Chao’s dark, deep eyes. Though they were so close, they felt eternally out of reach.

Her brows furrowed slightly, her dewy face showing a mix of youth and stubborn defiance. Jin Chao continued spinning the gear with one hand, its vibrations creating a subtle sound that accompanied his low, magnetic voice: “You’re well aware now that we have no blood relation. Though I lived with you for a while when you were young, you were just a child then, but now…”

Jin Chao’s gaze swept over her silently, his sharp eyes carrying a light, floating gleam, wrapped in tiny electrical currents hidden in the air.

Jiang Mu had never been scrutinized by Jin Chao like this before, and had never seen this side of him. His whole being exuded a kind of casual indifference, his manner frivolous yet possessing an inexplicable attraction. She felt her nerves suddenly tense up, experiencing an inescapable anxiety.

The gear in Jin Chao’s hand kept spinning as his voice continued to fill the space between them: “Have you ever considered what Jin Qiang would think about you always running here? What others might think? People might assume there’s something between us. I’m a grown man, so it doesn’t matter to me, but what about you?”

Jiang Mu’s heart beat faster and faster. She had never expected Jin Chao to directly address the nature of their relationship, laying their awkward situation bare. She pressed her lips tightly together, her eyes and heart full of embarrassment.

Suddenly, the gear in Jin Chao’s hand stopped. The break room became so quiet they could almost hear each other’s heartbeats. He gradually straightened up, his breathing getting closer until he bent down to trap her in a small space, his burning gaze bearing down on her as he said flippantly: “Or is that what you want? Something between us?”

Jiang Mu’s eyelashes shot up, the light in her eyes trembling. Jin Chao placed his hands on either side of her and leaned down, his features right before her. The curve of his lower eyelid was overwhelmingly striking, piercing through Jiang Mu’s eyes straight into her heart.

Jiang Mu felt as if she were pinned to the wall, unable to move, her palms breaking out in a light sweat.

She stared at Jin Chao’s tightly closed lips, tinged with a faint blood color. It seemed she had never looked at the current him from such proximity before. Jin Chao’s former image was slowly fading from her mind, replaced by this vibrant, tall, captivating man before her.

Seemingly noticing her gaze, his lips curved into a smile, making Jiang Mu’s heart tremble.

…

Little Yang and Iron Rooster didn’t know what Jin Chao and Jiang Mu discussed in the break room, only that ten minutes later, Jiang Mu ran out with a flushed face, fleeing like she was escaping a disaster.

After that day, Jiang Mu didn’t come back for a long time. Jin Chao wouldn’t have said anything harsh to her – giving her the cold shoulder didn’t seem to work on her, but he knew how to make her withdraw on her own, and the effect was obvious.

Recently, Jiang Mu indeed hadn’t dared to go to the auto shop. Whenever she thought of Jin Chao’s burning gaze, she wanted to find a hole to crawl into. Though she desperately wanted to format this scene from her memory, it would appear several times almost every day, whether she was eating, solving problems, or trying to sleep. She would suddenly recall that day’s scene, even seeming to smell the faint mint scent that had been on Jin Chao.

Jiang Mu didn’t know Jin Chao had been chewing gum that day. She just couldn’t understand how someone who did such dirty, tiring work could smell of pleasant mint. Now she couldn’t stand that scent anymore – it made her feel unbearably shy whenever she smelled it.

One day during break, Pan Kai gave her two pieces of gum. She casually popped them in her mouth, but as she chewed, the taste became increasingly familiar until her whole face turned red. Pan Kai asked puzzled: “Jiang Jiang, what’s wrong? Are you running a fever?”

Jiang Mu angrily spat out the gum: “It’s because of your gum.”

Pan Kai even took out the gum box to examine it, muttering, “It’s not expired, I just bought it this morning.”

For the rest of class, the faint sweet mint taste lingered between her teeth, causing Jin Chao’s image to run through her mind the entire period. She felt she might be going crazy – her view of the brother she’d grown up with was no longer pure, and this thought filled her with shame.

San Lai also noticed Jiang Mu hadn’t been around for quite a while. On Friday, he specially sent her a message inviting her to hotpot that evening after school.

Jiang Mu made up an excuse to decline, telling San Lai she wouldn’t come.

San Lai found this unusual and went next door to ask Jin Chao: “What did you say to the girl? Why won’t she come anymore?”

Jin Chao’s arm muscles tensed as he tightened a bolt. Throwing aside the wrench and standing up, he gazed absently at the bus stop across the street: “Mm, I did say something.”

San Lai tossed him some cigarettes: “She’s all alone in Tonggang, with nowhere else to go.”

Jin Chao took the cigarette pack, pulled one out, and threw the pack back. He just held the cigarette without lighting it, his voice deep: “If she starts pulling at the thread of the past, she’ll eventually trace it to what I’m doing now. Her being here is temporary; she can’t get dragged into this. Besides, I’m often not around lately – she’d start getting suspicious.”

San Lai lit his cigarette silently. Jin Chao turned to look at him: “What are you thinking?”

San Lai exhaled smoke and looked back at Jin Chao casually: “What could I be thinking?”

Jin Chao gave him a long look before turning away. San Lai lowered his head with a faint smile.

The moon slowly climbed the starry sky as street lamps flickered on. The night always seemed so long…

Since Jiang Mu stopped going to the auto shop, she spent more time at Jin Qiang’s house. One day when Zhao Meijuan returned from buying groceries, she suddenly asked: “Why don’t you go to Jin Chao’s anymore?”

Jiang Mu awkwardly countered: “Do you think it’s appropriate for me to always go there?”

Zhao Meijuan said bluntly: “It’s not like you’re dating him, what’s inappropriate about it?”

“…” She couldn’t argue with that.

Just when Jiang Mu had been desperately trying to adjust her attitude toward Jin Chao, Zhao Meijuan’s single comment destroyed her composure. That entire evening, the word “dating” floated through her mind, becoming more embarrassing the more she thought about it until she finally went to bed early to escape her thoughts.

One evening not long after, Jiang Mu took her usual bus back to Jin Qiang’s house. Zhao Meijuan had told her in the morning that she would take Jin Xin to the public bathhouse after dinner and asked if she wanted to join. Jiang Mu had firmly declined.

She still couldn’t adapt to their habit of frequently visiting the bathhouse. In her view, being naked around so many people might be acceptable once or twice a year, but being in an environment of mutual nudity year-round would drown her in social death.

Jin Qiang was supposed to work the night shift today, but when Jiang Mu entered, the kitchen light was on and the range hood was humming.

She changed her shoes and called out: “Dad, aren’t you at work?”

No one answered. She put down her backpack and phone curiously and walked toward the kitchen, calling again: “Dad?”

The range hood’s sound stopped. Just as she was about to turn into the kitchen, someone walked out, and Jiang Mu nearly collided with them. She looked up to find Jin Chao’s silhouette suddenly before her. She instinctively stepped back, her face instantly reddening to her neck, pupils dilating.

The reaction was too unusual. Jin Chao raised an eyebrow and asked: “What’s wrong?”

Jiang Mu silently took a deep breath, her voice unnatural: “You’re… making fried rice?”

“Ah, bringing medicine for Xin Xin. The prescription changed this time, and I was worried they might get confused. Called but no one answered.”

Jiang Mu’s gaze drifted to the wok, telling him: “They went to take a bath, and should be back soon.”

She stared at the fried rice because she couldn’t bring herself to meet Jin Chao’s eyes. Though they used to be around each other often without issue, after not seeing each other for a while, suddenly meeting in this narrow hallway with no one else home felt strangely awkward.

Seeing her look at the work, Jin Chao asked: “Want some?”

Jiang Mu’s thoughts were rigid, and before she could answer, the front door opened – Zhao Meijuan and Jin Xin had returned from their bath. Jiang Mu hurriedly replied: “No, thanks.”

Then she grabbed her backpack and returned to her room. She took out her workbooks and spread them on the desk. Soon after, Zhao Meijuan called from outside: “Mu Mu, your phone’s ringing!”

She remembered leaving her phone outside, so she opened the door and went to the shoe rack to get it. Seeing it was Jiang Yinghan calling, she immediately answered and walked toward the kitchen doorway.

Jiang Yinghan asked her a few questions about how she was doing, and if Tonggang was cold, then talked about her situation, saying she and Uncle Chris had booked their flights and would return to China before the New Year.

While talking to her mom, Jiang Mu could occasionally hear Chris’s voice. Jiang Yinghan would ask her to wait, then respond to Chris. It seemed there were others besides Chris nearby. When Jiang Mu asked who else was there, Jiang Yinghan listed several names she’d never heard before.

Though they’d only been apart for a few short months, she suddenly felt her mother was so far away, already having her own life and seeming to adapt quite well. She should be happy for her, but couldn’t hide a trace of dejection in her eyes.

She listened absent-mindedly as Jiang Yinghan introduced her to the schools there, her eyes inadvertently glancing toward the living room. Jin Chao ate very quickly; he’d already finished a plate of fried rice. Sometimes she felt Jin Chao seemed to do everything quickly, as if he divided each day into many segments for different tasks, always racing against time.

Holding her phone, Jiang Mu’s peripheral vision fell on Jin Chao. They hadn’t seen each other for almost half a month. Jin Chao seemed to have gotten a haircut – short and slightly messy, but neat and stylish. Though he dealt with dirty parts and chassis almost every day, when not working he always kept himself very clean. Objectively speaking, Jiang Mu thought Jin Chao must be the looks ceiling of the auto repair industry. Before coming to Tonggang, she probably wouldn’t have noticed any mechanics, but after arriving, she found these mechanically skilled repairmen quite manly. Of course, this dangerous thought stemmed from that person who held pens.

Zhao Meijuan seemed unable to understand the doctor’s note, so Jin Chao found paper and pen to explain while making her a copy. His pen grip hadn’t changed over the years, still so proper and efficient.

Jin Chao collected medicine for Jin Xin every month – partly because it was convenient for him to go to the hospital, and partly because Zhao Meijuan and Jin Qiang couldn’t understand the prescriptions. However, this time he’d brought the medicine a week early because he would be away next week. He always habitually visited Jin Qiang’s house before leaving, making sure everything that needed to be arranged was properly taken care of.

Zhao Meijuan asked: “Why are you getting it so early this month?”

Jin Chao replied while quickly copying the prescription: “I won’t be here next week.”

Zhao Meijuan casually asked: “Where are you going?”

Jin Chao didn’t answer, instead raising his gaze to look at Jiang Mu. Caught off guard by his glance, she felt frozen in place, that immobile feeling from that day returning. She hurriedly returned to her room with her phone.

When Jiang Mu opened her door again after working on problems for a while, Jin Chao had already left. There was a bag hanging on the doorknob – when she took it down and looked inside, she found a large package of beef jerky. Holding the beef jerky, Jiang Mu’s emotions took a long time to settle.