Nan Chu came upstairs carrying her bag. Xi Gu was in the middle of being lectured by Shen Guanzong.

Shen Guanzong stood with both hands on his hips, spitting as he ranted. Across from him, Xi Gu had her head pulled down into her shoulders.

“You let her go out in the dead of night?! Have I not warned you to keep an eye on her?! She says she wants to go out and that’s it? What if she goes out and causes trouble — who’s going to clean it up? Or what if something happens and CEO Han asks you about it — how are you going to explain that to him? Have I or have I not told you her mental state isn’t great? If she has an episode out on the street and the police take her in, who’s going to shoot the magazine spread tomorrow?!”

Xi Gu hung her head low and tucked in her neck. “The doctor said it’s mild depression, not… not a mental illness.”

Shen Guanzong knew that perfectly well, which only made him angrier. He jabbed a finger at Xi Gu’s forehead, one poke after another. “Is your brain just decorative?! I just realized your brain has even lower resolution than the pixel count on your face! Do you know or do you not know that she used to…”

“Shen Jingbing——”

Before entering the industry, Shen Guanzong’s real name had been Shen Jingbing. After he changed his stage name, no one ever called him that anymore — except Nan Chu, who used it when she was really furious. Sure enough, when he turned around, he saw the girl leaning against the doorframe in that bewitching, sensual way of hers, expression coolly indifferent, arms crossed over her chest, handbag hanging from her wrist.

He had been about to unleash another round of scolding when he watched her stroll in lazily — that figure of hers, soft at the waist, slender at the thigh, genuinely captivating.

Shen Guanzong, being a man after all, found himself staring. He faked a cough to cover it, then went back to glowering. “Where did you go dressed like that in the middle of the night?!”

Nan Chu walked in, tossed her bag onto the sofa, grabbed Xi Gu by the arm, and sat herself down in front of the mirror. Looking at Shen Guanzong’s reflection, she said, “Is it not okay to go out and find something to eat when you’re hungry?”

Nan Chu had a particular habit — she loved mirrors. In the living room alone there were two: a vanity mirror and a full-length mirror. Both had been custom-ordered by her, sized to fit perfectly.

The woman in the mirror began unhurriedly removing her makeup. Shen Guanzong watched her utterly unbothered attitude, and his nameless fury flared up again. “CEO Han said you should spend this stretch of time properly rehearsing your lines. Stop wandering outside whenever you feel like it. Pack up and get to bed soon — tomorrow CEO Han is flying to Italy with us!”

……

Early the next morning, Han Beiyao’s car was already waiting downstairs.

The moment the car door was pulled open, the pampered second-generation heir was predictably there, feet propped up on the seat, scrolling through WeChat behind his sunglasses. Hearing movement, he looked over, pushed his shades down his nose, and squinted at the two young women standing outside the car.

This was Xi Gu’s second time meeting Han Beiyao. The first had been at her job interview, when Han Beiyao was sprawled in his executive chair with his legs crossed and asked her to demonstrate lifting two suitcases at once. Once she finished, he pointed a long finger at her: “That one.” Then waved his hand and told her to show up for work the next day.

Nan Chu plucked his sunglasses off him and ducked into the car.

Han Beiyao whistled at her. “Even prettier.”

“Can’t say the same for you.”

“……” Han Beiyao’s face instantly darkened. He wanted to strangle her. “Is that any way to talk to your boss?”

Xi Gu finished loading the luggage and moved to get in. Han Beiyao glanced at her, thought for a long while and couldn’t recall her name, then gave up. Xi Gu ducked her head and quickly settled in beside Nan Chu.

Han Beiyao had studied design and had invested in a number of major fashion labels — including the Italian brand Nan Chu was visiting this time, which was largely thanks to his connections. But undeniably, Nan Chu was a good model. She had excellent camera presence, could nail all kinds of expressions, and even the notoriously demanding and eccentric photographer Jessica — who was forever complaining that models were either too chubby for the lens or lacking curves or couldn’t land the right expression — had praised Nan Chu for her high aptitude. Give her the slightest nudge and she understood exactly what feeling was wanted, delivering results that were precisely what he had in mind.

She could also effortlessly handle all kinds of styles. When she was sultry, that gaze of hers was more mesmerizing than a cat’s; when she was innocent, she looked as pure as a little white rabbit. She was a world above the model the company had assigned before — that one always wore the same expression in every shot, and whenever she was asked to add a hint of seduction, the contrived, over-the-top result made you want to hit her with a reflector board.

That day, Jessica sent her a sample shot — one taken on the beach that time in a new bikini style, with a white sheer cover-up draped over it. Her hair and skin were both drenched, as though she’d just been pulled from the water. Her bangs at the front stuck to her face in damp wisps; the sheer fabric, saturated with water, clung to her body, showing every curve, her long straight legs exposed beneath the hem. Against the golden-glittering sand, under the sunshine, the young woman smiled brightly and prettily, eyes full of light.

Nan Chu took one look and thought it was genuinely good. She forwarded it to Lin Luxiao without a second thought.

Lin Luxiao didn’t see the photo until three days later. He had just come off shift that day, changed out of his uniform, and was driving home from the station. Stopped at a red light at an intersection, he absent-mindedly fished his phone out of his pocket. When he turned it on, a picture message jumped up at him.

His first reaction was that his phone had caught a virus and was showing him adult advertisements.

He looked more carefully and realized the girl seemed somewhat familiar.

Once he recognized who it was, he leaned back in his seat, one hand resting on the window frame, propping his temple up, somewhere between wanting to laugh and not knowing how to react. He nearly missed the green light — it took the driver behind him laying on the horn like a madman before he finally tossed his phone aside and drove on.

Aside from that picture message, needless to say one week later — even a month later — Nan Chu never brought up the subject of a meal together.

That evening, Lin Luxiao called Big Liu to ask where he was. Big Liu and Shen Mu and a few others were out eating, a meatball still being chewed in his mouth, the words coming out muffled: “It’s rare for Brother Xiao to call me first! Me and Brother Mu and a couple of the guys are eating — you coming?”

Lin Luxiao held the phone and gave a low laugh, then asked for the exact address.

By the time he arrived, Big Liu was first to come over, pulling out the chair next to him. “Rare occasion, huh — you off today?”

Lin Luxiao’s gaze swept the table with a scattered expression. Apart from a few unfamiliar faces, most people he knew. Hands in his pockets, he walked over to the only empty chair and sat down — it happened to be the seat of honor at the main table. Big Liu had known he was coming and deliberately saved him a prime spot.

Shen Mu took a drag of his cigarette and asked, “Bad mood?”

Lin Luxiao glanced at him sideways. Of the four brothers, Big Liu was a hothead, Sun Mingyang was simple-minded and muscle-heavy. Only Shen Mu was most like him — at least their mental frequencies were on the same wavelength. Whether the other’s mood was good or bad, one look was all it took to know.

He grabbed a bottle of beer, pressed his thumb against the cap, lined up the bottle mouth against the table edge with one hand, and gave a light knock — it popped open. He poured himself a glass, tipped his head back and drained it, pressed his lips together, and said, “Perfectly fine.”

Some of those present were meeting Lin Luxiao for the first time, but they’d heard Big Liu mention him constantly and held him in considerable awe. One by one they raised their glasses to toast him. Lin Luxiao was unusually agreeable tonight — he accepted every toast and drank them all.

Lin Luxiao had always been somewhat old-fashioned and dominant. Whatever was bothering him, he kept it bottled up inside and never let it show on his face. Even in a bad mood, he could light a cigarette, slouch around, and banter with you like nothing was wrong.

And in all Shen Mu’s years of knowing him, he had never once seen him cry. There was a hardness in his bones.

Growing up, they’d all been wild. Causing trouble in the alleyways was a regular occurrence. Whenever something went wrong, Big Liu and Sun Mingyang would be beaten by their parents until they were wailing and crying and begging for mercy. Only Lin Luxiao — even when his father beat him bad enough to crack a rib — never made a single sound.

He could endure more than anyone.

Shen Mu leaned back in his chair, prayer beads gleaming on his wrist, arms crossed as he watched Lin Luxiao. “You hate this kind of scene more than anyone. Last time you showed up like this, it was the day your dad stood you up. Did your dad stand you up again tonight?”

The summer Lin Luxiao graduated from high school, he got into military academy. When he received his acceptance letter, he happened to see his parents returning from the civil affairs office after filing for divorce. The secretary had parked the car at the mouth of the alleyway; Lin Luxiao’s mother stepped out of the car with red-rimmed eyes.

That evening, his mother packed her things and took Lin Qi away. Before leaving, she said only one thing to Lin Luxiao: “Stay with your father from now on. Call me if anything comes up.” Then she dragged Lin Qi away. Lin Qi was sobbing and wailing, refusing to be separated from him.

That was the first time in his life, from childhood to that moment, that he had felt helpless.

Lin Qingyuan didn’t come home until the following evening, returning from his work unit. Half the house was already empty. He stood at the doorway in a daze for a moment, briefcase in hand, then noticed his eldest son sitting outside on the steps with his head bowed. He furrowed his brow, but ultimately said nothing, took off his coat, and went into his study.

After that, Lin Luxiao left for military academy and didn’t return home once in four years. Upon graduating, he went directly into the fire rescue special operations unit and had been living at the station ever since. The father-son relationship remained cool and distant. That is, until last year’s birthday, when Lin Qingyuan’s secretary called to invite him out for dinner.

He put on his uniform and went to the appointment — only for Lin Qingyuan to go on an urgent business trip at the last moment. The secretary handed him a set of car keys. “This is the birthday gift the director bought for you the year you got into military academy. If he doesn’t give it to you soon, it’ll be years past its prime.”

It wasn’t a fancy car — a modest brand — just a token of good intentions. He brought the car home but never drove it, leaving it in the garage. The car he actually used was one he’d later had Big Liu help him source from an auto shop.

……

These things — besides Shen Mu and the others — not many people knew about.

Shen Mu: “If it’s not your dad, then it’s a woman. Don’t tell me you got played by a girl?”

Lin Luxiao: “Get lost.”

“……”

Lin Luxiao pulled out a cigarette, put it between his lips, leaned back, and reached into his pocket for his lighter. Furrowing his brow, he said, “Just annoyed.”

“Developed feelings?”

Lin Luxiao was just about to light his cigarette. At those words, he paused, glanced at Shen Mu, his eye sockets deep and dark. He tilted his head slightly, touched the flame to the cigarette tip, drew a breath, exhaled a stream of smoke, tossed the lighter onto the table, and laughed dismissively: “Feelings my ass. Get out of here — she’s just some little brat.”

Shen Mu clicked his tongue and shook his head. “That figure is no little brat’s.”

Lin Luxiao shot him a sideways look.

Right at that moment, the phone in Lin Luxiao’s pocket rang.

He pulled it out and looked. A text message was lying there, plain as day.

【+86 135XXXX2345: Captain, dinner tomorrow?】

Lin Luxiao gave a low laugh around his cigarette and replied:

——Not free.