Lin Luxiao looked down.

She was right.

White T-shirt, black trousers. Nan Chu had her duck-bill cap on, half her face tucked beneath the brim, but it couldn’t hide the upturned corner of her mouth.

The girl was wearing short trousers, her long straight legs bare and pale beside him. Lin Luxiao drew his gaze back, light and unhurried.

She really had grown up.

“Hm.”

Beneath the flowing music, if you weren’t listening carefully, you’d have no idea that sound had been uttered at all — barely more than a breath, a single syllable that might not have existed.

Nan Chu seemed to take it as encouragement.

The person beside her sat with a cool, impassive expression.

Nan Chu began studying him without any pretense of discretion.

His hair was short and black — always that same regulation cut, stiff as needles. Pupils of ordinary size, dark irises, eye corners turned slightly upward as if he were always about to smile, a strong nose, a jaw pulled tight.

He sat in the audience without expression and without a word.

The music hall was dimly lit, but from time to time the spotlight from the stage swept across the seats.

A flicker of brightness, then dark again.

When the beam swept over him, his whole figure was illuminated — the black hair caught pale light, and for a moment you could count every eyelash.

In the dark, only his angular profile could be made out.

This man — every inch of him carried an iron-hard edge. You’d never be able to imagine what he looked like in the moment he fell for a woman.

“Stop staring at me.”

Lin Luxiao looked straight ahead and asked, flat-voiced.

“You’re nice to look at.”

Nan Chu tilted her head toward him and said it without a trace of self-consciousness.

“Something wrong with you.” Lin Luxiao let out a quiet, disparaging sound.

Nan Chu leaned back in her chair, quietly amused, glancing at him now and then. Then she called to him softly: “Hey.”

Lin Luxiao finally looked at her.

Nan Chu pointed her gaze toward the stage and asked, just above a whisper: “What’s your connection to that kid?”

Kid? Lin Luxiao raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice: “You’re not that much older than him, you know.”

Nan Chu frowned with great seriousness. “A lot older.”

Lin Luxiao gave a short, derisive laugh, picked up the water bottle beside him, unscrewed the cap and took a drink, then turned the question back on her: “What does it look like to you?” He screwed the cap back on.

Nan Chu kept her eyes on his moving throat, the tip of that distinct protrusion, and said in feigned astonishment: “Surely that’s not your son?”

Lin Luxiao looked at her sideways. “I seem to remember your head being fairly normal before.”

Right where she wanted him.

Nan Chu took the opening. “Why did you move away afterward?”

Lin Luxiao leaned in his seat and looked at her without expression.

“Mm?”

Back then, after weighing the matter carefully, Lin Luxiao had taken Nan Chu home with him.

He had her stay at his apartment while he returned to the station. Half a month later, when his first leave came around, he’d completely forgotten there was a girl at his place. That stretch had included a surveillance plane fire on the 18th that required an emergency landing; the local military police, firefighters, medics, and rapid response teams had all been mobilized overnight to the forced landing site. The fire had roared skyward and the situation was desperate. By the time the rescue operation was over, every single one of them looked like they’d been dug out of a coal mine.

Lin Luxiao got back to the apartment in the middle of the night and walked straight into the bathroom to shower. When he came out, there was just a towel wrapped around his waist, a hand towel in his hand drying his hair as he walked toward the bed — and the moment he sat down, he knew something was off.

There was something soft in the bedding.

He turned his head on instinct. A pair of small soft hands gripped the edge of the blanket, and above them peeked a fuzzy head — two clear, innocent eyes staring right at him.

By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late.

The girl said in a small, soft voice: “You’re sitting on my foot.”

She was young, but it was all there.

Lin Luxiao was an entirely normal man. The moment he caught himself entertaining a thought that was not quite pure, he bolted off the bed — the movement must have been too sudden, because the towel around his waist came loose and dropped onto the mattress.

Underneath he was wearing nothing but a pair of dark boxer shorts.

Nan Chu blinked, straining to look — just as the blanket was snatched up and thrown over her face, plunging everything into total darkness.

Lin Luxiao grabbed a T-shirt and a large pair of shorts from the cabinet, turned his back to her, and dressed while addressing the lump under the blanket in a measured, rigid tone: “If you’re not sleeping, give the bed back to me.”

Then came the sound of the door closing. Only then did Nan Chu obediently close her eyes.

And just like that, she stayed for over a month, without any great incident.

Until Nan Chu met Lin Luxiao’s girlfriend at the time.

One day Lin Luxiao had just returned from the station on leave, and barely a moment later, someone knocked hard at the door.

Nan Chu was on her way over with a bag of chips to answer it.

She pulled open the door to find a girl whose expression shifted briefly before she arranged it into a smile. Warmly, she asked: “Is Lin Luxiao home?”

Nan Chu popped a chip into her mouth and nodded. Then Lin Luxiao came out of the bathroom — still damp — and the girl’s expression changed again. Nan Chu had been perceptive from childhood, always sharp about small details. She immediately explained: “I’m his distant younger cousin. I’m staying here temporarily.”

She was still young at the time.

The girl decided Lin Luxiao probably wasn’t the type to sink that low — a high school girl would be too much even for him.

So the worry she’d been carrying settled back into her chest, though her gaze lingered on Nan Chu for a moment longer, not entirely without suspicion.

Dinner that evening was warm and pleasant all around.

When the girl was leaving, she was especially warm toward Nan Chu: “Next time, let your sister-in-law take you shopping.”

Nan Chu nodded sweetly.

That same night, Nan Chu received a call from Nan Yueru’s assistant, telling her that her mother would be back in the country the next day.

Nan Chu packed her things that very night and moved out of Lin Luxiao’s apartment. Lin Luxiao drove her to a hotel near the airport so she’d be close for her mother’s arrival the following morning.

Lin Luxiao drove in silence. He was never one for many words, and when he was in a bad mood it was obvious.

That evening, Lin Luxiao’s mood was perhaps truly not great.

But what made it even worse came right at the end. When she was about to get out, Nan Chu handed him a thick stack of banknotes she’d prepared in advance and said: “Like we agreed — this month’s rent.”

The car window was rolled down. Night wind rushed through.

Lin Luxiao sat with one arm on the door frame, smoking. He squinted, pulling drag after drag, the smoke dispersing slowly — but he didn’t reach for the money.

Then Nan Chu set the money on the passenger seat and got out of the car.

She stood by the window and waved. “Commander Lin, thank you for everything!”

She turned and walked away without looking back.

She left decisively. So decisively that Lin Luxiao sat in the car through two full cigarettes before he came back to himself. He picked up the money from the passenger seat, got out of the car — and dropped it in the trash can.

He took two steps back.

Stopped. Ran a hand through his hair. Then turned around, retrieved the money from the trash, threw it back in the car, got in, and drove away.

The mood that night had been thoroughly and completely ruined.

He didn’t think he had any kind of feeling for that girl.

Half-grown kid. Barely fledged. What kind of ridiculous thoughts could anyone have about a child like that?

The music filled the hall. Lin Qi played with his eyes closed, utterly absorbed.

Light shifted across the stage — bright, then dark.

Nan Chu looked at the person beside her and leaned close to his ear: “I went to the station to find you afterward.”

Lin Luxiao turned his head.

“The sentry said you’d been transferred to another county.”

He looked back to the front, and gave a quiet acknowledgment.

Nan Chu tilted her head. “Have you been transferred back now, or are you still on assignment here?”

“Wherever the organization sends me.”

“Oh.” Nan Chu nodded and pointed ahead. “Let’s watch the music then.”

After that, neither of them said another word.

Until the recital ended.

The audience trickled out. The vast music hall emptied until only Nan Chu and Lin Luxiao remained seated in the audience area.

Lin Qi finished discussing something with the crew about the instruments, then leaped down from the stage and came bounding over toward the seats.

Seeing them sitting together gave him a start. “How did you two end up sitting next to each other?”

Nan Chu said: “I came late and just grabbed the nearest seat.”

Lin Qi nodded — the boy was guileless and wonderfully simple-minded. He pointed to Lin Luxiao sitting there with his characteristic quiet composure, then said to him: “That’s my brother.” Then he pointed at Nan Chu and announced: “And this beautiful lady here is a model — Nan Chu.”

Nan Chu performed a look of great surprise, turning to Lin Luxiao as if seeing him for the first time. “I had no idea. My deepest apologies.”

Lin Luxiao didn’t take the bait. He gave a dismissive glance.

Lin Qi was indeed a guileless creature — he noticed nothing at all — and even rushed to smooth things over on his brother’s behalf: “My brother is just like this, terrible temper, don’t take it personally.”

Nan Chu smiled lightly. “How could I—”

“Let’s go, Wan-jie should be here by now.”

Lin Qi said it first and walked ahead.

All three headed downstairs. Lin Qi and Nan Chu walked in front, Lin Luxiao with both hands in his pockets, unhurried, trailing behind.

Stepping out of the theater, there happened to be a white Audi pulling up across the road.

Lin Qi spotted it first, sharp-eyed as ever. He pointed it out to Nan Chu: “That girl there is Xia Wan. She’s a doctor.”

If she were his girlfriend, Lin Qi would have introduced her differently — that’s my sister-in-law.

So just an ordinary friend, then.

Nan Chu looked ahead — a girl in a pale yellow dress, the hem of her skirt catching the air as she walked. A familiar pair of heels.

It was the same distinctive click she’d heard that night at the hospital.

Xia Wan was carrying a box. She pushed her hair out of her face, still slightly out of breath: “I just ran to get the cake, otherwise I could have made it back in time for your last piece…”

The sentence cut off as Nan Chu, standing beside Lin Qi, made a small surprised sound.

Lin Qi quickly took the cake from Xia Wan and told her: “This is a friend I met in Milan — Nan Chu.”

Xia Wan studied her for a moment, then smiled openly: “I recognize you — you’re even prettier than on TV. And your figure is incredible.”

The kind of compliment women offer each other in passing.

Nan Chu was about to say thank you, you’re beautiful too.

But Lin Qi grabbed her and dragged her off first: “Never mind the pleasantries — I haven’t had dinner, I’m starving!”

Lin Qi was short, but stronger than Nan Chu. He yanked her hard enough that she stumbled, and out of the corner of her eye she caught Xia Wan in her little dress falling into step with the two men behind them.

The four of them, two pairs — front and back.

Nan Chu let herself be pulled forward by Lin Qi, but her attention stayed on what was behind her.

The moon hung as a narrow hook and poured out pale grey light.

Shadows stretched long.

Wind in her ears.

Xia Wan moved up beside Lin Luxiao. “You’re off early today?”

“Leave.” The wind swallowed his voice; it came out unusually unhurried.

Lin Qi walked two steps, turned and found Nan Chu hadn’t kept pace. He tugged. “Your legs are this long and you walk this slowly?”

Nan Chu ignored him and ambled along at her own pace.

Behind them came: “A doctor at our department got hit by a patient’s family member today. I was standing right there — nearly scared me half to death.”

Xia Wan was like a golden oriole — she always had more to say, and danger always seemed to find her and brush close past.

And the man beside her could never quite catch what mattered.

For example —

Xia Wan said: “I was taking my medication today and saw a news article. Do you want to hear it?”

Lin Luxiao: “What article?”

Xia Wan: “About a girl who went missing while out running at night. I’m almost too scared to go night running now. Maybe next time, I could ask you to come with me?”

Lin Luxiao: “I never go night running.”

Xia Wan: “It’s so cold tonight.”

“……” No reaction.

Xia Wan said it again: “Why is it so cold tonight?”

Lin Luxiao: “It’s not cold.”

Lin Qi looked at Nan Chu beside him: “What are you so happy about for no reason?”

“Am I?”

“I can practically see your back teeth!”

“I just think you look surprisingly handsome tonight.”

“You’re insane!” Lin Qi muttered.