Midsummer. The heat was suffocating, and the cicadas called with listless effort.

Big Liu and Shen Mu flew to Lushan to visit Lin Luxiao. Their plane landed at Anjiang Airport at eight in the morning.

Outside the airport, the streets were smooth and sunlit, the grass a bright, vivid green. Travelers dragged their luggage past in a hurried stream.

Big Liu took off his sunglasses and scanned the passers-by. His gaze snagged on a long-legged beauty. “Amu, there’s a looker.”

Shen Mu didn’t bother responding. He reached out, hooked his arm, and pulled him along. “Come on, Luxiao’s already at the entrance.”

Lin Luxiao was waiting outside the terminal building. As soon as the two walked out, they spotted a black jeep-style vehicle parked at the edge of the road.

The man inside was sitting in the driver’s seat, window half-open, head bowed over his phone.

Shen Mu dragged Big Liu over and stood beside the car window. Lin Luxiao must have sensed the shadows falling over him, because he looked up. Shen Mu rested a hand on the roof of the car and smiled. Big Liu bellowed: “Xiao — bro!!”

Lin Luxiao remained as expressionless as ever. He curved the corners of his mouth slightly, tossed his phone onto the dashboard, gripped the steering wheel, and tilted his head to indicate they should get in.

Shen Mu took the front passenger seat.

Big Liu settled into the back and began examining the vehicle — a BAIC BJ40, with a full configuration coming in just under 120,000 yuan. “I’ll be honest, ditch that Highlander and get this kind of vehicle instead — it suits you. Though you could also go for a Jeep Wrangler. Now that’s a good-looking car. I saw someone drive one out the other day to pick up girls and it looked incredible.”

Lin Luxiao started the car, dismissing the idea with a slight twist of his mouth. “Don’t encourage such extravagance.”

Shen Mu asked, “Whose car is this?”

Lin Luxiao glanced in the rearview mirror, adjusting the wheel at a leisurely pace. “One of the younger guys from the unit.”

Shen Mu: “I told you not to bother coming to pick us up — and you borrowed someone else’s car for it?”

At the word “borrowed,” Big Liu also stared at Lin Luxiao in mild surprise. Now that he thought about it — Lin Luxiao rarely borrowed things from people. It was probably just his personality; he had always disliked asking for anything. He remembered once as a child, playing at Big Liu’s house — it was deep winter, a group of kids roasting a fire in the back courtyard, and they accidentally burned Lin Luxiao’s jacket where he’d set it aside. With temperatures dropping below negative ten degrees Celsius, he was left wearing nothing but a thin shirt and shivering. Big Liu offered to lend him a piece of clothing.

He absolutely refused.

By the next day he had come down with a cold from the exposure. That was the first illness Lin Luxiao could remember — as a child his body developed quickly, and minor ailments usually passed if he just endured them, but that fever burned for a full four days without breaking. And after that, he was never seen borrowing anything from anyone again.

From that point on, the brothers all understood: this person had far too much pride.

Though this car didn’t exactly count as borrowing.

Zhao Guo had heard that he’d taken leave to spend a day in the city, and had specifically handed over the car keys and asked him to use his own vehicle — and to drop off some things at his elderly mother’s place in Anjiang while he was at it.

Big Liu shook his head with a laugh. “Look at you, you’re something else. A few months in and you’ve already got a little fanclub? Running the place like a mountain king?”

Lin Luxiao stopped at a red light and let out a quiet laugh. “Knock it off.”

Five seconds later.

The car pulled back into traffic. Lin Luxiao made a turn, and they went first to Zhao Guo’s mother’s house to drop off the things.

Zhao Guo’s father had died when he was young; his mother had raised him single-handedly. He’d done poorly on his university entrance exams and afterward enlisted in the fire service. Now his mother was the only one left at home, working at a small factory workshop — she received Lin Luxiao warmly when he arrived.

Lin Luxiao handed over Zhao Guo’s package. It was an enormous bundle.

Zhao’s mother took it and enthusiastically invited them in for a meal. Lin Luxiao declined politely and said his farewells.

Zhao’s mother called after him: “Is Ah Guo behaving himself back at the unit?”

Lin Luxiao paused. “He’s doing well. Please don’t worry.”

“Your accent — you’re not from around here, are you?” Zhao’s mother was sharp-eyed.

Lin Luxiao nodded. “That’s right.”

“Where’s home?”

“Northern Xun.”

“Up north — that’s quite far away. What brought you all the way out here? You must miss home terribly?”

Lin Luxiao’s back was tall and straight as he stood in the light. Zhao’s mother’s eyes weren’t very good, and she squinted slightly, but even so she could make out the quiet that had fallen over this man before her.

Did he miss home?

It was all right, he supposed.

Did he miss her?

Also all right, he supposed.

In the end, Zhao’s mother said: “All right, I won’t keep you. Stay safe out there, both of you. You work hard.”

Lin Luxiao said his farewell with a polite nod.

As he turned to leave, an old man who happened to be passing by glanced their way and called out loudly: “Hey — old auntie! Your boy came to see you?”

Zhao’s mother laughed and explained: “My boy doesn’t look nearly this handsome — this is his unit comrade, delivering something for him. Come back another time and let my Zhao Guo visit you — save you from guessing wrong again.”

The old man pushed up his thick-framed glasses and peered more closely. He supposed they were right. “Fair enough, fair enough. This young man is a fine-looking lad. That Zhao Guo of yours is so dark.”

So he’d said.

But the moment Zhao’s mother heard someone call her son dark, she couldn’t help but push back: “My Zhao Guo is not dark — he’s healthy! You don’t know what you’re talking about, so stop making things up.”

Lin Luxiao heard every word.

As he walked back to the car, he bowed his head in quiet, helpless amusement.

In his memory, his own mother was poised and dignified, never one to argue with anyone. When he was small and people scolded him, she had never once spoken a word in his defense — she was, in the eyes of the world, a virtuous and gentle woman, soft-spoken and understanding.

Not like a mother, though.

And yet the world was full of mothers like Zhao’s — the kind who said one thing and meant another with their whole hearts.

The three of them hadn’t seen each other in a long time.

They found a restaurant and sat down to eat. Anjiang wasn’t a large place — driving for half an hour could probably take you all the way around the city center.

Lin Luxiao parked the car and walked in to find Shen Mu and Big Liu already drumming the table, waiting for him.

He walked over, pulled out a stool, and sat down. “What are we having?”

Shen Mu: “Anything.”

Big Liu: “Do they have abalone here?”

Lin Luxiao sat back in his chair, head tilted down over the menu. “You want to choke to death?”

Shen Mu nudged Big Liu. “Show some restraint for Luxiao’s sake, would you? The man hasn’t even found himself a wife yet.”

Big Liu looked sheepish and said meekly: “Fine. Braised pork knuckle, then.”

Lin Luxiao looked at him, and laughed — he thought the man looked positively ridiculous.

After ordering, the three of them lounged back in their chairs and chatted.

“How’s it going? All right? Not suffering too much?”

Lin Luxiao smiled. “It’s all right.”

Suffering? Not really. Compared to military academy, this barely counted as hardship — the living conditions were a bit rougher, perhaps, and because they were in a mountainous area, hot water wasn’t always available on time. Sometimes after winter training or coming back from a call-out, there was no hot water for bathing, and a cold pour over the head was just how it went.

But it had corrected a good number of bad habits.

He had even cut back on smoking — he wasn’t as heavy a smoker as before. In situations like this, he mostly just stepped outside to the front to smoke. Nowadays he could get through a whole day without touching a single cigarette.

When he really wanted one, he’d crouch down at the base of a flower bed outside the building and sneak a quick one.

Most of the time, he didn’t think about Nan Chu at all.

Even when he happened to catch news about some actor or other, he still didn’t think about Nan Chu.

Only when he smoked.

The moment the flame flared crimson and the tobacco touched his lips — the moment the nicotine hit his brain and his throat moved slowly, smoke and warmth flowing down through his chest —

That was the moment her face appeared, with absolute clarity.

He’d crouch there on the ground with his head tilted back, slowly blowing smoke rings, eyes half-narrowed.

Sometimes he was alone; sometimes Zhao Guo was with him. Zhao Guo was a talker, and couldn’t help but start up a conversation. “Luxiao, have you ever had a woman?”

Somehow.

The whole unit was endlessly curious about his romantic history. Aside from the commander and the head instructor, the pack of young men couldn’t get enough of questions like this.

Lin Luxiao would give Zhao Guo a sidelong look, take another drag of his cigarette, and then, along with the exhaled smoke, say evenly: “Yes.”

Yes.

Zhao Guo — perpetually single — asked eagerly, “And now?”

“No.”

Zhao Guo gave a drawn-out sigh of regret. “Still, someone like you shouldn’t have any trouble finding a girlfriend. As for me, I’ve been single since the day I was born — not a single girlfriend to this day. Back in school, there was a girl I liked, but I didn’t get into university and she didn’t think much of me — she left with someone who did. Since enlisting, all I’ve been around is other men. Sometimes when I’m lying in bed at night I think — if I were to die in the line of duty someday—”

He seemed to realize that was not a good thought to finish, and changed course, murmuring: “Well. At least I won’t be leaving anyone behind.”

Lin Luxiao stood, stubbed out his cigarette, and pushed a hand through Zhao Guo’s hair. “Nonsense. By that logic, no soldier could ever get married. Women can be unreasonable sometimes, sure — but honestly, having a family, the feeling is different.”

Zhao Guo perked up like he’d caught a piece of gossip. “Did your girlfriend give you unreasonable grief?”

Lin Luxiao thought for a moment. The only thing that came to mind was that slap in the morning — when her morning temper flared, she wouldn’t recognize anyone in the world, and whatever was nearest to hand would come flying at you.

“On occasion.”

“She must be very beautiful.”

Night, wind rising, trees swaying, leaves rustling.

He admitted it freely: “Yeah. She really is.”

It was probably Nan Chu who had recalibrated his sense of what beauty meant. He had never had much of a benchmark for women — few caught his eye. But Nan Chu — the longer he looked at her, the more beautiful she became.

Zhao Guo had thought at the time: she probably wasn’t all that extraordinary, was she? For an ordinary person, no matter how beautiful, could they rival a celebrity?

It must be the beauty that exists in the eye of the beholder.

A television set in the restaurant was playing a Mid-Autumn Festival gala on some provincial channel. A music group suddenly burst onto the stage, and with a familiar opening melody, Big Liu turned to look — and was immediately caught by Xu Zhiyi’s rhythmic, energetic dance moves.

Lin Luxiao spotted what was happening. He tilted his head and pointed upward. “You two?”

Big Liu bowed his head and said evasively: “We broke up.”

Lin Luxiao glanced at him but said nothing.

Big Liu and Shen Mu exchanged a look. Then, haltingly, Big Liu said: “Luxiao, there’s something I have to tell you. Don’t get angry—”

Lin Luxiao turned his cup in his hands. “Go on.”

He bit his lip. Released it. Bit it again. Big Liu couldn’t work himself up to it. Shen Mu pressed him: “All right, just say it.”

Big Liu steeled himself. “You and Nan Chu… it was that girl who tipped off the media.”

Lin Luxiao’s head snapped up and he fixed Big Liu with a hard stare. The dark gaze made Big Liu’s stomach clench — but he steadied himself and told the whole story plainly.

“Not long after you left, I had Amu look into it. He traced the tip to a marketing account leak, and the burner account used turned out to be one I had set up ages ago and abandoned, which I assumed had been compromised. At first she denied it, but after I pressed her every day, she finally admitted the truth and came clean with me.”

That was Christmas Eve — there had been a heavy snowfall that day.

When Xu Zhiyi came clean to him, her expression was ice-cold. Big Liu felt like he didn’t even recognize the girl in front of him. Hearing it all, he was furious and panicked — he lost control, and his hand swung out in a slap.

He would never forget the scene of Lin Luxiao leaving that day.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you do this?! Do you know what you drove my brother into?! You drove him all the way to some mountain valley in the middle of nowhere!”

Xu Zhiyi’s head turned to the side from the impact. She replied with cold indifference: “Because I couldn’t stand her.”

What she felt far more was guilt — but she couldn’t say so. Nan Chu had taken her role, and she hadn’t been that angry about it; these things came down to ability. She had assumed that Nan Chu was the same as her — that even with Lin Luxiao, she would still need to sleep her way to opportunities when it came to it. Then, at the banquet hall, Nan Chu had caught her in the company of a certain powerful figure. She had also overheard people saying that Jiang Er had taken resources from her — but as it turned out, Jiang Ge had absolutely nothing to do with her personally, and was simply fond of her and wanted to promote her career.

Jealousy and resentment had burned inside her.

Big Liu crouched down, burying his face in his hands in anguish. “How am I supposed to face my brother?”

And at that moment, he had another shameful thought: maybe he should bring Xu Zhiyi and go apologize to Luxiao and Nan Chu. If Luxiao didn’t forgive him, he would consider this debt owed to them both — he would spend the rest of his life repaying it however they asked.

But she had torn off all pretense and had no intention of staying with him.

Big Liu had refused to break up at the time — in the end it was Shen Mu who showed him a photo of her with that powerful figure, finally making him give up for good.

In the time since, Xu Zhiyi had gained a small burst of fame. Her projects were better than before, she appeared on programs more frequently. Big Liu would catch glimpses of her occasionally, and laughed at himself quietly.

She was no longer the straightforward girl she had once been. Now her eyes were full of nothing but hunger for wealth and fame.

Lin Luxiao listened to it all, turning his cup in his hands and drinking in silence.

“Luxiao, this one’s on me for being blind. I owe you and Nan Chu — just say the word and I’ll do whatever you need.”

Lin Luxiao finally lost patience. “All right, enough. It’s in the past.”

Big Liu muttered: “Women are nothing but trouble.”

“That I agree with.” Shen Mu laughed and draped an arm around Big Liu’s shoulder. “Listen, here’s a plan for you. Buy a Rolls-Royce, get yourself a senior colleague or junior from the same company, and park outside her agency every day. That’ll put this whole thing to rest.”

Big Liu scoffed: “Are you serious? If I had that kind of money I’d donate it to the left-behind children in the mountains — at least that way I’d be making a genuine contribution to the nation’s charitable causes.”

Shen Mu laughed loudly. “Look at you — so civic-minded, young man.”

“Get out of here — I’m nowhere near as rich as you.”

The two bickered on.

Lin Luxiao laughed along appropriately, then lowered his head and reached for his cigarette case, knocked one out, but didn’t light it — just turned it between his fingers.

The two stopped and looked at Lin Luxiao.

A brief silence.

Shen Mu cleared his throat. “Luxiao.”

“Yeah?” he said quietly.

“Nan Chu is back in the country.”

The movement of his hand paused for a moment. Then came a quiet: “Oh.”

Shen Mu: “A while ago I saw her at a charity event — she was a volunteer.”

“What did you say to her?”

Shen Mu and Big Liu exchanged a glance, and neither said anything further.

You probably don’t know this — she joined a firefighting volunteer team. When the earthquake hit in Shanbe a while back, she went to the rescue site and worked the logistics.

That girl is doing genuinely well now. She parted ways with her old agency — Nan Yueru personally found a new team to handle her. The team is sharp, knows how to work things, knows how to do PR.

Her social media presence is nothing like the mess it was. The critics are still out there, plenty of them — but at least now the people who genuinely like her are there too.

She’s also learned to laugh at herself.

She handles interviewers with an airy deflection during press junkets — Shen Mu always felt like something about Nan Chu had changed from before, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

Lin Luxiao didn’t want to hear it.

Shen Mu said no more, and turned to other, lighter topics.

The sun slipped toward the horizon.

Lin Luxiao got the two of them settled and then drove back.

Along the way, a phone call came in.

It was Yang Zhidao — the head instructor. His voice was weighted with suppressed feeling. “Luxiao — if you have a moment, come back.”

Lin Luxiao had a bad feeling immediately. “What happened?”

Yang Zhenggang hadn’t wanted to make this call. He knew it wasn’t easy for him to get leave, and yet in the end he hadn’t been able to hold himself back.

“Xiao Jiu… has died in the line of duty.”