Beixun City, West District No. 2, Special Operations Unit of the Brigade.

Evening, on the drill grounds. The soldiers stood in their camouflage uniforms with immaculate precision — a well-ordered formation of military composure. The red light of dusk fell across their faces, sweat streaming freely.

Lin Luxiao stood with a clipboard tucked under one arm, spine ramrod straight, his gaze sweeping one by one across those rigid, disciplined faces. A thin stream of perspiration ran down his forehead. His voice dropped with sudden gravity: “Attention!”

Every person snapped to a rigid upright stance. No one dared breathe.

“That’s enough for today — dismissed!”

Everyone exhaled with relief and wiped their sweat.

The squad leader led the men toward the canteen for dinner. The instructor came jogging over from a distance, ran up to stop in front of Lin Luxiao, gave a salute, then dropped his hand and said: “Command’s asking you to come up to the brigade headquarters.”

Lin Luxiao gave a short acknowledgment, pulled off his gloves and handed them to the instructor, then turned to head for his vehicle — and was stopped by the instructor’s hand.

The instructor was a perceptive man. The moment that call had come through, the tone of the voice on the other end had been enough to tell him it was good news. He grabbed Lin Luxiao’s arm hoping to give him a few words of guidance, even though he knew full well that this man’s stubborn temperament never took to that kind of thing.

The two walked out together, and as they went down the stairs, the instructor leaned close to Lin Luxiao’s ear, keeping his voice low: “Whatever the leadership says, just agree with it. Whether they’re trying to match you up with someone, or give you a promotion and change your posting — you’re no young man anymore. You need to start thinking about what comes after. Everyone out there is climbing upward, and you’re still just charging straight ahead — what’s the point? Without you, the Special Operations Unit will still be the elite unit it’s always been, winning top honors every year. When they respond to calls, they compete to be the bravest — and they all take after you for that, every single one of them. When all’s said and done, you’ve got to think about yourself too!”

The instructor felt he’d been clear enough. But Lin Luxiao simply looked at him, said nothing, clapped him on the back, and in a few long strides was down the steps and heading toward the vehicle bay.

The instructor watched his retreating figure and let out a long sigh.

Lin Luxiao had just arrived at the brigade headquarters. He didn’t rush upstairs to find the commanding officer — instead, he stood in the passageway and smoked two cigarettes, narrowing his eyes in quiet contemplation, when a light tap landed on his back. He turned around, cigarette still between his fingers, lifted to his lips but not yet drawn from — and found a young woman in military cap and uniform standing behind him, back perfectly straight.

He cast a glance at the newcomer, then turned back around, smoke drifting idly from his mouth.

Lin Mei was not pleased. She crossed around to stand in front of him. “The leadership’s been asking for you and you’re out here brooding over a cigarette?”

Lin Mei was Lin Luxiao’s cousin on his father’s side.

They had both attended the military academy at the same time. After graduation, he had been assigned to the Special Operations Unit, while she was assigned to the brigade’s administrative support division — essentially a desk position. By current rank, Lin Mei was actually a grade above Lin Luxiao.

Lin Luxiao pinched out his cigarette, settled his cap properly on his head, and said to Lin Mei: “I’m going.”

“Your father came looking for me the other day!”

Lin Mei called after his retreating back. Lin Luxiao, without turning around, gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

……

Lin Luxiao knocked and reported his presence. The man inside looked at him. “Come in.”

He entered, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Have a seat.”

The division chief gestured toward the chair in front of the desk.

Lin Luxiao removed his cap, placed it neatly on the table, and pulled out the chair to sit.

The man behind the desk was somewhere between his mid-forties and early fifties — a broad, square face, temples touched with gray, with a particularly sharp and alert pair of eyes. His expression carried a smile as he said: “Luxiao, you’re twenty-nine this year, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

The division chief nodded, and then wasted no further time on preamble. He came straight to the point: “You can’t just keep staying on the front line forever. I’ve already put in a request with the organization — I want to have you transferred to the main brigade. There’s an exam next month. Pass the written portion, and you’ll go on to the interview. Study up in the meantime, and don’t mess this up for me.”

“……”

Lin Luxiao said nothing.

He had graduated from the military academy at twenty-three and gone directly into the Special Operations Unit — one of the very few graduates to be placed directly into Special Operations right out of school. Special Operations was demanding and well-resourced; certain pieces of firefighting equipment that had only just been airlifted in were sent to Special Operations for practical trials before being gradually rolled out to the regular units. Discipline within Special Operations was stricter, and typically its members were handpicked from across the firefighting units — soldiers with strong all-around capabilities recruited into the Special Operations Unit.

Being chosen straight out of the military academy took either being a particular favorite of the leadership, or possessing exceptional ability.

Lin Luxiao was both.

Seeing that he had nothing to say, the division chief rapped the desk. “If you’ve got thoughts, say them!”

What thoughts could Lin Luxiao possibly have? If he tried to refuse the transfer, the division chief would very likely pick up the ashtray on the desk and knock him over the head with it.

There was no such word as “refuse” in a soldier’s vocabulary.

“Yes, sir!”

The division chief waved him off. “Take the next few days to hand off whatever you’re working on to the instructor. Once you’re at the main brigade, that temperament of yours is going to need some adjusting. Tomorrow’s your birthday — twenty-nine years old, and it’s time you found someone to marry. Keep your eyes open. Find someone who can take care of the household.”

With that, he sent him on his way.

Lin Luxiao gave a salute, put his cap back on, and walked out. He was well used to it — every year it was the same speech, going around and around in circles.

He wasn’t on duty tonight, so he drove straight home after leaving the brigade headquarters, without even changing out of his uniform.

This city always got especially lively at night.

The car turned into the residential complex, was parked, and he went upstairs with his keys in hand.

As he was fishing for his keys at the door, he caught a faint, unfamiliar scent of cigarette smoke. Without thinking much of it, he glanced up — and in the opening of the fire escape stairwell stood a slender dark figure.

Nan Chu was leaning against the wall, a cigarette between her fingers, the ember glowing in the dimness, the stairwell wreathed in haze of her making.

She was wearing a low-cut black dress — fitted and flattering, her curves outlined and accentuated. Her fair skin looked even more delicate and luminous against the darkness. The dress was long, reaching exactly to her ankles. Lin Luxiao narrowed his eyes slightly — at her feet was a pool of black, and on it, a pair of gray flats that made the fine bones across the top of her feet stand out.

She was truly very slender.

The stairwell window was half open.

A cross breeze swept in. The black dress was caught by the wind — lifting and swaying, like a drift of dark smoke, billowing against the wall, more beautiful than any painting.

Nan Chu pinched out the cigarette and walked over to him.

“What are you doing here?”

Lin Luxiao unlocked the door, his tone without particular feeling.

“I came to celebrate your birthday, of course.”

Nan Chu stopped at his side. The hem of the dress drifted against his trouser leg, and Lin Luxiao glanced downward — at her slender, fair ankle, where a small black moth perched, its wings forever mid-flutter.

An unusual tattoo.

An unusual woman.

Lin Luxiao dropped his keys on the cabinet and walked inside in his slippers.

Nan Chu stood at the doorway. Something about his entrance jogged a memory — whenever he came in, it was always this: change shoes, drop keys.

She followed him in and pulled the door shut behind her. She looked around for a spare pair of slippers, but there were none to be found. She looked up again — the man had draped his jacket over his arm and disappeared into the bedroom, the military coat folded neatly and hung across the back of the sofa.

“Do you have any spare slippers?!” Nan Chu called toward the interior.

A beat of silence. Then from inside came a languid: “No.”

Not even guest shoe covers. Nan Chu shrugged, slipped off her shoes, and padded inside in bare feet.

Lin Luxiao came out of the bedroom in a clean white T-shirt, still in his military trousers, wearing slippers. He lowered himself onto the couch, propped his elbows on his thighs, reached for the cigarette box on the coffee table, pulled one out, lit it, and sat there smoking.

Nan Chu surveyed the room. The apartment was overall larger than his old one, though his possessions were sparse — probably because he didn’t live here year-round, it had a somewhat uninhabited feel to it.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily.

“This place of yours could use a woman’s presence.”

After ten minutes of quiet observation, Nan Chu delivered her verdict.

Lin Luxiao was caught mid-drag and nearly choked. He flicked her a faint look, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, and then turned his head away to keep smoking without responding.

Nan Chu walked over and stood in front of him.

The two of them faced each other — one standing, one reclining with legs crossed.

The hem of Nan Chu’s dress kept drifting softly, occasionally grazing the top of his foot — a barely-there sensation, just slightly ticklish.

He glanced down with the cigarette held between his fingers.

The young woman stood barefoot, her toes slender and finely shaped, pale as tender lotus shoots. The moth at her ankle was even more visible now, seeming to stir with the swaying of her skirt.

“What do you think of me?”

Lin Luxiao raised his head and met a pair of perfectly round eyes looking back at him.

Pupils darker than ink, with a faint watery gleam.

He lowered his gaze and let his eyes travel downward.

Nan Chu was bent forward slightly with her arms crossed, causing what little she had to be pressed together. The black dress was doing its very best — below the delicate and fair collarbone, the soft, feminine curve of her figure was on full display. It was an entirely different landscape from the flat expanse he had glimpsed the last time.

Lin Luxiao thought to himself:

Good lord. That really is something else entirely.

The night had its own particular quality — looking out at the stillness beyond the window, it always seemed as though a man’s sense of presence was somehow amplified in the dark, while a woman seemed all the more soft and captivating, igniting the imagination in ways the daylight couldn’t.

“Go put your shoes on.” Lin Luxiao said.

It was unsettling to look at.

Nan Chu didn’t move.

Lin Luxiao pushed his own slippers toward her. “Put these on.”

Nan Chu, satisfied, stepped into them — men’s size 43, still faintly warm.

“Your feet are huge. Bigger than the average man’s, I think,” she remarked with genuine admiration.

Lin Luxiao gave a short, amused exhale, drew on the cigarette, and raised an eyebrow lazily. “Sounds like you’ve seen quite a few pairs.”

“……”

Suddenly, a phone rang. It was Lin Luxiao’s. Nan Chu pointed at his glowing trouser pocket. He looked down, cigarette still between his fingers, and with a single motion shifted her out of the way. “Stay there, don’t move.” He watched her skirt hem for a moment —

Satisfied that it wouldn’t drift against him again, he fished out the phone from his pocket.

That skirt kept grazing against him in a way that was genuinely irritating.

The call had barely connected before someone bellowed from the other end: “Open the door for your old man!”

Lin Luxiao instinctively looked over at her. He spoke into the phone: “Not opening it.”

“……”

“Your old man came all this way to celebrate your birthday!”

Lin Luxiao frowned. Apparently fed up, he said: “I’m already asleep.”

“Don’t open it, I’ll call nonstop. You hang up, I’ll pound on the door. You turn your phone off, I’ll break the door down!”

Lin Luxiao cursed under his breath, tossed the phone onto the couch, and went to open the door.

The moment it swung open.

“Happy birthday! Da-da-da-da!”

First came two hands reaching in, holding a pair of wine bottles. Then in squeezed a chubby, round face — plump as a dumpling.

The chubby one spotted Nan Chu standing in the middle of the living room right away.

“HOLY—!!!!!!!!”

At his thunderous bellow, five or six heads all poked in behind him simultaneously.

Then followed a perfectly synchronized collective roar: “HOLY—!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Lin Luxiao: “Are you all out of your minds?”

The chubby one pointed at Nan Chu behind him, and said — somewhat belatedly: “No wonder you wouldn’t open the door — no wonder you said you were asleep! Did we interrupt something?!”

Lin Luxiao stood there with a cigarette between his teeth, silently regarding him.

The chubby one waddled over to Nan Chu and extended a large, greasy hand. “Hello there, beautiful. I’m Da Liu. I’m Lin Luxiao’s childhood friend.”

Before Nan Chu could respond, he added: “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Nan Chu extended her hand as well. “Hello.”

Da Liu shook it, thinking to himself — damn, that feels good.

He was genuinely enthusiastic, the type who couldn’t let go: “Sorry about this — Luxiao didn’t tell us you were here. If we’d known, we absolutely would never have come —”

Lin Luxiao plucked the cigarette from his mouth and kicked him squarely in the rear. “Stop talking nonsense!”

Da Liu finally released her hand, grinning away: “He’s jealous! Truly delighted to meet you!”

“……”

“I’m telling you — all these years as his friend, none of us have ever seen him around a woman! Really!” Da Liu raised three fingers in solemn oath. “I swear on my life — he has never had a girlfriend before!”

Nan Chu: “Really?”

Da Liu looked about ready to rip his own heart out and hand it over as proof: “Truer than pearls. We all thought there was something off about his orientation — we were even all scared to hang out with him for a while —”

“……”

Before Da Liu could finish, he was grabbed by the collar and hauled away by Lin Luxiao.

Still being dragged off, Da Liu’s voice floated back: “Hey — I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere before.”

The group of friends piled onto the couch in a row. Only then did Lin Luxiao fold his arms and ask Nan Chu: “Do you want to head out first?”

Da Liu immediately hollered: “Don’t — if anyone’s leaving, it’s us. Who kicks their own wife out?”

Lin Luxiao’s face darkened as he glared at Da Liu. “Shut your mouth.”

Nan Chu nodded, picked up her bag from the couch, pushed her feet back into her own shoes, and headed toward the door.

Just as she pushed it open.

A hand closed around her wrist — rough and warm, with a certain solid, firm texture.

Nan Chu turned back. Lin Luxiao had already let go and slid his hand into his pocket. He looked at her, his eyes still and unreadable as a deep pool. “Or you could stay. I’ll take you home when it’s over.”