The piano music on the other end of the line stopped abruptly, and the silence around her was suddenly broken only by the sound of Zhu Wenshu’s own breathing.

“Zhu Wenshu.”

After a long while, Ling Chen finally spoke. “What’s actually wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

The knot of gloom that had been lodged in her chest suddenly turned into a nameless fire the moment Ling Chen said those four words.

By the time Zhu Wenshu realized her tone had gone sharp, she didn’t have the mood to smooth it over anymore, and after a pause, she said, head bowed, “You should get some rest. I’m tired, I want to sleep.”

After a moment, Zhu Wenshu thought she heard Ling Chen sigh.

“When are you coming back to Jiangcheng tomorrow?”

“Not sure.” Zhu Wenshu reined in her tone a little, though her voice was still heavy. “Depends.”

“…Okay.”

Ling Chen’s voice was like a thin layer of frost pressed onto a branch. “Get some sleep.”

After hanging up.

Zhu Wenshu was still holding her phone; when she turned over slightly, she bumped into the pile of quilts stacked at the edge of the bed.

Her grandparents’ place was fairly small, and this room, the same one she’d slept in as a child, was now piled with all sorts of odds and ends.

Yet even surrounded by this cramped clutter, she still felt an emptiness all around her.

The next morning, her grandparents got up past six to go buy the freshest ingredients at the market.

Breakfast wasn’t ready until eight, and her grandmother went into the room to wake Zhu Wenshu.

“How is it you’re getting sleepier as you get older,” her grandmother said, straightening the bedsheets. “You’re not late for class, are you? That’s no good, students will talk behind your back.”

“I won’t be.”

Zhu Wenshu yawned. “I’ve never once been late.”

“Good, then.”

Her grandmother glanced back at her, frowning. “Didn’t sleep well?”

“I was on my phone last night.”

Zhu Wenshu hurriedly went out to eat breakfast, then used the excuse of poor sleep to go back to her room for more rest.

By afternoon, as her grandparents were getting ready to go play cards, they asked before leaving, “When are you heading back to Jiangcheng today?”

Zhu Wenshu glanced at the sky; the winter sun made her grandfather’s flowers and plants glisten. Thinking of the gloomy weather in Jiangcheng these past few days, she said, head lowered, “I’ll head back after dinner.”

“Will you make it in time?”

her grandmother asked.

“I’ll make it.” Zhu Wenshu checked her phone. “The last bus is at seven, there are still tickets.”

“Seven, huh…”

Her grandmother muttered. “It’ll be dark out, you won’t get to Jiangcheng till nine. I’m not comfortable with that, you should head back earlier.”

“It’s fine, the bus isn’t some illegal cab. I often take taxis alone at night in Jiangcheng too.”

Zhu Wenshu bought her ticket, then took her grandmother’s arm. “Come on, I’ll go with you two to play cards.”

After passing the afternoon at the mahjong parlor, following dinner, her grandparents walked Zhu Wenshu to the bus stop.

Winter nights fell early. The three of them strolled leisurely beneath the streetlights.

Her grandmother walked slowly, chattering about everyday trivialities along the way. Zhu Wenshu listened sometimes, and let her mind wander at others.

As they passed through a small alley, her grandparents spotted someone selling oranges from a small cart on the roadside and insisted on buying a few for Zhu Wenshu to take back to Jiangcheng.

A cart piled high with golden oranges; her grandparents picked through them for a while before settling on a few.

Zhu Wenshu stood on the roadside, wrapping her scarf tighter, glancing around, and noticed a street sign—”Baihua Lane.”

That day, when dealing with Ling Chen’s grandparents, they’d mentioned this place, hadn’t they.

Zhu Wenshu had often come to stay with her grandparents as a child and knew this little alley, though she’d never paid attention to its name.

She hadn’t realized Ling Chen used to live so close to her grandparents’ home.

Over the years, Huiyang had transformed dramatically, but this old district was a forgotten corner—the ground long unrepaired and pockmarked with potholes, the houses still self-built structures from over twenty years ago. Vendors had propped up their stalls right at the roadside, and the tables of the greasy little diners were haphazardly arranged along the curb, leaving room for barely a single car to pass.

Zhu Wenshu had walked this road plenty of times before; the Xinhui Plaza she used to frequent was at the other end of this alley.

But years had passed, and Huiyang now had a new, modern plaza, leaving Xinhui Plaza to fall into disuse as little more than a spot for public square dancing, rarely gathering young people anymore.

The bus stop Zhu Wenshu was heading to tonight happened to be at Xinhui Plaza.

Passing through Baihua Lane, she looked closely at this place for the first time, yet another figure kept surfacing in her mind—one that felt utterly out of place here.

Just then, a familiar melody drifted out from somewhere in the bustling alley.

Some shop’s cheap speaker, inexplicably playing “Classmate Little Silkworm”—like a rusty, rough needle, suddenly jabbed into Zhu Wenshu’s heart.

She suddenly quickened her pace, walking briskly ahead.

Only after she’d left the music behind did she stop and turn back to see her grandparents hurrying toward her with their bag of oranges.

Zhu Wenshu watched her grandparents’ figures approach, but her thoughts had drifted elsewhere.

She finally understood why she hadn’t been able to let it go for so many days.

As long as that song existed, it would forever be a thorn in her heart, a reminder that Ling Chen kept a place in his heart reserved for someone else.

“Why’d you suddenly walk off so fast?”

Her grandfather caught up, a little out of breath. “We turned around and you’d vanished, gave us a scare.”

“It’s nothing.”

Zhu Wenshu said, “I was worried about missing the bus.”

“That’s why I told you to head back earlier, but no, you insisted on the last bus. What would you have done if we’d made you miss it!”

Amid her grandparents’ murmuring, the three of them arrived at Xinhui Plaza with time to spare.

There was still half an hour before the last bus’s departure time, so they sat down on a bench by the roadside.

Watching the sky grow darker and darker, the two elderly people started up again about how Zhu Wenshu didn’t know any better, insisting on heading back this late, how unsafe it was on the road.

Zhu Wenshu wasn’t really listening, saying “okay, okay, I won’t next time” absent-mindedly, leaning lazily against the backrest, her gaze drifting aimlessly around.

Suddenly, she spotted a familiar figure.

Not sure if she was seeing things, she looked more closely—the man leaning against the railing seemed to sense her gaze and suddenly turned around.

Seeing Yin Yueze walking toward her, Zhu Wenshu straightened up. “What are you doing here?”

Yin Yueze glanced up at the sky, then lowered his head.

“Haven’t been here in years. Came for a walk.”

Zhu Wenshu blinked, looking away from him.

Seven or eight years ago, this plaza had been the students’ favorite hangout spot. It was here, too, that Yin Yueze had set off a grand, romantic display of fireworks for Zhu Wenshu, the moment she’d become his girlfriend.

Now, watching him standing here alone, it was easy to let one’s imagination run.

Fortunately, Yin Yueze didn’t seem inclined to continue on that topic.

He turned to greet Zhu Wenshu’s grandparents.

“Grandma, Grandpa, long time no see. Do you still remember me?”

The two elderly people looked Yin Yueze over carefully, not quite placing him at first.

Only once Yin Yueze introduced himself did they suddenly realize, laughing warmly. “Little Ze, look how tall you’ve gotten, even more handsome than when you were little.”

Seeing how pleased her grandparents were, Zhu Wenshu felt a bit helpless.

In their senior year, with evening classes, Yin Yueze had walked her home nearly every day, and on Fridays when she went to her grandparents’, he’d come along too, as a matter of routine.

Over time, of course, the elders and other neighbors had run into them.

After a few times, the adults had come to an unspoken understanding; only her grandmother had once quietly asked Zhu Wenshu whether this boy was her boyfriend.

At the time, Zhu Wenshu had denied it, and her grandmother had simply assumed she was being shy.

In the years since, seeing so little contact between the two of them, her grandmother had come to her own conclusion—that it probably hadn’t worked out in the end.

After exchanging pleasantries with the elderly couple, Yin Yueze turned to look at Zhu Wenshu again.

“Don’t you have class tomorrow? Why are you still in Huiyang?”

“Oh… I’m about to head back.”

Zhu Wenshu pointed at the bus sign. “Waiting for the bus.”

“This late.”

Yin Yueze said, “I’m heading back to Jiangcheng tonight too. Let me give you a ride.”

Before Zhu Wenshu could respond, her grandparents had already agreed on her behalf.

“Perfect! We were just worrying about her taking the bus alone at night. If you’re driving her, we can rest easy.”

“No need to trouble yourself, the bus is fine.”

Zhu Wenshu checked the time. “It’s only a few minutes away.”

“It’s no trouble at all.”

Yin Yueze said, “My car’s parked right over there.”

“You’re both classmates—how could that possibly be less convenient than you taking the bus alone?”

Her grandmother, as if afraid Yin Yueze might change his mind, stuffed the bag of oranges into Zhu Wenshu’s arms and pushed her to stand up. “Get going early. Text us once you’re home, so we can sleep easy too.”

Zhu Wenshu: “…”

She glanced at Yin Yueze, then at her grandparents; the two elderly people were clearly delighted to have a familiar face escorting her home, all but ready to shove her straight into the car.

“All right, then.”

Zhu Wenshu stood up. “Sorry for the trouble.”

Zhu Wenshu had pretty much exhausted the topics she and Yin Yueze had to talk about back at the café last time.

Once in the car, Zhu Wenshu barely spoke, only occasionally answering a question or two from Yin Yueze.

After a while, noticing her phone was about to die, Zhu Wenshu finally spoke up on her own.

“Do you have a charging cable in the car?”

“Yes.”

Yin Yueze pointed toward the armrest compartment behind the center console. “Check in there.”

Zhu Wenshu opened the compartment as instructed and found a data cable.

At the same time, she noticed a pack of cigarettes with only a few left.

“Are you smoking now?”

“That’s my dad’s.”

Yin Yueze reached over and shut the compartment lid. “This is my dad’s car, borrowed it for a few days in Jiangcheng, taking taxis everywhere all the time isn’t convenient.”

Zhu Wenshu nodded. “Oh.”

Once on the highway, with far fewer cars on the road, Yin Yueze relaxed a bit.

Just as he was about to change lanes, he glanced at the rearview mirror and suddenly frowned.

“Zhu Wenshu.”

Yin Yueze’s voice broke the silence abruptly. “Do you remember what we used to say?”

Zhu Wenshu: “Hm?”

“You said we’d still be good friends afterward.”

He glanced sideways at Zhu Wenshu, his gaze hazy, as if lost in memory. “But you’re too distant with me now.”

Zhu Wenshu privately thought, of course we’re distant, it’s been years without contact, and besides, he’s my ex.

“Am I?” She smiled. “Maybe it’s just been too long since we’ve seen each other.”

Yin Yueze: “Then let’s find more chances to get together in the future.”

Zhu Wenshu choked slightly, not sure how to respond.

Seeing her fall silent, Yin Yueze continued, “These past days back home, aside from that one class reunion, I’ve mostly just been on my own outside of work.”

He sighed heavily. “When we were students, I always had friends around. Now that I’m working, I barely have any—I even eat alone.”

Zhu Wenshu could relate to this, actually. “Yeah, everyone’s scattered all over the place, and once you’re working, you don’t really have the energy to make new friends.”

“Let’s get a meal together sometime.”

Yin Yueze continued, “Just as friends, we can invite Xu Guangliang and the others. Would you do me the honor?”

The old Yin Yueze had never used a phrase like “do me the honor”—he’d always been direct, straightforward.

Hearing him speak this way now, Zhu Wenshu genuinely felt, for the first time, the changes that time and experience had brought to him.

“No problem.” Zhu Wenshu smiled. “I’m a homeroom teacher now though, so I’m pretty busy, might not have that much freedom.”

“That’s fine, winter and summer breaks are always free.”

After that, the two of them didn’t talk much more; Yin Yueze turned on the radio.

He liked Western country music, the melody light and pleasant, and Zhu Wenshu didn’t feel comfortable staying glued to her phone in someone else’s passenger seat the whole time, so in the silence, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

Zhu Wenshu wasn’t sure when exactly she’d fallen asleep. By the time she woke, the car had already stopped in front of her apartment complex.

She rubbed her eyes, meaning to thank Yin Yueze, and glanced down at her phone—it was already nine thirty.

Based on her past experience, driving a private car should have gotten her there by nine at the latest.

“Have we been here long?”

“Just got here.”

Yin Yueze said with a smile. “There was a jam at the highway entrance into the city for a while.”

“Oh, thanks for the trouble, then.”

Zhu Wenshu opened the car door. “Be safe on your way back.”

Watching Yin Yueze’s car pull away, Zhu Wenshu had just turned around when her phone rang inside her bag.

She instinctively felt it must be Ling Chen calling, and her steps froze in place.

A few seconds later, she pulled out her phone.

Sure enough.

Some instinct made her turn around, and the moment she saw the black car parked across the street, Zhu Wenshu’s mind went completely blank.

Gripping the phone, blood rushing, her breathing grew ragged.

After a good while, she finally answered.

Just a street apart, and yet it felt like a galaxy separated them; neither said a word.

Zhu Wenshu stood in the cold wind, listening to her own heavy breathing, silently counting numbers in her head.

If he doesn’t say anything by the count of ten, I’ll hang up and go home.

One, two, three…

“Zhu Wenshu.”

At “nine,” his voice, slightly hoarse, finally came through.

Zhu Wenshu looked at the car and asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Have you been with Yin Yueze these past few days?”

“…”

Hearing this, fire flared up in Zhu Wenshu’s chest again.

You wrote a whole song for your moonlight, and I’m not even allowed to catch a ride from my ex?

She held her breath, staying silent for a long moment without answering.

Finally, Ling Chen’s voice fell like a dry leaf drifting down beside the road, landing next to her ear.

“Never mind. It’s nothing.”

Never mind?

What does “never mind” even mean?

Zhu Wenshu barely held herself back from asking, only managing a stiff “Mm.”

The call fell into silence again.

Zhu Wenshu stood motionless, staring at the car across the street, not sure how much longer she’d stand there in the cold wind, or what exactly she was waiting for.

Until, a few minutes later, the busy tone came through the receiver—he’d hung up.

Zhu Wenshu’s nose suddenly stung, sharp and aching. She gripped her phone and turned to walk briskly toward the complex.

Across the street.

Ling Chen watched Zhu Wenshu’s figure disappear into the night, then started the car.

He drove a few hundred meters, then pulled over again, rolling down the window, staring blankly at the neon lights along the road.

The last time he’d seen Zhu Wenshu and Yin Yueze together as a couple had been the day of their senior year graduation.

Unlike tonight’s biting cold wind, that day had been unusually sweltering, the farewell dinner thick with the atmosphere of parting.

Ling Chen had sat in the most remote corner table of the hotpot restaurant, empty liquor bottles his classmates had finished piled in front of him.

The air was full of the smell of beef tallow and alcohol, and some of the boys were, for the first time openly, lighting cigarettes.

Amid the noise, he’d watched Yin Yueze leave early with Zhu Wenshu.

Their departure hadn’t exactly been subtle; plenty of classmates had noticed and hollered teasingly at their backs as they left.

Not long after, someone had let slip that Yin Yueze was planning something big tonight—setting off fireworks at Xinhui Plaza to confess to Zhu Wenshu.

The news spread quickly from table to table, and soon people started getting up to follow, curious and excited to see the spectacle.

Later, the classmates at the restaurant left one after another, drifting off, eager and curious, all heading toward the same direction.

Ling Chen stayed at the hotpot restaurant until everyone else had left, with only a few completely drunk boys still slumped over the table, mumbling nonsense.

Just this once, Ling Chen thought. I’ll go watch the fireworks. Consider it saying goodbye to Zhu Wenshu.

Otherwise there won’t be another chance.

He stood up and walked toward Xinhui Plaza.

At first he walked, then he broke into a run, running through the sweltering summer night until he’d worked up a full sweat, his soaked clothes sticking tightly to his back.

By the time he reached the plaza’s entrance, he could already vaguely make out the classmates who’d taken taxis over, clustered together, the air thick with restless commotion.

Just then, he got a call from a neighbor.

The uncle’s gruff voice blasted through the cheap phone speaker, nearly bursting his eardrum.

“Your dad’s being bullied! Get your ass over here and take him home!”

The sweat on his clothes suddenly turned cold, seeping a chill through Ling Chen’s whole body.

He looked toward the crowd surging in the plaza, catching just a glimpse of the corner of Zhu Wenshu’s skirt hem, and yet it still pulled at his gaze, reluctant to let go.

A long time passed.

Or maybe it wasn’t so long, but Yin Yueze’s figure suddenly cut across his line of sight, like a blow to the head, jolting Ling Chen back to his senses.

He turned immediately and ran toward home.

Baihua Lane wasn’t far from Xinhui Plaza; within a few minutes, he’d entered that crowded, grimy little alley, crossing into another world—the world that belonged to him.

The neighbors along the way all seemed to be watching him, pointing, whispering to each other.

Ling Chen didn’t slow his pace once, cutting through the neighbors’ stares, running straight home.

But before he even reached the house, he found his father.

The moment he saw the scene before him, he felt as if he’d plunged into an ice cellar.

In that busy, crowded little lane, three shirtless drunk men were kicking his father around like a ball.

And that “ball,” his own father, was stripped bare.

Those familiar clothes were being held up high in the drunk men’s hands.

They roared with laughter, holding the clothes up high. Every time his father managed to stand and try to grab them back, they’d toss them to another man.

Like taunting a dog.

And still, quite a few people had gathered around to watch.

Some were laughing too, some frowning, some covering their children’s eyes but unwilling to leave.

In short, no one stepped in to stop those three men, their faces contorted like knives.

Ling Chen charged forward as if he’d gone mad, his hand still shaking when he threw the first punch.

Until the air filled with the smell of blood.

Some people came up to help, some tried to pull them apart, and someone finally pulled out a phone to call the police.

The three drunk men fled in disarray, and Ling Chen kept chasing after them, relentless, as if he meant to kill them.

Finally, it was his father’s crying, wailing voice that stopped his feet.

As the chaos dispersed, amid the watching crowd, Ling Chen clenched his teeth tightly, helped his father into some old clothes, and took him home.

As he pushed open the rickety iron gate downstairs, a thunderous boom sounded from not far away.

He looked up and saw fireworks blooming brilliantly across the night sky.

Lowering his head again, he saw his father, over forty years old, weeping uncontrollably in his arms.

At the time, Ling Chen had thought that sweltering summer night was the coldest night he’d ever lived through.

He hadn’t expected that, years later, today, he would learn that the truly cold night was this winter wind.

Actually, last night, when he’d sensed something was off with Zhu Wenshu’s mood, he’d guessed it might be because of what Teacher Zhang had said during the livestream.

He’d wanted to ask, right then, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to.

From high school until now, his status had changed dramatically, but his temperament had stayed exactly the same.

Never bold, never surging—even his ripples stayed carefully restrained.

But this afternoon, he’d still put aside his heavy workload and driven to Huiyang.

He knew where Zhu Wenshu’s grandparents lived.

He’d parked by the road and waited a long time, until it grew dark, before finally seeing Zhu Wenshu walk out with her grandparents.

He’d quietly followed at a distance, not going up to interrupt.

Until Zhu Wenshu sat down on the bench by the platform.

Watching her blow warm air onto her hands, Ling Chen had sighed and turned on the car’s heater, undoing his seatbelt at the same time.

But just as he opened the car door, he saw Yin Yueze walk over.

Still Xinhui Plaza. Still the same people.

Ling Chen had simply watched as Zhu Wenshu got into Yin Yueze’s car.

Even then, Ling Chen had told himself they’d simply run into each other by chance.

He’d followed Yin Yueze’s car the whole way, all the way to Zhu Wenshu’s home.

Parked by the roadside, he’d still told himself—it was just on the way, that’s all.

Ling Chen stared unblinking at the car parked by the road, its hazard lights flashing, but the passenger never got out.

Until the vendors along the road began packing up their stalls, and Zhu Wenshu finally got out of the car.

Ling Chen looked down at the time.

Thirty-nine minutes had already passed.