After she left, the silence became absolute. Only the sound of the wind battering the windows remained, the pane white with condensation, raindrops sliding down the glass like something weeping.

He tilted his head back against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. Ban Sheng turned his palm over and found a gash across it — blood welling up steadily, raw and alarming to look at. And yet he felt no pain at all.

Ban Sheng picked up his phone, dialed the number he knew by heart. The receiver gave an ice-cold sequence of tones. It rang for a while, then connected to a gentle automated voice: “I’m sorry, the number you have dialed is not available…”

He tried again. Same result.

With a sharp crack, the phone was smashed against the wall. The black casing slid down and hit the floor, the screen shattered into fragments.

Ban Sheng closed his eyes. His eyelashes gave a small tremor. Darkness filled his sight — eyes full of a pain that had been cut to pieces.

After a stretch of quiet, sounds came from nearby — as though a figure had approached. Ban Sheng’s ears picked up. He opened his eyes with alertness, and when he made out who it was, he went momentarily still.

Lin Weixia was half-crouching before him on one knee, opening a small medical kit beside her. Her long eyelashes hung down like thin butterfly wings. She said softly:

“The housekeeper downstairs said you were hurt. She gave me the kit and then left early.”

Housekeeper Qin had also told her: on days like this, Ban Sheng usually only wanted to be alone — so they could only leave first. But Lin Weixia chose not to say this. And she had quietly decided not to ask why, on the two occasions she had visited Ban Sheng’s home, she had never once seen any of his family.

Lin Weixia opened the iodine bottle, looked up, picked up the cotton swab, and moved toward Ban Sheng to apply it to the cuts on his face. Drawing just a little closer, she caught the sharp smell of tobacco clinging to him. His nose, beneath the shadow, was high-bridged — like a meticulous ink painting, its contours precise and graceful.

Her fingers brushed inadvertently against the skin of his face — scalding hot — and Lin Weixia’s hand jolted. The liquid spattered onto his cheek with a small sound, and it was impossible to say whether the sensation was cold or burning. Ban Sheng raised his eyes to look at her.

“I heard today is your birthday.” Lin Weixia looked away and quickly wiped the liquid off his face.

Ban Sheng looked her over. Lin Weixia today was wearing a white wool sweater. Behind her head, she had pinned a large red velvet bow into her long black hair. Her face was rosy-lipped and bright-toothed, and in this moment she had a certain quality of gentle compliance, without her usual cool detachment — the kind that made one want to take advantage.

Ban Sheng raised his hand and gripped her palm. His wide hand wrapped around her slender one. His palm was ice-cold. Lin Weixia’s heart contracted. She looked up and met a pair of deep, dark eyes.

“I don’t celebrate birthdays.”

Lin Weixia nodded. Only then did Ban Sheng release her. He slumped back against the wall with a thud. Lin Weixia finished tending to his wounds and took the kit back downstairs.

The housekeeper had already left. The whole building was empty and quiet.

Half an hour earlier, Ban Sheng had spoken to send her away. When Lin Weixia came downstairs with her folded umbrella, she had run into the housekeeper just as she was leaving.

The housekeeper smiled and walked over, holding out the kit: “Miss, I heard from the young master that your name is Weixia — is that right? Could I ask you to bring this upstairs and make sure he takes care of his wounds?”

Lin Weixia had not extended her hand to take it. Her voice was cool: “I’m sorry — I have to go.”

She had barely taken a couple of steps when the housekeeper called after her and explained: “Today is the young master’s birthday. Every year on this day, he goes out and comes back with injuries all over him. We ask him what happened and he says nothing. He doesn’t let anyone come upstairs, just locks himself away in his room.”

“You’re the first girl he’s ever brought back to this home. He never lets anyone close to him. Could you do this for me? If you go up and tend to his wounds, I think he won’t lose his temper with you.”

“If there’s anything Ban Sheng has done that wasn’t right, I’ll apologize on his behalf.”

…

The sound of rain striking the glass drew Lin Weixia’s thoughts back. She placed the kit where it belonged and returned upstairs to find the lights in the living room had dimmed — the room had already shifted into movie-watching mode.

Ban Sheng was sitting with a slight hunch, eyes lowered, watching the television. The remote control was still in his hand. Game of Thrones was playing on the projection screen, and at just that moment a sword blade swept across his face — his expression remained blank.

Lin Weixia walked over and sat down beside him. She quietly settled in and watched along with him.

They watched one and a half episodes together, barely speaking throughout. The wind and rain outside accompanied them, and the atmosphere was unexpectedly easy.

“Which character from Game of Thrones do you like?” Lin Weixia asked, watching the projection screen with focus, her long eyelashes visible when she blinked.

Ban Sheng raised an eyebrow. Rather than answer directly, he asked in return: “You first.”

“Arya. She’s very brave.”

It seemed he had been sitting for a while. Ban Sheng tilted his head back against the sofa and stretched out his long neck, then finally answered her question: “I don’t particularly care for any of them — they all have a tragic quality. If I had to pick, the Imp, I suppose.”

In the cold of the room, Ban Sheng had cracked open a can of beer — the pop of the tab releasing, and white foam surging up instantly. His expression was inscrutable, a sardonic curve to the corner of his mouth.

“He was a mistake from the moment he was born.”

That much was true — any viewer of the show knew it. The Imp’s mother died in childbirth, and he grew up under his sister’s contempt and mockery. His own father had personally sent him to stand trial with every intent of having him killed. He was feared throughout the capital and despised for his greed, debauchery, and deceitfulness.

“To me, though, the Imp was greedy, depraved, and dissolute — but when facing the manipulation of power, he was disguising his own goodness. Confronted with the world’s prejudice and the hatred of those closest to him, though he was a dwarf, he kept on living bravely — he understood the truth of life and kept on living well despite it.” Lin Weixia said quietly, eyes on the screen.

Ban Sheng gave a low laugh, tilted his head back for a swallow of cold beer, and asked: “You’ve finished it?”

Lin Weixia shook her head: “Not the show — I read the original novels, A Song of Ice and Fire, all the way through.”

If he remembered correctly, the original novels ran to five thick volumes with an intricate web of characters. He looked at her: “You actually pushed through all of that.”

“Because I didn’t have many friends before.”

Lin Weixia thought of something and turned to look out the window. The branches outside had stopped moving. She stood up abruptly: “The rain’s stopped. I should go.”

The sofa cushion sprang back the moment she rose. Ban Sheng’s gaze shifted. He reached out and caught her wrist. Lin Weixia turned back to look at him. Ban Sheng gazed up at her from where he sat, his tone steady and firm:

“You promised to stay for dinner. Eat first, then go.”

At that moment, Lin Weixia’s phone buzzed. She slid the unlock screen and found a message from her aunt: How’s it going? Are you having dinner with him? Xiaxia, you really must thank him properly — he’s our family’s great benefactor.

It was a dinner in name — but the housekeeper had already left, and Ban Sheng, for all his status, was entirely buried in the sofa, drinking and watching television, with no sign whatsoever of intending to do anything about it.

Lin Weixia had no choice but to open Ban Sheng’s refrigerator to make dinner for her aunt’s so-called “benefactor,” only to find the fridge completely bare of fresh ingredients. There was, however, half a bag of dumplings the housekeeper had wrapped earlier — and all at once, she remembered.

Today was the Winter Solstice.

In the kitchen, Lin Weixia stood at the range and turned on the burner. A bright blue flame rose up and reflected in a pair of amber eyes. Cold water in the pot came slowly to a rolling boil. The dumplings went in. Before long, they turned belly-up in the water.

White wisps of steam curled up from the gaps in the lid. Lin Weixia had her head down, cutting scallion pieces, her expression focused. She didn’t notice Ban Sheng drift in at some point and lean against the doorway, watching her the whole time.

Until the phone in the pocket of Lin Weixia’s clothes kept ringing, persistently and without stopping. Ban Sheng walked over and took it out from the side.

Lin Weixia had her hands full. She had been about to ask Ban Sheng to answer it — but in the instant she caught a glimpse of who was calling, she instinctively stretched up to grab for it.

She was too slow. Ban Sheng had sharper eyes and the advantage of height — he raised his arm and tapped to answer. He stood just behind her, his chest close to brushing her back. Holding the phone, he leaned slightly forward, pressing the receiver against Lin Weixia’s ear. The faint scent of tobacco drifted to her.

His warm fingertip inadvertently grazed the soft, pale shell of her ear.

Lin Weixia’s ear began to slowly burn.

He was absolutely doing this on purpose.

At the same time, Liu Sijia’s characteristically bright voice came through: “Hello?”

Lin Weixia was caught — neither advancing nor retreating. She stood rigid, unable to move. Ban Sheng had her hemmed into the narrow space. One move and she would collide with the hard chest behind her.

“What are you doing?”

The words had barely landed when the person behind her cleared his throat with a muffled sound, reached over, and flicked the ladle off the kitchen counter. The ladle struck the marble with a loud clang.

“Is there someone there with you?” Liu Sijia’s voice turned alert.

Lin Weixia blurted out: “I promised to have dinner with someone.”

The moment she said it, she regretted it. She didn’t want to lie to Liu Sijia, and she didn’t treat Ban Sheng as a close friend — she had just used the vague phrase “someone.” But she realized “someone” somehow sounded more ambiguous than a name.

There was something suggestive in that deliberate vagueness.

The warmth behind her ear kept rising. Whether she was hearing things or not, Lin Weixia thought she caught the sound of a very soft, quiet laugh from just behind her.

The next second, Liu Sijia’s tone turned playfully teasing: “Oh~ so you have someone you like.”

“I don’t.” Lin Weixia denied it.

From the other end of the line came the click of a lighter catching, as though Liu Sijia had lit a cigarette over there. Her tone carried a dejection unlike anything she’d shown before:

“Ban Sheng turned me down. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”

“If only he could like me even one hundredth as much as I like him.”

“Today, Zheng Zhaoxing confessed to me. That idiot. All I want is to be Ban Sheng’s girlfriend.”

The atmosphere seemed to cool suddenly. In the pot, the dumplings bubbled in the boiling water, churning and churning. Lin Weixia bent down to turn off the heat — finally an excuse to step away — and her gaze cleared:

“Give it a little more time.”

At the dinner table, only one lamp was lit. The two sat face to face and began eating the dumplings. Outside, rain started falling again. The television was still playing — occasional sounds of cold steel clashing drifted over. The old author’s script kept everyone guessing who would be next to meet their end.

Neither of them spoke much. The dumplings had, in truth, cooked a little too soft. But Ban Sheng ate with surprising appetite, finishing one bowl and then refilling another. He brought a chopstick down and was not paying much attention, not looking carefully — he lowered his head and bit in, and the taste of a runny soft-boiled egg filled his mouth.

Ban Sheng looked at Lin Weixia.

Lin Weixia was holding her chopsticks and lifted an egg out of her own bowl too.

“One for each of us.”

“Happy Winter Solstice.”

“The Winter Solstice is a day worth celebrating.” Lin Weixia looked at him as she said this.

Something that had been still in Ban Sheng’s eyes shifted. He lowered his head and began to laugh — a real laugh, unhurried. He was sitting slouched, but his expression held no trace of a joke. Looking at her, he said slowly:

“Lin Weixia, you just keep making me like you more and more.”

“I’ve made up my mind to pursue you.”