June passed quickly. They graduated without a hitch, and the curtain of youth briefly fell. Ban Sheng took Lin Weixia out for a trip, and in August, the two of them returned to Nanjiang together.

When her aunt’s fruit shop got too busy to manage, Lin Weixia would go help out. Occasionally she’d run into young high school students in the store, and catching sight of the blue-and-white school skirts the girls were wearing, she’d feel a momentary daze.

So much time had passed since high school graduation.

Usually in the evening Ban Sheng would come by to accompany her on walks, or take her to see the latest movies, then send her home at night.

This was the most comfortable summer break Lin Weixia had ever had — certain about the future, with the person she loved by her side. There was nothing better than the present moment.

On Saturday, after washing her hair, Lin Weixia put on a loose white button-down shirt and PE pants, sat on the couch, and watched a variety show while drying her hair with a towel.

The phone on the coffee table let out a “ding” notification chime. Lin Weixia grabbed it and looked — it was a video sent by Qiu Minghua, with a message attached:

[Even though I’m a fan of Lord Ban, there’s something I have to tell you.]

[Your boyfriend is cheating on you.]

Lin Weixia was startled, then immediately opened the video. The setting was a dimly lit private room, and a group of people were playing a dice-shaking game.

During the day, Ban Sheng had told her he was going to a gathering with a bunch of friends that evening.

Since recovering from his illness, Ban Sheng had barely drunk at all — even when he went to those kinds of places, he’d have no more than one glass. But today, the Ban Sheng in the video had clearly been force-fed alcohol.

It was still that same face — cool and detached yet somehow bewitching. Others couldn’t tell he was drunk, but Lin Weixia saw his reddened earlobes and knew Ban Sheng was intoxicated.

“Come on, tell a secret that none of your brothers know,” Li Yiran said, reclining lazily on the sofa.

Cheng Wusuan chimed in from the side: “What could Ah Sheng possibly have that you don’t know? Change the question.”

Li Yiran let out a knowing laugh, his meaning unclear: “He definitely has one.”

The camera swung to the other side. In the dim light, Ban Sheng had his head tilted back against the sofa, the line of his throat moving slowly. He rubbed his eyelids with a look of cold weariness, and amid all the noisy chatter, he suddenly spoke:

“Does secretly liking someone for many years count?”

The previously boisterous voices fell silent in an instant — only for a few seconds, before the group erupted like an explosion, laughing and cursing all at once: “It counts, it absolutely counts!”

“Lord Ban, I remember you were always chasing Lin Weixia in high school — so the girl you secretly liked was from middle school?”

“Who here went to the affiliated middle school? Can anyone fill us in?”

“Lord Ban, you actually played the secret admirer card? Impressive.” Someone gave a big thumbs-up.

Who would have thought that a guy like Ban Sheng — someone who had countless girls throwing themselves at him with just a crook of his finger — could have secretly liked a girl for years?

Wusuan was also baffled by Ban Sheng’s words. She tapped her long fingers on the glass and asked: “Isn’t Weixia your first love?”

The words had barely left her mouth when a guy immediately pushed back: “Different definitions. A first love is your first romantic partner. The person you secretly like is the mole above a man’s heart — his moonlit beauty.”

“You men are awfully good at rationalizing,” Wusuan said with a cold laugh.

No matter how much they pried after that, they couldn’t get a single useful word out of Ban Sheng.

The three-and-a-half-minute video ended there. Lin Weixia’s hand stilled as she was toweling her hair, her chest rising and falling slightly. She picked up the glass tumbler from the table, tipped her head back, and gulped down a large mouthful of water, then set the cup back on the table with a sharp “thunk.”

Her aunt came out of the bedroom holding her wallet and said: “Weixia, keep an eye on the shop for me. I’m going to Qingpu Market to check on a shipment. I’ll be back to relieve you.”

“Okay.” Lin Weixia answered slowly.

Lin Weixia stood at the entryway with her phone and keys, bending down to put on her shoes. Gao Hang was still sitting on the couch eating crackers, and he asked: “Sis, are we still having barbecue tonight?”

“Never mind, I’m full,” Lin Weixia said flatly.

Full of anger.

The door slammed shut from the momentum. The motion-activated light in the stairwell was broken, so Lin Weixia turned on her phone’s flashlight and made her way down the stairs. She was concentrating on the path ahead when her phone screen suddenly lit up, displaying Ban Sheng’s name.

Lin Weixia tapped to answer, held the phone up to her ear, and said nothing.

From the receiver came a steady, even flow of breath. Ban Sheng’s voice was deep and slightly hoarse — like the low sounds he made near her ear at night — as he called out:

“Wife.”

The warmth seemed to travel through the phone, making one side of her ear tingle and go numb. Lin Weixia couldn’t help herself and answered: “What?”

Ban Sheng’s throat bobbed, his voice drowsy. He kept his tone very low and said softly: “I’m drunk. Can you come pick me up?”

He was actually being coy.

Lin Weixia moved the phone a little farther from her ear, steadied herself, then spoke again: “No.”

Let the person you secretly liked pick you up. The thought was childish, she knew, but Lin Weixia couldn’t help it.

Lin Weixia arrived at the fruit shop, kept herself busy there for over an hour, and then her aunt returned from Qingpu Market to take over. As Lin Weixia walked home, her resolve eventually gave way — she stepped out of Shuiwei Lane and onto the main road, where she flagged down a taxi.

After returning to Nanjiang, Ban Sheng still lived in his old villa. He would go back to that home once every two weeks for a meal, mainly to see his younger sister.

Lin Weixia had his house key and access card. She walked through the gate, made her way through a courtyard full of greenery, pushed open the door, and, borrowing the warm glow of the streetlights outside the courtyard, switched on the interior lights.

At a glance she saw the man lying on the sofa, the light playing across his cool, defined face as he breathed evenly.

Lin Weixia let out a quiet sigh, walked over, shook Ban Sheng’s shoulder, and tried to wake him: “Go sleep in your room.”

Then Lin Weixia propped up a half-conscious Ban Sheng and helped him upstairs. He was too heavy, leaning his entire weight on her. After a great deal of effort, she finally managed to steer him to his room — only for the two of them to tumble together onto the soft mattress.

Lin Weixia found herself pinned under the man. Ban Sheng lay sprawled on top of her, burying his face against the side of her neck, his lips beginning to wander as his hands started to roam.

Lin Weixia struggled to hold down the hand he had placed on her inner thigh, looked at him, and asked: “I heard you secretly liked a girl. Do you still think about her?”

Ban Sheng paused, then let out a low laugh and asked: “Who told you?”

“Don’t change the subject.” Lin Weixia pressed down on her skirt to keep him from lifting it further and cleared her throat before asking: “Was that girl very pretty?”

Girls always fixated on the strangest things. Even though that girl was in the past, knowing that Ban Sheng had once harbored secret feelings for someone left her feeling a little sour. She even found herself wondering what kind of girl could have stayed in Ban Sheng’s memory all this time.

His dark lashes lowered, casting a shadow beneath his eyes. He seemed to give it genuine thought, then answered with genuine assessment:

“She was good-looking.”

In the next second, Lin Weixia shoved Ban Sheng off her with force, sat up, and said without a trace of reluctance: “Then you can sleep alone tonight.”

The next morning, Lin Weixia got up and opened Ban Sheng’s refrigerator to find it nearly empty — just a few eggs. She cooked some plain congee and boiled three eggs.

Lin Weixia was standing at the sink washing dishes when she heard the sound of slow, dragging footsteps coming down the stairs from upstairs. Without looking, she already knew who it was.

Ban Sheng had just finished washing up. He was wearing a black cotton T-shirt, his jet-black hair slightly disheveled. His thin eyelids drooped heavily, and the moment he rubbed them, they immediately turned red.

He looked exactly like someone nursing a hangover.

Ban Sheng opened the fridge and took out a long tray of ice cubes, stood at the dining table, poured a glass of water, and dropped the ice in. Lin Weixia looked at him: “Don’t drink cold water in the morning.”

“Forgot.” Ban Sheng switched to a glass of hot water.

Lin Weixia stood at the rice cooker scooping congee into bowls, and suddenly thought back to Ban Sheng’s answer last night, which still quietly annoyed her. When she reached for the salt, she didn’t hesitate — she added an extra spoonful to his bowl of congee.

Ban Sheng lazily pulled out a chair and sat down. He peeled a boiled egg and handed it to Lin Weixia, looking at her with a scrutinizing gaze: “You slept in the guest room last night.”

“Yes.” Lin Weixia’s tone was almost smug.

Lin Weixia took the boiled egg Ban Sheng handed her, ate the egg white, and then stared at the yolk resting in her palm with some distress.

Lin Weixia had hated eating egg yolks ever since she was a child, but her aunt had always made her eat them, scolding her sternly — the family didn’t have much to begin with, and there was already one extra mouth to feed; don’t waste food.

So every time, Lin Weixia had forced herself to swallow the yolk, and eventually she learned to make herself get used to things she didn’t like.

After hesitating for a long time, frowning as she steeled herself to eat the yolk, a long-fingered, distinctly-knuckled hand reached over, plucked the yolk from her palm, and popped it into his own mouth. He said offhandedly:

“From now on, give anything you don’t want to eat to your boyfriend.”

A rush of warmth flooded her heart. Lin Weixia lowered her eyes and didn’t look at him, concealing the emotion in her expression, and said: “Mm.”

After Ban Sheng had finished chewing, he lazily spooned a mouthful of congee into his mouth, then paused. The relaxed expression on his face went rigid for just an instant. He clenched his back molars silently — visibly — and gave a nonchalant smile: “Fine.”

Then Lin Weixia kept her eyes fixed on Ban Sheng and watched as he finished every last drop of congee in his bowl without changing expression, before she cleared the bowls away.

Wednesday afternoon, residents throughout Nanjiang received calls from the meteorological bureau warning that a typhoon was expected to hit over the next two days and asking all work units and schools to take precautions. Gao Hang let out a yell: “If it doesn’t rain soon, I’ll literally melt into ash.”

“Come with me to the mall to pick up a few things,” Lin Weixia said.

Gao Hang put down his basketball and accepted his fate, falling in step behind her: “Fine, at your service — your humble laborer, Little Gao.”

As Lin Weixia was standing in the entryway grabbing her hat, she received a text from Ban Sheng saying he had some business outside and asking her to go to his place that evening to find a document, photograph it page by page, and send the pictures to him.

Lin Weixia replied with a simple “okay.”

At the mall, Lin Weixia spent a long time browsing before finally choosing a shoulder-and-neck massager for her aunt, then picked up some daily necessities. By the time they were on their way out, Gao Hang was hollering that he wanted bubble tea.

Lin Weixia pushed open the door of a dessert shop and was hit by a blast of cool air. Gao Hang immediately ran to a sofa seat and started playing games on his phone. She stood at the counter with her phone in hand, looking up at the promotional banner listing the new drinks, trying to decide what to order.

While she was still thinking, a familiar-yet-unfamiliar voice cut in from the side: “Lin Weixia?”

Lin Weixia followed the voice to a vaguely recognizable face she couldn’t quite place a name to. The other person didn’t mind and immediately said:

“It’s me! Zhong Lianghao! We were in the same class in first year of high school.”

“Oh, I remember now.” Lin Weixia recalled the person — he had indeed been a classmate of hers in first year.

The two exchanged a few pleasantries, and then Zhong Lianghao took the two cups of fruit tea the server handed him and seemed to remember something: “Right — whatever happened between you and that Ban Sheng from Shengao? Did he ever manage to win you over?”

“Ah, how did you know that he and I—” The amber of her eyes flashed with a brief startled look.

……

Dusk descended, like syrup from an overturned candy shop, thick color spreading across a soft sky. Lin Weixia arrived at Ban Sheng’s house, went to the study as he had instructed, found the document with the blue label, photographed it page by page, then sent the photos to him.

Ban Sheng’s home was large, but also empty and hollow. Lin Weixia walked out and discovered a cluster of cactus growing in the apple-green courtyard — it looked like the potted plant that Ban Sheng had forcibly taken from her arms.

And it was still alive.

Ban Sheng had transplanted the cactus into the ground, where it had taken firm root in the earth, receiving the protection of the soil and the sun. The cactus pads had grown thick and plump, and many smaller cacti had sprouted around it.

Lin Weixia was delighted by the sight. She found a garden hose and watered the cactus and all the surrounding plants. The sheer scope of the work, combined with how absorbed she became in watering, quickly left her dress wet and her body drenched in sweat.

Once she was done, Lin Weixia went back inside the villa, climbed to the second floor, and went to Ban Sheng’s room to find a T-shirt and a pair of track pants, then headed to the bathroom for a shower.

Lin Weixia took one of his towels to dry her damp hair, but didn’t find a hair dryer in the bathroom, so she went out to look for one. She bent down and pulled open drawer after drawer, and finally spotted a white hair dryer in the very bottom one.

Crouching down, Lin Weixia was just about to reach for the hair dryer when her eyes happened to drift to a square box beside it. She stopped, took it out, and opened it.

Inside the box lay a cat-shaped hairpin with chipped paint, along with twelve worn library cards — all in her own handwriting: Class 2, Year 2, Lin Weixia, borrowing Takagi Akimitsu’s “The Tattoo Murder Case”; Class 2, Year 2, Lin Weixia, borrowing Kadota Shiro’s “The Eighth Day of the Cicada”; borrowing Stefan Zweig’s “The World of Yesterday”…

Every library card bearing her handwriting, Ban Sheng had kept.

As for the hairpin — in high school, Lin Weixia hadn’t wanted people to notice her ears, so she had grown her hair to waist length to hide that flaw, never tying it up. But the loose strands around her forehead were thick and kept getting in the way during evening self-study, so she had stashed a box of small clips in her desk drawer.

This cat-shaped clip — Lin Weixia remembered thinking the paint was flaking off and it looked ugly, so she had tossed it into the trash bin by the back door during one evening self-study session.

She never imagined that Ban Sheng had gone and retrieved it, and kept it to this day.

The library cards were from a reading corner the class had set up together. Each time Lin Weixia borrowed a book she would write her name — but she hadn’t known how many books she had borrowed or how many cards she had filled out. He had quietly kept every single one.

Lin Weixia stared at these objects and fell into a daze, the words from the first-year classmate she had run into that afternoon echoing in her ears. Zhong Lianghao had scratched the back of his head and said:

“Well, you transferred after first year, right? One day, Ban Sheng from Shengao came looking for me, gave me a little something in exchange for information about you.”

When Lin Weixia had tested into No. 13 High School after escaping the bullying at her former middle school, her new school had no idea what she had been through before, so Zhong Lianghao had simply told Ban Sheng everything he knew from being in the same class as Lin Weixia during first year.

“He also asked me what kind of guy you liked. I told him — I said you liked sunny, warm-hearted guys.”

So the person Ban Sheng had secretly liked all along was Lin Weixia. He knew she liked salty lemon soda. He knew where she lived. He knew that when she was unhappy, she was the type to bottle it up and say nothing.

Because he knew Lin Weixia loved the sea, he had gone to great lengths to take her to the coast to lift her spirits, even putting on a whole band performance for her.

Ban Sheng had always felt that since Lin Weixia liked sunny, warm-hearted guys, he would do his best to hide the darkness inside him — join the basketball team, run relay races for her to watch whenever she wanted.

Since he wasn’t the type of person she liked, he would work hard to become the person she liked —

But after they separated for university, he was too exhausted to keep it up. He couldn’t hold on any longer, and that gloomy, emotion-ravaged Ban Sheng — the one whose feelings kept being devoured by his demons — ended up laid bare in front of her.

Lin Weixia crouched there in a daze, tears falling one by one onto the library cards. On her birthday, she had jokingly said that Ban Sheng had liked her since he was ten.

She had said it without thinking much of it, but it turned out to be true.

So Ban Sheng really had carried a secret love for her for twelve years.

He had never forgotten her. Not once.

Lin Weixia cried until her nose flushed red and her vision blurred. Not far away came the sound of movement — it was Ban Sheng arriving home. The man was startled to see her crying, and came striding over quickly. Only when he drew close did he see what she was looking at.

His tall, upright shadow fell over her. He crouched down in front of her, raised his hand to wipe the little girl’s tears, and teased her on purpose to lighten the mood, lifting one eyebrow:

“Tsk — do I have any privacy left?”

“You are the single most stupidly brilliant person in the universe!” Lin Weixia lifted her face, raising her hand to hit his shoulder repeatedly, her chest heaving, her voice coming out muffled: “I said I liked sunny, warm-hearted guys — that was a lie—”

Back in first year, Lin Weixia had been very popular, with many boys pursuing her, but she had been carrying too much weight inside and had never put any thought into romance.

One particular boy had followed her home every night, tirelessly declaring that he wanted to walk her back, and had even gone around telling people she was his girlfriend.

Lin Weixia was worn out by his persistence and deeply repulsed by that behavior. She told the scrawny boy — the one with bangs hanging so low you could barely see his eyes, wearing a pair of glasses — straight out: “I’ll be direct: you’re not my type.”

“Then what’s your type?” He refused to let it go.

Being pushed like that made Lin Weixia’s tone turn cold. She thought of a foreign actor she had been fond of at the time and made something up: “I like sunny, warm-hearted guys — the kind who play basketball, run fast, cheerful personality…”

The boy got the message and walked away after being rejected.

When you like someone, there are no real criteria. That had been nothing more than an excuse Lin Weixia used to brush people off. At the time, she genuinely had no idea what kind of person she actually liked.

She never imagined anyone would take it to heart.

“What’s the big deal — you’re crying this hard over it?” Ban Sheng reached out and wiped her tears with his fingers, looking at her.

It doesn’t matter. Liking you is enough.

“I want to apologize to you—” Lin Weixia haphazardly wiped at her tears, her nose as red as a rabbit’s.

Ban Sheng tucked the loose strands from her forehead behind her ear with great patience: “What is it?”

“It’s just… this morning, the congee I gave you — I… I added an extra spoonful of salt on purpose. Two spoonfuls total. I did it deliberately to get back at you.” Lin Weixia said this between hiccups.

That morning she had thought about Ban Sheng secretly liking someone and felt a little angry — never imagining that the person he had secretly liked was herself.

The man let out a low, soft laugh, reached out to brush away the last tear at the corner of her eye, and said gently:

“I know.”