Yan Lie still remembered the excuse he had given for coming to Fang Zhuo’s home. The moment he arrived and set down his backpack, he asked about his little bald chick, and told Fang Zhuo to show it to him.

As if. She could barely tell all the human faces apart, let alone the chickens.

Fang Zhuo felt that this overgrown child’s powers of focus were rather too intense. Not wanting to hear any accusations from him, she casually grabbed one of the chickens from the pen and told him it was Baldy.

Yan Lie took it with some skepticism and studied its head for a moment.

Though a week is a long time for a baby chick — long enough for them to grow quickly and change considerably in appearance — Yan Lie nonetheless deployed his sharp eyes, and after more than half an hour of searching around the yard, found the real Baldy.

“This is the true mascot of the flock!” Yan Lie, having seen through her scheme, said in disappointment. “You actually tried to deceive me?!”

Fang Zhuo stared as if she’d seen a ghost. “Tsk.”

“Were you trying to do away with my chicken?” Yan Lie asked.

“It’s my chicken,” Fang Zhuo corrected. “I paid for it. I bought the feed.”

“I offered you money and you wouldn’t take it,” Yan Lie said.

Fang Zhuo asked him with genuine curiosity: “What’s so special about it? Just because it’s bald? Why do you want to see it so badly?”

Yan Lie nearly cried out — it wasn’t that he wanted to see a chicken, he wasn’t strange like that! Even Bo Ya and Zi Qi wanted to see each other every day — did she really not consider him a friend?!

Ye Yuncheng, hearing the two of them squabbling, poked his head out with concern. “Are you two fighting?”

“Not at all,” Fang Zhuo turned and said. “We’re discussing a matter pertaining to chickens.”

On the subject of chicken paradoxes, the greatest one is probably the question of which came first, the chicken or the egg — though their chickens still needed another month or two before they’d start laying.

By the time the two of them returned to the room, Ye Yuncheng had already given them each a hard-boiled egg.

Fang Zhuo absolutely hated eating those. The moment Ye Yuncheng’s back was turned, she slipped hers into Yan Lie’s hand.

Yan Lie held the egg in his palm, deeply moved by the fact that Fang Zhuo, who wouldn’t spare a single cent on a text message, was willing to share her egg with him. He asked, with great feeling: “Is this your way of apologizing to me?”

Fang Zhuo thought for a moment, then asked: “How are you still this pure and adorable at eighteen?”

Yan Lie: “…” Is that a personal attack?

After a short while, Fang Zhuo realized he might have been hinting in a roundabout way that she was stingy, so she deliberately added: “I also shared a mooncake with you once.”

At that, Yan Lie was in the middle of learning to cook with Ye Yuncheng. Both of them turned at the same time to look at her.

Their expressions were uncannily alike — as though they were the ones who were related.

Fang Zhuo shook her head. “Never mind. Carry on.”

She went over to the chicken pen to refill the water trough.

A week had passed, and the small courtyard now had a mound of fresh soil near the entrance — it was the plot Fang Zhuo had said she wanted to use for growing vegetables. But the soil still had small stones mixed in that needed to be sorted out, which Ye Yuncheng had apparently not yet had time to do.

Time seemed to pass quickly. Fang Zhuo felt she had only just arrived, and already the sky was growing dark.

Yan Lie spent time with them watching television for a while, then helped out with some household chores.

Although Ye Yuncheng kept the rooms as clean as he could manage, there were many places that were difficult for him to reach because of his condition — high spots and corners of windows were hard to clean properly. Several old light bulbs had also gone unchanged for lack of the right opportunity. Yan Lie took care of all of it, and under Ye Yuncheng’s guidance even rearranged the furniture.

He was always thoughtful — he knew just how to help people in a way that felt comfortable and not at all intrusive.

In just half a day, Ye Yuncheng had grown very fond of him. Not the surface-level fondness one might feel for a high-achieving student, but the genuine affection one feels for any young person who is mature and considerate.

He asked twice about Yan Lie’s family and whether staying out after school might worry his parents. Yan Lie laughed each time and steered the conversation elsewhere. Sensing that this might be making Yan Lie uncomfortable, Ye Yuncheng let the subject drop and turned to asking about their school instead.

Their only mutual acquaintance was Fang Zhuo, so the rest of the conversation revolved almost entirely around that name. The person they were talking about was out back, turning the soil, playing the role of an industrious gardener.

Neither of them actually knew Fang Zhuo all that well, but after exchanging what limited information they had, both felt they had made considerable progress.

Fang Zhuo didn’t like five-kernel mooncakes, and she didn’t like hard-boiled eggs.

Ye Yuncheng noted this carefully.

— The mooncake doesn’t matter, but the hard-boiled egg — next time he’d watch her eat it himself.

It turned out Fang Zhuo’s actual birthday was September 28th — the same day as Confucius. No wonder she loved studying so much.

Isn’t that around the time of the school sports meet? Yan Lie thought to himself.

— He’d missed Fang Zhuo’s birthday twice. He might need to give her two full sets of college entrance exam practice papers to make it up.

The two men were getting along famously.

Ye Yuncheng even wanted Yan Lie to help Fang Zhuo with her homework and had already cleared off the desk for them — it was only when Fang Zhuo set out the bowls and chopsticks and called them to dinner that he abruptly realized the evening had crept up on them.

The three of them sat around the square dining table. The warm orange glow of the lamp cast a cozy light. Between two people who were normally rather quiet, Yan Lie’s presence had been inserted, and somehow the atmosphere was more harmonious than before.

This person seemed able to smooth out any tension in any setting.

“I feel terrible,” Ye Yuncheng said with embarrassment. “You’re a guest in our home, and I’ve barely shown you any hospitality — and yet you’ve spent all day helping out.”

“Not at all,” Yan Lie said sincerely. “I really enjoy talking with you, Uncle!”

Ye Yuncheng broke into a pleased smile and enthusiastically piled food onto Yan Lie’s plate. “Eat more. Someone gave us these free-range eggs — they taste wonderful!”

“Thank you, Uncle!”

The odd feeling in Fang Zhuo’s chest deepened another notch. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, half-suspecting he had come here to steal her uncle’s affection.

Ye Yuncheng urged: “Hurry and eat. The last bus leaves between eight and eight-thirty — it may not run on time — and if you miss it, there won’t be another one. Walking from here to the stop, if you take it slow, is about twenty-something minutes.”

After dinner, Ye Yuncheng asked: “Lielie, do you know the way back?”

Yan Lie went to get his bag, ready to leave, but stopped at the question, looking a little uncertain.

He had made a point of memorizing the first half of the route — he had walked it alongside Fang Zhuo on the way here. But the stretch from the village entrance inward, he’d spent partly chatting with Ye Yuncheng and partly in a state of high spirits, and he hadn’t quite committed it to memory.

Fang Zhuo took quiet pleasure in finding someone just as directionless as herself. Especially when that someone had picked her up twice in the dead of night and had made what amounted to a veiled jab at her on at least one occasion.

Fang Zhuo volunteered: “I’ll walk you.”

“Are you sure?” Yan Lie said. “You won’t need me to walk you back after, will you? I have GPS. It’s fine.”

Fang Zhuo was displeased. “In a situation like this, a simple ‘thank you’ would do.”

Ye Yuncheng said: “Let Zhuozhuo see you off then. Uncle will wash the dishes and come meet you on the way. Don’t forget to put on something warm — it’s cold out there.”

Possibly because of the rain the past few days, night had fallen especially early. It was barely past seven, and the road was almost too dark to see.

The night had grown cold, and the wind was strong. Yan Lie wore the outer layer that Ye Yuncheng had insisted he put on, and walked ahead, leading Fang Zhuo out of the narrow path. From his bag he produced two flashlights, and they each held one, lighting the way to either side.

“You carry flashlights when you go out?” Fang Zhuo said, surprised. “And two of them?”

“I’m a little afraid of the dark,” Yan Lie said, sweeping the light carefully over the ground, cautious about the unfamiliar terrain of the country path, wary of stepping into any ruts.

Fang Zhuo looked at him skeptically. “You’re afraid of the dark? Then why are you always out wandering around late at night?”

Yan Lie was stumped. He was quiet for a moment, then said: “I’m usually in a shop.”

He added: “And I hate being alone at home even more.”

City A was reasonably well-developed. His home was near the city center, and even late at night, it was never that dark.

“You think I’m making it up, don’t you? I really am afraid of the dark,” Yan Lie said. “Actually, it’s not so much the dark — it’s more that I’m afraid of ghosts.”

Fang Zhuo realized that Yan Lie was actually quite fond of wheedling.

When he wheedled, his voice went light and soft, and even his eyes took on a pitiful, pleading quality. Whether it was skilled performance or genuine nature was hard to say. With the cover of night around him, he grew uninhibited.

Fang Zhuo heard herself give in: “Alright then.”

“Then stay close to me,” Yan Lie said.

Fang Zhuo stepped up beside him, walking alongside him shoulder to shoulder. She took one of the flashlights from him, and the two of them lit the path together.

Yan Lie slowed his pace considerably. After a while, he spoke again.

“I think you’re incredible — you can do all sorts of things.”

Fang Zhuo was completely bewildered. She didn’t even know herself what she could supposedly do.

“What can I do?”

“All kinds of practical life skills,” Yan Lie said.

Fang Zhuo was thoroughly lost. “Are you planning a jungle expedition? Or looking to survive out in the wilderness? Why on earth would you envy my practical skills?”

Yan Lie chuckled softly — his sense of humor always struck Fang Zhuo as peculiar.

The two of them walked on for a stretch, and the smile on Yan Lie’s face gradually stiffened.

He grew increasingly on edge, glancing back over his shoulder now and then with a look of nervous suspicion, or reaching up to touch the back of his neck.

As they neared the village entrance, Yan Lie could hold back no longer. He turned and shone the flashlight into the darkness behind them. The yellow beam swept across — and he went rigid, blinking, his whole body tense with alarm.

He quickly moved closer to Fang Zhuo, tugged at her sleeve, and lowered his voice: “There’s someone behind us.”

Fang Zhuo gave him a sidelong look and pulled her arm free. “Stop it.”

“Really!” Yan Lie’s throat bobbed. “Don’t believe me? Look back.”

“I won’t,” Fang Zhuo said.

“Look! I’m serious!” Yan Lie pressed.

Fang Zhuo had assumed Yan Lie was playing some childish trick to frighten her — but when she actually stopped and listened carefully, she could faintly make out the sound of footsteps that didn’t belong to either of them.

Fang Zhuo frowned. She turned the flashlight to full power and shone it directly toward the sound.

A dark figure flashed through the beam and darted swiftly behind a wall to one side. Even with nimble movements, the exposure was unmistakable.

Silence fell between them.

Fang Zhuo turned to look at Yan Lie, wanting to say something reassuring — but what she saw stopped her. His face had gone ashen, drained of almost every trace of color, the expression of someone thoroughly terrified.

He said nothing. He simply grabbed Fang Zhuo’s hand and bolted.

In that moment, Fang Zhuo believed his fear of ghosts was entirely genuine. Her arm was yanked with such force that one of her shoes flew off as they ran. Eventually she could only hop forward on one foot, trying to keep up. Even so, Yan Lie didn’t slow down or let go — he would have gladly hoisted her onto his back if he could. And yet through it all, not a single shriek escaped him. He kept every sound locked tight inside his chest.

The two of them ran in blind panic, with no time to check their direction.

By the time Yan Lie’s overheated mind began to cool, they were already in a place that was completely unfamiliar.

Yan Lie stood with his face taut, turning in a full circle to check that no one had followed. Only then did he exhale, and turned to look at Fang Zhuo.

Fang Zhuo was standing on one foot, the other bare, and she said, without much emotion: “Lielie, I lost a shoe.”

Yan Lie’s heart was still hammering. He kept his voice low, and the words came out unmistakably hoarse: “Weren’t you scared at all?”

“I’m not afraid of ghosts,” Fang Zhuo said. “That was obviously a person. There are two of us — surely we could handle one person.”

As soon as the words were out, she felt they sounded too much like a taunt, and it didn’t sit right. She softened her tone: “If you’re really frightened, you can hold onto my bag strap.”

Yan Lie’s expression, for once, showed something close to sheepishness — and disbelief. Given how eerie the situation had just been, he could hardly conceive of a girl who hadn’t been scared.

“What are you afraid of, then?” he asked.

“There’s nothing I’m really afraid of,” Fang Zhuo said. She reached out and grabbed the strap of his backpack. “Let’s go back. It’s fine. I’m here.”

Yan Lie let his head drop. His eyes half-closed. He steadied his breathing, and some color finally returned to his face. He had long since lost his sense of direction, but fortunately he still had GPS. He took out his phone and tried to use the map to navigate their way back to the village entrance.

But before he’d even finished plotting the route, he glanced at the time and saw it was already past eight. He wasn’t sure whether they’d missed the last bus of the evening.

The two of them made their way back through the night, searching the dark for a white shoe. They retraced their steps to the spot where they had fled, but the shoe was nowhere to be found.

Fang Zhuo was still lamenting the loss of her property when they ran into Ye Yuncheng, who had come to meet them on his walking stick.

Strangely, the shoe was dangling in his hand.

“I wondered why you hadn’t come back yet. Where did the two of you go?”

Yan Lie was in no position to answer. Both of them wore identically innocent expressions.

“Let’s just go home,” Ye Yuncheng said, half-amused and half-exasperated. “Little Mu is scared half to death because of you two.”