When Fang Zhuo came out of the shopping center, the sun had just sunk to the top of the high-rise across the way. From where she stood, its light was half-obscured.

A flock of pigeons wheeled in a tilted, swooping arc above the roofline, tracing a long, winding formation before finding their direction and flying off toward the distance.

Fang Zhuo followed the gradually westward light all the way back to campus. By the time the bus stopped, the horizon was already stained with a layer of amber-red sunset.

The shifting colors layered and spread outward from the skyline, painting a lush, vivid oil painting of rich hues — and were then swallowed by a sheet of grey-black night.

Fang Zhuo’s work-study program was ongoing. The first-year curriculum was not particularly demanding — once coursework was done, a large blank stretch of her schedule remained with nothing to fill it.

She was no longer wrapping dumplings now, and had quietly reassigned that stretch of time to a floating slot, intending to use it to talk with Yan Lie about life and the future. Unfortunately, plans and reality diverged. With one job fewer, she did not seem to have become noticeably richer in time.

Reflecting on it, Fang Zhuo concluded the fault did not lie with her. The main issue was that Yan Lie’s free time and her free time could not be aligned. So whenever Yan Lie came looking for her, her answer most of the time was that she was too busy.

Finally, after one occasion when Fang Zhuo told him she had to go to volleyball team practice and could not go to the film he had spent a long time selecting — Yan Lie sent her an emoji of someone on the verge of crying.

That kind of aggrieved, pitiful expression made Fang Zhuo realize, with some surprise, that she had apparently already learned the art of the adult excuse.

She felt that would not do. She could not keep turning Yan Lie down so many times — the weight of it on her conscience would be too much.

Fang Zhuo looked up the cinema’s screening schedule, cross-referenced it with the school calendar, and after careful planning, blocked out a generous stretch of free time for him and sent it over.

Yan Lie was, as expected, wonderfully considerate. He replied with a simple okay and then sent a [Wildly Happy] emoji.

The May holiday had not yet arrived when Fang Zhuo learned of Yu Qingjiang’s birthday.

She and the other two roommates pooled their money, bought a gift, and gave it to Yu Qingjiang early.

The girl from the north was greatly moved. Since the holiday was too short for her to go home, she had already resigned herself to letting the birthday pass unacknowledged. Finding that her roommates had noticed, she immediately decided to take them out for a celebratory dinner before they left school for the break — and asked whether they were free.

She was so happy about it that Fang Zhuo could not bring herself to refuse.

So when Yan Lie’s message arrived, Fang Zhuo felt a small pang of guilt.

It was after her last class of the afternoon, a little past two o’clock, and she was sitting in her dormitory sorting through her things.

You Bear a Fierce Name: [Don’t go anywhere after school] Want to get dinner together?

You Bear a Fierce Name: [Starry-eyed]

Fang Zhuo chose each word carefully, trying to sound sincere and genuinely unable to help it.

Little Sun: It’s Yu Qingjiang’s birthday. Her family is going home tomorrow, so we’re going out to dinner together tonight.

You Bear a Fierce Name: Going for a walk to digest afterwards? [Heh heh heh]*

Little Sun: After dinner we’re going to sing karaoke. She already bought a room online.

You Bear a Fierce Name: Which KTV? The one near school?

Little Sun: No. [Photo] This one. The place near school was fully booked, so she borrowed a VIP card for this other one from a neighbor.

Yan Lie did not reply right away. Fang Zhuo wondered whether he was upset. She scrolled up and down the chat window with her thumb a few times, just about to search online for a guide on how to comfort people, when her phone buzzed again.

You Bear a Fierce Name: That’s right near my place. I might as well just head home then. My dad just sent over two boxes of seafood and fruit, and he says some of it is for you. Want to come by and pick some up on your way?

Little Sun: Why would it be for me?

You Bear a Fierce Name: No idea what’s gotten into him — but that’s honestly what he said. [Photo] Look.

In the screenshot, Yan Chengli’s phrasing was, as ever, blunt and spare — but he had indeed said: “If there’s too much to finish, you can take some for your classmates. Isn’t there still that uncle at home too?”

Fang Zhuo found it rather touching. Since their late-night conversation, she had not spoken with Yan Chengli again. She had not expected that this man would still be following up like a customer-care service.

Only his way of alluding to her was rather clumsy — the follow-up question mark he had tried to use as a conversational opener had failed accordingly, earning him only Yan Lie’s slightly baffled two-word reply: “Sure, okay.”

He was a uniquely hopeless case. Plugging the correct formula in and still getting the wrong answer.

She was privately critiquing Yan Chengli’s technique when Yan Lie sent another message.

You Bear a Fierce Name: What time are you all done?

Little Sun: No idea.

Yu Qingjiang had a few drinks, and with her inhibitions loosened she belted out five or six songs in full force, then dragged the others into group performances. By the time they finally wrapped up, it was past eight in the evening.

Inside the private room the lighting was dim and the noise was incessant — there was no way to feel time passing.

Yu Qingjiang called a car to take her roommates back to school. Fang Zhuo picked up her bag and said she would swing by Yan Lie’s first to pick some things up.

She had barely gotten to her feet when Yu Qingjiang gave her a firm pat on the back from behind, then grabbed her and pulled her back down onto the sofa.

Fang Zhuo was startled. She turned to find Yu Qingjiang’s face looming extremely close.

“Make him come and get you!” Yu Qingjiang stared at her with wide eyes, nearly pressing their noses together, saying urgently, “You have to give your boyfriend a chance to show up for you!”

Fang Zhuo quietly leaned back a little. “What does this count as showing up for me?”

“How would you know it doesn’t? A girl can lean on someone a little — it actually makes a guy feel needed.” The self-appointed relationship counselor grabbed her bag strap with one hand and pointed at her phone with the other. “Send him a message. Ask if he can come pick you up.”

The other two roommates joined in, agreeing that she had been too distant lately. Yan Lie had a lot of girls around him — and even if she was confident in herself, she ought to occasionally show a little girlfriend initiative in front of him.

Fang Zhuo was partly swayed by them, and partly a little shy about it. She held the phone out at an angle, away from their view, and typed out two lines with one hand.

Little Sun: Are you free right now?

Little Sun: Can you come pick me up?

Yan Lie’s replies were always fast — and this time, even faster.

You Bear a Fierce Name: Right now? The registry office is closed, isn’t it?

You Bear a Fierce Name: Anyway, that won’t quite work — but an engagement could do. If you urgently need it, I can get it arranged immediately.

You Bear a Fierce Name: And as for children — whose surname would they take, and what would they be named? Though personally I don’t think that’s urgent.

A voice call request immediately followed.

Fang Zhuo had not finished reading the messages before she panicked and declined the call.

She then re-read what she had sent — and realized why Yan Lie had reacted the way he had. She had not been paying attention when she typed, and the autocomplete had changed the last word, so the second message had gone out as: “Can you come marry me?”

Yan Lie certainly knew it was a typo — but he was not the type to let Fang Zhuo off the hook so easily. He kept sending messages, and the roommates who had noticed something odd leaned in to see.

You Bear a Fierce Name: Why did you hang up on me? You’re not backing out, are you?

You Bear a Fierce Name: Adults need to learn to take responsibility — for themselves, and for their boyfriend. Fair enough?

You Bear a Fierce Name: I’ve already put on my coat. Are you still at the KTV?

Little Sun [recalled a message].

Little Sun: I made a typo. I meant to ask if you could come pick me up.

You Bear a Fierce Name: I’m already downstairs.

Fang Zhuo had a sinking feeling — this person was absolutely going to milk this for everything it was worth.

Yu Qingjiang laughed shamelessly, showing not the slightest remorse for being the one who had started all of this. She rose swiftly, grabbed her phone and bag, and headed for the door.

“Goodbye, sisters — we’re off.”

… People really did need to learn to take responsibility. Otherwise they were liable to end up like Yu Qingjiang.

Fang Zhuo stood at the side of the road waiting.

The May wind was strong but oppressive, blowing in from the depths of the night, unable to carry away the heat rising off her skin.

Yan Lie came at something close to a run. He arrived through the glow of the streetlights, cutting into her field of vision from a distance before coming to a stop right in front of her.

A light sheen of sweat covered his forehead. Before speaking, he gave a small smile. “The others have gone?”

Fang Zhuo nodded.

Yan Lie was not about to let it drop. With a deliberate air he said, “So — why the sudden urge to get married? You must have realized I’m something pretty special.”

Fang Zhuo told herself to stay composed. Yan Lie becoming the way he was today had something to do with her as well.

She looked down at his shadow on the ground and repeated quietly, “I made a typo.”

The long dark shadow raised one hand to wipe at the sweat, ruffling his own hair into disarray. His voice came out soft and drawn-out: “So I’m just a tool, then.”

He let his hand fall, looking down at where his shadow was a fraction longer than Fang Zhuo’s. He wiped his fingers casually on his clothes, then made a small hooking motion — drawing closer to the person beside him and taking her hand.

“I don’t care,” Yan Lie said. “You’re mine now. I’m taking you home.”