Seven or eight people had agreed to go to the equestrian club, setting out Saturday morning.

It was on the outskirts of the city, a private club. Membership-only for horse owners, not open to the public — you could ride the track or go for a free ride out in the open.

Jiang Wen leaned on the second-floor railing, gazing out for a while, then went down the stairs. A few people who were afraid of the heat had gathered around a table downstairs to play cards.

His footsteps stopped. He looked down at the hem of his clothes, which had been hooked by Cheng Jiajia’s hand.

“Um, would you come with me to buy some drinks? I’m afraid I can’t carry them all by myself.” Her cheeks flushed pink, her voice soft, carrying a hint of coquetry.

He felt no particular enthusiasm, but wasn’t especially cold either. He nodded absently.

The two of them had just come back into everyone’s line of sight with a few bottles of drinks when the sarcastic hooting immediately started up.

Ji Chiyang smirked wickedly. “What’s Little Sister Cheng up to, sneaking off with Brother Wen?”

Xi Gaoyuan was just as quick to react. “Tsk tsk, why do I smell something sour and love-struck in the air?”

One after another chimed in without stopping. Cheng Jiajia cut them off. “What are you all talking about? I just went to buy drinks, what else would we be doing? You can twist anything into something else — way too much imagination.”

Seeing her get flustered only made them more shameless, dirty jokes rolling right off their tongues: “Oh, blushing already? We were just asking casually. Besides, that short a time isn’t even enough for our Brother Wen to get up to anything.”

Cheng Jiajia stamped her foot. “Why do you keep making jokes about me and Jiang Wen today!”

Anyone could tell — when she called out Jiang Wen’s name, her tone was different every time.

Ji Chiyang asked back, perfectly serious, “Who told you to keep sticking to Jiang Wen all the time.”

Jiang Wen listened to the teasing off to the side, tossing the drink bottles one by one into their arms, but said nothing.

Zhao Binlin sprawled on the sofa, watching them all with a meaningful look.

They played until around three or four in the afternoon, then decided to head back. They’d brought two off-road vehicles.

Cheng Jiajia and Pei Shurou walked arm in arm, waiting until last, but it turned out that once everyone else had gotten into the cars, they insisted on splitting the two girls up, one to each car, so the ride wouldn’t be boring.

The two of them stood there hesitating for a moment, trying to figure out how to split up. Pei Shurou gave Cheng Jiajia a push toward the car Jiang Wen was sitting in. “You take that one.”

The drive back to the city center of Nancheng took about two hours, going through the countryside; part of the road hadn’t been paved yet, and it was very bumpy.

Cheng Jiajia and Jiang Wen both sat in the back seat, their arms occasionally bumping against each other’s legs.

The person beside them closed his eyes and pretended to doze. She turned to look at the scenery flashing by outside the window, sinking into this faint, ambiguous little atmosphere.

Cheng Jiajia noticed a phone ringing and gently poked the back of his hand. “Jiang Wen, it’s yours.”

Jiang Wen was half a beat slow, opening his eyes — it was a call from home. He roused himself and picked up. “Hello.”

There was no music in the car, and since they were sitting close together, Cheng Jiajia could faintly make out a woman’s voice on the other end, speaking rather quickly.

Jiang Wen rolled the window down a little, letting the wind blow in. He switched the phone from his left ear to his right, murmuring a couple of low replies.

There was a fork up ahead, and the car suddenly swerved.

Cheng Jiajia lost her balance and bumped into Jiang Wen’s chest, her elbow bracing itself against his hand in the process.

His fingers were very cold. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she murmured, “Sorry.”

Jiang Wen didn’t move, his expression flat. He gave a low hum of acknowledgment.

Most of the time, he was like this — indifferent to everyone. But it was exactly this air of not caring that made people unable to decide whether to love him or resent him.

Today was the weekend, and the city streets were lit up with neon, bustling everywhere. It was rush hour, traffic jammed bumper to bumper. They pulled into the underground parking garage of a mall at random, parked, and walked to the night market on foot to find something to eat.

The area had a strong, gritty local flavor — stray cats and dogs running back and forth, mosquitoes and flies circling the trash piles by the roadside. The streets were packed with people, lined with barbecue stalls; it was the perfect season for crayfish. But sitting at one of these open-air food stalls, gathered around a table with iced beer and cola, had a real summer feel to it.

Every one of them was used to eating the finest delicacies in ordinary life, and they all agreed unanimously to come here for a taste of something different.

By now the sun had set and the sky had gone completely dark. They picked a place at random that looked like it was doing decent business and sat themselves down.

Maybe they were short-staffed — for a long while, no one came to serve them.

Zhao Binlin sat down next to Jiang Wen and noticed he was playing on his phone. He leaned over to look — it turned out to be Tetris. “Are you a grade-schooler or something.”

A young man slapped the table and shouted, urging, “Is anyone even working here? Boss, you doing business or not? Anyone taking orders?”

“Coming, menu’s coming.”

Zhao Binlin turned his head, looked closely, and was caught off guard. “Feng Ning, what are you doing here?” His gaze swept over the clothes she was wearing, curious. “You work here?”

“Huh, I didn’t expect you all would come eat on East Street.” Feng Ning looked rather surprised too, glancing around the table, and broke into a smile. “I’m helping a friend out here. What do you want to eat? I’ll order for you.”

Unlike usual, she hadn’t tied her hair up today; her smooth black hair hung down clean, and she wasn’t wearing makeup either. The loose strands on either side were tucked behind her ears, and in the dim light, with her fine brows and eyes, she looked especially gentle and serene.

Zhao Binlin snapped out of it as if waking from a dream, nudging Jiang Wen. “What do you want to eat, young master.”

Across the crowd, Jiang Wen and Feng Ning gazed at each other from a distance, as if in a silent pantomime. He frowned slightly, his expression blank as he looked away, and started up another round of his game.

Cheng Jiajia wiped at the grease on the corner of the table with a tissue, looking Feng Ning up and down. Her movements slowed, her mouth opened slightly, and she shot Pei Shurou a look.

Pei Shurou gave a soft scoff and raised an eyebrow.

The two of them, dressed sleek and glamorous, looked utterly out of place against this grimy environment.

The food came out fast, glistening with oil. The others at the table chatted, and once they’d mostly finished eating, they called for several rounds of drinks, mixing baijiu with beer. Jiang Wen barely touched his chopsticks, holding his glass, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

He tilted his head back a little, drinking alone, sip by sip.

Out of some kind of sharp intuition, Cheng Jiajia could tell his mood had been off the whole time. She said gently, “There’s a convenience store nearby, I’ll go buy you some yogurt, otherwise your stomach will hurt later.”

Jiang Wen’s facial features were finely cut, his delicate eyes lifting slightly, giving him a look of romantic allure. With the alcohol fogging his mind, he couldn’t quite think straight; his expression blank, he studied her thoughtfully, his dark eyes deep as a pool, as if trying to figure out who she was.

Cheng Jiajia wanted to say more, but under his stare, she couldn’t help blushing.

Jiang Wen leaned back against the edge of the table, turning his head to look off somewhere, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Who do you like, hm?”

She let out a startled sound, too embarrassed to answer. Her heart suddenly pounded fiercely, and she nearly lost the ability to speak coherently. “I… you…”

It wasn’t as if she’d never dated before, but for some reason, Cheng Jiajia always felt inexplicably nervous in front of him. When she looked again, Jiang Wen had already wiped every trace of playfulness clean off his face.

Meanwhile, as they waited to settle the bill, Ji Chiyang opened WeChat. “Little sister, are you scanning me or am I scanning you?”

Feng Ning skillfully whipped out a QR code sign. “You scan me.”

About half the group had had too much to drink. Ji Chiyang, worried something might happen, discussed it with Xi Gaoyuan, and they decided to take the two girls home first. Those who’d already passed out at the table would be sent home one by one afterward.

Someone patted a head — no response. After a moment, patted it again.

Jiang Wen caught a whiff of shampoo scent and opened his eyes slightly to see Feng Ning leaning down over him. “Hey, why are you lying face-down here?”

In the dim lamplight, a pair of camellia earrings in pure silver glinted faintly at her earlobes.

Jiang Wen’s gaze looked back at her, unfocused, his brow furrowing tightly as if in discomfort, and he asked slowly, “Who are you?”

Seeing him act this foolish, Feng Ning knew right away he was probably quite drunk, unable even to recognize people. Her expression didn’t change; she enunciated clearly: “Feng Ning — the ‘feng’ of a chance encounter, the ‘ning’ of unbending resolve. I’m your father, you’re my son.”

His tongue seemed tied in knots. “Chickens and dogs, all in uproar?”

Unlike most people who flushed red when drunk, Jiang Wen had gone deathly pale instead, his breath thick with the smell of alcohol.

“Yo, doesn’t seem like you’re that drunk after all.” Feng Ning laughed, holding up a finger and waving it in front of his eyes, half-seriously asking, “Sonny, how many is this, can you still tell?”

Jiang Wen pulled her hand down and said very solemnly, “One.”

Watching Jiang Wen act like this, Feng Ning suddenly felt the urge to pull out her phone and snap a couple of pictures right in his face. She laughed out loud. “You’re so funny, who knew you’d turn out like this when drunk.”

Someone over there shouted at the top of their lungs several times, “Take the grilled skewers to table 7.”

Feng Ning called back a response and was about to leave, but stumbled — thrown off balance because Jiang Wen had grabbed hold of her. She snapped, irritated, “What, big brother, I’m busy here.”

“Busy with what?”

Feng Ning narrowed her eyes, looking him up and down. “So many people, business is good, huh.”

He didn’t move, and showed no sign of letting go. She sighed and turned to call out to Meng Hanmo, “Bro, help me get some ice water from the back, a friend’s had too much to drink.”

She could only manage with one hand, struggling to pour the ice water into a cup, and handed it to Jiang Wen. He didn’t take it, so she ended up feeding it to the young master herself, sip by sip.

Cuntou happened to pass by and see this, his eyes going wide, grinning wickedly. “Ning-zai, who are you flirting with here.”

Hearing someone call her, Feng Ning glanced sideways, annoyed. “Screw off, what flirting, my classmate had too much to drink.”

She put down the cup, out of patience to deal with him any longer, and forcibly yanked her clothes free. “Alright, that’s enough out of you, behave yourself and wait for your friends properly. I’ve got work to do.”

The moment she turned, she was grabbed again.

Feng Ning looked down, exasperated. “Oh for god’s sake, are you done or not, what exactly do you want?”

Jiang Wen’s mind was a muddle, still stuck in shutdown mode.

Under the half-lit, half-dark neon glow, his eyes were narrowed from the flickering light, his expression blurry, clearly still not fully conscious. He pressed his lips together, then parted them slightly.

In this scorching heat, sweat had broken out on his back, and the night wind blew in, sticky and uncomfortable. The surroundings were chaotic, noise blanketing everything. People passed by in twos and threes; Feng Ning didn’t catch what he’d said at first, and bent her neck down. “What did you say?”

She stamped her foot lightly, waving off mosquitoes.

Jiang Wen’s voice dropped low, completely hoarse now, like an exhausted whisper. “Who do you like?”

Author’s Note: I’m starting to run out of material here.