It wasn’t until the afternoon of the next day that Qi Lan woke up.

Tubes were inserted into her; she forced her eyes open with effort.

Feng Ning had been keeping watch by the hospital bed the whole time. She held Qi Lan’s ice-cold hand, tears splattering down. “Mom, you scared me half to death. I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

Qi Lan’s spirits were very low. She gazed at her daughter’s face, unable to say a word. Shuang Yao’s mother felt a pang in her heart, turned away, and her eyes reddened too.

Qi Lan’s condition fluctuated somewhat, her body showing no real improvement; she spent more than half her time in deep sleep.

Another week passed before she learned that Feng Ning had withdrawn from school, and she grew furious: “Isn’t this just reckless nonsense? In a couple of days, once I’m a bit better, I’ll take you to school myself and explain things clearly to your teacher — you’re going to keep going to school.” Feng Ning stiffened her neck. “I’m not going to school. I want to stay with you.”

Qi Lan raised her voice slightly. “Even if you’re staying with me, you still can’t skip school.”

At the bedside, Feng Ning hurried to hug her. “Mom, don’t be angry. I’ve only taken a leave of absence — I’ll go back to studying. Once you’re better, I’ll go back to school, I’ll get into the best university, I promise you.”

Something stirred faintly in the depths of Qi Lan’s heart, and she fell silent.

Several minutes later, she sighed helplessly. “Such a stubborn temper — just like your father.”

Feng Ning went along with her words. “That’s right, I’ve got a stubborn temper, I really am stubborn.” She pressed her face into Qi Lan’s palm. “Mom, you have to focus on getting well. Don’t leave me alone — I don’t have a father anymore, I don’t want to be alone.”

It rained for several days, and the temperature dropped suddenly.

On her way home from buying groceries, Feng Ning turned into the mouth of the alley, and her steps suddenly halted — she’d caught sight of someone across the street at a glance.

He was sitting on the long bench beneath the bus stop sign, wearing a light-colored sports jacket with the zipper open, a black hoodie underneath, dark blue jeans, and white sneakers.

No wonder he was the school’s top heartthrob — even skipping class, he dressed this stylishly.

She leaned against a tree trunk and watched him for a few minutes.

The traffic streamed past ceaselessly. He sat with his head lowered, seemingly lost in thought. A patch of tree shade fell over him, and a thin layer of autumn leaves, just starting to yellow, was scattered at his feet.

At this hour, the nearby kindergarten and elementary school had just let out. A few children with colorful little backpacks ran laughing past the roadside, holding freshly bought candied hawthorn skewers.

Sensing someone sit down beside him, Jiang Wen snapped out of his thoughts.

Feng Ning said, glib and smooth, “Where’d such a handsome guy come from, getting lost right at my doorstep?”

Jiang Wen sized her up.

Feng Ning leaned back, turning her head to meet his eyes. “Who’d you ask for the address?”

Jiang Wen sat without moving, hesitated, then gave his answer: “Shuang Yao.”

“Getting smarter — you even know how to ask around indirectly.” Feng Ning puffed out her cheeks.

“Why aren’t you going to school?”

“What about it?”

“Your family…” “Mm.” Feng Ning watched the sunset climbing up her calves, tinted orange. The sunlight stretched the shadows long. She wiggled her ankle and said, not too concerned, “My mom’s sick. I need to take care of her.”

“Can’t you hire a caregiver?”

Feng Ning smiled faintly and pretended not to hear.

Jiang Wen was silent for a long, long time. Then, very earnestly, he said, “I can help you.”

“Thank you so much.” Feng Ning put on a thoughtful expression. “I’m so moved. You’ve helped me — how should I repay you?” She teased him. “How about I give myself to you in marriage?”

Jiang Wen knew she was joking and, for a moment, said nothing. His face stayed expressionless as he silently answered in his heart.

Sure.

What he said aloud was: “I’m serious.”

She burst out laughing. “I know you’re serious.”

Feng Ning’s shoulders were thin, her head lowered, hair covering the side of her face. Jiang Wen couldn’t see her expression clearly. “So — are you still going to school?”

“Not for now, I guess. I should go back eventually.” Feng Ning crushed a leaf underfoot. “If I don’t go to school, am I supposed to drop out of high school and go work some factory job? Though with my skills, making money wouldn’t be hard either. But I promised my mom — I’m going to get into the best university and bring honor to our Feng family name.”

He fell quiet.

Feng Ning suddenly noticed how long Jiang Wen’s legs were. He had them slightly bent, while she’d stretched hers out as far as they’d go, and still couldn’t reach that spot.

Feng Ning swung her feet, laughing. “With me gone, is class a lot more peaceful now?”

He finally spoke, giving a soft “mm.”

“That’s great then — the Iron Lady must be secretly celebrating, finally no one’s disrupting classroom discipline.”

She was still her usual self, talking non-stop, rambling on the moment she started, “But surely someone still misses me. Xiao Meng got a new deskmate — she calls me at night saying she misses me so much she’s crying. Without me helping her with homework, she just can’t get used to it.”

He watched her mouth running on and on, then suddenly asked, “You answer her calls — why don’t you reply to my messages?”

Feng Ning stumbled for a second. “Huh? I haven’t replied?”

“No.”

Feng Ning, at a loss for words, rubbed her nose.

Jiang Wen stared at her unblinkingly. “I’m not used to it either.”

Feng Ning realized what he was getting at; her reaction showed a flicker of surprise.

In the first two weeks after Feng Ning stopped coming to class.

The texts he’d sent had vanished without a trace, no reply of any kind — no one could reach her.

Jiang Wen kept having a faint illusion: whenever he heard a girl laugh nearby, he’d neurotically think it was Feng Ning, back again.

But every time he turned by habit to look, that seat was already empty, the desk vacated.

Before he could even process it, his throat would tighten again and again. There was a dull ache in his chest, the kind of pain like being lightly pricked by a needle — not unbearable, but lingering enough that it couldn’t be ignored.

He thought of how Feng Ning used to deliberately make faces to annoy him, and Jiang Wen suddenly felt at a loss. It was the same lively scene as always, everyone talking and laughing, nothing had changed.

So why was he the only one who felt this miserable inside.

After a long while, having processed his own feelings, he said, “I don’t even know why I came looking for you, but I…”

Feng Ning turned to look at Jiang Wen — he had never been like this in front of her before. She hesitated slightly, not knowing what to say.

Once he’d started, the rest of the sentence came more easily. Jiang Wen finally said the words he’d been brewing in his heart for so long: “Feng Ning, I want to help you.”

For some reason, in that instant Feng Ning understood exactly what he meant to say.

Not: I could help you.

But: I want to help you.

At the hospital, Qi Lan asked, “Why are you so late today?”

“On the way here just now, I ran into a boy from my old class, chatted with him for a bit.”

Qi Lan looked a bit surprised. “Did he come specifically looking for you?”

“Yeah.” Feng Ning pulled down the small tray table, set the thermos on it, and adjusted the height of the hospital bed.

“What did you two talk about?”

“School stuff.”

Qi Lan didn’t press further.

While eating, Feng Ning suddenly thought of something. “I think it was last year’s Christmas — no wait, not Christmas, the New Year’s party. Our class’s sports rep was singing ‘Old Boy,’ and that duck-voice of his sang it so badly. You know I’ve never liked that song since I was little — the moment I hear it I think of Dad, so I slipped out alone to get some air.”

Qi Lan listened attentively. “Mm, then what.”

Feng Ning swallowed her food and gulped down some water. “Then he followed me out too — that same boy who came to find me today. He tailed me like some kind of thief, it was hilarious.”

That time her mood had actually been terrible, but turning around to see Jiang Wen’s awkward expression, she’d found herself smiling for no reason.

Qi Lan hadn’t heard her mention this before, and grew a little curious. “He likes you?”

Feng Ning didn’t hesitate at all, nodding directly, the corners of her mouth curving up. “Yeah.”

“What kind of person is he.”

Feng Ning thought about it, then described him to her mother this way: “A good student — grades-wise, just a tiny bit worse than mine. But he’s really good-looking.” She laughed. “Though his temper’s pretty bad — the slightest teasing sets him off. Really arrogant too, wouldn’t even look at people properly at first.”

“An excellent boy.”

Feng Ning slapped her forehead, giggling. “Mom, I finally understand why emperors in ancient times liked those concubines who were all looks and no brains.”

“Why?” Qi Lan listened to her daughter’s nonsense, feeling more relaxed too.

“Once in a while, running into someone completely different from yourself is actually pretty fun. Watching him live prettily, happily, you just think — sigh, life’s still worth living after all.”

“What nonsense are you talking about.” Qi Lan glared at her.

Feng Ning pouted. “That’s roughly what I mean, anyway.”

Days passed like flowing water. Zhao Binlin noticed Jiang Wen had been a bit strange lately.

Exactly what was strange about it, he couldn’t quite say — Jiang Wen had just clearly gone much quieter.

And another thing —

“Why do you keep disappearing the moment there’s a break lately? Won’t pick up when I call, won’t reply to messages either.” Zhao Binlin asked, puzzled, “Have you been sneaking off to see prostitutes or something?”

Jiang Wen propped his chin on one hand, saying nothing, staring at the blackboard, pen moving fast as he caught up on notes.

“I keep feeling like you’re hiding some secret from me.”

Getting no response, Zhao Binlin grew a little anxious and couldn’t help nudging him. “What’s going on with you, Jiang Wen? Feng Ning’s gone, you’ve got no rival anymore — and you’re this fired up about studying? You never used to copy notes before!”

Jiang Wen’s expression darkened. He let out a soft breath, glanced at him. “Can you not be so noisy — let me have some quiet.”

“So it’s true — the second anyone mentions Feng Ning, you react.”

Kicking Jiang Wen’s chair with his foot, Zhao Binlin asked, “What actually happened with her family?”

“None of your business.”

Zhao Binlin: “Isn’t this me caring about her?”

“Are you close with her?” Jiang Wen arched a brow, putting on a mocking, sarcastic expression.

“…?”

“Is it your place to care?”

“……”

Zhao Binlin was rendered speechless by his sharpness. He raised a hand and slapped his own mouth. “Fine, this humble one offended you.”

During the long break, several class representatives moved through the classroom handing out test papers. Jiang Wen finished sorting a few exams and, ignoring Zhao Binlin’s shouting, left the classroom alone, walking to the large staff office on the same floor.

Standing in front of the photocopier, the smell of ink filled the air near his nose. The machine let out soft beeps as he stood there, lost in thought.

The biology teacher passed by holding a water cup, glanced over. “Jiang Wen, printing things again?”

Jiang Wen nodded.

Another Saturday came around, a clear bright day, the sky an unabashed blue. Just past seven thirty, Feng Ning leaned against a lamp post, drinking soy milk. She was dead tired, yawning twice in a row.

A taxi pulled up, and someone got out.

Once Jiang Wen got close, Feng Ning handed over another cup of soy milk. “Have breakfast yet?”

Jiang Wen shook his head.

“Want a pan-fried bun?”

Jiang Wen declined. “No.”

“Shaomai then?”

Jiang Wen shook his head again.

“Try it, it’s really good!”

Jiang Wen: “I’ve got no appetite in the morning, I can’t eat this kind of dry food.”

“Understood, delicate young master.”

He kept a straight face. “Don’t call me that.”

“Then why won’t you eat — trying to sneak a bite of my breakfast instead?”

She led him forward, popping a small bun into her own mouth every so often. Near Yujiang Alley there was a well-known old noodle shop that had been open for over a decade. It wasn’t far; Feng Ning walked ahead, leading Jiang Wen in to sit down.

There weren’t many customers at this hour. The shop owner’s wife came over personally to greet them, and her eyes lit up at the sight of Jiang Wen. “Oh, Ningning, who’s this?”

“This is…” Feng Ning said, half-joking, “my teacher.”

“Well, the teacher’s quite young.” The owner’s wife brought them each a cup of mung bean water. “Shredded pork noodles or snakehead fish noodles?”

“I’m not eating.” Feng Ning pointed at Jiang Wen across from her. “Give him a bowl of shredded pork noodles.”

Five minutes later, a steaming bowl of noodles arrived at the table, topped with a handful of tender green scallions, looking quite appetizing. Jiang Wen, for once, didn’t turn his nose up, and took the initiative to break apart a pair of chopsticks.

She bit into her own pan-fried bun.

“How much does a taxi from your place cost?”

Jiang Wen swallowed his food before answering. “Don’t know.”

“Hm?”

“Gave him a hundred, didn’t pay attention to how much change he gave back.”

Feng Ning’s eyes went wide, nearly spraying out the soy milk in her mouth. “Are you running some kind of charity?”

“……”

The families had discussed it earlier — on Saturdays, Shuang Yao’s mother would go keep watch at the hospital, on Sundays it’d be Zhao Weichen’s mother, and Feng Ning would rest at home.

The last time Jiang Wen had come to see Feng Ning, after he left, he’d sent her a message.

Feng Ning had thought about it a long time, discussed it with Qi Lan, and hadn’t refused him.

— During the break, he’d tutor her.

Qi Lan was at the hospital; the only one home was a big yellow dog. The mahjong room technically had more space, but no one had cleaned it in ages, and it was covered in dust. Feng Ning could only bring Jiang Wen to her own room.

Before opening the door, Feng Ning asked, “Do you know how to play mahjong?”

“No.”

Feng Ning patted her chest. “I’ll teach you sometime.”

Jiang Wen followed her silently into her room.

Feng Ning’s room — how to put it — was far more girlish than she was herself. Though the color scheme wasn’t pink, everywhere carried a little warmth. A white dreamcatcher, wind chimes hanging on the balcony, Hello Kitty and SpongeBob stickers everywhere, a few manga volumes tossed carelessly on the desk.

This was Jiang Wen’s first time entering a girl’s room; the air carried a faint scent of laundry detergent. He felt slightly out of place, his eyes carefully restrained from wandering.

Feng Ning bent down, moved two folding tables onto the bay window seat, pushed them together, then brought out cushions.

Jiang Wen set his backpack aside, looked around, and said, “We’re studying here?”

“Yep, take your shoes off and come up.”

Feng Ning had already sat cross-legged.

Jiang Wen: “……”

“I always used to study here.” Feng Ning threw open the curtains, revealing the fine autumn scenery, warm sunlight just barely reaching in. “See, from here you can see into the yard next door too — there’s an old man who likes sitting in the shade under the tree, and when I’m bored I like watching him. Sometimes I suddenly shout at him from a distance, scare him half to death — sometimes the old man gets so mad he comes over to tattle to my mom, hahahahaha.”

Talking about something that made her happy, she cupped her face in both hands, grinning mischievously.

Jiang Wen followed Feng Ning’s lead and tucked his legs in too. But he was tall with long legs, and felt somewhat cramped in this small space. He adjusted his sitting position, unzipped his backpack, and took out his books, notebook, and papers one by one, placing them on the small table.

Feng Ning flipped through the photocopied papers. “Wow, you printed all of this yourself?”

“What else.”

“Amazing, amazing.” She was deeply moved. “What did I do to deserve this — the Qide school heartthrob personally coming out to give me one-on-one tutoring? I must have saved the galaxy in a past life!”

Jiang Wen found that quite gratifying, though he kept his smugness hidden. “You tutored my sister.”

“Hm? So what if I tutored your sister — our boss paid me for it.”

Feng Ning pulled out a pen, cheerfully flipping through the papers front and back, still not being serious. “Tutored the sister — now the brother’s here to collect the debt.”

“Then you can leave my tutoring fee outstanding.”

The moment he finished, she immediately covered her ears, acting shameless. “I didn’t hear that, I didn’t hear that, whatever I don’t hear doesn’t count.”

Once she lowered her hands, Jiang Wen snorted coldly and continued. “I said, you’ll owe me the money and pay it back later.”

Feng Ning gave a weak “oh.” “So how much is the tutoring fee.”

“Calculated by the hour.” Seeing her listless look, Jiang Wen suppressed a smile at the corner of his mouth, thought about it, then added: “Two hundred an hour.”

“You’re way too much of a bandit, why not just go rob a bank!” Feng Ning took a deep breath, and decisively pointed at the door. “Get out.”

“What?”

“I can’t afford this price, leave right now.” Feng Ning leaned back. “Even if I sold everything I own, I couldn’t afford your tutoring.”

“Then how much can you accept.”

Feng Ning made a peace-sign gesture.

Jiang Wen, torn between laughter and tears, played along. “Twenty?”

Feng Ning shook her head, saying solemnly, “Two yuan.”

Holding it in for a long moment, Jiang Wen finally broke, a smile surfacing on his fair, handsome face. He cleared his throat. “Fine, let’s start. Two yuan it is.”

“Wow, did you just smile?” Feng Ning wore an expression of having discovered a new continent. “You actually know how to smile.”

Jiang Wen stopped smiling, looking a bit embarrassed, a bit annoyed. “What’s wrong with smiling.”

“You look good when you smile — you’re already handsome, and smiling makes you even more handsome.” Feng Ning said sincerely. “You’re way more radiant than your usual sour face. If you smiled more at school, that guy from Class Seven competing with you for school heartthrob — does he even stand a chance? Our Jiang here would crush him by miles.”

“Let’s study.” Jiang Wen issued the order.

Sophomore year coursework was simple. Aside from physics and math, Feng Ning could mostly figure out the rest through self-study. At the hospital normally, aside from caring for Qi Lan, she spent the rest of her time reading.

She wasn’t too far behind, could barely keep up. Working through one full test paper, out of a hundred points, she could probably score around eighty-something.

The morning passed quickly, and lunchtime arrived. Jiang Wen set down his pen. “What are we eating?”

“Feng Family Kitchen.”

“Where’s that?”

She said humorously, “In my kitchen at home.”

“……”

Feng Ning pulled him into the kitchen.

Feng Ning found two dark blue aprons from somewhere and tossed him one, quickly putting hers on herself. The apron had a MSG advertisement printed on the front and back.

Jiang Wen stood speechless for a while, then reluctantly complied. He was tall, so he had to roll up his sleeves, and barely managed to squeeze into the apron.

Young Master Jiang, who’d never so much as touched dishwater in his life, was cooking for the first time — and it just happened to be in Feng Ning’s shabby little courtyard house.

Feng Ning taught him how to pick vegetables, wash them, and cut potatoes. He didn’t put on any young-master airs, and worked alongside her.

Jiang Wen had a serious case of OCD — when cutting things, they had to be uniformly thick. This being his first time cooking, he only got more into it as he went.

Feng Ning stared at his serious profile, gave a thumbs up, praising repeatedly, “Not bad — you’re actually pretty talented, who knew.”

While stir-frying, Feng Ning produced two more towels from somewhere, handing him a cream-colored one.

“What for?”

Feng Ning put the towel on top of her head, fussing with it. “See, like this.”

Jiang Wen refused. “I don’t want it.”

Feng Ning urged him. “Hurry up, cover your hair, otherwise it’s going to smell of oil!”

His face shifted through emotions. “No.”

“Why?”

The very image-conscious Jiang Wen gave his answer: “It’s too ugly, I’d rather wash my hair.”

“But you’re not going home this afternoon — you’re going to wash it here at my place?”

Feng Ning turned on the gas stove, grabbed the spatula, ready to start stir-frying the potatoes. “There’s no one else here, hurry up, don’t be so fussy.”

Pouring the minced scallions and garlic into the pan, Feng Ning coughed twice from the fumes, turned around, and nearly burst out laughing.

The towel on Jiang Wen’s head sat crooked, his sleeves rolled up, and there were two smudges of soy sauce accidentally on his face. His delicate face had turned flushed red from the heat — looking at him now, he’d completely transformed from this morning’s trendy young master into a country housewife-husband.

— This was probably the least glamorous moment of Jiang Wen’s entire life so far.

She personally manned the wok. “Hey, stand back a bit, careful not to get splashed by the oil, just hand me the seasonings.”

Busy together in the cramped, chaotic kitchen with Feng Ning, Jiang Wen was forced to soak up a whole body’s worth of kitchen smells. But surprisingly, he didn’t throw one of his princely tantrums. His mood, unexpectedly, wasn’t bad either.

His phone buzzed several times; he took it out of his pocket, glanced at it, and hung up directly.

After more than an hour of back-and-forth busywork, they’d managed two dishes and a soup. Setting the food on the table, Feng Ning scooped two bowls of white rice, handed Jiang Wen a pair of chopsticks. “Alright, dig in!”

Jiang Wen pushed away her hand as she reached for the food. “Wait.”

“What for?”

Jiang Wen stood up, took out his phone, and snapped a few photos of the table full of dishes.

This action of his was so at odds with his usual aloof image that Feng Ning bit down on her chopstick tip, laughing. “Oh, so you’re taking a picture of your own labor’s fruits.” She patiently sat in her seat waiting for him to finish. “Is this your first time cooking?”

“Mm.”

“How does it feel?”

Young Master Jiang nodded reservedly. “Not bad.”

After taking the photos, Jiang Wen sat back down, and right at that moment the phone rang again. He picked up.

Zhao Binlin shouted loudly, “Damn it, I keep calling and you won’t pick up, what the hell are you doing! Are you busier than the president or something?! Went by your house and still couldn’t catch you!”

Jiang Wen said coldly, “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“Hanging out this afternoon. Meet at one thirty at Jianshe Street. Lin Ru’s bringing a bunch of girls from other schools this time, super pretty, you have to come.”

“Busy, not going.”

“No way, listen to me, you have to come — those girls specifically wanted to come because you’d be there. If you don’t show up we can’t even call ourselves friends anymore.”

Jiang Wen cut him off. “You guys go have fun, I don’t have time.”

Zhao Binlin tried to keep pushing, and a beeping sound came through — Jiang Wen had hung up directly.

Damn it all.

Zhao Binlin glared furiously at his phone.

Xi Gaoyuan asked, “So, is he coming or not?”

“Like hell he’s coming!” Zhao Binlin scrunched his mouth, venting all the frustration he’d gotten from Jiang Wen onto Xi Gaoyuan. “You always make me do the calling — why don’t you call him yourself.”

“This dog’s been all mysterious lately, what’s he even up to — don’t tell me he’s really been sneaking off to see prostitutes.”

The moment Xi Gaoyuan brought up this kind of dirty topic he got fired up. “Though, given our Young Master Jiang’s personality, his virginity’s probably reserved for…”

“Feng Ning?” Zhao Binlin cut in, glancing sideways at him, grinning just as lewdly.

Xi Gaoyuan hummed in agreement. “If there’s a chance, that is.”

Around seven or eight in the evening, Feng Ning walked Jiang Wen out to the mouth of Yujiang Alley; the moon had already risen.

She suddenly said, “You come in the morning and leave at night, traveling by starlight and moonlight — it suddenly makes me think of a poem.”

“What poem.”

Feng Ning’s eyes sparkled. “I plant beans below South Mountain, the weeds flourish, the bean sprouts sparse. Rising at dawn to clear the wild grass, I return by moonlight, hoe on shoulder.”

“?”

“I’m the bean that classmate Jiang Yuanming planted below South Mountain.”

He stood by the road, hailing a car.

“Don’t hail a taxi, you money-squanderer.” Feng Ning pulled two coins out of her pocket.

Jiang Wen paused. “What for?”

“Sending you home.” Feng Ning said, rather pleased with herself, handing him a coin. “Take the bus!”

“You’re seeing me off?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Never mind, no need.”

“Fine then, take the bus home yourself, remember to get off at Xingxi Road, and call me when you get home.”

“Mm.”

Jiang Wen stopped talking.

The bus arrived, the doors opened, and just as he was about to board, someone hopped up right beside him.

Jiang Wen glanced at Feng Ning. “Why are you getting on?”

“Aren’t you unhappy? I’ll ride home with you.”

He denied it reflexively: “I’m not…”

The bus driver urged them along. “Move to the back, don’t block the doorway.”

“Stop pretending, you think I can’t tell.” Feng Ning dropped her coin into the fare box. “Come on, let’s go.”

This particular Route 452 bus ran a full twenty-four hours a day, crossing nearly two-thirds of South City’s routes. After boarding, they picked a double seat toward the back-middle. Feng Ning sat by the window, Jiang Wen on the outside.

On the way, Feng Ning called Qi Lan, cheerfully reporting what she’d done and learned that day. After hanging up, she sighed, looking somewhat dazed.

With her playful mask set aside, she looked a little lost and exhausted.

Jiang Wen glanced at her, spoke up: “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Feng Ning’s smile returned. “After I finish tutoring your sister, if I’m in a hurry I take the subway. If not, I take this bus — the scenery along this route is really nice.”

The two fell silent again. The bus carriage swayed gently, a small TV screen playing a jumble of ads, the scenery outside the window shifting, flickering neon lights sliding past from the roadside. Feng Ning’s eyelids grew heavy, and eventually unable to resist the drowsiness, she closed her eyes.

In the dim light, Jiang Wen turned his head lazily to look over. Feng Ning had already fallen asleep, her lashes trembling with shallow breaths, her face alternating between light and shadow.

He slowly raised a hand, stopped a small distance away, and traced her profile with his fingertip.

The bus jolted slightly; half-asleep, Feng Ning’s lashes flickered, and Jiang Wen withdrew his hand.

The lighting dimmed further; the night bus stopped, someone got on, and someone else got off without a sound.

The night silently blanketed the city’s exhaustion. He took his earphones from his pocket, put one in his own ear, and gently tucked the other into Feng Ning’s ear.

She didn’t wake.

Jiang Wen slid his finger across the screen, opening his phone’s playlist.