“Who told you?” Situ Jie asked, confused, once she’d caught up with what he meant.

Yao Qiyun said, “Shouldn’t you answer my question before you start questioning me?”

Situ Jie admitted it without hesitation. “Fine, I went to see him.” Before Yao Qiyun could respond, she rushed on: “But I have a few things to add. That ‘last night’ you’re talking about — it was before eight o’clock, and I never even went inside his apartment. I only talked with him for a bit at the door, and it was about Xiao Gen’s makeup exam. I’d called him earlier, and he told me he was only in town for one night, so I had to catch him then to hand over Xiao Gen’s hospital certificate in person.”

Situ Jie laid out the whole story as concisely as she could, because nothing irritated her more than those TV drama scenes where star-crossed lovers, tangled in misunderstanding, had one party crying out in anguish, “Just hear me out, hear me out—” while the other shook their head like a rattle-drum, saying, “I won’t listen, I won’t listen, I won’t listen—” before storming off into the pouring rain, leaving the audience nothing but a forlorn retreating back. Every time she watched that, she wanted to reach into the screen and grab the lead by the collar and finish the explanation for them. She firmly believed that anything that could be explained was never really a problem in the first place.

Yao Qiyun pulled her hand off his waist and turned to face her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Situ Jie laughed. “It only happened yesterday. You got home late, and this morning we barely exchanged a few words. Besides, it’s not that big a deal — you don’t report your whereabouts to me in exhaustive detail every day either.”

“How is that the same thing?” Yao Qiyun said, half-convinced, though his expression had eased considerably. “You said a few words to him at his door, and he just handed Xiao Gen a makeup exam?”

“I guess so.”

She thought that would be the end of it. Instead, Yao Qiyun shook his head and gave a small laugh. “Situ Jie, you’re still keeping something from me. If there weren’t something else going on, the moment you found out you’d helped Xiao Gen, you’d have called me right away, over the moon. You would have. But you didn’t say a single word.”

Situ Jie didn’t argue. She’d never thought of it that way before, but now that he’d pointed it out, she had to admit he was right. Who else in this world understood her the way Yao Qiyun did — like some spirit that had taken up residence inside her soul, leaving her nowhere to hide from him.

“Don’t act like some husband catching his wife cheating…” She wound her arms around his neck, smiling affectionately. But the instant her body touched his, she felt him lean back, just slightly. And then she saw his eyes clearly. She had the strange illusion that the person standing before her was no longer the man closest to her in the whole world, but that gloomy boy from years ago, stepping into a strange world with nothing to his name, guarding himself with excessive caution and wariness, so afraid of being denied that he’d already denied himself first.

The suspicion and scrutiny in Yao Qiyun’s eyes infuriated Situ Jie. She pulled her hand back on her own, saying with rising anger, “You want me to confess I slept with him last night, is that it? Would that finally satisfy you?”

“You know that’s not what I meant. I’ve told you many times, Zou Jin’s reputation isn’t good. Even if it’s just rumor, why insist on going against the grain and handing people ammunition against you? You say you did it for Xiao Gen — never mind that it was his own recklessness that made him miss the exam in the first place, and the rules are supposed to apply equally to everyone, so him repeating the year is nobody’s fault but his own. The real problem is that even Xiao Gen himself never went to see Zou Jin. And you say you only spoke a few words at his door — but who’s going to care about that? To everyone else, what’s the difference between you and those female students sneaking into a professor’s home at night?”

He knew, even as he finished speaking, that he’d gone too far — but he wouldn’t take it back either. He set his jaw and stared out at the distant river of car lights on the rooftop.

Situ Jie was shaking with fury. “Yao Qiyun, go ahead, say something even uglier if you dare — that I’m cheap enough to fool around with the deputy dean just to get a friend a makeup exam—”

“I’m begging you, keep your voice down. Do you want to wake the whole building? I don’t.” Yao Qiyun lowered his voice, letting out a long breath. “I never said that. But other people—”

“I don’t care about other people. I’m only asking you — don’t you claim to know me better than anyone? Is this really who I am in your eyes? Is this the trust you’re capable of giving me?”

“And you? You demand my trust, but you never told me the truth either. Situ Jie, trust goes both ways!”

“I thought about telling you. But then I got scared. I was afraid you’d say exactly what you just said — and sure enough, you did. And let me tell you something else — yes, Zou Jin is a sanctimonious bastard. At his door, he put his hand over mine and told me he liked me. You’re so clever, you guessed everything right. If I’d told you all of this from the start, how would your reaction have been any different from just now? Asking me over and over whether he really didn’t succeed, saying over and over, ‘Situ Jie, I told you so.’ I already know how stupid and naive I was — I only wanted someone to patiently hear me out, from beginning to end, and then say to me: it’s all right, it’s over now. Not to keep reminding me, again and again, exactly how badly I’d screwed up!”

Yao Qiyun gave a cold laugh. “‘It’s all right, it’s over now’ — that sounds just like something Wu Jiang would say. Is he the one you were hoping for?”

“Go to hell!” Even as she said it, Situ Jie, in her fury, had already shoved him back several steps until his back hit the rooftop railing. She jabbed a trembling finger at his face. “How dare you say that to me!”

Yao Qiyun turned his face aside, avoiding her finger that had nearly poked his cheek. “Is this the kind of manners your mother taught you?” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, and yet every single thing Situ Jie said struck his chest like a drumbeat. Jealousy, anger, a sense of loss… and then, underneath it all, a deep exhaustion.

Neither of them spoke for a while. By the distant glow of the streetlights, Yao Qiyun could see Situ Jie’s eyes had reddened. A stray stone had shattered the sweet stillness at the heart of the lake, and only by the ripples it left behind did they realize a whirlpool had been lurking beneath the surface all along. Perhaps the real problem had nothing to do with Wu Jiang at all — perhaps even Zou Jin wasn’t really the crux of it.

After a moment, Yao Qiyun turned and gathered up the clothes draped over the rack. “It’s cold up here at night. Didn’t you say you were coming down with something? Go down and sleep.”

Situ Jie didn’t move. When she tilted her head back and drew a deep breath, tears still slid down along the edge of her raised chin.

Yao Qiyun had meant to let her stay up there alone for a while, since that seemed to be what she wanted. But as he walked past her, he found he couldn’t simply ignore her tears after all. Situ Jie had always been a proud person — from the day he’d met her, he’d rarely seen her show weakness or cry in front of others. The few times she had, every single one had been because of him.

He freed one hand to gently wipe the tears from her face. “I’m sorry, A’Jue. I’m not as generous as you might think, and it’s not that I refuse to believe you — I only ask that you not make me more anxious than I already am in this relationship. You’ll go through fire and water for your friends — well, what about me? Spare a thought for how I feel, sometimes.”

Situ Jie coldly brushed his hand away. “Right, and what exactly are you to me? I’d love to hear you say it. Say it out loud — do you dare?”

Yao Qiyun let his hand fall slowly under the mockery in her expression. He took a few steps away, then heard Situ Jie call after him.

“Wait.”

He didn’t turn around, but his footsteps stopped instantly.

“I’ll ask you one more time. Who told you about last night?”

Yao Qiyun said flatly, “You’d better not ask. Someone as petty as me usually answers a question like that with another question: why are you so bothered about who told me — could it be you have something to feel guilty about?”

Situ Jie said, “I just want to know who’s so pointless and low that they’d do this!”

“There’s no wall in the world without a crack somewhere for the wind to get through” — Situ Jie understood that principle well enough. What she couldn’t accept was how riddled with holes this particular wall had turned out to be — that it had taken only a single night for the wind to carry the story straight to the one person she least wanted to hear it.

By rights, only three people should have known the whole story from start to finish… no, five. But two of them, she was certain, would never be foolish enough to broadcast their own less-than-flattering role in the affair. That left only Wu Jiang, Xiao Gen, and herself.

She thought it over for a long time and finally decided to ask Xiao Gen. He’d just finished his makeup exam; the moment he saw her, his first words were, “I was just about to look for you, Situ — do you think it’ll look bad if I show up empty-handed to Wu Jiang’s birthday party…”

“Never mind that. I need to ask you something.” Situ Jie wasn’t in the mood to beat around the bush. “Xiao Gen, did you tell anyone that I went to see Zou Jin about your makeup exam?”

“No, no, you told me not to say anything!” Xiao Gen answered hastily.

“Really? All right, then…” Just having to ask outright whether someone had been careless enough to leak the secret already felt awkward enough to her. Since he’d denied it, Situ Jie didn’t push further, and as they were parting she added, almost as an afterthought, “Don’t be so formal about it — what does he even need? If you really don’t want to show up empty-handed, just get him a card, that’ll do.”

“Oh.” Xiao Gen nodded. As Situ Jie turned to go, he hesitated, then caught up with her, standing in front of her with an awkward, apologetic look. “Um… Situ, there’s actually something I just remembered. Don’t be mad, okay…”

Situ Jie’s short temper couldn’t stand this kind of thing. “If you keep stalling instead of getting to the point, that’s what’s actually going to make me mad.”

Xiao Gen rubbed his hands together and forced the words out. “Shaocheng came back from a visit home and came to find me. She apologized to me… it wasn’t even her fault really… I — what I mean is, I told her, told her not to worry too much, that it had already been sorted out. She didn’t believe me…”

“And then you told her I’d gone to see Zou Jin for you?” Situ Jie stood frozen for a second, finishing the thought for him.

Xiao Gen nodded, at a loss for what else to do.

“You… what am I supposed to say to you!” Situ Jie snapped at him in exasperation, then apparently realized quickly enough that being angry wouldn’t actually accomplish anything. She just waved a hand uselessly and turned to walk away.

“Situ, what’s wrong? I only told her, just her one person, don’t be mad, okay—” Xiao Gen trailed after her, flustered.

Situ Jie only walked faster.

“If you don’t want me to kick you into a pond, stay away from me right now.”

That evening, by the time Situ Jie arrived at “The Other Side of Time,” the little bar was just beginning to fill with its evening crowd. A-Yuan, the long-faced veteran server, tipped his chin toward the back the moment he spotted her. “Your friends already got here.”

Situ Jie headed toward the VIP room the place indicated — the only private room the bar had. Wu Jiang had booked it; he’d deliberately chosen to hold his own birthday gathering at the very bar Situ Jie loved best, his intent to make peace obvious to anyone watching.

In truth, her anger at him hadn’t lasted more than a few days. Once she’d calmed down and thought it over, what exactly had Wu Jiang done wrong? He had his own choices to make, his own judgment to trust — she’d been too hard on him. It was only that after bumping into her cold shoulder a few times, Wu Jiang had learned to keep his distance while she was still fuming, and Situ Jie couldn’t bring herself to make the first move to patch things up either, so it had dragged on nearly a week. It was the longest she and Wu Jiang had gone without speaking since that ten-day stretch back in secondary school when he’d gone abroad with his high-flying father for a “study trip.” This time, on top of it all, it had driven a wedge between her and Yao Qiyun — leaving her thoroughly miserable with no one left to even talk to about it. She had to admit, sometimes, that Wu Jiang’s bizarre logic and nonsensical philosophizing really did have a way of being comforting.

It wasn’t as if she had no other friends. But as the years went on, how many people could she really open her heart to? Situ Jie knew perfectly well that a friend like Wu Jiang, someone she’d grown up with, was an utterly nonrenewable resource — lose him, and there’d be no getting him back. So when she couldn’t work out who had told Yao Qiyun about that night, she’d rather suspect she’d talked in her sleep than suspect Wu Jiang. There was no real reason for it — just one stubborn conviction: he wouldn’t do that. When he’d called about his birthday, she might have put up a tough front on the phone, but of course she was going to show up.

Before she’d even gotten close, she could already see Wu Jiang waiting outside the private room.

“My dear lady, if you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have made it to another year.” Wu Jiang came forward with a fawning grin.

“And miss the chance to milk you for a free meal? I couldn’t sleep at night.” Situ Jie shot him a look, and the two of them, laughing, pushed the door open together.

There was only one person in the room, singing along to the karaoke track, entertaining herself. It wasn’t really a surprise — on Wu Jiang’s big day, how could he bear to leave Qu Xiaowan out? Except tonight, it seemed more than just one or two people had been invited, and in the past the two of them had never appeared publicly as a couple in front of friends — tonight marked an unprecedented first. Situ Jie found herself somewhat amazed at just how thick-skinned this so-called untouchable “Guanyin sister” had become — that after being caught out over her sordid affair with Zou Jin by one of Wu Jiang’s own friends, she could still carry on so easily with him, as though nothing had happened at all. She kept right on singing, perfectly at ease, even as Situ Jie walked into the room.

Once Wu Jiang and Situ Jie sat down, he asked, “Why’re you alone? Didn’t I invite Yao Qiyun too? He’s willing to let you go off on your own?”

“Don’t start. I passed the message along for you, but whether he actually shows up, I couldn’t tell you.”

“Did you two fight? You’ve been in a mood lately — want a can of herbal tea to cool off?”

Situ Jie forced a smile. “Pre-exam nerves, I guess.”

“Come on, what’s there to stress about with that written test? It’s basically a sure thing.”

“They say Professor Gao’s graduate program isn’t easy to get into either.”

“Changing advisors?”

“Mm.”

“You sure you don’t want that cooling tea?” Wu Jiang popped open a can of herbal tea right then, conveniently changing the subject, and everyone breathed a little easier.

As the backing track faded, Qu Xiaowan’s song wound down too. She turned, set down the microphone, and Wu Jiang eagerly held out the drink to her.

“It’s freezing out, why would I want that?” Qu Xiaowan said with a smile.

Wu Jiang scratched his head. “Hang on, let me go check what’s taking so long with your green tea. This place is short-staffed.”

He got up and headed out the door, leaving Situ Jie and Qu Xiaowan alone in the room. Situ Jie’s conscience was clear, as far as she was concerned, but thinking back to that day still left her feeling a little awkward.

Qu Xiaowan had cried that day — and there’d been nothing of a guilty woman caught out in those tears, only the despair of a woman in love. There was no guarantee she wouldn’t lay the blame for the rift with Zou Jin at Situ Jie’s feet; the situation that day had been hard to explain cleanly either way. Situ Jie wasn’t afraid of her making a scene — what she feared was things blowing up and spoiling the night for Wu Jiang, the actual birthday boy.

Sure enough, Qu Xiaowan drifted over and settled down not far from Situ Jie.

Situ Jie kept her expression neutral, quietly on guard.

“Wu Jiang said you were the one who told him about this place. I said a place with this much character didn’t seem like his taste.” Qu Xiaowan’s opening line wasn’t the confrontation Situ Jie had braced for — instead, she sounded relaxed, chatting the way friends might. In truth, given how tangled Wu Jiang and Qu Xiaowan’s relationship had been over the years, Situ Jie hadn’t had much to do with her — different paths, no need to cross.

“Is that so? The name of this room is a little unusual too, have you heard? They call it ‘Time’s Black Hole.'” Situ Jie answered, noncommittal, waiting to see what she was getting at.

To her surprise, Qu Xiaowan just nodded, and didn’t say anything further. The unattended karaoke track started up again — the same song she’d been singing before. Situ Jie stared idly at the lyrics on the screen and remembered, years ago at a camping trip, the first time she’d met Qu Xiaowan — she’d been singing that same song then too.

“Wu Jiang likes this song.” Qu Xiaowan hummed along with the melody; she had a genuinely lovely voice.

Situ Jie smiled faintly. “Wu Jiang’s fine in every way, except his taste in things is sometimes baffling.”

“That’s true, I think so too.” Qu Xiaowan raised an eyebrow, agreeing with obvious delight. “Especially me.” She seemed to amuse herself with that, biting her lower lip, laughing to herself.

Situ Jie shrugged, privately wondering if the woman had been through so much lately that she’d gone a little unhinged.

“I fought with him all night, because of you.” Qu Xiaowan lowered her head, fussing with her hair, talking about it as casually as if it were someone else’s business. It took Situ Jie a moment to realize who “him” referred to.

“The next morning, before it was even light out, he packed up to catch his flight. I sat there alone — I’d broken a lot of things — and slowly cleaned it all up myself. Honestly, I knew what he said was true. It has nothing to do with you. He likes you the way he once liked me. If I’d kept my distance from him back then too, maybe I’d still be some star hanging up in his sky. But I was more foolish than you — I dove in headfirst, and I didn’t even land as a meteorite. Just a puddle of mud.”

“And what is Wu Jiang, then — since it’s already a mud puddle either way, might as well keep a few shrimp and crabs in it for fun?” Situ Jie said, curling her lip.

Qu Xiaowan just smiled and didn’t answer.

“Situ Jie, I actually want to thank you.”

“Thank me for what — for not falling for his line? That wasn’t for your sake.”

“I don’t need anyone to do me favors.” Qu Xiaowan said. “Whether I stay or go is my own business. You think he only has eyes for you now because you’re better than me? The truth is, if you’d ever given him what he wanted, you wouldn’t have ended up any better off than I did. That’s just who he is — when he loves, he really loves, and when he doesn’t, he really doesn’t. It’s only the ones he can’t have that stay beautiful forever.”

Situ Jie was now fairly confident Qu Xiaowan was, more or less, in her right mind — because she still had a knack for saying deeply unlikable things.

“And Wu Jiang — he’s nothing but a fool, led around by the nose and clapping along the whole time.” Qu Xiaowan’s mocking smile irritated Situ Jie, who bit back a retort.

“I’m thanking you because you never told him what happened that day. Whatever your reasons, at least during the worst of it, this fool stuck by me and got me through it. Even if the fool wises up someday and leaves, that thank-you is still worth saying, for that stretch of time alone.”

Situ Jie almost said, “You really think he doesn’t already know?” — but in the end she held it back, and only said, “Which one of us is really the bigger fool is honestly hard to say.”

“Him, obviously. I told the fool: even I can’t stand my own temper, why don’t you ever just slap some sense into me. You know what he said? He said, ‘If a woman thinks of herself as a princess, then the man beside her will feel like a prince. But if she thinks of herself as a servant, then he’ll just be a tenant farmer.’ Tell me, have you ever heard anything more idiotic?”

That did sound exactly like something Wu Jiang would say. Situ Jie bowed her head with a rueful laugh.

“When I came in earlier, one of the servers here asked if I believed time could flow backward, and if it could, what I’d go back and do. I stuffed a note into every year’s box, so the me back then would know — that someday, there’d be a fool who’d say something so stupid it would leave me speechless. Even stuck in a mud puddle, I’d find it funny, knowing that fool was waiting for me somewhere up ahead.”

She was still wearing that same offhand smile. Situ Jie pretended not to notice the sudden glimmer of tears in her eyes.

That fool came back in shortly after, leading several friends along with him, a freshly brewed pot of Tieguanyin in his hands. Qu Xiaowan barely had a sip before announcing she wanted to leave. When Wu Jiang asked why she wouldn’t stay longer, she said offhandedly that there were too many people, it felt like a wet market, and everyone in the room could only exchange glances, none of them quite willing to say anything.

Wu Jiang, a little apologetic, smiled at the group and said he’d walk her home. Qu Xiaowan, magnanimous, told him to stay and look after his friends instead.

“Situ, you’re just sitting there anyway — why don’t you walk me out and see me into a cab?” she said, turning to Situ Jie instead.

Wu Jiang couldn’t quite make sense of it for a moment, unsure why she’d suddenly taken such a shine to Situ Jie. Situ Jie, her back to Qu Xiaowan, shot Wu Jiang a look of pure exasperation — but got up anyway and followed her out, if only for his sake.

The truth was, the two of them didn’t have much in common to talk about. They walked the whole way to the street outside the bar in silence, side by side, just as a taxi happened to pull up and stop nearby.

Qu Xiaowan turned around; the wind, blowing against her, swept her loose hair across her face, and no matter how she brushed it back, it fell right back into place.

“Situ Jie, you should be careful too.”

“What?” Situ Jie didn’t catch the sudden non sequitur.

“I don’t even know what exactly to warn you about. But it wouldn’t hurt to keep your distance from Zou Jin. A little mud puddle is one thing — but I’m afraid what’s behind it is a whole cesspool. Even Zou Jin himself might just be…”

Situ Jie didn’t catch the rest of what Qu Xiaowan said — even if she’d said there was a bottomless abyss waiting behind her, Situ Jie wouldn’t have had room to process it just then. She’d just seen two people step out, one after the other, from the taxi that had pulled up to a stop.

And of course, those two people had seen her too.