Women’s cigarettes—the taste was very mild. But after Chen Qingwu finished smoking, she still stood in the windy spot a while longer, making sure the smell clinging to her had completely dissipated before going inside.
The TV was on in the living room. Meng Qiran wasn’t playing mahjong anymore, sitting lazily on the sofa replying to WeChat messages.
Hearing footsteps, he looked up. “Going out to admire the snow?”
Chen Qingwu walked over and leaned against the sofa armrest. “Where?”
“Up the mountain. A few friends have already set out.”
“I’m a bit tired, want to go back and rest early.”
“It rarely snows in South City.” Meng Qiran turned his head to look at Chen Qingwu. “I’ll drive. You can rest in the car.”
Chen Qingwu struggled for a moment, then still nodded.
She really didn’t want to dampen Qiran’s spirits.
The two got up to prepare and pack when Meng Fuyuan walked out from the tea room.
Meng Qiran asked Meng Fuyuan: “Bro, are you going?”
“No.”
Meng Fuyuan went to a quiet spot to make a work call. When he came back out, Meng Qiran and Chen Qingwu were about to leave.
Meng Qiran picked up Chen Qingwu’s suitcase—it looked like he planned to send her straight home after watching the snow.
The adults in the tea room hadn’t left the mahjong table. Their reminders came streaming out one after another: “The roads are slippery with snow, you must be careful driving! Also, if you drink, absolutely don’t drive yourself—remember to call a designated driver.”
Meng Qiran said: “I know, don’t worry.”
The two walked to the door. Meng Qiran said: “Bro, we’re leaving.”
Meng Fuyuan nodded expressionlessly.
After Meng Qiran and Chen Qingwu went out, Meng Fuyuan went to the tea room to say something, then went straight back to his room to rest.
Today he’d been busy from morning till night, exhausted and weary. After showering, he turned off the light and lay down.
The curtains weren’t drawn. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see through the glass—snow falling quietly outside.
Meng Fuyuan pillowed his arm behind his head, gazing silently, his heart completely empty and desolate.
/
Few cars headed up the mountain. Dark green pines and cypresses lined the roadside, piled with a thin layer of snow.
At the mountain campsite, Meng Qiran and Chen Qingwu’s friends had already arrived. Someone had driven a camper van directly up the mountain. Awnings, tents, and camping chairs were all set up. Someone had brought a brazier—charcoal burning inside, flames glowing red and hot.
Meng Qiran was the core figure in this circle. The moment he arrived, the scene instantly became lively.
Chen Qingwu sat down next to Meng Qiran. Immediately someone handed a beer bottle into her hand.
Someone had brought skewers, kept warm in aluminum foil bags. Once opened, they were divided up completely within moments.
If conditions had permitted, KTV equipment probably would have been hauled up too.
Meng Qiran had many friends, each one loved to play and knew how to play.
Chen Qingwu had been traveling all day, too exhausted to muster any energy, yet still forced herself to stay alert.
She curled up her body, gazing at the brazier, only feeling her concentration scatter bit by bit.
While chatting, Meng Qiran found time to glance at Chen Qingwu. Seeing her in a daze, he leaned close and asked softly: “Tired?”
“Mm… want to sleep in the car for a bit.”
“The car’s not comfortable. Sleep in the camper.” He raised his voice to ask: “Whose camper is this? Lend it to Qingwu.”
Someone directly tossed over the keys, saying use it freely.
Chen Qingwu smiled and said thanks, putting down the beer bottle she hadn’t touched. “You all have fun. I’ll excuse myself for a bit.”
Meng Qiran got up and accompanied her to the camper door.
He pulled open the door, one hand bracing it. Chen Qingwu bent down to enter.
“Sleep for a while then. Call me if you need anything.”
“Mm.”
Inside the camper was a small single bed—cramped and narrow, but clean and warm.
Chen Qingwu took off her down jacket and ankle boots, climbed up and lay down, unfolding the blanket to wrap around herself.
Wind howled outside the window, somewhat muffled. She quickly fell asleep.
She woke unable to tell the time, only hearing vague laughter outside.
Chen Qingwu felt for her phone nearby and lit up the screen—it showed past midnight already.
Her head felt heavy, her whole body weak. She propped herself up slightly to pull open the curtain and push open the vent window.
Looking outside, she froze.
Meng Qiran was dressed all in black today—hooded sweatshirt with a down jacket over it, Martin boots on his feet.
He was very tall. Sitting in the camping chair, his legs had simply nowhere to stretch.
At this moment he leaned against the chair back, legs crossed and propped on a folding stool, holding a Switch in his hands.
Beside him sat a girl.
The girl had long deep chestnut curls, wearing a black off-shoulder sweater paired with a leather skirt and over-the-knee boots. Very pretty, very eye-catching.
The girl was Zhan Yining, Chen Qingwu and Meng Qiran’s elementary and high school classmate.
The Zhan family had some business dealings with the Meng family. Chen Qingwu remembered that in elementary school, a few times when eating at the Meng house, Father Zhan would bring a bottle of liquor or a basket of homemade baked goods and bring Zhan Yining to visit.
Chen Qingwu was frail and sickly as a child, frequently needing hospitalization, while Meng Qiran had endless energy.
Back then Meng Qiran was learning to skateboard. Later, after Chen Qingwu was discharged from the hospital, she heard that Zhan Yining had also enrolled with the same instructor and often trained together with Meng Qiran.
In middle school, Zhan Yining went to another school, and interactions with the Meng family relatively decreased.
In high school, the Zhan family paid a school selection fee to send Zhan Yining to South City Foreign Language Middle School, and the three became classmates again.
For undergraduate and graduate studies, Zhan Yining went to America, but contact never really broke off.
These past two years, Meng Qiran was often active between East City and South City. When Chen Qingwu scrolled through her Moments, she could occasionally see Zhan Yining’s figure at mutual friends’ gatherings.
From the game sound effects, they were playing *The Legend of Zelda*—a game Chen Qingwu didn’t play, but had watched Meng Qiran play. Sometimes when Meng Qiran went to the porcelain capital to find her, while she worked, he’d play games beside her.
Probably some difficult monster—Zhan Yining couldn’t beat it and asked Meng Qiran to help.
She directed from the side, more nervous than the person operating: “On the left! There’s another one above! It’s shooting at you!”
“I see it. What are you panicking for?” Meng Qiran calmly manipulated the controls. In just moments, he handed it back to Zhan Yining. “Passed it. Pick up the equipment yourself.”
Zhan Yining took it. Meng Qiran stretched lazily. “Your health is too low, you can’t get through ahead. Go unlock shrines first.”
“So troublesome. Can’t you just speedrun it? Teach me.”
“There are speedrun guides. Look them up yourself.”
Zhan Yining fiddled with the device a few times. Before long she lamented: “How did I fall to my death again!”
Meng Qiran’s expression was somewhat speechless.
Zhan Yining seemed to find it quite boring. After locking the screen, she put the Switch aside and casually grabbed a bag of chips from the table.
Chen Qingwu’s breathing was scalding, a burning pain in her throat.
She tried to call out to Meng Qiran—the first attempt made no sound.
Just then a friend ran over from a distance, panting: “The snow’s piled up over there! Come quick and have a snowball fight!”
Zhan Yining immediately put down the chip bag. “Let’s go, let’s go, Meng Qiran, let’s have a snowball fight.”
Meng Qiran didn’t move. “You all go. Qingwu’s still sleeping. I’ll stay here with her.”
“Wuwu’s already asleep—why are you just sitting here? When she wakes up and wants to find you, she’ll call.” Zhan Yining reached out, grabbed Meng Qiran’s arm in one motion, and pulled him up.
Meng Qiran nearly stumbled. “Zhan Yining, did you train in weightlifting? Your strength is so great.”
Zhan Yining laughed. “Scared now? I won’t go easy on you later—beg for mercy now and there’s still time.”
Meng Qiran made a “tch” sound, broke free of Zhan Yining’s hand, stuck one hand in his down jacket pocket, and followed along.
Chen Qingwu seemed to lose all strength, lying back on the bed.
Unbearably thirsty, she gathered her strength for a while, propped herself up with her arms and climbed up. Lightheaded and unsteady, she put on her shoes and coat. Getting out of the car, she nearly missed the step.
Everyone had gone to have the snowball fight—the campsite was in complete disarray.
Chen Qingwu randomly found a chair to sit in. Searching around, she found no hot drinks, only bottled water.
Normally lifting dozens of pounds of kaolin clay was nothing, but now unscrewing a bottle cap felt weak and powerless.
At least she managed to open it.
Today’s temperature was low. Room temperature water felt no different from ice water going down—very cold, but also very thirst-quenching.
She drank two mouthfuls, screwed the cap back on, and hugged it to her chest, curling her body as she sat.
That cold feeling made her very comfortable.
Not knowing how long had passed, she heard Meng Qiran call out: “Wuwu?”
Chen Qingwu made an “mm” sound, wanting to lift her head but feeling it was as heavy as if filled with lead.
She heard many footsteps—probably everyone returning from the snowball fight.
Meng Qiran’s hand came to feel her forehead, surprised: “How did you get a fever?”
“…Mm.” She responded slowly.
/
Meng Fuyuan was woken by a phone call. Looking at the time—1 AM.
Coming downstairs, the mahjong game in the tea room was still continuing. Meng Fuyuan was hesitating whether to go say something when his mother Qilin came out carrying a teapot.
“Fuyuan? Weren’t you asleep?” Seeing him fully dressed, Qilin was slightly surprised. “Planning to go out this late?”
“Going to pick up Qiran and Qingwu.”
“Didn’t Qiran say he’d call a designated driver?”
“Couldn’t get one. Qingwu has a fever—afraid delaying too long would be a problem.”
Today was the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, early morning on a snowy day, and on a godforsaken mountain—no designated driver would be this dedicated.
“Qingwu has a fever?!”
Meng Fuyuan made a “shh” gesture.
Qilin quickly covered her mouth, glanced toward the tea room, and lowered her voice: “Not serious, is it?”
“I’ll go check first. After I’m sure of the situation, you can tell Uncle Chen and the others.”
Meng Fuyuan had asked Meng Qiran, but he didn’t have a thermometer there and wasn’t sure exactly how high the fever was.
Qilin nodded. “Then go quickly… Qiran, honestly, how can he be so unreliable in handling things?”
Meng Fuyuan had no mind to delay further. Saying “I’m leaving now,” he walked toward the main door.
Qilin followed, reminding him: “Be careful on the road.”
Meng Fuyuan nodded.
Usually Meng Fuyuan drove very steadily. On the road when others cut in front or suddenly changed lanes, he could maintain considerable composure. Today with slippery snowy roads, clearly he should be more cautious, yet he kept pressing hard on the accelerator.
Fortunately there was only that one mountain in the city, and the elevation wasn’t high.
The road was very empty, barely a second car in sight.
A thirty-minute drive—Meng Fuyuan only took about twenty minutes.
At the campsite, a group of young people had been noisy and boisterous, yet the instant he stopped the car, they all simultaneously quieted down.
Meng Fuyuan turned off the engine and got out, closing the door with a light slam.
He saw Chen Qingwu leaning in Meng Qiran’s arms, a fleece blanket over her, wrapped tightly from head to toe.
Meng Qiran looked over. “Bro…”
Meng Fuyuan’s expression was coldly stern.
Meng Qiran inexplicably felt a bit intimidated.
Not just Meng Qiran—this whole circle of friends knew he had an elder brother who never smiled carelessly and commanded respect without anger. Those who’d met him and those who hadn’t all now sat up straight and proper. The surroundings were as quiet as a classroom waiting for the dean’s lecture.
Meng Fuyuan walked over in two strides, his steps carrying wind. Arriving in front of them, he raised his hand and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a digital thermometer and handing it to Meng Qiran.
Meng Qiran pulled back the fleece blanket, then went to pull at Chen Qingwu’s down jacket collar.
Before he could pull open the cashmere dress neckline, Meng Fuyuan turned his back.
Waiting for the reading, those thirty seconds felt impossibly long. Finally hearing the “beep,” he asked in a low voice: “How much?”
Meng Qiran glanced: “39.2 degrees.”
The moment he finished speaking, Meng Fuyuan turned around, reached out to take the thermometer from his grasp, and looked at the LCD display, as if doing a second confirmation.
Meng Qiran saw his brother rarely furrow his brow.
Meng Fuyuan put the thermometer back in its case and pocketed it, then took out a box of fever-reducing medicine from his coat pocket. Lowering his head to press out the pill, he ordered: “Water.”
Meng Qiran quickly reached out to grab a bottle of purified water from the table.
Meng Fuyuan handed over the pill and took the water bottle from Meng Qiran’s hand. Then his movement paused. He threw that water bottle onto the tabletop with a “smack.” “Try yourself how cold this water is.”
His voice was so bland it had no emotion, yet Meng Qiran’s spine tightened. He immediately called out loudly: “Who has hot water?”
Everyone looked at each other.
Finally the camper owner said: “I think there might still be some in the thermos in the car. Wait a moment, let me go check.”
Meng Qiran held the pill in his palm, turning his head to glance at Meng Fuyuan. That expression dark as still water made him feel thoroughly uncomfortable.
Fortunately the thermos was quickly brought over. The camper owner, also afraid his good brother would continue getting scolded, moved with lightning speed to get a disposable paper cup, pour warm water, and hand it to Meng Qiran.
This time Meng Qiran learned his lesson—first reaching out to touch the cup wall to test the temperature.
Then he gently nudged Chen Qingwu. “Wuwu, take the medicine first.”
Chen Qingwu sluggishly took the pill and put it in her mouth. Meng Qiran held up the water cup, feeding the warm water to her lips.
Only after Chen Qingwu took the medicine did Meng Fuyuan finally speak again: “Let’s go.”
Meng Qiran tossed his car keys to the camper owner, asking him to arrange for someone to drive his car back when it got light.
Then he scooped up Chen Qingwu horizontally, person and blanket together. The moment she lifted into the air, he was shocked—Qingwu was unbelievably light.
Meng Qiran called out to the others: “Leaving first.”
“Go, go—’wife’ comes first!”
Walking ahead, Meng Fuyuan heard this form of address and his figure paused ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly.
Not long after getting in the car, Meng Fuyuan received a call from Qilin.
“How’s Qingwu?”
“She’s already taken fever-reducing medicine. Still need to observe the specifics.”
“Your Uncle Chen and the others are getting ready to go home now. Just take Qingwu straight there.”
“Mm.”
“Is Qiran there? Have him answer the phone.”
The voice was on speaker.
Meng Qiran responded: “I’m here. Whatever criticism you have, feel free.”
“You know I want to criticize you. How were you taking care of Qingwu?”
Meng Qiran knew he was in the wrong and didn’t argue.
But unexpectedly, Chen Qingwu, leaning against his shoulder, spoke up.
Her voice was so muffled, light enough that only he could hear: “Auntie… it’s not Qiran’s fault, I didn’t pay attention to keeping warm myself…”
She was clearly burning up in a daze—how could she still follow the phone conversation, how could she still have the presence of mind to defend him?
Meng Qiran turned his head to look at her, momentarily stunned.
When the car reached the Chen house, Chen Qingwu’s parents had also just arrived home.
After the car stopped, Mother Chen, Liao Shuman, immediately opened the back door and reached out to feel Chen Qingwu’s forehead, frowning slightly. “So hot.”
Meng Qiran felt quite apologetic. “Sorry, Auntie. I didn’t take good care of her.”
“Qingwu easily gets fevers and colds when the weather changes. It’s not your fault. She’s already taken medicine, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s fine. The fever should break soon.”
Meng Qiran got out of the car and still scooped Chen Qingwu up horizontally. Carrying her in one breath up to the second floor, to the end of the hallway—Chen Qingwu’s room.
Liao Shuman turned on the light switch, telling him to put her on the bed.
Liao Shuman pulled off Chen Qingwu’s down jacket and spread out the duvet to cover her. “It’s getting late. Qiran, you all should go home. I’m watching her, it’ll be fine.”
Meng Qiran gazed at the person on the bed without moving. After pausing a while he finally said: “Auntie, lend me the living room sofa to lie down for a bit. When Wuwu’s fever breaks, I’ll go back. If it doesn’t break, I can help send her to the hospital too.”
Liao Shuman was quite gratified that Meng Qiran had this thoughtfulness. “How can I have you sleep on the sofa? The guest room was just tidied up the day before yesterday. You rest in the guest room.”
Meng Qiran often stayed overnight at the Chen house, so he didn’t stand on ceremony. “I’ll go say something to my brother.”
Meng Fuyuan stood downstairs, hadn’t come up.
Hearing footsteps, he looked up. “Settled in?”
Meng Qiran nodded. “I’m not going back. I’ll stay here and wait for Qingwu’s fever to break.”
Meng Fuyuan’s expression was bland. “If the fever breaks, send me a message.”
Meng Qiran thought he wanted to report back to their parents and agreed.
Meng Fuyuan walked out the main door and returned to where he’d parked.
He didn’t immediately get in the car. Feeling his coat pocket wanting to light a cigarette, he remembered that lighter he’d used for many years—he’d given it to Chen Qingwu.
He just stood by the car like that, looking up toward the window at the far end of the second floor.
Light shone from the window—faint pale light that seemed extremely warm on this snowy night, yet so utterly unreachable.
The car drove out of the residential gate, but didn’t go far, pulling over temporarily by the roadside five hundred meters away.
The snow had stopped during the return journey. As far as the eye could see was a vast expanse of white. All sounds had completely disappeared. The world was so desolate it seemed only he remained.
Meng Fuyuan sat in the car, in absolute silence, listening to time pass second by second.
Not knowing how long had passed, his phone vibrated once.
A message from Meng Qiran, informing him that Qingwu’s fever had broken.
Only then did Meng Fuyuan start the car.
All the way back, not a single pedestrian or vehicle in sight.
Empty and vast like being in a dream, yet knowing it wasn’t.
He had never seen Chen Qingwu in dreams.
/
The next morning, the Meng family parents called, apologizing profusely for Meng Qiran’s negligence.
Mother Chen, Liao Shuman, laughed: “Really, it’s fine. Any more apologies and it’ll seem distant. Besides, Qingwu is an adult. Adults are responsible for themselves—why would others need to take care of her?”
Qilin said: “That’s what you say, but Qingwu is still a girl, and still the younger one.”
“Only by one week.”
“Even one day younger is still younger—Qingwu’s fever has broken, right? No relapse?”
“Already fine. Right now she’s having congee with Qiran.”
“Qiran really—even running to your house to mooch breakfast.”
Liao Shuman laughed: “What’s wrong with that? The times Qingwu has imposed on your house are far more numerous.”
After hanging up, Liao Shuman returned to the dining room.
“Qiran, what are your plans today? Stay for lunch.”
Meng Qiran smiled: “You know I never stand on ceremony with you, but today there’s really no way. A friend’s back from abroad—we’ve arranged to welcome him at lunch.”
“Then I won’t keep you.” Liao Shuman smiled.
“After lunch, I’ll come back this afternoon to see Qingwu.”
After finishing breakfast and staying a while longer, Meng Qiran prepared to leave. Before leaving, he nagged Chen Qingwu with a few more words, telling her to pay attention to keeping warm at home and drink more hot water.
Chen Qingwu smiled, repeating his words: “Drink more hot water.”
“I’m not brushing you off—in your condition, drinking hot water is most useful. Want to eat anything? I’ll bring it when I come this afternoon.”
“Ice cream.”
“Except that.”
“Then nothing.”
“…Miss, you’re making things difficult for me.” Meng Qiran raised his eyebrows.
Chen Qingwu went back to her room to sleep again in the morning. After lunch at noon, she organized New Year goods with Liao Shuman for a while. At three o’clock in the afternoon, Meng Qiran came over.
They were tidying things in the storage room. Meng Qiran walked right in and casually helped Liao Shuman easily place a backup bottle of cleaning solution into the top tier of the storage cabinet.
Liao Shuman smiled and brushed dust from her hands. “You and Qingwu go out and play. This is almost done anyway.”
“It’s fine. There’s nothing fun to do anyway—might as well stay here and help you out.”
“Then I won’t be polite when I put you to work.”
“Put me to work all you want.”
Liao Shuman pointed at things on the counter. “Qiran, you’re tall—help put all these in the upper cabinets.”
“No problem.”
Taking advantage of this moment, Liao Shuman took the dirty cleaning cloth from the counter to the kitchen to wash.
Seeing Liao Shuman’s figure enter the kitchen door, Meng Qiran moved close to Chen Qingwu, saying mysteriously: “In my jacket pocket—brought you a gift.”
“What?”
“You dig it out yourself.”
Chen Qingwu reached in, her fingers touching something ice-cold. She pulled it out—indeed, a box of ice cream.
Meng Qiran looked toward the door, assuming a lookout posture. “Eat quickly, otherwise if Auntie sees it we’ll both get scolded—agreed, only taste one bite, or you’ll get a fever again.”
Chen Qingwu showed a smile. “One bite isn’t even worth eating.” Yet as she said this, she went to remove the lid.
She took a plastic spoon and scooped up a spoonful. The moment she put it in her mouth, Meng Qiran had already reached out to snatch away what remained.
“Hey…”
“We agreed on just one bite.”
“One bite and two bites—there’s no difference.”
“Who knows?” Meng Qiran remained completely unmoved.
As they spoke, footsteps came from the kitchen direction.
Chen Qingwu rapidly stuffed the spoon into Meng Qiran’s hand.
Meng Qiran chuckled softly, saying in a low voice: “No guts.”
He had an extremely handsome face with an aggressive quality. When he leaned close it was even more dizzying. This chuckle swept past her ear, stirring up a ticklish feeling. She couldn’t help but shrink her neck.
Liao Shuman caught sight of the ice cream in Meng Qiran’s hand at a glance.
Meng Qiran quickly scooped a bite and put it in his mouth.
“Such a grown person and still loves eating ice cream? Where did you magic that from? How come I didn’t see it just now?” Liao Shuman laughed.
“It was in my pocket. Almost forgot about it.”
“You can’t give it to Qingwu.”
“Of course not.” Meng Qiran was very obedient.
Chen Qingwu couldn’t help but smile.
It seemed all those heavy and subtle disappointments from last night had become impossible to pursue.
The Meng family was hosting guests in the evening. Meng Qiran stayed until around four o’clock before going back.
Near dinnertime, someone came knocking at the door.
Liao Shuman had the housekeeper answer it. A moment later the housekeeper brought the person in.
It was actually Meng Fuyuan.
Meng Fuyuan seemed to have just returned from entertaining clients—under his black overcoat was still a full fitted suit.
He carried a box of dried abalone in his hand, explaining to Liao Shuman in a level voice: “A business partner sent this. You know my parents don’t like seafood—leaving it at home would be wasteful. If you don’t mind, take it and try something new.”
While speaking, he imperceptibly glanced in Chen Qingwu’s direction.
She wore home clothes with a white cashmere shawl over her shoulders. Her complexion was still somewhat pale, but her spirits were good. It seemed she truly had no major problems.
Liao Shuman was somewhat surprised, because Meng Fuyuan was always very proper—dropping by at dinnertime clearly didn’t match his usual style.
She took it, smiling: “You’re so thoughtful, Fuyuan—we’re just about to eat dinner. Why not sit down and eat together?”
“We’re entertaining guests at home. I’ll impose on you another time.”
Liao Shuman said no problem, come anytime you’re free.
Meng Fuyuan nodded, preparing to take his leave.
Liao Shuman planned to see him to the door. Chen Qingwu said: “Mom, I’ll see him out. I happen to have something to say to Brother Yuan.”
Meng Fuyuan paused, said goodbye to the Chen family parents, turned and walked toward the door.
Behind him, Chen Qingwu’s footsteps followed unhurriedly.
Reaching the main entrance, Meng Fuyuan stopped and looked down at Chen Qingwu.
Chen Qingwu raised her hand, felt her top pocket, pulled out that lighter, and handed it to him.
She smiled: “This should be one you’re used to using, Brother Yuan. I shouldn’t take what someone loves. Besides, in a few days when I go back and take the plane, it won’t pass security.”
Meng Fuyuan’s voice was bland: “Then throw it away.”
Chen Qingwu froze, holding it suddenly not knowing what to do.
These years she’d interacted with Meng Fuyuan very little and couldn’t fathom his temperament. Judging solely from Meng Fuyuan’s tone, it clearly seemed like she’d caused people too much trouble and become annoying.
The two stood facing each other, the atmosphere somewhat stiff.
A moment later, Meng Fuyuan still reached out and took the lighter back.
He didn’t want to see her looking troubled. Clearly there were already too many things troubling her.
Chen Qingwu seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, stepping back half a step, then said: “Thank you for last night.”
“No need. I was just cleaning up after Qiran.”
“No, that’s not…” Chen Qingwu’s voice dropped a bit, her gaze falling on the lighter in his hand. “I mean this.”
Meng Fuyuan paused.
For a moment he didn’t know how to respond, so he simply raised his wrist, pretending to look at his watch.
“Sorry for taking up your time.” Chen Qingwu quickly opened the main door for him.
Meng Fuyuan stuck one hand in his trouser pocket, stepped through the door, and said emotionlessly: “No need to see me out. Go back and eat.”
He walked down the steps, hearing the door close behind him, and only then slowed his pace slightly.
The hand in his pocket clenched that lighter.
Its four corners pressed fine traces of pain into his palm.