A full ten minutes passed from when the bathroom door closed until it opened again.

Cheng Wanyue had originally been in the bedroom, but before Qing Hang came out, she was already sitting on the sofa. In the half-open drawer, there was a pack of cigarettes. She wasn’t sure if they belonged to him or Zhou Heng.

Had he started smoking?

Back when she was studying in Bai City, every student in her grade knew her. She was outgoing and knew a bit of everything except academics. Among her group of friends, few didn’t smoke. Cheng Yanqing had once secretly smoked in the bathroom too, perhaps out of curiosity, or perhaps because boys that age were all somewhat rebellious. When discovered, he had received a severe beating.

In novels, the faint tobacco scent on a man was described as charming, but she found the smell of cigarettes quite unpleasant.

Qing Hang’s body always carried that fresh scent of clothes washed with detergent and dried under the sun. He seemed to always use Breeze brand detergent. Later, she tried to find a perfume similar to that scent, but nothing was quite the same.

Some things, though ordinary and inexpensive, are simply irreplaceable.

Hearing the door open, Cheng Wanyue looked up. Qing Hang avoided her gaze, and she didn’t stare at him either.

It was just a T-shirt and sweatpants, but why had it taken him so long to dress? They were probably what he had been wearing before his shower. If he had taken clean clothes with him, he wouldn’t have come out wearing only a towel. Moreover, the T-shirt was wet in several places—clearly, he had put it on without even drying his body.

What had he been doing in there for ten minutes?

There had been no sound, his clothes were still damp, and his hair wasn’t dry either.

“I came to get my keys,” Cheng Wanyue broke the silence.

Qing Hang paused for a few seconds. So the keys were hers, and she was the one who had come for dinner that night.

He pointed to the bedroom near the balcony. “Zhou Heng lives in that room.”

“Huh?” Had she entered the wrong room? No wonder she couldn’t find her keys. “He said it was the one on the left.”

She still couldn’t tell left from right.

“The keys have a red bell attached. Can you help me find them? I won’t go in.”

“Mm,” Qing Hang turned and walked into Zhou Heng’s room. The keys were right on the desk.

Cheng Wanyue only glanced inside. The bed was a mess. After Qing Hang came out with the keys, he closed the door again. The bell was from a good luck charm that Zhou Yu and Cheng Yuzhou had brought her from a trip abroad two years ago. She thought it was pretty, so she attached it to her keychain. The bell made a light jingling sound with each of his steps.

The closer he came, the clearer the sound.

He could have handed them directly to her, but instead, he bent down and placed them at the corner of the table—polite and distant, like a stranger.

“Would you like some tea?” He shouldn’t have asked.

“I am a bit thirsty. I’ll have a cup.” She shouldn’t have answered.

Since the words were already spoken, a few more wouldn’t make much difference. Cheng Wanyue added, “Use fewer tea leaves. If I drink tea that’s too strong, I won’t be able to sleep at night.”

Hearing this, Qing Hang put away the tea canister he had just opened. “We’re out of tea leaves. How about a glass of boiled water?”

Cheng Wanyue nodded. “…That’s fine.”

When Qing Hang returned from his night shift this morning, he had made himself a simple bowl of noodles. Half of the boiled water remained, which would have been perfect to drink now, but he poured it all out and boiled a fresh pot.

In summer, tea cooled slowly. After quite a while, it was still steaming hot.

The sofa was newly purchased by the landlord. If people squeezed, it could seat four or five. Qing Hang sat silently on the right side, while Cheng Wanyue sat on the left, idly playing with the bell on her keychain, occasionally leaning forward to blow on the hot water in her cup.

A considerable distance separated them, and neither spoke.

It wasn’t exactly unfamiliarity or awkwardness. Nor was it the tension of enemies meeting—there was no redness in their eyes, no harsh words exchanged.

Cheng Wanyue looked at the shadow broken by the table leg, recalling the first day she met Qing Hang.

…

During the summer vacation after her middle school exams, she had been quite wild, coming home late almost every day. Cheng Guo’an hadn’t disciplined her for two months because she had barely passed the entrance exam for Bai City No. 1 High School. Just five more points below, and she would have had to attend the No. 2 High School in a town 50 kilometers away from the county. Though Cheng Guo’an didn’t have high expectations for her, the No. 2 High School was much worse than No. 1.

Her admission to No. 1 High School was purely luck. It wouldn’t take long after school started for her to fall back to her original level.

She couldn’t rank at the bottom in the first semester; that would be too embarrassing.

So before Qing Hang came to visit, Cheng Guo’an had already made up his mind. He would ask Qing Hang to tutor Cheng Wanyue. This would provide a good reason to give him pocket money and also improve Cheng Wanyue’s grades. Although Qing Hang had studied at a middle school in the town, where teaching conditions and faculty were inferior to those in the county, he had been admitted to No. 1 High School with the highest score.

That afternoon, Qing Hang and his grandfather brought fruit and gift boxes to the Cheng family’s home to thank Cheng Guo’an for his sponsorship. He didn’t know the Cheng family had moved to a new house.

The white floor was spotless. The living room was brightly lit by sunlight. Visitors had to change shoes before entering. He had visited three stores to buy fruit, walking a long way under the scorching sun. Fortunately, he only smelled slightly of sweat, but his summer slippers couldn’t hide his socks with holes. He sat stiffly on a sofa softer than his bed, his hands awkwardly placed, not knowing where they should go. Despite the air conditioning, his palms were sweaty.

Cheng Guo’an was very concerned about him. “Have you rented a place?”

Qing Hang nodded politely. “I’ve already spoken with the landlord. He’s renting it to us for three years for now.”

“What’s that?” Cheng Guo’an glanced at the black garbage bag placed by the door.

Grandfather hurried over to open the bag. The old man’s hands were thin, rough, and wrinkled from years of farm work. The dirt under his fingernails could never be completely washed away. Afraid of being looked down upon, he always wiped his hands on his clothes before handling things.

“It’s a gardenia plant. Little Hang and I dug it up from the mountain this morning. This one blooms late; it has two buds. If planted in a pot, it will continue to bloom.”

“No wonder there’s a floral fragrance. I was wondering what it was,” Cheng Guo’an stood up as well. “This is wonderful. Uncle, how did you know I like gardening?”

The old man smiled shyly. “Two years ago, when I visited your old house, I saw all the flowers and plants on the balcony.”

The Cheng family had been sponsoring Qing Hang since he was in fourth grade and had promised to continue until he finished high school. For university, he could apply for grants and scholarships, and by then, he would also be able to earn money himself. Grandfather and grandson were very grateful to Cheng Guo’an. For Qing Hang’s first visit, they couldn’t bring anything too shabby, so after much consideration, they went to the mountain and dug up a gardenia plant, complete with its roots and a ball of moist soil. They had wrapped it carefully in plastic bags, making sure not to soil the floor.

“Thank you so much. I’ll find a pot to plant it,” Cheng Guo’an genuinely liked it. With one hand holding the gardenia and the other supporting the old man, he said, “Uncle, please teach me. Though I like plants, I never manage to keep them alive. I need to learn from you.”

The two went to the balcony to arrange the gardenia. Qing Hang sat alone in the living room. Just as he was beginning to relax, he heard the sound of a door opening.

He instinctively looked up and saw a girl in a red dress walking out of a room.

She was wearing headphones and seemed not to notice the stranger in her home. Barefoot, she walked to the coffee table, took an apple, bit into it, then comfortably leaned back on the sofa to play a game. There must have been music in her headphones; her raised foot swayed to the rhythm. Her hair was long, flowing smoothly across the sofa, but it couldn’t conceal her shoulders and neck exposed by the spaghetti-strap dress. The dress reached only to her knees, revealing her ankles, which had been bitten by mosquitoes and bore obvious red marks.

Earlier, Cheng Guo’an hadn’t been sitting where she was now, so he couldn’t see Qing Hang’s feet. From her position, she only needed to lower her head slightly to see them.

Qing Hang didn’t know what was going through his mind at that moment. The toes peeking out from his socks curled up; he wanted to hide them.

The gentle friction of toes against slippers made no sound. He thought he wouldn’t be discovered, but when he looked up, he caught the girl’s fleeting glance and the slight upward curve of her lips.

The smile with her dimples told him she had seen.

It wasn’t contempt or mockery, but genuine amusement at his silly little action, which only made him feel more embarrassed.

From the balcony came the sounds of Grandfather and Cheng Guo’an chatting and laughing, while in the living room, Qing Hang sat awkwardly, not knowing what to do. The air conditioning couldn’t cool the burning sensation at the base of his ears. The flush spread down his neck, increasingly beyond his control.

Cheng Guo’an and the others spent half an hour on the balcony before coming back inside, all sweaty from the sun.

“Hello, Grandpa,” Cheng Wanyue had met Qing Hang’s grandfather before. She handed the old man a tissue to wipe his sweat. “It’s too hot outside. Have some water to quench your thirst.”

Grandfather quickly accepted. Smiling, he said, “Thank you, Yueyue. Girls change so much as they grow up. You’ve become more and more beautiful.”

“Qing Hang, this is my daughter, called Wanyue—’Wan’ as in ‘retrieve,’ ‘Yue’ as in ‘bright moon,'” Cheng Guo’an introduced. “This should be your first time meeting, right?”

Qing Hang didn’t know whether to nod or shake his head, while Cheng Wanyue completely ignored the introduction.

Cheng Guo’an frowned and criticized her. “Wanyue, what’s wrong with you? No proper posture sitting or standing. We have guests; this is very impolite.”

Cheng Wanyue curled her lip dismissively. “Oh, he’s polite? Then why didn’t he greet me?”