Beyond her heavy studies, Miao Jing occasionally felt anxious and lost, lonely and confused, with many things she couldn’t quite understand.

Before she could figure things out, traces of girls began appearing around Chen Yi—he carried the scent of perfume, people called him for long conversations, and gave him gifts.

This wasn’t entirely new. Chen Yi had been popular in middle school, and during his vocational school years, rebellious girls liked to gather around him to chat online and play games. Sometimes they would look for Chen Yi downstairs with Mao (Spiky Hair). Miao Jing couldn’t remember what she was doing then—perhaps still hiding in her shell—but at least her feelings weren’t as strange as they were now.

The winter break lasted half a month. After Chen Yi’s graduation, Miao Jing no longer needed to use her brain to earn money. Their division of labor was clear: he provided money and physical labor for tough work, while she handled the detailed household chores. Taking advantage of the New Year preparations, she bought new clothes for both of them. In the bustling clothing market, Miao Jing saw a girl approaching in the large mirror—plain features, dressed in simple, bulky clothes.

Although she attended a key high school, there were many beautiful and dazzling girls there. Girls were starting to learn about makeup and hairstyling. Even in the science track, girls around her would apply shiny lip gloss and discuss clothing combinations and various pretty, delicate accessories.

Miao Jing couldn’t forget Chen Yi’s teasing comment about her being “as thin as noodles.” After much hesitation, she tried on a light-colored wool dress that pinched at the waist with a slightly puffy skirt reaching her knees, revealing smooth, slender legs. The dress wasn’t of the best quality, but it looked fresh on her young, pure appearance. Miao Jing hesitantly bought the dress, then went to a small shop to buy a twenty-yuan lipstick. The clothing store threw in a pair of black stockings, but Miao Jing had never worn stockings and felt strange about them. Winter in Tang City wasn’t too cold, and some girls went out bare-legged—she thought she could handle it too.

The first time she wore this dress was during the Spring Festival when she went to the amusement park with Chen Yi. It wasn’t just the two of them; Bo Zi and several others were there, along with an unexpected new face—a beautiful young woman with eyelashes as thick as fans, impeccably perfect from head to toe. Her makeup made her actual age indiscernible. Her sweater tightly hugged her curves, with a large white cutout revealing her prominent chest, a rose-red full skirt, black stockings, and high heels. She instantly outshone Miao Jing completely. Of course, Chen Yi’s gaze might have completely overlooked Miao Jing. The woman’s heels were incredibly high, and she hung seductively on Chen Yi’s arm, showing little interest in others but preferring to whisper in Chen Yi’s ear.

Miao Jing teamed up with Bo Zi, riding the Ferris wheel, carousel, bumper cars, and pirate ship. Chen Yi held the woman’s soft waist, the two inseparable like conjoined twins, their faces rippling with ambiguous smiles. Sitting high on the Ferris wheel, Miao Jing could turn her head and see people kissing in the adjacent gondola—completely shameless and unconscionable. Bo Zi grinned, saying Brother Yi had finally given up his first kiss. A cold wind gusted in, wrapping around Miao Jing’s thin, numb calves with cramping pain.

At dinner, the men drank and smoked while Miao Jing was arranged to sit and chat with the woman. The beautiful woman gave Miao Jing a cool glance, asking if she was Chen Yi’s sister. Miao Jing nodded, and the woman casually remarked that without blood relations, she could hardly be considered a sister. Her long, beautiful nails tapped on her phone screen before she suddenly seemed to remember something, turning to give Miao Jing another look, her gaze scanning from top to bottom before breaking into an indecipherable smile.

Miao Jing was speechless, her fingers curling cold. Chen Yi happened to look up and saw her snow-white face, blue lips, and no coat. She was unusually wearing a goose-yellow color, like spring leaves yet to unfurl, her shoulders particularly thin. He took off his coat and threw it over her, telling her to put it on properly.

She wrapped herself in the oversized clothes, but the woman had already thrown herself into Chen Yi’s arms, giggling about how hot and warm he was. Chen Yi took a drag of his cigarette, pulled her shoulders into his embrace, and smiled as he blew a smoke ring at her.

After dinner, there was a hint of reluctance to part. The woman wanted to go home with him, and Chen Yi vaguely considered agreeing. As he hesitated, he saw Miao Jing standing by the road waiting for him, her hair loose, her small face wooden, eyes staring blankly, her expression certainly not happy. She wore his coat, her arms crossed, the long sleeves hanging past her fingertips, the hem reaching mid-thigh, revealing a bit of the turned-up goose-yellow dress hem. Her legs were straight and thin, their flawless whiteness striking to the eye. Only then did he realize how white she was—he had always remembered her as a tanned little girl.

As if possessed, Chen Yi didn’t nod to the woman’s suggestion and went home with Miao Jing instead. On the way, he asked if she liked this woman. Miao Jing’s face was expressionless as she asked what it had to do with her. Chen Yi was taken aback. His sleeve brushed against her knee, ice-cold and smooth. Belatedly, he asked why she wasn’t wearing pants. Miao Jing slapped his hand hard and moved away slightly, stubbornly biting her lip without speaking.

Even a fool would know she was angry this time, though Chen Yi could only guess the reason why.

That beautiful woman came to their home twice more afterward, secretly surveying the house where only two people lived. Chen Yi still had no wariness then, experiencing his first contact with the opposite sex, and told her everything she asked. The woman learned that Chen Yi was supporting a burden, and her attitude toward Miao Jing became subtle and unclear, with a hint of condescension. Miao Jing’s expression turned cold, and she voluntarily left to avoid them, not returning home even when it was pitch dark.

Only then did Chen Yi notice their incompatibility. He went to find Miao Jing and brought her home. She had been sitting on the floor of the bookstore reading, her straight, plain hair hiding her face, her eyes staring directly at him until he approached, then she stubbornly turned away.

“Why aren’t you coming home so late?” Chen Yi caught a strand of long hair falling against her cheek, thick and smooth, looking much better than before. He knew girls needed to eat and use good things to become beautiful.

Miao Jing ignored him.

“What book are you reading? Buy it and read it at home.” He tried to grab the book from her hands, but Miao Jing hunched over to protect it, hugging it as she quickly walked away. The bookshelves were tall and dense like a maze. Miao Jing didn’t want to deal with him and tried to lose Chen Yi with twists and turns, but he persistently followed. They wound through the bookshelves until Chen Yi doubled back and waited in a corner like a hunter waiting for a rabbit. Miao Jing’s forehead crashed into his chest. Chen Yi winced in pain and reached out to hold her shoulders, then smiled as he rubbed his chest. Looking down, he saw tears glistening in her eyes, sparkling and rippling. Those beautiful eyes struck his heart, leaving him stunned for a moment.

He maintained his playful smile, forcefully holding her shoulders as they walked out: “I know she wasn’t nice to you. If you don’t like her, we’ll call it off. I don’t like that type anyway—so delicate it’s annoying. We’ll find another one, a prettier, gentler one.”

“Do you think you’re choosing imperial concubines?” Miao Jing’s tone was icy as she gritted her teeth. “So arrogant.”

His tone was casual, unconcerned: “There are so many women, and I’ve got what it takes—what’s wrong with choosing?”

Miao Jing’s blood seemed to freeze, and she couldn’t help but want to spit in his face. She angrily shook off his arm and took a few quick steps, only to be forcefully pulled back by Chen Yi, who lazily draped himself over her shoulders: “Don’t make a fuss, let’s go home.”

“I’m not going back.”

If she could leave, if she had somewhere to go, she would have walked away, run away—who wanted to stay alone in that house?

“She’s gone now, where else would you go?” He caught the fragrance from the top of her head, unsure if it was floral or citrus, but faintly pleasant. He lowered his head to smell again, and the vague irritation in his heart seemed to be soothed. He blurted out: “Want to go shopping?”

“Buy what?”

“I don’t know, don’t you girls like those fragrant, pretty things? Let’s buy some shampoo, shower gel, earrings, necklaces, stuff like that.”

“I don’t have pierced ears,” she replied coldly. “I don’t wear jewelry.”

He looked down and saw she didn’t. Her small, delicate ears, hidden in her hair and never seeing daylight, were snow-white with a hint of pink, the earlobes round, soft, and thin like boneless jade.

For some reason—perhaps because he liked seeing long, tassel earrings swaying gracefully against slender shoulders—he suggested: “Want to get your ears pierced?”

Miao Jing paused, her lips slowly straightening. What seventeen-year-old girl doesn’t desire to be beautiful? She followed Chen Yi to a roadside accessories shop, got two piercings, and chose a pair of rice-grain-sized pearl studs. She secretly glanced at herself in the mirror several times—they looked good.

The beautiful woman quietly exited before establishing any relationship, and before Miao Jing’s ear piercings had fully healed, Chen Yi wasted no time finding a new dating partner.

New perfume scents and new pleasures—male-female interactions were like dancing the tango, with back-and-forth testing, meaningful glances, and verbal teasing gradually heating up, both exciting and fresh. Watching him, Miao Jing thought he was like a butterfly flying into a flower garden, impossible to contain amidst all the spring beauty.

Life outside continued as usual, but before Chen Yi could figure out women’s various methods, Miao Jing suddenly entered her rebellious phase.

Her obedient, gentle, understanding nature completely disappeared, replaced by coldness, distance, awkwardness, talking back, and sharp words.

First, she refused to accept any more money from him. Miao Jing lived frugally, cutting off all expenses except for food. Even when Chen Yi left money on her desk, she would return it untouched. Then she cut her hair back into a Little Maruko style and sold her thick long hair for living expenses. Chen Yi really couldn’t understand her transformation. Miao Jing also started arguing with him. When he rarely came home at three or four in the morning, no matter how quietly he tried to move, she would coldly say he was disturbing her sleep. If he waited to return after she left, the next day she would give him the cold shoulder, refusing to cook or do laundry. When Chen Yi tried to joke about it, she would force back tears, saying that someday she would repay all the money she owed him, all the money she had spent on his, and they would be even—taking an antagonistic stance as if they were enemies, even though he hadn’t said anything.

Eventually, Miao Jing became unwilling to speak to him at all. The two engaged in an inexplicable cold war at home. As spring turned to summer and the weather grew warmer, everyone switched to short sleeves and thin shirts. Miao Jing learned to take in her summer uniform at the waist, making it only a thin pinch. She left one button undone at the collar, revealing her snow-white neck and collarbone. She even altered her old middle school skirt with a few stitches and could still wear it. She had grown taller now—how could such a short skirt be appropriate? Chen Yi’s face turned as dark as a pot bottom as he looked at her bare legs.

Then the homeroom teacher called Chen Yi, saying Miao Jing’s grades had been fluctuating greatly lately, she was sleeping in class and skipping evening self-study sessions without reason, asking the guardian to pay more attention and care. Chen Yi was furious. He went to school to find Miao Jing and attended her midterm exam parent meeting. Miao Jing’s attitude was cold and awkward. When asked what she was being awkward about, she stubbornly refused to speak. Then Chen Yi caught her staying out late, spending evenings chatting and playing games with boys at internet cafes.

Their daily routines were already different, rarely seeing each other once a day, and now she was being troublesome, making him worry and watch over her every day. Chen Yi was about to burst with anger during this period, having no mind for attracting butterflies and bees.

“Are you going to continue your studies or not? Are you sick, sitting in an internet café dressed like that? Are you asking to be beaten?”

Chen Yi’s temples bulged with anger, though he managed to hold back a string of vulgar words in front of her.

“It’s so hot, everyone else dresses like this, why can’t I?” Miao Jing’s expression was calm, her tone steady. “I’m not wearing it to school, just casually at home, what’s wrong with that?”

“Fine, wear whatever you want. The internet café is full of men. Hmph, wait until you’re drugged and dragged into some alley—you’ll cry soon enough.”

“Speaking from experience?” Miao Jing raised an elegant eyebrow. “Such scum should be shot, rot with pus, drawn and quartered—death wouldn’t be enough.”

“Miao Jing!! Do you have a death wish?!” His roar shook the roof. “Do you believe I’ll fucking kill you?!”

“I believe it. Of course, I do. You’re the best at fighting, after all, just beat me to death then.” She sat properly on the sofa armrest. “I just don’t understand what I did wrong, I don’t know why you’re angry.”

“Nothing wrong? You’re not sleeping at home late at night, chatting with boys at the internet café? What could you be talking about?” He stood imposingly before her, hands on his hips, eyes glaring with bloodshot veins. “What are you talking about?”

“About stars and the moon, about poetry and life’s ideals.”

Her small face was stern as she blinked: “Don’t you stay up late talking with women too? Standing downstairs at four in the morning, sticking together, touching all over—how disgusting. With such loose morals, be careful of getting AIDS, rotting with pus all over, coughing blood, and developing sores, being avoided like the plague for life.”

“I just… I just kissed, and you curse me like this?” Chen Yi was fuming, grinding his teeth in angry laughter. “I wasted these years raising you, you little ingrate, exactly like Wei Mingzhen. I must have been blind, damn it all.”

The stool at his feet offended his eyes, and in his rage, Chen Yi kicked it, shattering it to pieces.

When Miao Jing heard him mention Wei Mingzhen, her expression immediately fell, her gaze fixed on the shattered plastic stool, ice-cold: “Right, birds of a feather flock together. Like mother, like daughter. I’m like my mom, and you’re just like your dad. At this rate, you’ll probably mysteriously become a father too, become Chen Libin, have another Chen Yi, abuse him, beat him, let him repeat your life.”

Chen Yi’s body shook violently, his gaze suddenly piercing, reaching the extreme of dark coldness, his face tense and fierce as he raised his hand high, about to deliver a harsh slap.

Her teeth bit her lower lip, her face all stubborn coldness, her black glass-bead eyes staring steadily at him, her curled eyelashes not even trembling, her clear pupils reflecting his furious image. The raised hand lost its force midway, finally just pulling at her cheek as he bent down, grinning coldly at her: “Then you’ll be just like Wei Mingzhen, relying on men all your life, eventually causing someone’s death, then running away like a rat with the dead person’s money, throwing away even your daughter like trash.”

“I will never be like that.” She spoke word by word, proudly raising her chin. “When I grow up, I’ll live very well. I’ll be decisive, I’ll have men chasing after me, I’ll get everything I want.”

“Hah!” He sneered contemptuously, pinching her cheek hard enough to hurt. “Stop dreaming. You have nothing now. If it weren’t for my pity, you’d have starved to death long ago, who knows where you’d be as an orphan.”

“I don’t want your pity!” Miao Jing’s tears sprang from the pain in her cheeks as she clawed at Chen Yi’s forceful arm, breaking free from his grip. “I’m not a burden!”

Her long nails drew blood on his arm. Chen Yi frowned in pain, his anger rising again as he swung his hand, repeatedly slapping her weak shoulders: “I haven’t beaten you yet, and you dare scratch me?”

Her shoulders felt like they were about to break from his large hands, and a flash of anger crossed her tearful eyes. She charged at him with all her strength, scratching at his face and neck with all ten fingernails, gritting her teeth and screaming, “Let go, don’t touch me!”

“Can’t you behave yourself? Miao Jing, have you gone crazy?”

“You’re the crazy one, you bastard, you pervert!”

“My face!! Damn it!!”

Chen Yi angrily pushed the madwoman away. Miao Jing stumbled onto the sofa, still grabbing one of Chen Yi’s arms, and viciously bit down. Chen Yi frowned and inhaled sharply. The two rolled around fighting on the sofa, with Miao Jing kicking and hitting him with all her might, scratching until his heart was irritated and burning. He cursed angrily and used his large body to pin her down on the sofa, completely immobilizing her. His chin pressed against her forehead, her face buried in his neck, soft sensation brushing against his Adam’s apple, that touch particularly strange and lingering. His sharp Adam’s apple inexplicably rolled, then touched something oddly wet and cool—how did he not realize it was a woman’s lips, Miao Jing’s lips?

Further down, the undulation of body lines couldn’t be ignored, the bones and flesh beneath the school uniform vaguely sensed, the short skirt that reached mid-thigh riding up, the smooth skin’s touch perceptible even through his long pants. Chen Yi very slowly closed his eyes, his iron-gray face softening slightly. He pushed himself up from the sofa and entered his room with a dark face, slamming the door behind him.

Miao Jing lay red-faced on the sofa, catching her breath and tugging at her skirt. The pressure from Chen Yi’s hot, strong body took a long time to fade. She moved her limbs, turned over to lie down, and opened her large eyes, her dense eyelashes blinking lightly, her gaze particularly deep and quiet.

When Miao Jing recovered and went to her room, closing the door, the neighboring door opened. Chen Yi came out with a towel, went to take a cold shower, and then silently left.

During this period, he became somewhat lazy, without interest or energy, like an eagle whose wings were broken just as they were fully fledged, its claws bound in steel rings, wings fluttering but unable to fly. Every day he lay low during the day and went out at night, with a pile of worries, and a troublesome high school student at home—what could he do? There were several hundred young women at the nightclub, each with their own strange story. Like father, like son. In two months it would be summer vacation and the start of senior year. If one day Miao Jing became such a mess, where would he vent this resentment?

The two rarely saw each other, maintaining their cold war daily, their chopsticks silent at the dining table. Chen Yi freed up energy to secretly watch Miao Jing’s antics, smoking with colleagues in corners, occasionally glancing at the chaotic dance floor.

At two in the morning, truly the wildest, most chaotic time.

The intercom suddenly said a girl was looking for him at the main hall entrance. He thought it was some flirting woman, but when he lazily went to look, there at the busy entrance stood a young girl looking pitiful, wearing flip-flops, coolly dressed in a blue spaghetti-strap nightgown, the colorful lights flowing over her porcelain-like skin like moonlit snow on a mountaintop.

His scalp suddenly tingled, his brows furrowing as he rushed over in a few steps. Before he could scold her, he saw two clear tears on her cheeks, her eye sockets red like a rabbit’s, her face pale, her whole body trembling.

“Why did you come?”

Miao Jing tremblingly reached out, clutching his clothes, two clear tears falling from her cheeks as she weakly uttered a few words: “Someone… at home…”

She sobbed brokenly, unable to speak clearly. Chen Yi’s face darkened as he draped his suit jacket over her trembling shoulders and held her as they walked out. He learned that someone with ill intentions had tried to break in through the doors and windows in the middle of the night.

They found a man’s footprint, marks where the lock had been tampered with by a sharp tool, and a bathroom window broken by a rock—was it for peeping, or what else? It shouldn’t have happened; he was feared in this area.

Chen Yi took a sharp breath, revealing a fierce expression.

Miao Jing clutched his clothes, continuously wiping away tears: “I’ve been… sleeping alone… for two years… someone was watching me…”

Damn it, how could it not be dangerous for a teenage girl to live alone?

Chen Yi thought it through and, truly forced with no other option, quit his nightclub security job, becoming a wild wolf that had to return home at night.