The moment she initiated location sharing, Zhou Mi felt like a boiling kettle, extremely restless inside.

But a few seconds later, she calmed down. Because Zhang Lian was on the same platform, their positions were almost parallel, separated by only six or seven people.

When Zhou Mi looked toward him, he happened to be looking back.

Honestly, his entire aura clashed with the subway environment. Perhaps due to his upbringing, his eyes always carried a rare, noble, classical quality, much like those Eastern gentlemen who returned from overseas during the Republican era, or like a luxury shirt without washing instructions.

Passersby would glance at him twice and instinctively make way as if avoiding a luxury car, because of his height, because of his presence.

In her daze, Zhou Mi seemed to slightly understand why her past self, after one night, had impulsively wanted to continue that kind of relationship with him.

Apart from his performance between the sheets, Zhang Lian’s initial external impression was that of a privileged person of high status, a quality deeply ingrained in his bones—dangerous yet simultaneously providing a sense of security.

The security lay in the fact that he didn’t need anything from her.

So she wouldn’t be deceived, but if she wanted to have further interactions with such a person, she could only offer the one thing that equalized their disparity as a bargaining chip.

She had used a bit of cleverness back then.

Zhou Mi smiled at him, but the man didn’t move, seemingly fulfilling his earlier “come find me” directive.

She bit her tooth, lowered her head to exit location sharing, and pretended reluctantly to walk toward him.

When she stopped in front of Zhang Lian, his face finally showed some movement, almost smiling.

Zhou Mi also deliberately feigned confusion: “How did you get here?”

Zhang Lian looked at her: “Using the same trick too many times gets boring.”

Zhou Mi’s expression changed slightly, no longer beating around the bush: “So are you here to take me away, or to come with me?”

Zhang Lian returned the question: “Which would you prefer?”

Zhou Mi’s dark pupils rotated twice: “I’ve seen you drive, but never seen you take the subway.” She looked toward the entrance, curious: “How did you get in? Have you registered an electronic card too?”

Zhang Lian said, “Zhou Mi, I’m not from ancient times.”

Zhou Mi was amused, her expression naturally showing some coquettish charm: “Then are you willing to…”

Zhang Lian: “Hm?”

Zhou Mi pointed at the still-empty tracks: “Take the subway?”

Zhang Lian said casually: “Sure.”

Zhou Mi raised her eyebrows in mock concern: “Won’t that be beneath your dignity?”

Zhang Lian shook his head: “I also want to see you take the subway.”

Zhou Mi was speechless.

She lowered her eyes to rummage through her bag, taking out an unused mask and handing it to him: “Put this on.”

Zhang Lian didn’t take it: “What for?”

Zhou Mi said, “In case we meet someone we know.”

Zhang Lian said, “Even with a mask, acquaintances would recognize me.”

Zhou Mi thought he was right—his eyes, build, and aura were all too distinctive—but still raised it higher, pushing it almost to his chin: “Wear it anyway.”

“Self-deception.” Zhang Lian took it and deftly hooked it behind his ears.

Without his lips, which had balanced his appearance like the colors in a Chinese painting, his aura changed dramatically, becoming like an unapproachable, distant, cold-faced doctor or assassin.

The contrast made Zhou Mi unable to hold back her smile.

Zhang Lian asked: “What are you laughing at?”

Zhou Mi said, “I think you look even more handsome with the mask on.”

Zhang Lian said, “Didn’t you say before that you liked my lip shape the most?”

Zhou Mi couldn’t refute.

Zhou Mi concerned herself with other matters: “What about your car?”

Zhang Lian replied: “It will spend the night gathering dust in the parking garage.”

Zhou Mi laughed again.

Just as she was about to speak, the subway sped into the station. Zhou Mi stopped talking, turned to confirm with a glance, then looked back at Zhang Lian: “We can board now.”

Zhang Lian nodded and followed.

Since starting her internship, Zhou Mi had mostly commuted alone, but she never felt a sense of isolation. Because this urban light rail was filled with people like her—unworldly students, hustling office workers—and she was perfectly positioned between them, able to join either group as an ally. The train carriages were like several low, narrow metal boxes, transporting new and old screws to their appropriate urban gears.

Tonight’s situation felt quite fresh.

The two stood facing each other amidst the not-too-crowded people, at a distance neither like lovers nor strangers. Zhou Mi would occasionally raise her head to steal glances at Zhang Lian.

But when the man lowered his eyes to catch her, her gaze would nimbly dart away, followed by a smile.

Her secret smiles were quite cute and clever, like a crescent moon playing hide-and-seek, with stars hidden in her eyes.

Zhang Lian couldn’t help asking: “What are you always smiling about?”

Zhou Mi said softly, “It’s fun.”

The entire journey was just three stops, so the ride went by quickly.

When the train announcement came on to announce the upcoming station, Zhou Mi warned: “By the way.”

“Mm.”

“We still have quite a long walk ahead.”

“I know.”

“Shall we take a taxi?” They rarely discussed things so peacefully without argument.

Zhang Lian said, “Let’s walk back.”

“It’s a kilometer, you know.”

“I’ve run twenty kilometers before.”

Zhou Mi looked doubtful: “Really?”

Zhang Lian said, “What do you think?”

Zhou Mi sealed her lips.

Exiting the subway station, Zhang Lian removed his mask and returned it to Zhou Mi.

Zhou Mi took it, unprepared, and blinked in confusion: “Why give it back to me?”

Zhang Lian said blandly, “Thank you. I experienced what it’s like to be a celebrity.”

Zhou Mi smiled perfunctorily and stuffed the mask back into her bag: “You’re welcome.”

The two walked side by side, unhurried, flanked by flashing neon signs and colorful high-rises. The slightly congested traffic looked like various monsters, giving a somewhat magical forest feeling.

A young student riding a mountain bike sped past them, not even ringing his bell, so fast and bold that he vanished in the blink of an eye.

There was also an elderly couple with graying hair carrying dark blue supermarket bags, walking slowly with no concept of time, chatting intermittently.

Zhou Mi passed them and wondered: “Why do many people stop holding hands when they get older? My parents are the same.”

Zhang Lian said, “Because it’s no longer necessary.”

Zhou Mi said, “Why isn’t it necessary?”

Zhang Lian said, “More things are binding them together, making hand-holding seem redundant.”

Zhou Mi turned her head: “Do you mean marriage?”

Zhang Lian replied: “Partly.”

Zhou Mi asked: “Is marriage good or not?”

Zhang Lian didn’t answer directly, only saying: “The dividing line where a relationship between two people shifts from active to passive is marriage.”

Zhou Mi asked again: “Is that why you don’t marry?”

Zhang Lian made an affirmative sound: “I suppose so.”

Zhou Mi was curious: “Then what kind of relationship do you want, physical without emotional?”

Zhang Lian said, “What do you think?”

Zhou Mi muttered, “How would I know? But I can understand you.”

Zhang Lian said, “What do you understand?”

Zhou Mi said: “If I had your level of capability and status, I might not need much from marriage either, and might even see it as a burden? Of course, that’s just a hypothesis.”

Zhang Lian asked: “What do you want to gain?”

Zhou Mi thought for a moment, her index finger pointing over her other shoulder, indicating behind her: “To gain an old man who can help me carry my bags decades later.”

Zhang Lian laughed but didn’t respond.

Zhou Mi glanced at him skeptically: “What’s so funny?”

Zhang Lian said, “Laughing at how cute you are.”

Zhou Mi rolled her eyes and said coldly: “Is that sarcasm or a compliment?”

Zhang Lian looked over, his tone serious: “It’s a compliment.”

Zhou Mi’s face reddened slightly, but she responded without burden: “I think so too.”

Perhaps because the conversation atmosphere was unusually good, Zhou Mi’s curiosity surged, and she couldn’t help asking more: “Before you knew me… did you date many girls?”

Zhang Lian turned his head: “Why are you asking this?”

Zhou Mi said, “Just curious.”

Zhang Lian looked forward again, his lips slightly upturned: “Take a guess?”

Zhou Mi contemplated briefly: “I guess… no more than five?”

Zhang Lian smiled again: “How did you reason that?”

Zhou Mi said: “I think you’re quite disciplined, you don’t look like someone who would be promiscuous to the point of looking exhausted and leering at women, and since you’re so proud, you must be quite selective.”

Zhang Lian’s smile deepened: “Yet I still picked you.”

Zhou Mi was immediately indignant: “What? I picked you, okay? And I’m not that bad.”

Zhang Lian said: “Not bad at self-assessment, at least.”

Zhou Mi: “…”

She began to counterattack: “Are you perfect? I don’t think so. By the time I reach your age, I might be even more impressive than you.”

Zhang Lian smiled mockingly: “When I was your age, I wasn’t as good as you at fantasizing.”

Zhou Mi desperately wanted to punch him, and in the first second, this impulse surged into her brain; she instinctively did so.

His arm was hit, and not lightly. Zhang Lian frowned: “Resort to violence when you can’t win with words?”

“Say it again, and I’ll continue,” Zhou Mi began threatening him recklessly, willingly becoming violent.

Zhang Lian fell silent, but the smile on his lips didn’t fade.

As they walked and chatted casually, the crystal-like towering buildings of New Earth Huajun were already in sight.

—

Upon returning home, Auntie Chen greeted them with her usual smile. After exchanging pleasantries with her, they walked one after another toward the washroom, practicing the good habit of washing hands upon returning home.

Zhou Mi turned on the spotless black faucet and thoroughly scrubbed her hands, sneaking a glance at Zhang Lian next door. He was also washing his hands, his expression calm, his eyelashes lowered like a misty barrier, seemingly never associated with showing emotions.

Zhou Mi noticed the creamy, dense foam on her hands and suddenly felt playful, pretending to accidentally flick some away.

A small blob of foam flew directly to the man’s chiseled jaw. He frowned uncomfortably and glanced at Zhou Mi.

Zhou Mi immediately acted flustered: “Ah, sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Zhang Lian said nothing, rinsed his hands clean, pulled out a paper towel and methodically wiped them, but didn’t deal with that small accident from Zhou Mi. He simply turned to her: “Wipe it off for me.”

Zhou Mi froze for a second, surprised: “Why don’t you just wipe it yourself?”

“Whoever causes it, deals with it.” He stepped closer.

Now the perpetrator didn’t even dare pull a soft tissue, and she hadn’t even dried the water on her hands, leaving small wet marks on her apricot cream skirt.

As she backed up, her lower back pressed against the edge of the sink—hard and narrow.

Zhang Lian looked down at her, his eyes like the pure-colored sky after the moon had set, with a suffocating sense of dominance.

Her heart began to race, her chest tightening slightly, and she quickly said: “I’ll wipe it off for you.” Without paper in hand, she could only raise her hand to wipe away that small white foam.

She lightly dabbed twice with her fingertips.

Due to her damp hand, she didn’t clean it off, but instead doubled the soiled area. Zhou Mi panicked and had to switch to using her fingerpads to continue wiping.

Throughout the process, Zhang Lian remained motionless, staring at her without blinking.

The skin of his jaw was surprisingly firm, with a black shadow turning there, giving it a youthful ruggedness.

Zhou Mi lowered her arm, feeling her palm growing hot and still wet, the remaining water seemingly turning into sweat.

Her breathing quickened as she turned to look for a tissue, but her face was turned back by him.

Zhang Lian placed one hand on the counter, trapping her, and leaned his upper body over, but he didn’t kiss her. He just moved close to her jaw area and deeply… smelled her.

Zhou Mi contracted her neck, ticklish.

He pecked and sucked at the same spot, his lips slowly rubbing to her earlobe: “Not on purpose?”

His questioning tone was cold and low, but his breath was scorching hot.

Zhou Mi’s throat was too constricted to retort.

Suddenly, she was lifted onto the sink. The water already on the Rhine gray countertop seeped into the fabric beneath her, the damp coolness gradually invading.

Zhou Mi dared not cry out. The bathroom door was still wide open, and Auntie Chen’s cooking sounds from the kitchen were faintly audible.

Her skirt rustled as the skin of her legs was gradually exposed to the air.

Zhou Mi broke out in goosebumps, dodging slightly, but with no support on either side or behind, she could only face the attack.

Other sensations were roaming, infiltrating, unhurried, and increasingly secretive.

The moisture near the porcelain basin made the wetness at the hem of her skirt slowly spread.

Zhou Mi’s knees began to weaken, her chin trembled slightly, and her fingers unconsciously created more and denser wrinkles and water stains near the buttons of the man’s shirt.

“The door…” Her face completely flushed, brows tightly furrowed, almost pleading: “Don’t…”

Zhang Lian seemed not to hear, silently pressing against her ear, his steady breathing like a warm torture and aphrodisiac.

Zhou Mi’s eyes reddened, and her suspended feet arched downward tightly. Her slippers lost their support and fell to the floor, making two very light impact sounds. Zhou Mi hugged Zhang Lian’s neck more tightly, her head pressed against his chin, emitting muffled, fragmented nasal sounds.

…

When she was carried back to the ground, Zhou Mi was like a small bird dying from prolonged sun exposure, her entire body seeming dehydrated, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Zhang Lian leaned down to find her eyes, which hadn’t completely cleared, and smiled teasingly.

Zhou Mi, her face completely red, turned her head to avoid him, her fist unconsciously clenched.

He glanced again at her feet on the ground, wearing white openwork lace socks, then returned to his side, turned the water back on, and washed his hands: “Put your shoes on, don’t catch a cold.”