The suite at Xie Yichen’s guesthouse had a very large living room. The two girls’ room was downstairs, and the other four guys were all upstairs, two to a room.

Lin Shuyu ordered three cases of beer through an app, radiating the energy of someone who had no intention of leaving sober. He said they still had a few days here anyway — whatever they couldn’t finish could just stay for later.

The coffee table in the living room was oval. The sofas were too high to fit everyone, so Zhao Yingyao found a stack of soft cushions from somewhere and had everyone form a circle and sit directly on the floor.

Zhang Yuge asked: “Anyone want lamb ribs? I’ll order some.”

Everyone erupted in enthusiastic agreement. Lin Shuyu set the beers out on the table surface and fetched two decks of playing cards. “Let’s play a couple of hands first.”

The seating arrangement was roughly the same as at the restaurant.

Xie Yichen had gone upstairs to get the Bluetooth speaker. The space near the door was empty, and Lin Shuyu leaned over to Shen Qing and said in a lowered voice: “Hey, do you mind swapping spots with me? Being close to the door makes it easier for me to grab the delivery.”

Shen Qing blinked, then nodded and politely stood up to exchange places with him.

Zhang Yuge watched from the side with full comprehension — this dog just wanted to sit next to Ning Sui. But he was still a friend, so he said nothing.

Ning Sui had her head down, sending a message to Xia Fanghui, and didn’t notice Lin Shuyu’s expression of wanting to strike up conversation beside her.

She put away her phone and looked up, just in time to see Xie Yichen coming down the stairs, his long legs carrying him over at a leisurely pace, a white object in his hand.

The Bluetooth speaker was Zhang Yuge’s. The thing had excellent resonance, plus automatic colorful LED lighting. With the overhead light switched off and only the wall sconces left on, it genuinely felt like being inside a karaoke room.

Once the rhythmically energetic music started playing, the atmosphere in the room became subtly charged. Xie Yichen walked over to Lin Shuyu’s side and saw that Shen Qing was now wedged alone between Sun Hao and Zhang Yuge.

He gave Lin Shuyu a light kick on the back, looking down at him: “How did this pairing happen?”

“Why are you kicking me.” Lin Shuyu yelped dramatically. “It’s because I’m close to the door — for the delivery!”

Xie Yichen looked down at him: “You’re sitting on two cushions. Have you no shame?”

Zhao Yingyao and Zou Xiao had been chatting and laughing, but now they looked over. Lin Shuyu quickly scooted sideways toward Ning Sui, sliding the extra cushion from under himself out to the side, then made a show of patting it clean. “Fine, fine, Your Excellency, please have a seat.”

The coffee table was not large. Sitting in a circle made the space feel cramped, and Xie Yichen’s legs were long; he bypassed the soft cushions and dug a low stool out from some corner, barely managing to find a place for himself.

Lin Shuyu handed him the playing cards. Xie Yichen took them and split the seal with practiced ease.

The game they were playing was a variant of Texas Hold’em. He and the other five had played it together before, and Xu Zhou and Shen Qing had both played as well, so Xie Yichen just gave Ning Sui and Hu Ke’er a brief rundown of the rules.

“…You can either stay in or fold. Folding is fold. If you stay in, you can call or raise. We don’t have chips here, so we’ll use a mini-program as a substitute.”

Xie Yichen explained it concisely and clearly. The rules weren’t hard to follow, but Hu Ke’er still didn’t quite understand. Xu Zhou said: “Don’t worry — just play one hand and you’ll get it. How about you and I team up for the first round?”

Ning Sui hadn’t played before either. Lin Shuyu, seeing his opening, eagerly volunteered and looked over at her: “Then we can partner up too, yeah? I’ll show you the ropes.”

Ning Sui figured the game probably had something to do with math, which made it sound interesting — though she could also just watch a couple of rounds first.

She looked up in thought, but her gaze drifted just slightly sideways, and she caught sight of Xie Yichen with his eyes downcast, shuffling cards.

His hands were long-boned, and on his wrist was a dark mechanical watch that made his skin look a cool, pale white. On his forearms, veins traced a faint pattern beneath the surface, the lines firm and defined.

Only his light-colored lips were set in a flat line, which made his expression look fairly impassive.

Ning Sui pressed her lips together and nodded: “Oh, sure.”

So they gave it a try.

For the first few rounds it was hard to separate anyone, though one could tell that Xie Yichen really knew how to play — his chip count kept growing. Particularly as the player after Lin Shuyu, he never just matched him; he always raised, which was extremely nerve-wracking.

Another round started. Going counterclockwise, after a few circuits most people had folded and were watching from the sidelines. The only ones left in were Zhao Yingyao, Ning Sui and Lin Shuyu, and Xie Yichen.

Lin Shuyu was actually pushing his luck a bit this round, but that was Texas Hold’em — all about putting on a show, dominating the other players through sheer bravado. With a grand and swaggering flair, he pushed three hundred forward: “Raise!”

Ning Sui noticed Xie Yichen looking at the cards in his hand — she could tell he was calculating probabilities.

After a moment, he curled his lip with unhurried ease: “Then I’ll double it.”

“Are you serious,” Lin Shuyu glanced at the pool of cards and was visibly struggling to hold his nerve. “You have a flush?”

Xie Yichen shrugged, breezily: “Who knows.”

“……”

He’d already pushed too many chips in to walk away. Lin Shuyu was pained by the sunk cost. Ning Sui thought their odds weren’t great, but before she could say anything, she watched him clench his jaw: “Then I’ll call!”

Zhao Yingyao took one look at this powder-keg standoff and promptly surrendered: “You two carry on.”

Final round — cards face up.

Lin Shuyu was convinced Xie Yichen was bluffing, because when they’d played before, this man loved to perform, conning them all into one big bluff after another.

But then the cards were flipped — and oh. Not just a flush. A straight flush. Lin Shuyu stared at his own sad three-of-a-kind and thought: who the hell can beat that.

A ding from the mini-program, and coins cascaded into the winner’s bag with a satisfying jingle. The room erupted in howls of laughter.

Zhang Yuge cracked open a beer and thrust it in Lin Shuyu’s face with obvious malice: “A bet’s a bet, Kuge — drink up.”

“Obviously. I said what I said.” Lin Shuyu grabbed the bottle and tipped it back.

And he did not hesitate for a second. An entire bottle of beer disappeared in almost no time. He slammed it on the table with a bang, mouth open, catching his breath.

He was just about to take a break when Zou Xiao suddenly said: “Since Ning Sui and Shuyu were a team, doesn’t that mean both of them have to drink?”

She said it with a smile, in a tone of seemingly innocent reminder.

The music was loud, so the words didn’t stand out particularly. Ning Sui heard them too.

She thought one bottle was already a lot. After deliberating, she turned to Lin Shuyu: “Then let me handle the rest.”

“Aren’t you allergic to alcohol?”

“A little bit is fine.”

Lin Shuyu refused outright: “No, no.”

He’d made the majority of the betting decisions this round — he deserved to take the punishment alone. There was no way he was dragging a girl into it.

With the air of someone marching bravely to their execution, Lin Shuyu turned to Zhang Yuge: “Open another one.”

“Come on, are you serious?” Zhang Yuge hesitated. Lin Shuyu, seeing his uncertainty, was already reaching for the second bottle himself.

“Alright, take it easy.” Xie Yichen suddenly pressed a hand over the bottle.

Lin Shuyu looked at him sideways.

There was no real standoff — because Xie Yichen didn’t budge an inch. With a little force, he pulled the bottle clean out of Lin Shuyu’s grip and into his own hand: “I’ll do it.”

Lin Shuyu knew his friend was being considerate, but what sense was there in the winner drinking too? He wasn’t happy about it: “What are you doing?”

“Everyone knows you can hold your drink.” Xie Yichen raised an eyebrow and smiled, casual and unhurried: “Call it curiosity — I’ve always wanted to try drinking straight from the bottle. That acceptable?”

——

After the delivery arrived, everyone entered the sage phase of contentment, eating and eating.

Beer with lamb ribs — there was simply nothing better in the world.

Zhao Yingyao had latched onto Hu Ke’er in conversation, asking what she normally liked to do. Xu Zhou was wedged between the two of them, leaning his seat back a little, joining in occasionally.

Shen Qing and Sun Hao were having their own quiet chat. Zhang Yuge dragged over two beanbag chairs from upstairs and sprawled in one with absolute zero dignity, an arm around each of two lamb legs, gnawing happily.

Xie Yichen sat beside him, not eating, looking at his phone.

Xie Zhenlin had just sent him a message — as if finally, after all these days, remembering that he had a son out there somewhere: [How’s the trip going?]

Xie Yichen replied: [Pretty good.]

He sent over a few photos. Xie Zhenlin praised the scenery, then added: [I’ve been tied up with the company’s Series D funding lately — running around the country seeing investors. Once you’re back, I’ll bring you to the office for a look around.]

It sounded like an explanation for the radio silence.

But Xie Yichen had no particular urge to say much: [Sure.]

Honestly, he was fairly used to it. His dad was just like that — a complete workaholic. When he got busy, he forgot everything, like the rest of the world simply ceased to exist.

Xie Zhenlin: [When are you thinking of coming back?] Xie Yichen: [Not sure. Depends on my mood.]

Xie Zhenlin was equally used to his freewheeling nature: [Fair enough. Just make sure you come back. Don’t forget to prepare for university.]

Xie Yichen replied that he understood.

He didn’t mention the laptop. He didn’t mention the text message from that afternoon, and Xie Zhenlin didn’t bring those up either.

The two of them seemed to have a tacit understanding: turn the page and move on. Xie Yichen turned his phone face-down on his lap, leaned back against the sofa, and let his mind go blank for a while.

When he looked up again, the circular formation had long since dissolved. Everyone was scattered around the living room in smaller clusters of two and three, chatting.

A soft sound came from somewhere nearby. Xie Yichen’s focus sharpened and he looked over.

Ning Sui was still reviewing the poker game, keenly going over each round, when her arm accidentally knocked into another deck of cards on the table beside her and sent the whole thing scattering to the floor.

Outside, the night was deep and dark; inside, the wall lamps flickered softly. She was down on one knee on the cushion, lashes lowered as she picked up the cards, and in this light her fair, delicate face appeared even softer.

Xie Yichen stood up, walked over, and crouched down beside her on one knee, picking up the nearest card — a black ace of spades.

Ning Sui saw it was him and straightened up: “Xie Yichen.”

Xie Yichen made a sound of acknowledgment, helped gather the scattered cards into a pile, and with his head tilted down asked: “How did it feel playing poker just now?”

“Quite interesting.” Ning Sui paused. She thought Lin Shuyu was a decent person — just not great at the game — but didn’t quite have the heart to say so. Then Xie Yichen gave her a sideways look, as if he already knew what she was thinking, and said slowly: “Wishing you had a different teammate, right?”

“……”

The light was a touch dim. The contours of his brow and eyes were distinct, his nose bridge straight and prominent.

The wall lamp wavered for a moment. Ning Sui’s fingertips pressed involuntarily into the face of a card, and she said: “You can hold your drink pretty well.”

“Decent enough.” Xie Yichen answered, unconcerned.

Ning Sui had observed that he’d drunk three bottles in total tonight. Though a faint smell of alcohol clung to him now, his gaze was still clear — no signs of being drunk.

“My dad used to give me baijiu when guests came over at home.” That was how he’d built his tolerance.

Saying that, Xie Yichen looked at her: “You’re allergic to alcohol?”

Something about his expression gave Ning Sui a sudden feeling she couldn’t quite put words to.

The way he was looking at her — it seemed like he already knew the answer was no.

Ning Sui hesitated a beat, then shook her head: “No. It’s just that my mom doesn’t want me to drink.”

“And what about you yourself?”

“Me?” She tilted her head, and answered honestly: “I personally don’t think it tastes very good.”

Xie Yichen sat down beside her. Ning Sui heard his voice, low with a slight huskiness from drinking, and held her breath for just a moment.

— Choosing not to drink because you genuinely don’t enjoy the taste is a completely different thing from never being allowed to try it at all. Ning Sui thought to herself: he probably understands that, doesn’t he?

She picked up a clean empty glass and poured some beer into it.

She took a small sip, felt the bubbles slowly dissolve on her tongue, and listened to him say: “Honestly, I don’t think it tastes great either. But sometimes when you’re with everyone, it just feels like you can’t not drink.”

Ning Sui blinked, and couldn’t help but curve her lips: “My dad always says you’re drinking the atmosphere, not the alcohol.”

Xie Yichen laughed, and naturally reached over to take the remaining half of the bottle, touching it against her glass.

He did it casually and easily, and there was a clear clink of glass on glass in the air. Ning Sui suddenly felt as though they were sharing some small, private secret.

While they were talking, a few faint cicada calls drifted in from outside.

The half-open balcony window had let the night in. The electric fan was turning with a gentle whoosh, and the Bluetooth speaker flashed its pattern of colors.

Everyone was sprawled around the living room. That sticky, humid summer night seemed to have quietly slipped inside with them, growing more and more dense.

Ning Sui felt warm. She glanced around, then fished a small bottle of medicated balm from her pocket.

The cool, refreshing sensation applied to her temples felt like drifting back to some evening study hall where she’d dozed off without meaning to — rubbing her eyes as she blinked awake, cheek still pressed against the slightly cool desk, the soft blue curtain swaying slowly past.

The teacher was writing on the blackboard in measured strokes, and the sound of the lesson reached her from somewhere very far away.

She drifted for a moment.

Lin Shuyu, who had been half-dozing beside her with drooping eyelids, suddenly sat bolt upright, energized: “Rested enough? Come on, come on — let’s play Truth or Dare!”

Just then, while they’d been picking up the cards, Xie Yichen had ended up sitting next to Ning Sui. At those words, he didn’t move.

One by one, the others slowly clambered back up. Without bothering to clear away the pile of “bones” from the lamb ribs on the coffee table, they casually formed a circle and sat back down.

They quickly found the mini-program. Inside it was a full collection of Truth and Dare prompts.

Lin Shuyu said that in the spirit of ceremony, they’d skip the mini-program draw and instead use an empty bottle, placed on the table and spun.

The first spin determined who got punished. The second spin determined who issued the challenge or question.

With a clatter, the bottle scraped against the glass surface and Hu Ke’er became the glorious pioneer of this propitious first round.

She sighed and groaned melodramatically several times. “Truth, I guess.”

Lin Shuyu spun the bottle again. After a few wobbling rotations, the mouth of the bottle slowly settled pointing at Zhang Yuge.

“Well, well.” Zhang Yuge clicked his tongue, looking at her with a mildly meaningful expression.

Hu Ke’er threw him a covert glare: behave. Ask something appropriate.

Zhang Yuge pretended to think for a moment, then said: “Tell us the most absurd thing you’ve ever done in your life.”

Lin Shuyu inwardly felt the question lacked punch, but it was only the first round and she was a girl, so he let it go.

Ning Sui, on the other hand, laughed the moment she heard the question. She thought Zhang Yuge had asked exactly the right person — this girl’s track record of bizarre exploits since childhood could fill an entire commemorative volume, and she didn’t even know where to start.

Hu Ke’er was silent for two seconds, then answered with an expression of undisguised suffering: “I once used pepper spray as face mist.”

“What the—?!”

The image was a little too vivid — vivid enough to defy imagination. Everyone laughed and demanded: “What happened?!”

Hu Ke’er said, deadpan: “The pepper spray had ended up on the vanity by accident. I grabbed the wrong one. A few seconds after spraying it, my whole face felt like it was on fire, and I couldn’t open my eyes. I ran to the mirror and forced my eyes open — I was as red as a chili pepper. Then I went to the bathroom and spent half an hour rinsing my face with cold water.”

Ning Sui remembered this incident vividly. She recalled it had taken the better part of a day to go away. After rinsing her face, the capsaicin molecules migrated from her face to her neck; when Hu Ke’er came over to her house, her entire upper body was red.

Ning Deyan had answered the door and stared: “Are you transforming into your true form, or what?”

As for why Hu Ke’er kept pepper spray in her bedroom — her parents were away from home often, and had repeatedly stressed to their daughter that a girl living alone needed to know how to protect herself. So Hu Ke’er had gone online and ordered a whole assortment of things: buzzer alarms, pepper spray, and more.

She later verified firsthand that the products worked exactly as advertised.

——

Everyone was in high spirits, laughing and drinking their way to the next round.

This time it landed on Lin Shuyu. He chose Dare. The designated prompter was Sun Hao.

Since it was still early in the game, Sun Hao kept things mild. He scrolled the prompt library and pulled one at random.

[Type “hxn” into your phone’s input method to test how well-suited you are for the role of emotional backup.]

Zhang Yuge slapped his knee: “Ha! Oh my god, this question was literally made for our Kuge Lin!”

Lin Shuyu gave him an unapologetic punch on the shoulder: “Shut up.”

Everyone fixed their glowing eyes on Lin Shuyu’s screen. He had a faint premonition about where this was going, and scrambled to lay some groundwork in advance: “Just because ‘hao xiang ni’ [I miss you so much] comes up doesn’t automatically make someone a backup — you miss your family, your friends, right? Some models just auto-suggest that by default—”

Zhang Yuge was delighted, prodding him: “A bet’s a bet — hurry up and type it.”

Bowing to social pressure, Lin Shuyu could only take out his phone. Ten pairs of eyes focused with intense concentration, and slowly, he typed out—

[hai xiang niao.] [Still need to pee.]

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA what the—”

“How?! Why is that what comes up?!”

The revelation was staggering. The whole circle erupted.

Lin Shuyu: “No wait hold on! Let me explain—”