The clouds hidden in the depths of the dark sky drifted apart, and a thin crescent moon emerged, scattering its silver light across everything below.

The two of them sat there a while longer, maintaining a comfortable, wordless silence.

“Xie Yichen,” Ning Sui suddenly called out to him.

Xie Yichen turned his gaze toward her. “Mm?”

“Honestly, I envy you quite a bit.”

He looked at her steadily. “Envy me for what?”

“I’m not sure exactly. It just feels like you have a very clear sense of who you are — whatever you do, you’re completely free and unrestrained.”

Or perhaps she envied him for having nothing that truly weighed on him or kept him up at night. No one pulling his strings.

Half the stone pressing down on her heart had been lifted. The other half still remained.

Her grandmother’s health wasn’t what it used to be. Just looking at her was painful — the tubes, the dialysis — who knew how much she was suffering. But that was the nature of illness. So many things could only be left to fate.

When Ning Sui was little, she hadn’t been particularly close to her grandmother. They lived far apart and only saw each other once every month or two. On top of that, Xia Fanghui was a deeply independent woman — after building a life with Ning Deyan, she never took a single cent from her family, made her own way, and kept her visits infrequent.

As Ning Sui grew older and more perceptive, she slowly came to sense that there was friction between her mother and her grandmother.

She had tried asking about it indirectly, but Xia Fanghui never said anything. Then one night, drunk, she finally let it slip: that her grandmother had been penny-pinching over a few coins, refusing to let her buy snacks, denying her meat during the years she was still growing, and serving only vegetables that had been sitting in the refrigerator for days, nearly rotting.

Only during New Year and festivals might there be a rare, barely adequate meal of pork-lard fried rice.

And the clothes Xia Fanghui wore were always old — mended and patched over and over, her trousers covered in mismatched fabric patches of every color.

Every morning when the students lined up on the field for exercises, Xia Fanghui would stand among the rows of girls who were neatly and prettily dressed, and feel deeply ashamed.

Back then, when Xia Fanghui passed the entrance exam for the best university in the area, her grandmother refused to pay the tuition — it was too expensive — and told her to go out and find work instead. Her grandfather, thoroughly hen-pecked, didn’t dare say a word in opposition. So Xia Fanghui had only a junior college diploma for years, and it wasn’t until a few years ago that she found the time to sit the adult college entrance exam and earn a bachelor’s degree.

They weren’t destitute, but not to the point of that kind of deprivation. For a long time, Xia Fanghui believed her grandmother simply didn’t want to spend money on her. That was why she in turn lavished Ning Sui with material things — trying to compensate for everything she herself had lacked growing up.

That cool, restrained dynamic between mother and daughter only finally softened after Ning Yue was born, when the two of them finally talked things through.

Times had been hard back then. The older generation tended to think that way — simple, frugal, with all their energy consumed by putting food on the table, leaving no room for anything else. Both of them stubborn in their own way, they had quietly offered each other a way down from the high ground, and eventually the tension eased.

After that, Ning Sui began visiting her grandparents’ home on weekends from time to time. Her grandmother was especially generous toward her, this beloved granddaughter — the red envelopes at New Year were always thick, and she was always warm and indulgent, supportive of whatever Ning Sui wanted to do.

The things Xia Fanghui wouldn’t let Ning Sui have — like soda and instant noodles — her grandmother would sometimes quietly slip her anyway.

Her grandmother also had a pair of skilled hands: she could knit, and she loved spy dramas and mystery shows. During the summer holidays, the old woman and the young girl would curl up on the sofa and watch television serials all day long. Her grandmother even taught her to knit scarves and crochet all kinds of colorful patterns.

And yet now.

Time passed so quickly. In what felt like the blink of an eye, all of her grandmother’s hair had turned white.

If only — she was just thinking — if only it were possible for people to never grow old.

Then they could keep each other company for so many, many more years.

……

“Ning Sui.” Xie Yichen’s voice drifted over from beside her. Ning Sui turned her head and saw the pale moonlight washing faintly over his brow and eyes, his dense lashes casting a thin, delicate shadow beneath. “You envy my freedom. But actually — I envy you too.”

She paused. “Envy me for what?”

Xie Yichen bowed his head with a quiet laugh. “Having someone to look after me, I suppose.”

Ning Sui had never really known much about Xie Yichen’s family. What she knew was only pieced together from various rumors, news reports, and things she’d heard from classmates — assembled into a rough, general picture.

She imagined his parents must be very busy, too occupied to pay him much attention. That was probably why he’d stopped living at home during middle school and even taught himself to cook.

“For as long as I can remember, my parents have always been racing around the country for the company. They’re constantly traveling for work. Every now and then they’d come home briefly, and then they’d leave me in the care of my uncle and aunt.”

Xie Yichen sat on the bench in a relaxed, slouching posture, his hands never letting go of that shoelace, winding it idly around his fingers.

“At the time, I actually thought it was pretty cool. Other kids had parents watching over them around the clock — but mine left me alone. They’d be gone for days, and when they came back, they’d bring me gifts.”

He hadn’t realized until later how unfun that arrangement really was.

There was basically never a time when all three of them — mother, father, son — sat down together for a proper meal. His parents were always coming and going in a hurry. Xie Yichen was never afraid of the dark, because when he was small there was no one to stay with him at night, and he’d been forced to get over it.

During elementary school he often went to his uncle’s house, freeloading on meals, a bed, and a roof. His uncle and aunt were very affectionate toward him; they were the ones who first taught him math and English when he was young.

He was mischievous, but very clever — reckless about play, but within limits. Nothing like his cousin, who was openly shameless about it, going out to pick fights and coming home battered and bruised, until his aunt yanked his trousers down and spanked him across the sofa.

But no matter how warmly they treated him, Xie Yichen always felt he was burdening his uncle’s family. Raising another child cost money — that was just the reality.

So the moment he started middle school, he rented a room of his own and moved out.

In his second year of middle school, the company entered a new phase of growth. Xie Yichen had thought his parents might finally get to breathe a little. One day he heard they were coming back from the airport, so he went into the kitchen and cooked several dishes himself, waiting at home with a full heart, imagining he’d finally get to have his parents taste his cooking.

He waited until the food was completely cold. The entryway of the living room was dark.

No one came home.

The plans had changed at the last minute. They’d gone to another city instead.

Xie Zhenlin and Qiu Ruoyun had completely forgotten that that day was his birthday.

If he had to describe the past eighteen years in a single phrase, Xie Yichen thought it would be: growing wild. Whether by choice or by circumstance, he had ultimately become this version of himself — edged and angular, free-spirited and unruly.

“So that’s why I say I envy you for having someone to look after you. If I wanted to find someone to look after me — that would be quite a tall order.”

Xie Yichen laughed with casual indifference. Ning Sui looked at him, words rising in her throat but dying before they reached her lips.

Xie Yichen raised an eyebrow. “You have something you want to ask.”

He was perceptive as ever. Ning Sui gazed at his sharp, handsome features and felt something in a quiet corner of her heart suddenly brush against something soft: “I heard that when you were little you often appeared in interviews with your parents. You don’t like having your photo taken — is it because you spent so much time facing cameras back then?”

Xie Yichen’s hands stilled on the shoelace for a moment.

“That’s part of it.” He lowered his gaze and said, unhurried, “Can’t be helped — those reporters thought I was good-looking and were always telling me to smile. After enough times, it got very annoying.”

Ning Sui: “……”

Once again, completely blindsided by his shamelessness.

She took a quiet breath and silently swallowed whatever she’d been about to say next.

The plants and flowers along the glass railing swayed gently in the night breeze. Erhai Lake rose and fell with quiet grace. The summer night was hushed and still. Xie Yichen thought — he’d tell her the rest another time. Too much at once might frighten her.

Now significantly more clear-headed than before, Ning Sui asked: “Xie Yichen, do you know if there’s any alcohol around here?”

“Just in that refrigerator in the main hall — help yourself.” Xie Yichen glanced at her sideways, with a half-smile. “Why? You listened to the whole story and now you feel like a drink?”

Ning Sui: “……More or less.”

Xie Yichen: “Either it is or it isn’t — what do you mean, ‘more or less’?”

“……”

Ning Sui still approached alcohol with cautious, tentative curiosity, but she thought Xie Yichen was right earlier — it wasn’t really about the taste. The point was the mood. “Then… could you take me there?”

The local customs here were warm and easy-going, with no shortage of drinks. Ning Sui pressed her lips together lightly, her clear, peach-blossom eyes flickering with a faint guilty light.

Xie Yichen watched her trying to look composed, and thought to himself — he really couldn’t imagine how strict her mother must be, that even from this far away she could somehow smell alcohol on her. What a timid little thing.

He gave a quiet laugh, stood up with his hands in his pockets, his voice lazy and unhurried: “Let’s go.”

The courtyard was open-air. Walking through the corridor brought them into the main indoor hall, and sure enough, near the entrance there were two refrigerators. Xie Yichen pulled one open and leaned against the side, watching her choose.

Ning Sui knew absolutely nothing about beer brands — Tsingtao, Budweiser, Corona, 1664 — she couldn’t tell the difference. As far as she was concerned, there was no difference. So she just grabbed two bottles of whichever ones were closest and had the nicest packaging. Blue ones.

Then she searched everywhere and couldn’t find a bottle opener — some guest had probably taken it up to their room. And it was the middle of the night; she couldn’t very well go bother the innkeeper.

Ning Sui held the beer bottles and very naturally turned to Xie Yichen for help: “What do we do about this?”

Xie Yichen settled into a seat at the long wooden table in the center of the hall and languidly extended one hand toward her: “Give them here.”

He found a sharp corner of the table, pressed the bottle against it, and gave a light tap. The cap flew off with a pop, bubbles rising up inside — clean and effortless.

Ning Sui watched in admiration from beside him: “That’s impressive.”

Xie Yichen lowered his gaze, pausing for a moment before lifting his brow with an indistinct expression: “What’s so impressive about opening a bottle.”

She couldn’t quite put it into words, but Ning Sui felt that the easy, unruffled composure Xie Yichen brought to everything he did was just genuinely cool — and not the kind of cool that came from someone who knew they were cool and wanted to show off. He was simply used to it, that was all.

Ning Sui pulled over a nearby wooden stool and sat down beside him, reaching out to take the beer. But Xie Yichen seemed to think of something and pulled it back, his grip closing around the bottle.

Their fingertips grazed each other in the air. The condensation on the bottom of the bottle left a streak of moisture across the table as he drew it back.

Ning Sui: “?”

Xie Yichen looked at her with a meaningful expression, his voice low: “This is ice-cold. Can you actually drink it?”

Ning Sui blinked. Only then did she remember — today was the second day of her period.

Her lashes fluttered. She stared at the still-fizzing mouth of the beer bottle, her expression shifting almost imperceptibly.

In the shimmering moonlight, Xie Yichen noticed Ning Sui’s expression. Her ears seemed to have turned red — small, pale, and rounded, radiating a soft, delicate flush of pink.

He let his gaze rest there for only a moment before pulling it away. He touched the bridge of his nose with one hand, then turned his head to look out toward the corridor.

At that moment, Ning Sui raised her eyes and said softly: “About that…”

“What is it.” Xie Yichen remained in his same unhurried, sprawling posture, one hand wrapped around the ice-cold blue bottle beading with condensation. His tone, for some inexplicable reason, carried a new note of deliberate composure.

Ning Sui stared at him without speaking.

How could he have such a good memory? Remembering even something like this.

Droplets from the beer bottle’s condensation still clung to the table. Ning Sui quietly brushed her fingers through them — her hand came away ice cold.

In contrast, the heat at the tips of her ears was warm. Very faintly.

She thought quietly to herself — why is this summer so hot?

Ning Sui swallowed without thinking, then extended one slender white index finger and said, earnestly: “I just want a tiny lick. I’ve kind of forgotten what it tastes like.”

“……”

Right. She still wanted a drink.

Xie Yichen didn’t answer right away. He first felt around on the dim table until he found the bottle cap, and then said: “What if it makes you feel unwell.”

He had a real knack for cutting to the point. Ning Sui fell silent.

She watched helplessly as he pressed the cap back onto the bottle and tapped it against the edge of the table a few times to reseal it: “Wait — you can actually do that?”

“Mm.”

Ning Sui looked at him: “You opened this bottle already. Are you planning to put it back in the refrigerator?”

Putting it back didn’t feel right — a shame, too, since all the carbonation would be gone.

Xie Yichen gave the bottle a casual lift. “Take it back to the room and drink it tomorrow.”

Ning Sui let out a slow, drawn-out “oh.”

Only then did Xie Yichen notice her hands were empty: “You didn’t bring your phone?”

“No — if my mom sees my WeChat step count, she’ll know I stayed up late.”

“?”

Ning Sui couldn’t help but sigh. “Yes. That’s exactly how it is.”

Xia Fanghui really was something else.

When Ning Sui was little, she’d take advantage of her parents going out to run errands and watch television at home. When they came back, she’d claim she’d been studying the whole time — but Xia Fanghui would press a hand to the top of the TV cabinet and find it still warm. So she’d get a lecture.

After that, Ning Sui got smarter and laid a cool damp towel over the TV cabinet, thinking she’d covered all her tracks. But then Xia Fanghui noticed the dust and static on the television set had diminished compared to before. Another lecture.

No matter what, Ning Sui had never once managed to fool her. As Ning Sui grew up, Xia Fanghui seemed to evolve right along with her.

Both of them had honed the skills of a seasoned operative — it was just that Ning Sui was always one move behind.

The WeChat step counter had been Xia Fanghui’s idea in the first place; Ning Sui had no choice but to keep it active. She couldn’t turn it off — that would be a dead giveaway, and Xia Fanghui would interrogate her.

But if she kept it on and didn’t go to sleep before midnight, her mother would check in the morning and find the step count wasn’t zero.

So she’d simply left her phone locked in the room.

Which meant right now she couldn’t look at her phone, had found exactly the wrong moment to want a drink, and was wide awake and unable to sleep.

Maybe she really wasn’t cut out to be a rebellious kid. She simply didn’t have that gene in her.

Thinking this, Ning Sui found it both funny and frustrating, and let out another quiet, involuntary sigh.

“What are you brooding about.” Xie Yichen leaned his elbow loosely on the edge of the table, his dark eyes watching her with an expression that was difficult to read.

Ning Sui’s long lashes drooped softly. She stared at the blue beer bottle and murmured in resignation: “I just think — I can’t even find the right moment to have a sip of alcohol. I’m pretty pathetic.”

“……”

Xie Yichen’s eyebrow suddenly arched, and with a half-smile he cut straight to the truth: “Be honest — do you actually want a drink, or do you want to rebel against your mother?”

There it was.

Ning Sui admitted he’d hit the mark, but what could she do? Every time she wanted to defy one of Xia Fanghui’s commands, she’d think of all the things her mother had done for her — how hard these years had been for her.

After all, who becomes a strong, self-reliant woman of her own free will? It’s only ever a response to the hardships life throws at you.

“I know. She doesn’t want me to take the wrong path. But I feel like some things are a necessary part of life — things I want to try — and yet I always feel like I’m going up against her.”

Xie Yichen was in the middle of calmly tying knots in that spare shoelace when he glanced up at her and said: “Don’t elevate it to something so grand. Defying her or not defying her — it doesn’t really rise to that level.”

“Her motivation for managing you is that she wants what’s best for you. As long as you can protect yourself throughout the process and end up with a good outcome — isn’t that all that matters?”

“And besides, no one goes through life without making mistakes. You have to bump into a few walls. Better to make those mistakes while you’re young and use up your quota now — then you can sail smoothly from here on out. Doesn’t that make sense?”

Ning Sui: “……?”

At first hearing, that sounded remarkably sensible — a few short sentences that had somehow transformed the chaotic into the orderly.

But thinking about it more carefully, something felt a little off……

“That logic of yours……”

“Mm?”

She said quietly: “Isn’t it a bit roguish?”

“……”

The main hall was unlit, with only a small yellow bulb glowing above the refrigerator cabinet. The two of them sat in the dim half-light, regarding each other for a moment with unreadable expressions. After a pause, Xie Yichen slowly rose to his feet, beer bottle in hand.

Ning Sui quickly tilted her head up. “You’re leaving?”

Xie Yichen glanced down at her, a flicker of amusement in his expression.

Ning Sui’s lashes fluttered. “If you’re tired, just go sleep.”

“And you?”

Ning Sui lowered her gaze to the wood-grain pattern on the table. “I’ll sit a while longer. Get some air.”

Xie Yichen studied her for a moment, then bowed his head with a quiet laugh.

He spoke in an unhurried, deliberately gentled voice. “No — I’m just going back to the room to get something. Wait here for me?”

Ning Sui blinked. “……Oh.”

She had no idea what he was going to get, but something in her settled unexpectedly. She stayed where she was without moving, thinking it was probably a deck of cards or a murder-mystery game kit. She had no clue what the two of them would end up playing.

She sat there for what might have been a few minutes, idly running her fingers across the table, when a low, rumbling engine sound rose from somewhere behind her.

Ning Sui turned in surprise. Xie Yichen was coming toward her on a motorcycle, helmet in hand, long legs braced against the ground as he leaned back against the handlebars with casual ease.

There were no neon lights here — only the sea, shimmering in tender concert with the moonlight.

The headlight was aimed at her. From not far away, Xie Yichen flicked it once.

In the night breeze, his whole figure seemed draped in moonlight — fine dark hair falling across his brow, the lines of his features sharp and handsome.

The young man’s pitch-black eyes were bright and alive with light — unrestrained, a little audacious — and his voice was low and rich as dark wine: “Come here. I’ll take you for a ride.”