Throughout these eighteen years, there were many things Xia Fanghui had not allowed Ning Sui to do.

Traveling alone without her parents. Drinking alcohol. Becoming a professional singer when she grew up. Drinking Sprite and cola. Eating junk food. Making the wrong kinds of friends — and so on, and so on.

Xia Fanghui believed all of these were unsettling elements in a person’s life, harmful to Ning Sui’s development.

She wanted to build a sheltered haven through her own efforts alone — to protect her daughter always.

Even the path of Ning Sui’s life was something Xia Fanghui wanted to chart using her own experience and values, selecting what she judged to be the best and most correct route — one with the least amount of hardship, the one most suited to her.

When Ning Sui was young and said she really loved singing, Xia Fanghui enrolled her in lessons. The singing teacher at that vocal class was interesting — despite teaching contemporary-style singing, he would bring in passages from musicals and stage productions, having everyone act out scenes while singing.

Ning Sui became interested and declared that when she grew up she wanted to be a lounge singer. So Xia Fanghui pulled her out of the class at once.

She decided the teacher had led the child astray — had planted in Ning Sui the impractical dream of pursuing music.

The one sentence from Xia Fanghui that stayed deepest in Ning Sui’s memory was: “You’re not cut out for it. You can’t make a living from singing. There are far more talented people in this world than you. Think about it — performing in a bar all evening for a handful of coins. Could you live with that? How heartbreaking would that be?”

At the time, Ning Sui had actually felt a bit bewildered.

She wasn’t even sure whether her future self would still feel the same way — it might have simply been a fleeting youthful whim. But a single sentence from Xia Fanghui had been enough to knock the spirit out of her, leaving everything feeling dull and pointless.

After that, she worked hard to rid herself of her love for singing.

Ning Sui understood that her mother’s intentions came from love. She knew her mother had suffered a great deal, carried heavy burdens on her shoulders, and didn’t want to see her take a wrong turn. So she didn’t push back.

Over all those long years, Ning Sui had passively accepted many of the things Xia Fanghui arranged for her. Some she had come to genuinely like — mathematics, for instance. Others hadn’t worked out, like piano.

She had thought at first that this wasn’t really a problem — a smooth river stone remains itself even after being shaped by the current. Whatever came, she would adapt to it.

But after she had seen Xie Yichen, she understood that there were people who could move through the world with edges and angles intact, and still not be worn smooth by its conventions.

A young man like that — indifferent to gossip and rumor, never short of admiration and praise, living with a kind of proud, unconstrained brilliance — radiant and vivid.

She really did envy it. Truly envied it — that freedom of his, that total absence of constraint.

Somewhere deep in her, Ning Sui also longed to become that kind of person.

To break free of that confining frame. To make one true, genuine choice of her own.

The cicadas hummed all around in a low, continuous haze. Ning Sui rose to her feet. Her heart was beating faster than it ever had before, her breath catching and surging.

This would without question be the most reckless decision she had made in eighteen years.

On a warm, lively summer night like this — setting off with someone into the unknown.

Xie Yichen was still waiting for her not far away.

Only a few meters between them. He seemed to have grown oddly patient — those dark, fathomless eyes resting on her quietly, like a stretch of sea, waiting for her to take one slow step at a time toward him.

Ning Sui came to stand beside him. She still felt the excitement coursing through her — her peach-blossom eyes had brightened.

Xie Yichen glanced at her from the side. “First time on a motorcycle.”

Her lashes moved; she nodded.

He smiled lightly. “Get on.”

Ning Sui: “Oh.”

The motorcycle was actually quite large. Its body was deep blue, polished to a shine, with a sleek, aerodynamic design — all the components assembled into something that looked genuinely cool.

Ning Sui climbed on carefully, looking down to feel out where to put her feet.

Xie Yichen’s voice came from in front of her, measured and calm: “Take your time. No rush.”

The two of them sat a few inches apart. Xie Yichen’s shoulders and back were broad and solid; the moment Ning Sui lifted her eyes she could see his clean-lined neck and close-cropped black hair — each strand with a hard, untamed quality to it — and the cool white skin of his arms, taut with quiet strength.

Ning Sui’s gaze drifted for just a moment before something was held out to her from ahead: a jacket. His black windbreaker, fleece-lined inside, the fabric very soft.

“Just grabbed it from the room. It’s clean.” Xie Yichen said. “It’ll get windy once we’re moving. Put it on — don’t get cold.”

He himself was in a short-sleeved shirt, unhurried and unbothered. Ning Sui instinctively asked: “What about you?”

Xie Yichen said lazily: “I’m built tough. A little wind won’t break me.”

Ning Sui was quiet for a moment.

He also handed her a helmet — one for each of them. Ning Sui took hers and pulled it over her head, and immediately felt it was too large.

She took it off, looked at it for a moment, then started adjusting the strap length herself.

After fumbling with it for a while, she made no progress — her hair had gotten tangled in the velcro, and the more she tried to work it free, the more it snarled.

Xie Yichen heard the rustling and shuffling sounds behind him and knew she hadn’t managed it. He turned around and reached over to help adjust it, his tone caught between amusement and exasperation: “Are you knitting a web over there?”

“……”

The angle made it difficult to get good leverage. Ning Sui quietly climbed off the motorcycle and moved to stand in front of him to make it easier.

She could feel his fingers gently parting the strands of hair along her brow, the sound of velcro releasing from its tangle — a soft, gradual peeling apart, like a thread slowly unwinding. Then he tightened the strap and fastened it securely.

Ning Sui stood with her head bowed and considered: “It feels a little tight.”

Xie Yichen paused and loosened it slightly. “How about now?”

“It feels a little loose now.”

“……”

The two of them faced each other in silence for a moment. She had the sense that the look in his eyes had shifted to something a bit deeper, and couldn’t tell whether he was about to snap at her. Ning Sui straightened up slowly: “Thank you — I’ll just tangle it myself then.”

Xie Yichen: “……”

Ning Sui got back on the motorcycle.

She was wearing his jacket, which was a size too big — it came down to cover the upper part of her thighs, loose and roomy. Ning Sui had on a pair of cropped denim jeans and a thin white chiffon long-sleeved top. She needed to stay warm during her period, so she sat behind Xie Yichen and pulled the zipper all the way up to her chin.

Out of habit she went to shove her hands in her pockets, only to find them empty. Then she remembered her things were locked in the room.

Without her phone, there was a natural sense of unease. Though Xia Fanghui probably wouldn’t call in the middle of the night.

She could feel that he was about to start the engine. Ning Sui hesitated: “About that…”

But Xie Yichen seemed to know what she was going to say. He raised an eyebrow with deliberate nonchalance.

“Let your mother rest easy.”

“However I take you out, I’ll bring you back in one piece.” He let a quiet laugh settle in his throat. “I’ll keep the princess safe. All right?”

“……”

The moment the words were out, the motorcycle revved up and pulled out of the entrance, rolling down into the lane outside.

Ning Sui was jolted backward by the momentum. Her heart skipped a beat. She instinctively pressed one hand against the rear of the seat.

Buildings on either side blurred and rushed past. The shops that had been lively during the day were all closed up now, only the occasional lamp still glowing at intervals in the distance.

They were soon on the main road running north to south. Xie Yichen wasn’t going fast — but watching the laneway entrance behind them grow further and further away, Ning Sui felt her heartbeat climbing in a way she couldn’t suppress.

Whether it was the wind, the warmth of the summer night, or the faint, cool, clean scent drifting from his jacket — probably all of it at once — she felt an overwhelming exhilaration spreading through her right now.

It was as though something had slipped free of its cage, been released, been broken open, and turned light.

The hem of Xie Yichen’s shirt billowed in the wind, swelling into a curve. He half-turned his head with an interested air: “How does it feel?”

Ning Sui nodded — then remembered he couldn’t see that. She leaned forward slightly toward his ear and said with certainty: “Really good.”

Xie Yichen gave a quiet hum.

They wove through several streets. The nighttime scenery was utterly unlike the daytime world.

Ning Sui gazed at the road ahead and realized it wasn’t heading toward the south entrance. “Where are we going?” she asked. “The pier?”

“No.” Xie Yichen’s voice, steady and unhurried at the wheel, carried back from in front. “Think you can handle the lakeside highway with me?”

— Erhai East Road. From Shuanglang to Wase Town, right along the edge of the great lake.

That route led out of the old town entirely and onto the open road, tracing the shoreline of Erhai Lake almost the entire way.

Ning Sui’s heart skipped a beat. Of course — this was exactly who Xie Yichen was.

She wet her lips, feeling something in her rise to meet the challenge, and answered without hesitation: “Yes.”

“Good.”

The motorcycle accelerated. His low, warm, smiling voice dissolved into the rush of wind.

The buildings on either side fell away quickly — scattered single-story homes, the quaint old town — all becoming a flowing, living backdrop. Not far ahead was the lake, and already it seemed she could faintly feel the gentle, salt-tinged breeze of the water rushing toward her.

A few strands of hair swept across Ning Sui’s cheek. “Do you have your phone on you?”

“Mm.”

“Can I borrow it to put on some music?”

He seemed to glance back with a half-smile. “Sure. Right side pocket, the zipped one.”

Ning Sui hesitated for a moment. “So… I’m the one who takes it out?”

“What else.” Xie Yichen’s back stayed straight and unhurried. “Do I look like I have hands free?”

“……”

Resigned, Ning Sui reached out and began feeling for his trouser pocket. Before she’d even touched it, his voice came again — low, a little husky and lazy: “Careful.”

Ning Sui’s hand stilled. She hadn’t quite processed it, a brief moment of suspended thought.

He… didn’t need to be quite so direct about it!

She said, perfectly calm: “I know where a trouser pocket is.”

“……”

About two seconds passed. Xie Yichen said: “I was telling you to be careful not to drop it.”

A pause, then his tone turned unreadable: “What were you thinking about?”

“……”

Ning Sui said nothing further.

She leaned carefully in toward him, keeping her eyes on the zipper as she worked it open, then pinched just one corner of the phone and drew it out. Throughout the whole process she managed to touch almost nothing else.

She bowed her head and pressed the side power button. “Lock screen password?”

“1209.”

Ning Sui hesitated, then remembered — that was his birthday.

Xie Yichen’s lock screen and home screen were the same image: a solitary lamp glowing brightly against a night sky, and if you looked carefully, you could make out a faint scatter of snowflakes drifting through the air.

But it was a little blurry.

By now they had entered the lakeside highway.

The great lake surged and swelled right alongside them. The winding road ran well above the waterline, offering a sweeping overhead view. Along the shore, green trees swayed in a lush and layered expanse.

Xie Yichen asked then: “Not cold?”

“Mm.”

The night wind swept over Ning Sui’s pale cheeks, clear and bracing as water: “You?”

“Not cold either.” His voice was low and unhurried.

The motorcycle seemed to be going faster and faster. Ning Sui felt a kind of horizontal weightlessness. She gripped his phone tightly and opened the music app.

“What do you want to hear?”

“Anything — you decide.” Xie Yichen said.

Over the roar of the wind, Ning Sui squinted slightly and skimmed his recently played list. She was surprised to recognize several songs — ones she had always loved.

There were also lesser-known English tracks she’d heard before, with melodies she had always found beautiful.

She picked one at random. “Summer Stone Washing” by Orange Ocean.

The upbeat rhythm rose above the sound of the wind, cutting freely through the night.

Upset / Cold wet I’m restless inside / Cold and wet I just gonna feel alright But this feeling is just right This time / Love blinds This time / Love is blind Wild roses in my hand Like the roses I hold in my hand

The scenery along the shore was breathtakingly vast — the lake stretching on as far as the eye could see.

A hunting wind full of warmth and summer heat roared toward them. Ning Sui turned the music to its loudest, letting it ring out into the open air.

She thought about handing the phone back to Xie Yichen, hesitated, and held onto it instead — pressed into her slightly sweaty palm.

She would keep it safe.

On the wide-open road, an occasional vehicle screamed past and was gone.

The corners of Ning Sui’s eyes grew faintly damp from the wind. His shirt hem, the jacket she wore — both were sculpted by the rushing air into some irregular, formless shape, and she felt so light she might take flight.

It was as if the entire world had been left behind.

I travel all the town I have come from afar From afar I have crossed the whole city Idol’s falling down Watching idols fall to earth You lie in such a beautiful You rest in something so beautiful Don’t cry / don’t cry Don’t cry / my dear I put my summer in your hand My whole summer night rests in the palm of your hand

One beautiful night lamp after another streaked past behind them, bright enough to cast light to the very surface of the lake. What a sweeping, limitless view.

Luwo Mountain lay draped beneath them, its forests deep and quietly green. But across the water, fishing lights and lanterns glimmered, and Dali Old Town still blazed with its brilliant glow.

This summer night belonged to them.

This horizon belonged to them.

Xie Yichen’s low, warm, smiling voice drifted back through the wind: “Do you want to shout?”

Such a rare and precious moment — racing through the open air without a care.

Such a perfect opportunity — why not let it out?

The wind whipped against her cheeks, soft and tingling, tugging a few loose strands past her ears. Ning Sui lifted her free hand slightly — as if struggling with herself for just a moment — and in the end said nothing.

Xie Yichen seemed to sense something. His back stiffened slightly. His voice turned soft: “Are you scared?”

She forgot again that he couldn’t see her shake her head. After a pause she pressed her lips together and said: “……No.”

Well, a little.

It was hard to describe what she was feeling — the speed was intense, everything hot and cold at once, her heartbeat thundering as if it might leap right out of her chest. It felt a little dangerous, and yet she couldn’t control it, and she felt exhilarated, and she felt a thrill run through her.

She never could have imagined that one day she would find herself speeding along the lakeside highway in the dark of night.

Right here and now, a sense of wonder was drumming relentlessly inside her chest — like tiny, rapid beats, raising a flag at the edge of the world.

“It’s just — it feels a bit fast.” Ning Sui said.

“Should I slow down?”

“No, go a little faster.”

“……”

She had quite a personality.

Xie Yichen laughed with unhurried ease: “Hey, Ning Coconut — am I just some prop to you?”

“……”

His voice floated back on the wind, warm and close at her ear: “If it feels fast — you could just hold onto my jacket, you know?”