Shang Zhitao couldn’t understand why she had once again gotten into Luan Nian’s car. She had been standing there waiting for the bus, but the bus hadn’t come. When she saw Luan Nian’s car approaching, what little self-respect she had left made her turn her face away, pretending not to see him.

Luan Nian stopped his car in front of her and said, “Get in.”

“Thank you, I’ll wait for the bus.” Shang Zhitao didn’t speak further, nor did she look at him. The grievance in her heart had nowhere to be expressed, just hidden in the depths of her heart, not intense but certainly perceptible. She somewhat hoped that Luan Nian could say a few gentle words, such as “I can see how hard you’re working” or “Nobody’s perfect, who doesn’t make mistakes? Making mistakes is okay, I can cover for you.” Just one or two sentences like that, like how he spoke to Kitty, would be enough. Shang Zhitao didn’t know why she was comparing herself to Kitty; unfortunate feelings always stem from comparisons.

Luan Nian also remained silent, just looking at her. This kind of standoff between men and women was about seeing who was weaker. Shang Zhitao couldn’t withstand his scrutiny; even though she had turned to the side, she could still feel Luan Nian’s emotionless gaze wrapping around her densely.

The young girl had never engaged in this kind of battle of wills with anyone before, and gradually she began to weaken, ultimately collapsing in complete defeat, bewilderedly getting into Luan Nian’s car.

“Where to?” Luan Nian asked her, seemingly giving her the decision, but in reality, they both knew the answer perfectly well—Shang Zhitao could only go to his place. Luan Nian understood Shang Zhitao better than she understood herself.

Shang Zhitao competed with him, ignored him, avoided him, appearing principled and stubborn, but both inside and out, it was crystal clear: Shang Zhitao liked Luan Nian. Luan Nian could see it.

This visible affection interested Luan Nian. He was often liked by others, but Shang Zhitao’s sacrificial kind of love was refreshing. While driving, he thought that he was actually despicable. It was he who had first felt desire for Shang Zhitao, then woven a web to trap her; sometimes when he saw Shang Zhitao’s attempts to conceal her feelings, he felt that he would face retribution.

After parking the car in the underground garage, he didn’t immediately get out. Instead, he said to Shang Zhitao, “Flora, let’s talk.”

Shang Zhitao turned her head to look at him, with a warm light in her eyes.

“First of all, our relationship is that of sex partners, not lovers. Do you agree?” Luan Nian wanted to make things clear once and for all, so that they wouldn’t have to define their relationship again. Sex was sex, love was love, each distinctly separate from the other.

Shang Zhitao turned her face back toward the car window, her mind blank for a moment. After a few seconds, she said, “Yes, I agree.”

“So, we don’t need to restrict each other. If either of us wants to date someone or wants to have relations with someone else, we just honestly say so and then end our relationship. Do you agree?”

Shang Zhitao finally understood what sex partners meant. So that’s how it was—fulfilling each other’s needs without affecting encounters with others, truly liberated. She nodded, “I agree.”

“Then should we not tell anyone about our relationship, including family, friends, and colleagues?” Shang Zhitao asked him.

“I think so. Do you think the same?”

Shang Zhitao was so indecisive. She had seen too little of society and people; she didn’t know if all girls would encounter such things. She had rejected Luan Nian in her heart, but her head nodded. She saw Luan Nian smile. Luan Nian looked very handsome when he smiled; he didn’t smile often, but on those rare occasions when he did, it was irresistible.

Later, when her train departed Beijing, with the wheels making a dull sound as they scraped against the tracks, her heart feeling as if it had been crushed, she suddenly remembered Luan Nian’s smile that night. He had been laughing at her for being a fool.

“Luke, I’m hungry. Could you make me something to eat?” She couldn’t break the habit of using the respectful “you” with Luan Nian; in her heart, she always held a deep reverence for him. Shang Zhitao ended the topic, feeling there was nothing more to discuss. It was already a game of chess with a clear winner and loser; he could move any piece, and she would be in checkmate.

“Alright.” Luan Nian got out of the car and opened the door for her.

She liked watching Luan Nian cook. She waited obediently, watching him roll up his sleeves to make her pasta and sear a steak. That cold, aloof man seemed to have descended from his pedestal. Shang Zhitao found this scene incredibly sexy. She approached him, pinching the edge of his clothes with her fingertips and giving a slight tug.

“Luke, I don’t want to eat anymore.”

“Hmm?”

Luan Nian turned his head to look at her. Shang Zhitao stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his jaw, a fleeting touch, then looked up at him. “Let’s do something else.”

Luan Nian’s voice was somewhat hoarse: “Like what?”

Shang Zhitao didn’t speak, but pulled on his collar to make him lower his head, her teeth grazing his chin. “Like this.”

Shang Zhitao hadn’t always been this open. When she was with Xin Zhaozhou, she was always shy. But with Luan Nian, she was uninhibited; her body followed her wishes, doing whatever came to mind. Her brain was shouting: after all, we don’t love each other.

If there was no love, then there was only sex.

Shang Zhitao thought with crystal clarity: since there was only sex, she might as well enjoy it. This novel experience showed her another side of the world. On this other side, everything wasn’t as bright as imagined, but it wasn’t completely dark either; it was just raw reality, not so beautiful.

Shang Zhitao was propped up on the sofa when, suddenly looking up, she saw a few lonely lines of snow outside and murmured, “It’s snowing.” It was the first snow of winter in Beijing that year. Beijing hadn’t had much snow in those years, making that thin layer of snow that day particularly precious.

“Want to enjoy the snow?” Luan Nian asked her.

“Yes.”

He carried her to the window. In the small courtyard, the dim yellow light, the faint snow, and decay. The cold glass pressed against her hot skin, raising a layer of fine goosebumps. She whimpered and shrank into his arms. “Cold…” Just that single sound, and all her strength was gone, surrendering to his desires.

How much does a child raised in Ice City love snow? Shang Zhitao refused to go upstairs, wrapped in a blanket, sitting there watching the snow. So Luan Nian didn’t go upstairs either, sitting on the sofa, flipping through a book. He felt a rare sense of satisfaction, with a little less anger in his heart. Looking at Shang Zhitao now, he thought she was quite a pleasing girl.

Wasn’t she? A woman who had just experienced a frenzied love session, now quietly reclining there, with a few traces of rosiness still on her cheeks, was seriously appreciating the snow. It looked especially pleasing to the eye.

Luan Nian didn’t want anything more. This was good enough.

At four in the morning, Shang Zhitao finally couldn’t stay awake any longer. She went upstairs to the guest room. Although it was only her third time sleeping there, she was already quite familiar with it. She said goodnight to Luan Nian, closed the door, climbed into bed, and turned off the night light. Darkness arrived as expected. The girl from the north smelled the scent of snow outside and slept particularly deeply.

She had put aside her worries. She didn’t have any worries; her concerns from the past few days were just about competing with Luan Nian. The next day, when she opened her eyes, she remembered what Luan Nian had said to her the night before. Their relationship was now clear and no longer needed further explanation.

She got up and dressed. Luan Nian hadn’t risen yet. She quietly brushed her teeth and washed her face, then left Luan Nian’s home. The villa complex wasn’t small; she always had to walk for more than ten minutes to reach the entrance. Strangely, the security guard already recognized her and even nodded at her. But his gaze was peculiar, impossible to tell whether it was contempt or sympathy. Shang Zhitao had no energy to ponder these things; her thirst for knowledge made her want to get home early. Sun Yuanzhu had said he would teach her data analysis logic.

Shang Zhitao wanted to become better, though she hadn’t thought about exactly how much better. But she hoped that she could make a little progress every day. In her imagination, after a few years, she would become very strong, and by then she could converse with Luan Nian as an equal.

When she entered the door, Sun Yuanzhu was already up and smiled at her when he saw her. “You’re back?”

Shang Zhitao nodded.

Actually, in a city like Beijing, there are many things you don’t need to explain in detail. When a girl doesn’t return home all night, with evidence of the previous night still on her skin, everything is obvious, and asking more would be redundant. Sun Yuanzhu wasn’t stupid.

But he didn’t misunderstand Shang Zhitao because of this; he thought she had fallen in love, a love that didn’t make her very happy.

“Get some more sleep. I’ll work overtime a bit, and I’ll teach you in the afternoon, okay?”

“Sure. Thank you.” Shang Zhitao returned to her bedroom and climbed into bed to sleep a little more.

Her relationship with Luan Nian existed only on Friday nights. This suited Shang Zhitao’s plans; she had originally scheduled studying for the weekends, so this way nothing was disrupted.

Sun Yuanzhu was an excellent teacher.

He had even brought his blackboard, placed it in front of the dining table, and stood there like a youth from another time. How could someone be so pure? Sun Yu sat next to Shang Zhitao and sent her a message: “Shang Zhitao, why is Sun Yuanzhu so pure?”

Shang Zhitao didn’t know why either. Sun Yuanzhu was just that kind of person, a twenty-six-year-old who still carried the purity of youth. In Shang Zhitao’s heart, Sun Yuanzhu remained untainted. Always had been.

“Shang Zhitao, I’m being fickle. I only broke up two or three months ago, but now I’ve fallen for Sun Yuanzhu.” Sun Yu told her.

Shang Zhitao let out a “Wow,” looking up from her phone. Sun Yuanzhu stopped teaching and asked seriously, “Do you have any questions, student?”

Shang Zhitao shook her head and looked at Sun Yu. “Teacher, I don’t have any questions, but she does.”

Sun Yu rarely blushed: “I don’t either. Why don’t you start over from the beginning, teacher? I didn’t understand from the first sentence.” Sun Yu was so clever, someone who could calculate commission returns in her head, yet she claimed she didn’t understand—she just wanted to hear Sun Yuanzhu speak a few more sentences.

Sun Yuanzhu was truly patient, both patient and awkward. “Then I’ll explain again.”

“Should I leave?” Shang Zhitao secretly messaged Sun Yu.

“No,” Sun Yu replied, “I was just saying that casually. I don’t have the courage.”

“You don’t have courage?” Shang Zhitao was a bit surprised. You’re Sun Yu, who fears nothing—how could you not have courage?

“I don’t.”

He’s too good. Sun Yu said in her heart.

Sun Yu was telling the truth. A man as warm and pure as Sun Yuanzhu could only be admired from afar. Even if other girls wanted to approach him, Sun Yu would feel the urge to stand in front of him protectively.

Shang Zhitao studied very seriously. She could listen to such top-tier data analysis lessons for free, personally taught by an outstanding student representative from a top domestic university. Others didn’t have such luck; she did.

She looked at Sun Yuanzhu, then at Sun Yu, her gaze gentle, hiding a story within.