Luan Nian glanced at the phone that kept lighting up; Zang Yao was persistent. When she moved to Beijing, she hadn’t sought anyone’s help, instead renting a small house by the Houhai lakeside. The bustling hutongs around Houhai only became quiet at two in the morning. But Zang Yao liked it, feeling it had a lively atmosphere.

Luan Nian answered the phone and told Zang Yao, “I’m driving, I’ll call you back later.”

“Want to come listen to music tonight?”

“No.”

“Fine, we’ll talk later then.”

Zang Yao’s new boyfriend was also in a band, and he had moved into her place the day after meeting her. Luan Nian was already accustomed to Zang Yao’s frequent boyfriend changes. Her constant relocations and changing partners were just her normal way of life.

Shang Zhitao kept looking out the car window. In June, the mountains were lush, trees and grass vibrant green—Beijing’s most beautiful season of the year.

Luan Nian’s bar had been under construction for over two months and was starting to take shape. He had kept one room in the bar for daily rest.

Shang Zhitao couldn’t quite imagine what the finished place would look like, only thinking it was really big and must be able to hold many people.

“It’s so remote, who would come here?” She finally asked the question that had been bothering her for a long time. Other people’s bars were at Houhai, Nanluoguxiang, or Wudaokou—all places with lots of people. Opening his bar here seemed like throwing money away. Shang Zhitao felt pained just thinking about it.

“Business is a science,” Luan Nian said. “If you want to learn, I can teach you gradually.”

“Gradually?” Shang Zhitao didn’t understand what “gradually” meant. In her mind, there would always be a day when they would part ways, maybe tomorrow, maybe next month, or maybe next year. They wouldn’t last long anyway.

“Yes, gradually,” Luan Nian replied. He was asking the construction foreman about progress. It was a bit slower than expected, and he wanted to know why. Putting away his phone, he asked Shang Zhitao, “Shall we go eat?” He was eager to comfort his stomach that had been wronged by Shang Zhitao’s noodles.

The same fish restaurant.

The same owner. It seemed the owner had gotten used to them coming together and had tacitly acknowledged their special relationship, treating Shang Zhitao much more casually than before. They ate fish, then Luan Nian took Shang Zhitao back to his home.

Shang Zhitao suspected Luan Nian had a perpetual motion machine inside him. Sometimes puzzled, she would search online: “At what age does a man’s sexual ability begin to decline?” Most answers said 25. After 25, it depended on the technique.

This didn’t apply to Luan Nian.

She liked kissing Luan Nian. His lips were always slightly cool, while hers were warm. When her warmth met his coolness, her heart would skip half a beat.

She persistently kissed Luan Nian during intimacy. He didn’t refuse and even seemed to like it a bit.

When everything was over, Shang Zhitao put on her pajamas to clean up, then returned to the guest room. They never slept together, but this day was an exception.

They were both exhausted and didn’t want to move after finishing, with Luan Nian’s hand still on Shang Zhitao’s waist. She thought: let’s rest for a while.

She only meant to rest for a moment but fell asleep.

The feeling was strange, curled up in Luan Nian’s arms, her head resting on his arm, her back against his chest. Shang Zhitao slept soundly. When she opened her eyes, she found Luan Nian’s leg tightly locked around hers, his arm firmly binding her. She couldn’t breathe properly and uncomfortably whimpered, trying to turn with difficulty, only to see Luan Nian scowling at her with his eyes closed: “Don’t move!”

Even with his eyes closed, his displeasure was evident.

…

Shang Zhitao stopped moving and said to Luan Nian, “Your leg is a bit heavy…”

After a long while, Luan Nian asked, “Did your ex-boyfriend ever tell you that you do somersaults in your sleep?”

?

Shang Zhitao genuinely thought about this question and answered honestly, “He said sometimes…”

Luan Nian released her and got out of bed to shower. Shang Zhitao followed behind him, asking, “Did I do somersaults? How did I do them?”

“Are you going to shower with me?” He blocked the doorway, intimidating Shang Zhitao.

“I don’t want to.”

Luan Nian closed the door and turned on the shower, vaguely hearing Shang Zhitao raise her voice, “Did I do somersaults? How did I do them? When I did somersaults, why didn’t you kick me off the bed?”

Luan Nian rarely slept with women, and this rare occasion was enough to traumatize him. Shang Zhitao had kicked out in her sleep, nearly hitting his manhood. Luan Nian reasonably suspected she did it on purpose. He had thought about kicking her off the bed and was about to extend his foot when Shang Zhitao turned to her side, wrapped her arm around his waist, and found a comfortable position in his arms. It seemed in her dream, she trusted him.

Luan Nian suddenly felt a bit soft-hearted. If someone got kicked off the bed while sleeping soundly and experienced some shock, they might develop a neurosis later. Better to bear with it.

So he locked her in place to keep her from moving around. The Shang Zhitao in his arms was probably part donkey, occasionally kicking up her hooves, making Luan Nian’s heart skip beats.

Coming out of the bathroom, he saw Shang Zhitao had already showered and was sitting on the bed waiting for him, with a slightly guilty and apologetic expression: “Did I kick you?”

“What else?” Luan Nian pulled off his towel, and Shang Zhitao hurriedly covered her eyes: “It’s broad daylight, don’t do that!” But her fingers were parted, eyes peeking through the gaps at Luan Nian’s muscular legs.

Luan Nian was amused by her, taking down her hands and pointing to his inner thigh, where there was a bruise very close to his manhood. He still didn’t know where Shang Zhitao got her strength from, probably from eating and moving a lot. She had brute force.

Shang Zhitao was a bit surprised, pointing at the bruise, then at herself: “I did that?”

“Were you possessed?” Luan Nian chased her off the bed. “I’m hungry, go make noodles.”

“My noodles don’t taste good.”

“You make them anyway.”

“Oh.”

When Shang Zhitao was adding salt, Luan Nian spoke up: “Salt, don’t shake your hand, use less.”

This made her blush, feeling mortified. At least it tasted a bit better than yesterday.

A downpour started outside, and the security guard couldn’t hail a car. Shang Zhitao couldn’t leave and was forced to stay at Luan Nian’s home. She only stayed over on Friday nights, so spending two consecutive nights here was a first. Suddenly, she didn’t know what to do.

Luan Nian nestled on the sofa, flipping through a magazine. Shang Zhitao watched TV, feeling very bored, so she secretly glanced at Luan Nian. He caught her and put down his magazine: “What is it?”

Shang Zhitao smiled, sitting cross-legged facing him, speaking very solemnly: “Luan Nian, don’t you feel we’re too unfamiliar with each other?”

?

Seeing Luan Nian frown, Shang Zhitao continued, “I think getting to know each other better would also help improve the quality of our sex life.”

…Luan Nian decided to go along with her: “So?”

“So let’s play a game together!”

“What game?”

“I often played a rock-paper-scissors question game with my ex-boyfriend. The loser chooses to either answer a question or get a forehead flick. Let’s play that too, okay?”

Shang Zhitao seemed to be missing a screw in her head. Seeing Luan Nian nod, she was quite happy. She extended her clean, delicate hand: “Then let’s start! Come on.” At that moment, she looked like a seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl, innocent and lovely. Luan Nian stared at her for a while before discussing the game rules: “Can we ask anything?”

“Yes. No restrictions.”

“Only truth?”

“Yes, liars are pigs.”

“Accept the consequences?”

“Yes!”

Luan Nian beckoned to her: “Come on.”

Men are gamblers by nature, and Luan Nian even more so. He never went easy on anyone when playing games, regardless of gender.

Luan Nian won the first round, and Shang Zhitao chose to answer a question. Luan Nian asked her: “Have you ever taken first place? In any competition.”

“Of course I have!”

“In what?”

“Shot put in primary school! Calligraphy competition in high school!” After answering, Shang Zhitao saw Luan Nian’s knowing expression and his indifferent words: “I wasted a question.”

Not math competitions, English competitions, singing or dancing competitions, but shot put and calligraphy. After saying it, she felt ashamed of herself. She suddenly felt that Luan Nian, the old fox, was quite malicious, but at least she could handle it.

In the second round, Shang Zhitao lost again and chose to answer a question.

“Is anyone pursuing you right now?” Luan Nian asked casually.

Shang Zhitao thought for a moment. If she said no, it would seem like she lacked charm, so she prepared to lie, but then heard Luan Nian say, “Lying makes you a pig.”

…

“No.” Shang Zhitao’s social circle was very small. Apart from helping Song Qiuhan work at two offline matchmaking events, there were just colleagues and the few people around her.

“It’s okay, nothing shameful, it’s normal. You know many people go their whole lives without being pursued, right?”

“I have been pursued before. My ex-boyfriend loved me very much.” Shang Zhitao protested.

“If he loved you so much, why did you break up?”

Luan Nian’s tongue was venomous, something he’d never change.

In the third round, Shang Zhitao lost again. She didn’t want to answer any more questions—the next one would surely be more embarrassing, otherwise it wouldn’t be Luan Nian. She chose a forehead flick. When she lost to Xin Zhaozhou, his fingertip would symbolically tap her forehead, not hurting at all, very gentle.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Shang Zhitao lifted her bangs for Luan Nian to flick. As soon as she lifted them, she heard a crisp sound, and her head buzzed with pain. She immediately covered her head, looking at Luan Nian in disbelief.

She didn’t even realize she had tears from the pain.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t you agree to accept the consequences?” Luan Nian finished the performance, got up to pour himself some water, leaving Shang Zhitao sitting there rubbing her head. He was in a bad mood.

Sometimes he didn’t understand what Shang Zhitao was thinking, constantly mentioning her ex-boyfriend. What do I care what you did when you were dating? Why should I play games you played with him?

Shang Zhitao was still a bit stunned. After a long while, she said, “I thought you’d be gentler.”

“Why? Can’t you take it?”

“I…”

“Want to keep playing?”

“No more.”

Shang Zhitao was also a bit angry. She didn’t know what she was thinking, casually grabbed a sofa cushion and threw it at Luan Nian: “That hurt!”

“Serves you right.” Luan Nian caught the cushion and tossed it back on the sofa, sitting down himself. Seeing Shang Zhitao’s forehead was a bit swollen, he pulled her close to look carefully, muttering, “Seems I did hit too hard. Did you cry from the pain?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then you can flick me too.”

“I won’t flick you. I didn’t win.”

Shang Zhitao claimed she could accept losing, but at this point, she couldn’t. Luan Nian flicked her too hard, making her feel sad. Someone who didn’t like her at all would hit that hard.

“How about this, you show rock, I’ll show scissors,” Luan Nian told her.

“Okay.”

For show, Luan Nian lost and pointed to his forehead: “Come on, flick me.”

Shang Zhitao pressed her thumb and middle finger together and blew on them, feeling the satisfaction of imminent revenge. She extended her hand to Luan Nian’s forehead but changed her mind. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, instead cupping his face and pressing her warm lips to his forehead.

“I just can’t bear to hurt you,” she said as she jumped off the sofa to find something to eat in the refrigerator. The kiss was light and fleeting, making Luan Nian’s heart flutter slightly.

The rain showed no signs of stopping, and Shang Zhitao thought she probably couldn’t go home. She messaged Song Qiuhan: “Are you back from Handan yet?”

“On my way. The rain is so heavy today. Are you home?”

“I’m at Luan Nian’s, can’t get a car.”

“Okay, I have his address. If I need to dispose of a body, at least I’ll know who the murderer is, hahahahaha.”

Song Qiuhan sent hahahas to Shang Zhitao, but in reality, her foot was wrapped in bandages, and she was suffering on the train. She hadn’t told Shang Zhitao that she’d been humiliated during her work in Handan. The event hadn’t gone well—one female member was married, something not recorded in their system. The member’s husband had brought people to disrupt the event, during which Song Qiuhan had fallen and sprained her ankle. She hadn’t told anyone, feeling quite embarrassed about it.

Song Qiuhan’s laughter had two more “ha”s than usual; something was off. Shang Zhitao called her directly: “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Song Qiuhan looked at her foot, her eyes reddening. But she didn’t want to cry on the crowded train, so she gritted her teeth.

“It’s raining, the entrance is slippery, be careful going upstairs. There are snacks in the drawer in my room if you get hungry.”

“Okay.”

Song Qiuhan expended great effort to reach her building. With her injured foot, climbing the stairs became a challenge. Standing at the entrance, looking at the pouring rain, she finally broke down sobbing.

The emotional collapse came so suddenly. Her heart felt adrift, thinking she couldn’t persevere anymore, perhaps she should just go home and get married.

Sun Yuanzhu’s appearance was completely unexpected. He had come downstairs to take out the trash and planned to take a walk when he saw Song Qiuhan leaning on a crutch, crying like a drenched chicken.

“Are you okay?” He held the umbrella over Song Qiuhan’s head, seeing her makeup ruined by tears.

Song Qiuhan felt suffocated from all directions. The project was struggling, her life was in shambles, and she was about to break down. Chokingly, she said, “I’m not okay.”

“Let’s go upstairs first, shall we?”

Sun Yuanzhu stepped forward and took her suitcase: “Stay here, I’ll take your suitcase up first.” He understood Song Qiuhan and knew she would worry about losing her suitcase. Without waiting for her answer, he went upstairs and soon came back down.

Slightly out of breath, he crouched in front of Song Qiuhan: “Come on.”

Sun Yuanzhu’s back was so warm. As he carried Song Qiuhan up the stairs, she felt her heart being healed by him, and gradually stopped crying.