Fang Zhuo felt like she had become a frog soaking in lukewarm water, her limbs and brain both numbed by the slowly rising heat.

Seeing the light, Ye Yuncheng knew it was her and felt a flicker of excitement, though he restrained himself, saying, “I thought you weren’t coming. It got dark and I went back home first. Why are you so late?”

Fang Zhuo didn’t make a sound. She stood up, hitched the strap of her backpack, and shone the flashlight’s beam toward the ground.

Ye Yuncheng said, “There’s only one streetlight for a long stretch around here, and it’s been broken for months. Can you see? Walking this road alone must be scary, isn’t it?”

Fang Zhuo swallowed, and after a couple of seconds said, “No.”

Ye Yuncheng walked closer and reached out to take her flashlight. His hand accidentally brushed against her fingertips, and he discovered they were ice-cold. Recognizing that she was already frightened out of her wits, he simply forced a smile and didn’t call her out on her words.

He hung the flashlight on the handle of the cart and said gently, “Your classmate called me, asking if you’d gotten home yet—that’s how I found out you’d come. It’s my fault, I didn’t confirm the time with you. I was careless too.”

Fang Zhuo’s eyes shifted, her body easing out of its numbness. “Ah… Yan Lie?”

Ye Yuncheng heard the chirping of chicks, crouched down to look at the ground, and laughed. “You bought chickens? Want to raise chickens in the yard?”

Fang Zhuo nodded. “Mm.”

“That’s good. They can lay eggs too.” Ye Yuncheng lifted the box with one hand, then said, “Here, give me your bag. Put it on the cart.”

Fang Zhuo set her backpack down, and in that instant felt the weight on her back suddenly lighten, her whole body becoming relaxed.

Ye Yuncheng tried lifting it and found the backpack was stuffed full of books, weighing at least ten-some jin. Behind that was a twenty-jin bag of rice as well.

He pinched Fang Zhuo’s arm, unable to understand how such a thin little arm had managed to carry all this over, and said with a pang of distress, “Next time you come, tell me the time, and I’ll wait for you at the entrance to the village.”

Fang Zhuo said, “It’s fine.”

“Don’t stand on ceremony with me, this bit of road isn’t tiring.” Ye Yuncheng paused for a moment, then said, “I want to come pick you up. We’re family, after all.”

After a long moment, Fang Zhuo answered in a low voice, “Mm.”

With Ye Yuncheng coming to meet her, the road ahead no longer felt so far.

Fang Zhuo dragged the cart along behind him, and it felt like she’d only spaced out for a moment before they were already in front of the house.

Ye Yuncheng turned on the main light, illuminating the furnishings inside.

Unlike the cluttered, aged state from before, the room had been thoroughly cleaned. The curtains had been swapped for a pale blue set, the table and chairs rearranged, paired with a high-wattage incandescent bulb—the whole place looked bright and spotless, neat and well-lit.

The air no longer carried that damp, musty smell either; instead, there was a faint trace of osmanthus fragrance. Fang Zhuo suspected Ye Yuncheng had sprayed on perfume.

This discovery startled her, and she stole a couple of glances at the man’s appearance. It was only then that she noticed he had specially put on a crisp new set of clothes today, trimmed his overly long hair, and no longer looked unkempt like last time—his complexion looked much healthier too.

It could practically be said he was a different person altogether.

The light illuminated both their faces, and Ye Yuncheng noticed Fang Zhuo sizing him up in a vague, uncertain way. He grew a bit flustered, leaning on his crutch to go lift the gauze cover over the table, calling out, “Have you eaten dinner? You must be hungry now. I didn’t know what you like, so I just made a few dishes at random. Go wash your hands—I’ll go heat up the food now.”

The dishes on the table had already gone cold, but they were arranged neatly and elegantly, clearly showing that Ye Yuncheng had been waiting for her this whole time and hadn’t eaten yet. Seeing her standing still, he reached out and gave her a gentle push, urging, “Hurry up, the bathroom’s over there.”

Fang Zhuo had no watch on her, and didn’t know what time it was now—roughly estimating, it should be sometime after 8 o’clock.

Every single detail carried a sense of perception entirely foreign to her, turning into clusters of small waves that beat repeatedly against the inside of her chest. A rough, undulating beach, once soaked by water, has all its wrinkled lines smoothed away, gradually becoming flat and even.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the reflection half a meter away showing her own bewildered, helpless face, her movements and awareness having both turned sluggish and slow. It was only after she forced herself to blink hard that she managed to connect the person in the mirror with herself.

She bent over and rinsed her face with water, holding her breath, letting the icy liquid carry away the burning heat on her skin.

Ye Yuncheng’s concern was different from Fang Yiming’s—delicate, gentle, and sincere.

He poured out so much care for her that he practically wanted to hand all of it over for her to see. But Fang Zhuo’s bottle could only hold so much; anything more than that, she had no experience with, afraid it might overflow, afraid of owing other people’s affection, afraid of failing to live up to his concern.

A feeling of swelling began in her lungs. Fang Zhuo turned off the water, raised her head and exhaled forcefully, looking again at the person in the mirror.

She suddenly remembered she’d forgotten to bring her towel in. She tore off a piece of tissue from the side, wiped away the water marks, then smoothed back the damp hair at her temples and tucked it behind her ears.

By the time she slowly made her way out of the bathroom, the dishes on the table had already begun steaming.

Ye Yuncheng had set out the bowls and chopsticks, leaning half against the wall as he ladled soup for her.

“Tofu and carp soup, good for the brain. Look at you, you’re too thin.” Ye Yuncheng’s hand trembled slightly, so he didn’t dare let his attention wander while speaking. “Even if you don’t like it, drink a little. Look at you, you’re too thin.”

Fang Zhuo took the small bowl and set it on the table. When she tried to help support him, he had already taken a step back with his crutch and pulled out a chair to sit down.

Both of their mouths seemed sealed shut—whatever more words rolled up to their throats all turned into single syllables, all just things like “Sit.” “Eat.” “Here.”

The meal was very generous. There was fish, meat, vegetables, and even a small cake in the middle.

The cake had an oddly misshapen appearance, probably because there hadn’t been a proper mold, and the cream was also smeared on rather messily. But you could tell the maker had put their heart into it.

Fang Zhuo wanted to say not to spend so much money, but seeing Ye Yuncheng’s face full of anticipation, she held it back, only asking, “Did you make this cake yourself?”

“Yes. Though it’s steamed, not baked.” Ye Yuncheng tugged at the corners of his mouth, laughing bashfully. “It’s not very pretty, but the taste is decent. I’ve made some before and sent them to the school too—they all said it was alright.”

Fang Zhuo’s gaze swept toward the neatly arranged books in the corner, and she asked, “Do you like reading?”

“I do. After all, I don’t have much else to do. But it’s all sorts of random stuff—whatever books other people send me, that’s what I read.” Ye Yuncheng said, “Some of the books aren’t very good either.”

Fang Zhuo took a sip of the soup and praised it. “It’s very good.”

“Then that’s good.”

Ye Yuncheng held his bowl, staring at her with a beaming smile.

His gaze was calm, his eyes distant, the light brown of his pupils gradually taking on a glistening sheen.

Fang Zhuo avoided his gaze and buried herself in her food.

She really was hungry, and with the two of them unable to find much to talk about for a while, eating was the only way she knew to mask the awkwardness—before she knew it, she’d eaten until she was stuffed.

After finishing this quiet dinner, Fang Zhuo got up to clear the table. Ye Yuncheng tried to stop her, but failed, and had no choice but to let her go ahead.

By the time Fang Zhuo finished washing the dishes and came back, Ye Yuncheng had already made up the bed for her in the inner bedroom.

He bent at the waist, one hand braced against the headboard, smoothing out the corners of the sheet in an unnatural posture. He turned to Fang Zhuo and said, “You’ll stay in this room tonight. The quilt is new, it’s been aired out. The light switch is this cord here, you pull it.”

Fang Zhuo nodded in response, then turned to look around the room.

The room held quite a few old wooden furnishings; against the wall stood a dark-colored dressing table, along with various other small decorative items—all things that girls would typically like.

There was only Ye Yuncheng living in this house, and he was male, seemingly without similar tastes. So this room…

Ye Yuncheng, watching her expression, guessed her thought, and forced a smile as he explained, “This was your mother’s room. Her things have just been kept here all this time.”

Fang Zhuo’s eyelashes trembled unnaturally, and she then widened her eyes, looking at him.

But Ye Yuncheng had no intention of elaborating further, abruptly changing the subject. “The bathwater should be heated by now—go take a shower first. I live right next door, just call out if you need anything and I’ll hear you.”

After saying this, he picked up the crutch beside him, preparing to step out. Just as he stepped through the doorway, the phone in his pocket rang. He took it out to check, then turned back and handed it to Fang Zhuo, saying, “Do you want to let your classmate know? He seemed quite worried about you.”

Fang Zhuo took it accordingly, and from the lit-up screen saw a message asking after her.

The phone was a smartphone too, but the glass outside the screen had already shattered, and its response wasn’t very sensitive either.

Fang Zhuo saved the unfamiliar number under a name, then sent a text to the other side.

Fang Zhuo: I’m home.

The other side replied almost instantly, down to the second.

Yan Lie: I’m home too.

Fang Zhuo thought for a moment, then sent another: I’ve finished eating.

Yan Lie: I’ve finished too.

This was Fang Zhuo’s first time texting with anyone. After racking her brain, she painfully managed to squeeze out one more line.

Fang Zhuo: Oh. Goodnight then.

Yan Lie: …

She’d heard that a text message cost a dime. Yan Lie had already spent thirty cents on her—six points weren’t even worth a reply.

Fang Zhuo thought to herself that making friends was too expensive.

Ye Yuncheng had been watching her expression the whole time, and seeing her put down the phone, asked with great interest, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Fang Zhuo blanked for a moment, then exclaimed in shock, “How could that be? He’s my desk-mate.”

“Oh.” Ye Yuncheng said. “You and your classmate get along really well.”

Something about these words felt off, but Fang Zhuo didn’t dwell on it too deeply, going along and adding a compliment. “He’s a pretty good person. He took me to the bus station today.”

Ye Yuncheng, who had been about to leave, stopped again upon hearing this, asking curiously, “Doesn’t he go home?”

Fang Zhuo said uncertainly, “There’s probably no one at his home.”

Ye Yuncheng: “He’s alone at home even during Mid-Autumn Festival?”

“That’s right.”

Ye Yuncheng paused, then asked, “Then why didn’t you invite him to come play at your house?”

Fang Zhuo’s brows furrowed, her gaze tilting slightly to the side. After a moment of troubled thought, she drew a sharp breath, her expression turning quite shocked.

She had never invited any other classmate to her own home, because she had never had any say in matters at home, and her relationships with classmates weren’t good either—so much so that this question had never even entered her range of consideration.

Now, looking back at Yan Lie’s various behaviors and hints from before, the short-circuited wire in Fang Zhuo’s mind finally connected.

Had he been wanting to spend the holiday together with her?

Ye Yuncheng asked, “What’s wrong?”

The light bulb above Fang Zhuo’s head only stayed lit for a second before going out.

Never mind.

There was no room to stay. No spare quilt.

And it would mean making Ye Yuncheng tidy up another room.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”