She recommended several places. Finally, Liang Jingchuan nodded. “Lan Yan’s visiting your studio tomorrow morning, right?”
Song Yi nodded.
“If it’s convenient, I’ll treat you both to lunch tomorrow.”
“Up to Lan Yan’s schedule. I’m free.”
Liang Jingchuan fell silent, seemingly waiting for Lan Yan’s response.
Lan Yan said, “Sure.”
On this front, Liang Jingchuan was always exceedingly proper. In the past, no matter how coldly she treated him, he never let it affect her friends—instead, he was extra considerate. Back in North City for school, when he dropped things off and ran into her prepping to eat with classmates, he’d always foot the bill.
The car first dropped Song Yi home, then headed to the hotel and into the underground garage.
Liang Jingchuan got out. Under the bright lights, he checked Lan Yan’s knee.
It wasn’t as minor as “bumped it”—a whole patch of skin was scraped off, with a ring of yellowish discoloration around it from iodine, probably.
“Where did you bump it?” Liang Jingchuan frowned slightly.
“Flower bed corner.” Lan Yan didn’t care much. She suspected she was fated for a bit of bloodshed lately—the afternoon incident with Liang Jingchuan had averted it, but it still came true that evening.
Liang Jingchuan paused, then stepped forward to walk at her side.
The wound tugged as she walked slowly, taking uneven steps.
Liang Jingchuan couldn’t help speaking. “I…”
Lan Yan stopped. “Hm?”
Friends, a half-emerged “stepbrother”…
He had no standing.
He wasn’t qualified to say what he wanted to say.
In the early autumn of his senior year, Liang Jingchuan saw Lan Yan for the first time.
The summer heat lingered, and the sweet osmanthus hadn’t bloomed yet—not the best season.
Not long before, Liang Xiaoxia had straightforwardly told him she’d started dating a man.
This wasn’t the first time she’d dated since the divorce, so Liang Jingchuan, mid-sip of water, didn’t even pause. He nodded to show he understood.
From a young age, Liang Jingchuan had known Liang Xiaoxia was a good person—not a good mom, not a good woman, just a good person. No extra qualifiers needed. Fair or not, he had to admit his birth father, who only had good looks going for him, wasn’t worthy of her.
Liang Jingchuan had always been nonchalant about Liang Xiaoxia’s dating, even supportive, because in the honeymoon phase, she was in a great mood, generous with allowance, and rarely checked up on him—though he wasn’t a kid who needed much supervision anyway.
But this time, Liang Xiaoxia said the guy was different from her previous boyfriends—someone she could settle down with properly. They might move in together. Did he mind, A-Chuan?
Of course, he said no.
Liang Xiaoxia hadn’t remarried, raising him alone to senior year. By emotion or reason, he wouldn’t be the stumbling block to her happiness.
The day they would eat with the other party was thus settled.
That day, the weather was very overcast, as if rain was coming, so he didn’t let Liang Xiaoxia pick him up by car. Taking the subway from school was more convenient.
The restaurant was an old wine house—only this term with a sense of age could describe that aged establishment. It occupied three floors: the first for hall dining, and the second and third for private rooms.
Upon entering, he told the waiter the name of the private room, “Kirin Pavilion.” The waiter pointed to the stairwell entrance and said it was on the third floor.
The wooden stairs thumped underfoot. The handrail had been rubbed free of paint, left glossy and smooth, a testament to the restaurant’s thriving business.
He climbed to the third floor and glanced left and right. The restrooms were to the left, and the private rooms to the right.
Just as he was about to head right, the deep blue curtain at the restroom door was lifted, and a girl walked out.
In the dull evening air heavy with impending rain, the atmosphere stirred.
He noticed her eyes first.
They were beautifully shaped but dull and lifeless, like two small windows framing pale blue-gray daylight.
Then he noticed the slight flush at the tip of her nose. Her face was so transparently pale that the pale red stood out starkly.
Her eyes, her expression, and her slumped shoulders all suggested she had just been crying in the restroom.
It was none of his business, but for some reason, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. The time his eyes lingered on her face far exceeded what was proper for a stranger.
The girl naturally noticed and frowned as she looked toward him.
In that instant, her slightly dazed face gained a spark of life, like a withered branch after a long winter budding a small, white flower.
The girl glanced at him and withdrew her gaze. The curtain fell, and she stepped toward the end of the corridor.
He mounted the final stair step and followed behind her, turning right.
It was the slender, upright silhouette of a pure young woman, dressed in a black, white, and red school uniform. He had forgotten to check the embroidery on her chest and didn’t know which school she was from.
In his dazed state, he hesitated. How could he stop her before she entered a room and say something? Would it be too forward? He had no experience with this. Would he possibly run into her at the end of the gathering? Or could he slip out midway and secretly check which room she was in?
The girl stopped in her tracks, and he looked up at the metal nameplate above the door frame.
Kirin Pavilion.
Liang Xiaoxia’s knack for judging people had only failed once, when she married his father. Every boyfriend she dated afterward could be called exceptional in his own way.
Lan Junwen, a straightforward engineer at a mid-sized mechanical factory, was probably the best of them all. He was handsome, refined in manner, gentle in demeanor. Though somewhat reserved, it wasn’t a flaw.
He paid no attention to what Lan Junwen and Liang Xiaoxia said, focusing the entire time on the quiet, joyless girl sitting beside Lan Junwen.
Now, with no need to strike up a conversation, he had learned her name passively. Ha, he was really lucky. He thought with an expressionless face.
Lan Yan.
Warm sun in the blue fields, jade gives birth to smoke.
If someone spent eleven long years reminding themselves every single day not to do something, it was highly likely they were already doing it. Even if not yet, they would eventually break that taboo in the future and try it vengefully.
For him, that something had always been:
Don’t like her. She hates you. She’s your sister… She’s your friend’s girlfriend. There’s no possibility between you.
Liang Jingchuan lowered his eyes and stared at the ground ahead.
In his line of sight, the footsteps in boots moved slowly forward. The lights of the underground parking lot shone from ahead, casting a gradually lengthening shadow toward him.
Unworthy didn’t mean impossible.
The worst outcome was simply her hating him.
But hadn’t she always hated him? What was there to lose?
Lan Yan took a few steps before suddenly hearing the footsteps behind her quicken. Just as she was about to turn her head, her arm was grabbed.
She looked up in confusion and met Liang Jingchuan’s lowered eyes, which held a dark, mossy dampness of solitude.
Before she could look closely, he took a step forward, lifted her arm over his neck, crouched down in front of her, and reached back with one hand to support her knee through her skirt.
Startled, Lan Yan hurriedly pressed her palms against his shoulders in resistance, but the motion was effortlessly countered by his unquestioning lift.
Her viewpoint rose as she was steadily hoisted onto his back.
The lights glared white, her thoughts overexposed into a blank instant.
She tried to struggle down again, but Liang Jingchuan’s voice came calm and firm, as if transmitted through his chest cavity and bones: “Don’t move. By the time you walk upstairs, the sky will be light.”
Lan Yan made no further movements and stayed silent.
His footsteps were steady, as if she weighed nothing.
Her hands rested on his shoulders without gripping, and she propped up her upper body to avoid getting too close.
Even so, his body heat still transmitted through his shirt.
With each breath came the clean, crisp scent from his collar—the very embodiment of the aura a white-clothed youth should have in those pretentious stories she had read as a girl.
She had never felt so at a loss, nor could she explain why she didn’t snap at him. Given their “hostile” relationship, was this even remotely appropriate?
But she couldn’t bring herself to curse him out. The surge of intense emotion circled in her mind once and turned to the anxious, concerned look in his eyes that afternoon in the attic.
They entered the elevator. Liang Jingchuan freed one hand, pulled the room card from his pocket, swiped it, and pressed the floor button.
They lived on the same floor.
The elevator walls gleamed like mirrors. Lan Yan lowered her head to hide her gaze and stole a glance.
Liang Jingchuan stared straight ahead, his expression showing no ripples.
Since junior high, math had been a muddled mess for her. Back then, she had no clue about geometry problems. Her top-student desk mate had lectured her, nearly roaring: How could it possibly be right? You’re wrong from the auxiliary line onward, from the very approach!
Lan Yan bit her lip anxiously.
Had she found the right approach? She wasn’t sure and couldn’t quite believe it.
What if it was like the dessert incident before—just a false alarm from her overactive imagination?
This person was really annoying to death. Their bad relationship had been annoying before, and now that it had thawed a bit, it was even more so.
They exited the elevator and passed through the corridor carpeted with thick rugs. At her room door, Liang Jingchuan stopped.
Lan Yan slipped down from his back at once.
Her crossbody bag suddenly buzzed loudly.
She opened it and pulled out her phone. It was a video call from Chen Boyu.
She answered while fishing the room card from the inner pocket.
Chen Boyu: “Back at the hotel?”
“Just got back.” She paused. “I hitched a ride back with Liang Jingchuan.”
Chen Boyu laughed. “He’s right there next to you? Let me say hi to him then. Thanks for looking after her…”
Lan Yan heard a beep—the sound of the opposite door being swiped open.
She turned her head and saw Liang Jingchuan standing there, saying something.
She hadn’t caught it clearly, so she held the phone farther away and took a step closer to him.
“I feel a bit dizzy.” Liang Jingchuan lowered his head, gazing at her innocently with downcast eyes, and said slowly, “…Not sure if I hit my head.”