After Zhong Nian returned home, she received a call from Shen Wei.
They chatted for quite a while about family matters. At the end, Shen Wei cautiously asked, “Tomorrow is the Dragon Boat Festival. Can we go to the Liang family’s house for dinner? They’ve invited us several times already. Nian Nian, I didn’t feel right refusing. You’ll go, won’t you?”
Zhong Nian’s parents had always raised her to be independent and self-reliant. They rarely interfered in her affairs or made decisions for her. And Zhong Nian had indeed grown into the independent person they’d hoped for. Because of that, Shen Wei now felt especially guilty, speaking carefully.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Zhong Nian said quickly.
She walked to the dining area, poured herself a glass of water, and took a few sips. After her throat felt better, she added, “Aunt Liang already called me. I agreed.”
“She called you? That’s good, as long as you agreed.”
“Mm.”
Shen Wei’s heart finally settled. After a few more words, they hung up.
When the call ended, Zhong Nian sat at the dining table and finished her water.
Only the hallway light was on. She always did this—just one dim lamp by the entryway, its faint glow blanketing everything in soft shadow. She stood and returned to her room. As soon as she opened the door, she lowered her head and saw the suitcase by the door.
At some point, its luggage tag had disappeared. Or perhaps it had never had one.
The black suitcase lay silently in the quiet room. The hallway light shone faintly from behind her, illuminating two engraved words on the combination lock.
— Jin Xin.
Zhong Nian crouched down and gently traced the two characters with her fingertips.
Suddenly, she smiled faintly. She stood, turned on the room light, picked up clean clothes, and went to shower.
·
The next day was the Dragon Boat Festival.
Zhong Nian spent the day organizing news drafts and reading. At dusk, Liang Yifeng called her. “I’ll be at your place in half an hour. Get ready.”
“Okay.”
After spending more time with him, she realized he hated texting.
Every time he contacted her, it was by phone. Even for just one sentence, he would call.
Perhaps he found texting troublesome. After all, once you send a message, you have to wait. And Liang Yifeng clearly didn’t like waiting.
Neither did Zhong Nian. And she disliked making others wait for her even more.
So she got ready quickly and went downstairs before the “half hour” was up.
To her surprise, a car was already parked in front of the building.
The black SUV looked like a lion crouched on the plains—quiet and silent, much like its owner. Leaves blocked most of the daylight; warm fragments of light scattered across the polished body, shimmering softly.
Zhong Nian walked quickly over. Carrying a bag, she got into the car.
Once she settled in, Liang Yifeng glanced sideways at the bag in her hand.
“It’s a gift for Uncle,” she explained quickly.
“He doesn’t lack anything. Don’t bring gifts next time,” he said casually while turning the steering wheel.
“Okay.”
The car slowly left the complex.
The Liang family villa was halfway up the northern hills. Normally it took forty minutes to drive there, but because it was a holiday, traffic was heavy. It would probably take over an hour, she thought.
“If you’re sleepy, you can nap. I’ll wake you when we arrive,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’ll put on some music.”
“Up to you.”
She usually listened to soft ballads—music that made people even sleepier.
It was evening; brilliant light poured across the world, bathing everything in golden hues. The air carried a thick, sweet floral scent.
Breathing itself felt sweet.
Zhong Nian eventually drifted into a deep sleep. Her face leaned against the car door, strands of hair scattered over her pale cheek.
Her sleeping face was peaceful. The distant, guarded look she wore when awake was hidden behind closed eyelids, revealing only her beautiful brows and slightly upturned eyes.
She didn’t know that she was smiling in her sleep.
Perhaps she smiled too little when awake, so in dreams she could smile freely.
Warm light fell across her hair, her rounded earlobes, the curve of her lips, the graceful line of her neck and collarbone, and the fingers loosely holding her phone.
It was as if she had been drenched in a rain of raspberry-colored light.
The music played—Li Zongsheng’s voice flowed gently, singing of enduring love:
“Someone asked me what is so good about you,
That after all these years I still can’t forget.
Even the spring breeze can’t compare to your smile,
Those who haven’t seen you wouldn’t understand.”
Hearing the lyrics, Liang Yifeng slowly pulled the car to a stop.
The suburban road was quiet, lined with lush camphor trees. The sun hung half-set ahead.
“Even if it’s just that I’ve been bewitched…”
There was no such thing as mere bewitchment.
From the moment he saw her, he had already lost himself.
·
Zhong Nian woke just as the car stopped at the Liang residence.
Still drowsy, her mind sluggish, she looked out the window first, then slowly turned to him.
“We’re here?”
He nodded.
“How long have we been here?”
“Just arrived.”
She rubbed her eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
A trace of amusement flashed in his eyes. “I did. You didn’t wake up.”
She wrinkled her nose, doubting herself.
He tapped the steering wheel lightly. “Let’s go.”
She picked up the bag and followed him inside.
Years had passed, and the Liang house had changed. The decor had shifted from European to American style. Everything was clean and new; paintings hung on the walls, reflecting the family’s wealth.
Liang’s parents and Shen Wei were chatting in the living room. Seeing them enter, all three stood.
Liang’s mother hurried over warmly. “Zhong Nian, you’re here!”
Zhong Nian nodded and took out a velvet box from her bag. “Auntie, this is for you.”
“Oh, you didn’t need to bring anything,” she said, though she eagerly accepted it. Inside was a diamond necklace, elegant and suitable for her age.
She immediately put it on and asked Liang Yifeng, “Does it look good?”
He ignored her coolly.
She pouted and admired herself in the mirror. “Daughters are better. Look, she even brings gifts. Unlike my son—every holiday, he just gives me a bank card.”
Zhong Nian glanced at Liang Yifeng. Was he really that unromantic?
Then she handed over the Maotai she’d brought for Liang’s father. He beamed with delight.
After dinner, heavy rain began pouring outside. Thunderous wind rattled the trees.
Liang’s mother urged them to stay overnight.
Zhong Nian hesitated but eventually agreed.
Later, after showering, she found she had no clean clothes. As she stood before her closet, a knock came at the door.
Liang Yifeng stood outside, freshly showered, wearing gray loungewear, hair slightly damp.
He handed her a storage box. “Take it.”
Inside were high-end skincare products—the exact brand she loved.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
As he turned to leave, she stopped him. “Wait—”
He raised an eyebrow. “Mm?”
“Do you have a clean bathrobe?”
After a pause, his eyes narrowed slightly. “The bathrobes have been worn. But I have unworn clothes. Can you accept that?”
She assumed he meant his mother’s. “Yes.”
“My mother’s clothes have been worn,” he said slowly.
“…Then yours?”
“I haven’t worn it. So it’s yours.”
She hesitated but eventually accepted the white shirt he handed her.
After showering, she stood barefoot on the bathroom tiles, steam curling around her. Slowly, she put on the shirt, buttoning it from top to bottom—leaving the top two undone.
The shirt barely covered her upper thighs. Her skin was pale as porcelain.
She looked at herself in the mirror, took a deep breath.
It’s just his shirt, Zhong Nian. Don’t overthink it.