At one in the morning, the Freud roses blooming on the coffee table exuded a rich floral fragrance.
The warm water poured into the glass left a thin layer of moist vapor at the rim.
The space, bathed in soft warm-toned light, had a tipsy quality like being soaked in white wine—hazy, ambiguous, permitting anything to happen.
It gave the illusion that even a warrior would willingly shed their armor, finally too weary to do anything but bare their heart to a trusted confidant.
But some things, even when known to be illusions, are too tender to reproach.
Lin Youhe looked into Xi Shi's eyes and answered her utterly insincere concern with calm gentleness: "Today's rehearsal ran through the full process with the lighting and speakers, so it ended a bit late."
One hand held her icy fingertips while the other took out his phone, switched it to silent mode, and set it aside. "So, what happened next? Did you find your mother?"
"Sort of… we found her, I suppose."
Xi Shi took the unusually soft emotion in Lin Youhe's eyes as a stage victory, quietly calculating what to say next as she drank half a glass of warm water before continuing her story.
One winter, Xi Shi and her grandmother did indeed receive news of her mother.
The day before Xi Shi's birthday.
The person who called the house was a police officer from the public security bureau of the neighboring district. They had only received a report from local residents about "discovering unidentified skeletal remains" after a mountain landslide.
According to the forensic examiner's report, Xi Shi's mother had died the year she went missing.
The forensic examiner could only confirm that her bones bore no wounds from blunt or sharp instruments, nor any skeletal evidence of strangulation or hanging. No one knew why Xi Shi's mother had suddenly gone to a desolate mountain wilderness, and no one knew her true cause of death.
Her grandmother never cried. She silently signed all the documents for claiming the remains.
When the policewoman awkwardly advised the family that it was best not to view the remains, Xi Shi had worried her grandmother would curse and shout at the police station the way she did at gossiping neighbors. But her grandmother only gracefully agreed to the station's handling procedures for the remains, bowed politely, and said, "Thank you for your hard work."
Her grandmother buried Xi Shi's mother's ashes in the family plot back in their hometown. Between the living and the dead, vast and unknowable, only the two of them went to see her off.
It snowed heavily that day. After returning home, her grandmother fell seriously ill. In her fever, she kept calling her mother's name—Zhenzhen, Zhenzhen.
Perhaps because her family structure differed from others, perhaps because she could never interact with peers on weekends, perhaps because of her personality…
Before the age of seventeen, Xi Shi had never had a truly close friend. After seventeen, she no longer needed friends. And so she had never spoken to anyone about her family or her past.
Xi Shi rarely revisited these memories either, and as she spoke, even she felt some surprise.
So she remembered it all this clearly. Even what color clothes her grandmother had worn that day, where a patch had been sewn on the trouser leg with neat, fine stitches—all of it came back with striking clarity.
In her surprise, she instinctively lifted her gaze to the person still holding her hand tightly.
Lin Youhe sat with his back to the light, and that refined, gentle demeanor of his seemed to have shifted somehow.
His lips were pressed into a straight line, his brow furrowed, his eyelids slightly lowered. The warm tenderness that always lingered subtly in his eyes had turned deep and heavy.
Xi Shi was caught off guard by how solemnly, how preciously he was listening.
She was dazed for a few seconds before she continued—
At the time, Xi Shi was in middle school. She had taken a few days off to care for her grandmother at home.
The first thing her grandmother did after recovering was angrily scold Xi Shi, telling her to focus on her studies and not take time off for trivial matters that would delay her coursework. After that, despite still being frail, she insisted on steaming purple sweet potato rice and stewing chicken for Xi Shi—"Xiao Shi! Come eat first. You can do your homework after you finish."
The unused missing-person posters were put away by her grandmother. On weekends when she no longer had to go out searching, her grandmother began sitting by the window for long stretches, staring into space.
But that phase didn't last long. Her grandmother soon found herself a weekend job—pushing a cart out to sell potted flowers—and kept herself busy.
The white-haired old woman poured all her energy into Xi Shi and her potted flowers. Only heaven knew whether, when the old woman looked at Xi Shi, she was seeing Xi Shi herself—or the person whose genes Xi Shi had inherited.
By the time she finished telling all this, the clock in Lin Youhe's home had just turned to two o'clock.
The curtains were drawn throughout his house, so she couldn't tell if it was snowing again outside. Xi Shi felt her blood circulation growing sluggish, as if even her bones were seeping with the chill of a frozen landscape.
She noticed the hand holding hers tightening more and more, so she timed her closing statement for this sympathy-seeking story: "After that, my grandmother's health was never quite the same. She passed away when I was seventeen."
Xi Shi naturally wouldn't bring up Chen Lintian. She glossed over her grandmother's death as illness, hiding away her hatred, and her final words were, "After that, I had no home."
When she finished speaking, she lowered her lashes and quietly counted the seconds in her mind:
One, two…
Much faster than she'd anticipated.
Before Xi Shi could even reach three, her target had already pulled her hand and drawn close.
From the corner of her eye, she could see Lin Youhe's slightly furrowed brow and the movement of his throat as he swallowed. Xi Shi figured she might receive a sympathy-laden kiss.
Lin Youhe opened his shoulders and drew Xi Shi into his embrace, but only gently stroked the fluffy curls scattered at the nape of her neck twice—a poised and tender gesture.
It was a hug full of consolation and security, as if he meant to shield her from all the harm that might ever come her way through this solid embrace.
Xi Shi obediently buried her head against Lin Youhe's shoulder, feeling the warmth of the men's knit sweater he'd draped over her combined with the heat radiating from his embrace.
She should have been pleased that her target had initiated this closeness, yet as she caught the clean, crisp scent of lotus on him, she suddenly felt a dull ache swelling in her chest—as if it hurt.
That's not logical…
Xi Shi had never met her mother. She'd assumed that even the tears she'd shed on the day of her mother's burial were merely a reflection of her grandmother's grief;
And everything she'd just said was part of her plan—she shouldn't be feeling any sadness.
But…
Lin Youhe's hand, which had been stroking the back of her head and neck, settled on her back, patting it gently and silently, one pat at a time, stirring a sudden fluster within her.
Xi Shi stayed quiet in Lin Youhe's arms for a very, very long time, the chill in her bones nearly warmed through by him.
She didn't know why she said these words: "Sometimes I think, I wish Grandma had never found out that Mom was gone."
Grandma might have still insisted on going out every weekend to post missing-person notices;
She might have secretly thought to herself, if only her child hadn't gotten lost but had gone off to live a better life.
She might have hoped that one day she'd suddenly find her child, unharmed…
Then Grandma's health wouldn't have deteriorated day by day.
People need something to hold onto to keep living.
When that hope is severed, life doesn't last long either.
Xi Shi closed her eyes and leaned further into Lin Youhe's embrace, as if drawing warmth from him.
She'd spoken too much, and stayed up too late—her voice was already hoarse, each word muffled into the fabric of Lin Youhe's shirt at the hollow of his neck: "This world seems vast and complex and bustling, but there really aren't many things that are truly connected to you. It's like everyone comes for a walk-through with their own task, and once the task is done, they can leave."
Having said all this wearily, Xi Shi had already realized her state wasn't right. She rose from Lin Youhe's arms: "May I use the bathroom?"
Lin Youhe took her hand and led her to the bathroom door, switched on the light, then left.
Xi Shi splashed cold water on her face and thought tiredly and calmly at the mirror:
Hands held.
Hugged.
Given Lin Youhe's restrained, propriety-bound nature, today's plan should be complete enough at this point, right?
When Xi Shi walked out of the bathroom drying her hands, Lin Youhe had already changed into a soft white short-sleeved shirt and light gray trousers. He was leaning back in the sofa with his legs spread, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his glasses, revealing a taut waistline, with just the right amount of lean muscle disappearing into the loose waistband.
Hearing her footsteps, Lin Youhe quietly looked up toward Xi Shi.
Whether it was an illusion or not, Lin Youhe's aura seemed different without his glasses.
Xi Shi's steps faltered.
Then, as if nothing were amiss, she crumpled the damp tissue in her hand and tossed it into the trash can by Lin Youhe's feet.
The night was still, the lighting dim.
Xi Shi smiled as she walked between Lin Youhe's legs, bent down, and, steadying herself on his shoulder, leaned close to his ear and whispered softly: "Thank you, Mr. Lin, for lending me your shoulder and staying up with me. It's getting late—I won't disturb your rest. I'll head back now."
Thinking about it, Lin Youhe had been unusually silent ever since she'd started recounting her past. He still wasn't speaking now, and his motion of wiping his glasses hadn't stopped either.
There was an inexplicable wildness held in reserve.
It wasn't until Xi Shi was about to straighten up that Lin Youhe suddenly spoke: "Xi Shi."
Xi Shi's body froze slightly.
Lin Youhe said in a low voice: "I'm not really in the mood to let you go back alone right now."
A shiver ran down Xi Shi's scalp.
This was the first time Xi Shi had sensed a certain primal tension in Lin Youhe.
She wondered if the experiences she'd shared might have unsettled Lin Youhe, whose life had been too peaceful, joyful, warm, and smooth. Could this Bodhisattva-hearted Teacher Lin possibly be turning dark from hearing just a little bit of negativity?
Was he really that unable to bear seeing others suffer?
But… was it really that bitter?
Xi Shi's fingertips tapped lightly twice on Lin Youhe's shoulder, and she casually switched her tone and form of address, unable to resist teasing: "If I don't go back, is Teacher Lin going to sleep with me?"
Lin Youhe put on his cleaned glasses, not taking up the ambiguity in those words, and advised gently but seriously: "I'd be worried if you went home like this. Why don't you just stay? I'll go change the bedding, and you can have the master bedroom."
Teacher Lin thoughtfully added that tomorrow was the weekend, so he didn't need to go to school. If Xi Shi woke up early, they could go to the long-established breakfast place in the north of the city; if she woke up late, they'd go straight to lunch.
He glanced at the weather forecast on his phone, then turned to look into Xi Shi's eyes: "It'll be cold tomorrow too. Do you want to try that new congee-based hotpot place nearby?"
Xi Shi just wanted Lin Youhe to shut up, or else she really wouldn't be able to stop herself from kissing him.