Low temperatures are lethal to cold-blooded creatures—they can easily go numb and die in the cold.
The fluffy, soft goose-down winter quilt shut out the cold and the light, turning the bedroom into a dark cavern.
Xi Shi was like a snake about to freeze to death, finally finding a warm refuge. She curled her body tightly, hiding within the cello music and Lin Youhe's body heat.
Lin Youhe remained seated against the headboard, still bare-chested, and he hadn't moved.
The bedsheet shifted a few times as Xi Shi pressed her forehead against Lin Youhe's firm waist, her knees tucked close against his legs. Even the clean, crisp scent filling her lungs couldn't ease the pain lodged in her chest—the ache from clutching that urn.
Xi Shi's voice was barely a whisper, muffled inside the blanket: "Can you… not ask me anything?"
Lin Youhe patted her head through the quilt and said gently, "Of course."
With Lin Youhe's promise, the chaotic anxiety in Xi Shi finally settled.
Only the deep, brooding strains of the cello remained in her ears. She didn't know how long passed before she sank, exhausted, into a night that was destined to hold no peace.
Old dreams resurfaced, trauma revisited.
Those images came again and again, battering Xi Shi's already fragile psychological defenses—
Seventeen-year-old Xi Shi hadn't been able to wait for her grandmother's frail figure to appear at the office.
Chen Lintian had been given a few words of warning by the school leadership. Standing in the corner of the office, Xi Shi heard Chen Lintian laugh ingratiatingly and promise he would handle the matter properly, even mentioning taking the school leaders out to dinner over the weekend, before respectfully seeing them off.
Xi Shi was terrified that Chen Lintian would pressure her grandmother, and even more afraid he would say cruel things to her.
Her heart felt like a tangled mess of threads as she stood there, trembling with anxiety.
The closer it got to dismissal time, the stronger the unease buried in Xi Shi's chest grew.
She felt helpless and wronged, but she had no choice but to ask the only person who knew anything—Chen Lintian: "Teacher, did my grandmother say she was coming?"
Chen Lintian was stroking an exquisite fountain pen in his hand. He looked at Xi Shi with a terrifying expression and said, "Shut up."
Why hadn't Grandma come yet?
The weather was so hot. Xi Shi worried her grandmother might suffer heatstroke, her heart pounding without pause.
She steeled herself and walked over to Chen Lintian, begging him, saying her grandmother was in poor health and she wanted to go pick her up—she would definitely come back once she did.
"Teacher, please…"
Chen Lintian, full of pent-up anger, set down the elegantly designed pen and slapped Xi Shi across the face.
He cursed her viciously.
It wasn't until another teacher came into the office to pull Chen Lintian away that he let out a hypocritical sigh and started telling them about how troublesome and troublesome Xi Shi was, how she was always causing trouble.
The dismissal bell rang.
Xi Shi didn't listen to Chen Lintian's lies and false accusations. She seized the chance to run out of the office.
She ran out of the school gates, ran back through familiar streets and the old, run-down residential area. The faster she ran, the more panicked she became, the more afraid she grew, her left eyelid twitching uncontrollably.
So humans really did have a sixth sense:
The birdsong, the cicadas' drone, the sound of neighbors cooking and their dialect-laced conversations, the dust and musty smell in the stairwell, the peeling plaster and paint…
Even the stifling, bitter scent of Chinese medicine that should have hit her the moment she pushed open that half-closed security door—all of it was sucked away, leaving only a deafening ringing in her ears.
Grandma's small, thin body lay in the middle of the living room, her dim eyes half-open.
Xi Shi stumbled and collapsed beside her grandmother, crying out as she gripped her grandmother's slightly cold hand.
Her phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor again and again as she screamed her home address into the call screen…
By then, her grandmother was already gone.
When the ambulance medics arrived and rushed in to check, Xi Shi saw them exchange a subtle, sympathetic glance. Still, they kindly lifted her grandmother onto the stretcher, trying to gently break the cruel reality to Xi Shi.
…
Xi Shi trembled all over, curling herself even tighter. So cold. Still so cold.
She was about to freeze to death.
In the midsummer heat of her seventeenth year, she felt the wind and snow of the day her mother was buried, and the bone-piercing chill had taken up residence in her organs ever since, never fading.
Xi Shi pressed closer to the source of warmth beside her, the cold sweat on her forehead brushing against a dry, warm palm.
She grabbed that hand, clinging to it like a delusion, lying to herself that she had warmed up that hardworking, thin hand that had lost its warmth.
Someone held her through the blanket.
The faint cello music in her ears and the steady, soothing pats on her back temporarily drove away the fear brought by the nightmare.
Xi Shi relaxed her furrowed brow, and it seemed she heard someone say softly, amid the cello music, "Don't be afraid."
Don't be afraid?
But Xi Shi was very afraid.
She was afraid of that ashen, lifeless face, afraid of those sunken, clouded eyes with their slack muscles, afraid of the fact that her grandmother could never speak again.
These fears plunged her into another dream before she even opened her eyes—
An old, long-unused wooden-handled knife was caked with sticky kitchen grease.
Xi Shi sharpened it over and over for a full day and night. She was going to take it to Chen Lintian and demand her grandmother's life back.
Xi Shi had been following Chen Lintian for two days.
On the night she decided to make her move, there was neither star nor moon in the sky. In the alley where the streetlights had long since fallen into disrepair, darkness swallowed all sight—an ink-black night that concealed both Xi Shi's silent approach and the cold gleam of her blade. The glowing phone in the slightly tipsy Chen Lintian's hand was the perfect target in the pitch-black darkness.
But Xi Shi was suddenly pressed into the depths of a side alley by a tall figure that appeared out of nowhere, her struggles completely suppressed.
Chen Lintian's footsteps on the muddy road grew gradually fainter as he walked away, while Xi Shi's frantic roar was easily smothered beneath the stranger's airtight palm.
"With strength like that, you couldn't kill anyone."
All the blood in Xi Shi's body rushed to her head. Like a cornered beast, she tried every possible means to break free from his restraint.
The person suddenly called out her name: "Xi Shi."
Xi Shi had been driven by hatred to commit murder, but the moment her name was spoken, it hit her like a bolt of lightning.
She'd been discovered!
Shocked and terrified, she stopped struggling, as if doused in cold water, her mind going blank for an instant.
Xi Shi strained her eyes but still couldn't make out the figure before her. She only sensed that his breathing was steady and his voice calm, his sigh even carrying a hint of inexplicable pity: "So it really is you."
Xi Shi's calves and teeth began to tremble.
The person continued: "I know what happened to you. Don't do anything rash."
So he wasn't on Chen Lintian's side after all…
Xi Shi's chest heaved violently. She couldn't control the weakness and trembling that overtook her body after the explosive surge of murderous tension.
She could barely hold onto the knife, her voice dripping with hatred: "I want him dead!"
The person said disapprovingly: "You have your whole life ahead of you. There's no need to throw it away for a piece of trash like him."
Xi Shi couldn't hear any of it. She only repeated: "I want Chen Lintian dead…"
"Let me guess what you've already tried?"
The person's voice was close to Xi Shi's ear. "You've already been to the police station. You said you wanted to report him, but you couldn't prove that his phone calls contained direct threats or intimidation that caused your family member's death. The police probably told you that this falls under everyday life risks—not something that can be defined as a crime or even investigated."
He paused. "So, in your utter despair, you decided to take matters into your own hands."
Yes. He was right.
After all, Xi Shi was only seventeen at the time—a good girl who had never once made her elders angry in her entire life.
The shock of being discovered and having everything laid out perfectly restored some of her rationality. The knife handle in her hand nearly slipped from her grip.
The person seemed to notice. He suddenly loosened his hold on her, then guided her hand to grip the sharp blade together with him.
Xi Shi heard the sound of him sniffing.
He seemed to… have brought the deadly blade up to his face and smelled it twice.
Then he said with a laugh: "This knife is an old thing you brought from home, isn't it? Is the whetstone still at home?"
Xi Shi held her breath nervously.
He touched her hair with the blade. "Oh, still long hair."
They couldn't see each other, so they could only rely on their other senses. Xi Shi felt his warm fingertips brush across her knuckles. "You didn't even wear gloves. If you really went through with it, guess how long it would take the police to identify you as the suspect based on the biological evidence you'd leave behind? I don't think it would take very long."
Xi Shi had never actually planned to leave herself a way out. She hadn't thought that far ahead.
The person seemed to read her mind and continued: "Your strength is too little. Once Chen Lintian's phone slips from his hand and you lose your light source, how were you planning to judge his position and where to strike?"
He asked softly: "He's been drinking, sure, but don't underestimate a person's burst of strength when their life is on the line. How were you going to overcome the resistance of an adult man who's taller than you and twice your weight?"
Xi Shi hadn't thought about any of this. She had no experience—of course she had no experience!
Cold sweat and the dampness of the wall soaked through her clothes. Her jaw chattered so violently she couldn't even open her mouth to argue.
"You want to kill with a single strike?"
He held her hand and guided her to grip the knife handle in her palm, turning the blade tip toward himself, leading her hand to point it up at the side of his neck.
He said, "The neck."
The blade tip moved downward. "The throat."
Xi Shi had no idea what he was doing. Her entire body was so tense she was nearly collapsing.
His tone carried a composed, unhurried calm as he continued to guide her hand downward, stopping the blade tip at his chest. Through the side of her palm, she could almost feel his strong yet steady heartbeat.
"And the heart."
He chuckled softly: "Want to know what it feels like to kill someone?"
Before Xi Shi's chaotic, sluggish mind could even process the meaning of his words, her hand had already been pressed by his to drive the knife into his chest. The dull resistance of the blade cutting through flesh made Xi Shi's eyes fly wide open in an instant. Fear shot up her spine to the back of her neck, awakening the instinct against killing that was etched into the very depths of her genes.
He gasped against her ear, then said: "See? You don't actually enjoy doing this kind of thing, do you?"
Xi Shi's tears spilled over.
The warm liquid, tinged with the smell of rust, stained her hands. She instinctively tried to pull away, but he gripped her hand tightly, his voice carrying a teasing laugh as if soothing a child: "Don't move—hiss—pulling it out now might actually be a bit dangerous."
He panted as he assessed—even if he couldn't kill with a single strike, he could bleed someone out by stabbing wildly, but she would never have the courage to try a second time.
He coaxed her: "Xi Shi, you're not suited for such bloody revenge. Give it up."
Xi Shi even felt a phantom pain in her chest. She couldn't understand why he still had the mood to praise her, with a laugh in his voice, for sharpening the knife so well.
His tone remained utterly calm: "I won't die. It's fine, don't be afraid."
"Really, it's fine."
"Stop crying."
Xi Shi sobbed and shook her head: "I—I'll call an ambulance for you."
He was still laughing: "Willing to talk now? Hey, let me ask you a few questions."
Xi Shi tried to keep the knife handle steady, nodding with a trembling jaw.
He asked: "You really want to kill him that badly?"
She said: "Yes."
He said: "Coincidentally, I'm not all that interested in being alive right now either. I'll do it for you, then die in your place. What do you say?"
Xi Shi was too stunned to answer.
His voice was almost hypnotic: "Hm? I'm asking you—shall I die in your place?"
Xi Shi kept crying: "No."
He said, as if confirming: "I'm just a stranger who means nothing to you. You really don't want me to do it?"
Xi Shi had little energy left for thought. She desperately wanted revenge, but she couldn't—she simply couldn't bring herself to let a living, innocent person before her sacrifice their life.
Xi Shi said: "No!"
"You want me to live?"
"…Mm."
He laughed softly: "As you wish. Now call an ambulance for me."
That was the second time in three days Xi Shi dialed the emergency number. After hanging up, the man suddenly said: "There's about ten minutes before the ambulance arrives. I know you've endured a lot of injustice. Don't hold it in anymore—you can cry your heart out for a while now. I'll keep it secret for you, won't tell anyone."
Xi Shi shook her head, but he said crying wasn't admitting defeat or being weak—it was okay.
Her tears came harder than the rain before nightfall, and amid the cicadas that had started singing again, she wailed in utter grief.
The ambulance siren grew closer.
They both knew the ambulance couldn't drive into the dark, narrow alley. He wiped her tears with his blood-stained hand: "I'll keep this knife for you. I'll return it to you when the chance comes."
…
That person who had appeared so inexplicably and abruptly gave Xi Shi a brief moment of salvation, but the road ahead was still hers to walk alone.
The road was too long, too lonely. Xi Shi missed her grandmother's purple sweet potato rice and dumplings.
…
Xi Shi stirred restlessly in her sleep. Lin Youhe lifted a corner of the blanket, staring at her furrowed brow as he removed the earbuds from her ears.
The bedside lamp was already dimmed to its lowest. The stray hairs on Xi Shi's forehead and the nape of her neck were damp with cold sweat, glinting with a faint, fragile light. Lin Youhe braced himself on the edge of the bed, leaning down to wipe the moisture from her brow and smooth away her tightly knitted frown.
It was still snowing outside. The indoor temperature was held steady at around twenty-four degrees Celsius.
Even bare-chested, Lin Youhe felt hot.
But Xi Shi seemed unwilling to so much as poke half her head out from under the blanket, tucking her chin against the soft fabric and burrowing back in, curling herself into a ball beneath the covers again.
Lin Youhe still braced himself on the bed's edge, reaching into the blanket to find Xi Shi's calves and ankles exposed below her slip dress.
He guessed that when she'd gone out to tail someone, she'd only thrown a coat over this nightgown. After an hour stewing under the down comforter, her skin was still cold as ice.
Lin Youhe was silent for a moment, then suddenly grabbed Xi Shi's ankle and pulled her over.
He sat himself at the edge of the bed and pressed her feet against his lower abdomen to warm her.
Xi Shi struggled a little, kicking weakly, but Lin Youhe frowned and caught her ankle, drawing her back.
Perhaps sensing the source of warmth, she stirred and curled closer, like a little snake wintering over, burrowing her head and arching her body to press quietly against Lin Youhe for warmth.
At two in the morning, Xi Shi's hands and feet finally returned to a normal human temperature.
Lin Youhe settled her back under the blanket, took off his glasses, and went to the bathroom to shower before getting back into bed.
In this state, Lin Youhe could hardly sleep—just closing his eyes to rest for a bit.
The moment he shut his eyes, Xi Shi let out a shrill whimper in her sleep, then her whole body began to tremble.
Lin Youhe patted her through the blanket a few times, sensed something wrong, and reached inside—his hand found Xi Shi curled up, biting hard on her own wrist.
Lin Youhe threw back the blanket and said in a low voice: "Xi Shi, let go!"
Still trapped in the lingering agony of her nightmare, Xi Shi paused at the sudden voice, unable to tell who it was, then in the darkness she was pulled by the arm and waist, lifted, and seated on someone.
Someone asked: "Had a nightmare?"
Recognizing it was Lin Youhe, Xi Shi's tense spine relaxed slightly. The familiar warmth and the familiar lotus fragrance failed to soothe the grief that was crashing through her, and she remained trapped in that summer filled with terror, trapped in the recurring nightmares.
Xi Shi buried her head helplessly in the crook of Lin Youhe's neck.
She was crying, saying "I'm sorry" through her tears, and then she opened her mouth and bit down on Lin Youhe's shoulder.
There was no ambiguity, no seduction.
Only release.
Xi Shi used nearly all her strength, and in the midst of her emotional outpouring, she heard a breath that was all too familiar.
That sound had pulled her back from soul-devouring nightmares countless times before, so Xi Shi didn't let go. She bit down harder and harder on the warm skin of Lin Youhe's shoulder, and soon tasted a hint of blood that didn't belong to any dream.
Xi Shi stopped, at a loss.
In the darkness, she couldn't see Lin Youhe's expression. She knew she had just lost control, and her fingertips nervously traced to his eyes, where his glasses were absent, then to his calm brow, smooth and uncreased.
Lin Youhe's hand covered Xi Shi's back, patting it gently, still like a tolerant, silent permission.
In the early morning, in the lightless bedroom, Xi Shi brought her lips back to Lin Youhe's shoulder.
She extended the tip of her tongue and licked gently, one stroke at a time, lapping up the beads of blood that had seeped from his shoulder.