Nan Zhi felt like she must be dreaming.
Or rather, she hadn’t woken up at all since last night. After all, a person shouldn’t experience hallucinations while completely wide awake.
“What are you staring at, you silly child?” Shen Xitang’s loud voice echoed through the gym, completely shattering Nan Zhi’s last lingering doubts. “Come over and say hello. This is my good fitness buddy, Gu Xuyue.”
Nan Zhi didn’t respond.
Instead, Gu Xuyue couldn’t help but laugh. “Tangtang Sis, I think you probably don’t need to bother introducing us.”
“Hi!” Gu Xuyue tilted her head slightly and gave a light wave. “What a coincidence! Do you still remember me?”
Having changed out of her formal gown and into workout leggings, Gu Xuyue radiated a sharp, athletic edge. The plump, solid muscle lines of her physique paired surprisingly well with her baby face.
Yet, Nan Zhi had no spare emotion to give her.
The moment her gaze locked onto Fu Minglin, she lost all ability to look away.
A high, energetic ponytail paired with a crisp, capable all-black outfit. Even in workout gear, she still zipped her jacket all the way to the top. The high-coverage yoga pants hid her knees completely, and since Nan Zhi couldn’t see Fu Minglin’s injuries anymore, her heart sank entirely.
No wonder she didn’t reply to my message.
As this feeling of grievance flared up, she quickly forced it down. Why on earth should she reply to my message anyway?
Nan Zhi felt inexplicably frustrated—whether because the room felt too enclosed, or because Shen Xitang had been too noisy just now, or perhaps because the mood had already been soured by that tasteless breakfast this morning.
“Hello.”
Without excessive pleasantries, Nan Zhi coldly greeted Gu Xuyue and walked right past her.
Accustomed to being casual, Shen Xitang didn’t care whether Nan Zhi exchanged extra pleasantries with her friend. After the greeting, she ignored Nan Zhi and plunged right back into chatting with Gu Xuyue.
The core reason the two of them had become workout buddies was simply that they both talked too much. In the blink of an eye, they were chatting away, oblivious to the world, completely failing to notice that Nan Zhi hadn’t stayed obediently by Shen Xitang’s side.
“Sorry, Minglin,” Gu Xuyue wanted to gossip, but didn’t want to leave her friend hanging, looking somewhat conflicted. “I…”
“It’s fine.”
A relieved Fu Minglin immediately put on a considerate expression. “Go ahead and chat with your friend. I actually have some work to handle.”
Catching the whiff of gossip, Shen Xitang instantly perked up. “This gorgeous beauty came here with you? There’s a story here—spill!”
“Just a friend!” Gu Xuyue vehemently denied, “We literally just met.”
Fu Minglin had already shown all the politeness required of her. She was even somewhat thankful that Shen Xitang had appeared and finally diverted Gu Xuyue’s attention.
After offering a final brief greeting, Fu Minglin headed straight for the lounge.
Seeing her turn away so cleanly and decisively, Gu Xuyue, who had wanted to stay and chat a bit more, felt a pang of disappointment. But that disappointment was quickly swept away by someone else.
The person who had walked in with Shen Xitang didn’t start working out either; instead, she stuck close behind Fu Minglin like a little tail.
Are their relationships really this close?
Before any further thoughts could brew, Gu Xuyue was yanked away by Shen Xitang. Giggles and chatter echoed through the main training hall, only to be sealed outside the lounge door the moment it closed.
The second she sat down, Fu Minglin let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Standing for so long had pushed her injured knee to its absolute limit. Thank goodness someone had arrived; otherwise, Fu Minglin dared not calculate how many exercises she would have endured before collapsing.
Her pale palm pressed down, gently massaging the joint. As the pain eased slightly, Fu Minglin sighed, “If you want to come in, just push a little harder.”
The moment her words fell, the lounge door cracked open via a stealthy gap. A familiar the back of a head poked inside, leaving Fu Minglin half-amused, half-exasperated.
“You’re terrified someone won’t notice you’re stalking me?”
Perhaps because she was no longer on duty, or because the pain had subsided, Fu Minglin felt a faint wave of amusement when she saw that head. “You always turn the back of your head toward me—I’ve memorized how many whorls you have in your hair.”
She sounded in a pretty good mood.
Nan Zhi puffed out a breath, folding herself flat. She slithered in through the door crack step by step, stealthily closing it behind her. Her movements were smooth yet carried a bizarrely comical clumsiness.
Fu Minglin’s amusement deepened into a genuine smile.
Catching sight of that tiny protruding canine tooth, Nan Zhi instinctively wanted to smile along, but remembering she was supposed to be angry, she puffed her cheeks back out and stayed silent.
When Nan Zhi stopped speaking, Fu Minglin also paused her knee-massaging motion and quietly pulled her hand back.
“Is it hurting badly?”
Nan Zhi sharply caught onto that cue. The stifled irritation in her heart melted away, instantly replaced by a different kind of emotion.
Realizing she was speaking in her usual fragmented, out-of-context way, she clarified, “Your knee. It hurts.”
When Nan Zhi first arrived at the Fu household, she always loved saying things that made no sense. Simple sentences would get scrambled beyond recognition, or she would lapse into extreme silence, habitually burying her emotions deep inside.
Fu Minglin was the first person to notice this pattern.
When she heard Nan Zhi was a medical student, she had expected her to be timid. Nan Zhi worried Fu Minglin would think she was mentally unstable—though Nan Zhi privately agreed she probably was—and she didn’t want to act up in front of Fu Minglin.
Yet, Fu Minglin said nothing. No surprise, no disgust, no mockery.
Instead, the morning after she noticed, right after breakfast, Fu Minglin gently handed her a notebook and said, “Often, it’s just that you aren’t paying attention to your own emotions.”
That day, Fu Minglin seemed to have a date; she wore a long dress. The notebook she handed over matched the color of her dress—both were pink.
“People are like sponges. When unattended emotions pile up, they become heavy and weighed down. That’s why your speech gets disordered,” Fu Minglin had explained with great tenderness. “But it’s okay. Just squeeze the bad emotions out, like wringing water forcefully out of a sponge, and you’ll be fine.”
“If there are feelings you simply can’t voice out loud, write them down.”
That day, there clearly hadn’t been any wind, yet Nan Zhi’s eyes had stung with dryness. It wasn’t until after Fu Minglin left that she raised her fingertips and touched a trace of moisture.
Just like right now.
Squatting down slowly, Nan Zhi reached out and let her hand hover in mid-air. “It has feelings, that’s why it hurts.”
“Feelings?”
Long accustomed to Nan Zhi’s strange metaphors, Fu Minglin lowered her gaze. Her voice was light, but the trace of a smile in her eyes turned slightly cynical. “A mere tool. What right does it have to have feelings?”
Hearing this reply, Nan Zhi lightly furrowed her brows and retorted, “As long as it’s a living thing, it has feelings.”
Slender fingers inched closer. First the fingertips, then the palm.
Realizing she wasn’t being pushed away, Nan Zhi adjusted her squat, planting her knees against the floor.
Silence slowly settled over the lounge. No one spoke again. The heavy air conditioning blasted against the potted green plant by the windowsill, rustling its leaves.
The knee that had throbbed at the slightest touch gradually softened under the careful massage.
Fu Minglin raised her head, but she could still only see the crown of Nan Zhi’s head. She couldn’t see Nan Zhi’s eyes, nor could she accurately tell what the person massaging her leg was feeling.
The realization that she was being pitied stirred an inexplicable wave of annoyance.
Fu Minglin abruptly pulled her leg back. “That’s enough—”
Her words cut off because her leg refused to move.
At some point, a warm palm had firmly grasped her ankle. Nan Zhi, kneeling beside her, raised her head, her hands continuing their steady motion. “No, it says it’s still hurting.”
“Ridiculous,” Fu Minglin’s face hardened into strict defenses. “I am the owner of this body; don’t I know whether it hurts or not?”
The moment their eyes met, Fu Minglin felt the frustrating helplessness of punching a pile of cotton.
It was that damned purity again. Even now, kneeling right beside her, positioned so low that she had to tilt her head up just to meet her gaze, those ink-dark pupils remained purely, utterly clean.
“Of course,” Nan Zhi didn’t let go. “You ignore it, so you can’t feel its emotions.”
Though she didn’t know how the injury happened, and though seeing Fu Minglin at the gym had made her furious—wondering why she had to treat herself so harshly and come work out when she was already hurt (didn’t her own body matter more than accompanying that other person?)—the moment she saw Fu Minglin pull her hand away, all those angry thoughts vanished entirely.
Feeling the tense calf muscles slowly relax, Nan Zhi kept a straight face while secretly smiling inside.
They had lived together for over a year, but after last night, Nan Zhi felt something quietly shifting between them.
Her scorching palm shifted from the left knee to the right knee. Like a machine incapable of fatigue, Nan Zhi massaged and soothed without a shred of impatience.
Silence descended once more.
Fu Minglin stopped struggling. She also stopped putting up any emotional armor. Looking down at the stubborn, stone-like person kneeling beside her, an unexpected wave of guilt washed over her.
“Want to listen to some music?”
Noticing the gaze resting on the crown of her head growing heavy, Nan Zhi proactively lifted her face. “I brought my headphones. If you don’t mind.”
“Sure.”
Having no reason to refuse, Fu Minglin nodded.
As she felt the weight lift from her knee, the discomfort that had just been chased away crept back in tiny, intricate waves. Inexplicably, she felt a trace of lingering reluctance.
“Wired headphones?”
Watching the person who had scurried over drop back down to her knees and anxiously fumble with a tangle of cords, Fu Minglin let out a soft gasp.
“Yeah,” Nan Zhi swallowed the rest of her words, feeling a bit shy and embarrassed. “I wasn’t paying attention when I took them out, and they got knotted.”
When she ran into Shen Xitang, Nan Zhi hadn’t expected to end up here, let alone imagined she’d have a chance to be alone with Fu Minglin. Throughout the past year, private moments like this had been practically non-existent.
The more anxious one got, the clumsier one became. Nan Zhi worked desperately only to tie the wired headphones into an even bigger knot.
She felt a flash of self-reproach. Should I not have suggested it? Even if I untangle it, would Fu Minglin actually accept sharing a pair of headphones with me? Even if she didn’t refuse outright, it’s probably just courtesy in return for the leg massage.
Why torture a germophobe? Nan Zhi almost wanted to give up and say, Never mind, let’s not listen.
Before the words could escape, the ball of tangled chaos in her palm was gently lifted away.
Fu Minglin said, “Let me try.”
She didn’t seem entirely unfamiliar with such headphones. Nan Zhi tilted her head to watch as those nimble fingers worked with impressive speed. The long, well-defined joints curved gracefully, her nail beds blushing a faint pink under the pressure.
Fu Minglin was exceptionally focused and serious when doing things. Nan Zhi’s brain suddenly flashed an image of her working diligently at her long desk surrounded by towering bookshelves—
Before her left and right brains could start wrestling, emergency brakes were slammed.
Nan Zhi’s face flushed bright red. Why is time moving so slowly today?
“Ah!” Fortunately, Fu Minglin had successfully completed the task. She held up the smooth headphone cord, a hint of small pride in her voice: “I untangled it.”
Quickly catching the thread of the conversation, Nan Zhi praised, “You’re amazing.”
Though she had heard countless forms of praise, hearing those words come from the person right in front of her made Fu Minglin feel strangely lightheaded.
“Here,” paying no mind to the other’s momentary daze, Nan Zhi handed over her earbud. “I clean them every day. They’re very clean.”
A single long cord split into two ends, yet bound them to the exact same device.
Looking at the white earbud handed to her, Fu Minglin felt both a sense of novelty and unfamiliarity. She raised a hand to take it, saying softly, “Thank you.”
Accompanied by a string of piano notes, Stefanie Sun’s voice slowly drifted in:
[Leaving childhood behind] [Having a life of one’s own] [Fresh songs, fresh thoughts] [When stubbornness and impulse] [Are moments beyond control—]
Completely unfamiliar with the melody, Fu Minglin curiously pressed the earbud against her ear. She listened with intense focus.
Dropping her gaze, she saw Nan Zhi had already placed the other earbud in her own ear, her palm settling once more over Fu Minglin’s knee.
Massaging lightly, very lightly.
Unlike the mechanical, routine movements of the household housekeeper, or the perfunctory care of a school dorm supervisor, Nan Zhi’s technique wasn’t professional by any stretch, yet it inexplicably made Fu Minglin feel deeply relaxed.
It was almost as if her knee didn’t hurt as much anymore.
Stefanie Sun was still singing inside the headphones.
Nan Zhi raised her head, running straight into that pair of sparkling eyes. Surprise, unfamiliarity, excitement—a flurry of emotions crammed into those amber pupils, like a fawn that had just stumbled into the human world and accidentally wandered deep into the forest.
[I fell in love] [With someone who made me throw caution to the wind] [I thought] [This was the world I was chasing] [Yet charging blindly ahead] [Misunderstood, deceived] [Is there always a flaw] [Behind the adult world?]
The lyric landed at the absolute right moment, like a light rail passing a window at sunset: even though it could only move forward along a fixed track, it still possessed a single chance to crash through the clouds and catch the evening glow.
The closing notes of that melody seamlessly connected into a tune that was already starting to feel familiar.
Fu Minglin asked very softly, “Do you really like this song?”
“Mm,” Nan Zhi didn’t dare nod, answering softly, “I like it.”
The headphone cord stretching between them felt like a red string tied by the Matchmaker, binding them closely together.
The gentle vocals swelled once more.
“I think it sounds rather nice too,” Fu Minglin caught the shimmering emotions flickering in those eyes and coaxed, “You shared your favorite song with me, so now I’ll give you a chance.”
A chance.
Words that would sound completely inexplicable to anyone else were effortlessly deciphered by Nan Zhi.
She tilted her head back, her gaze sliding downward along those eyes, landing like a dragonfly skimming water right upon Fu Minglin’s lips.
Those were the only other touch of vivid color on Fu Minglin, aside from the mole between her brows. Pink, plump, and full, without any cosmetic enhancement, they looked like peaches steeped in honey.
Nan Zhi swallowed a tiny fraction, her knees shifting slightly as she knelt beside the other’s feet.
The distance spanned by the headphone cord closed inch by inch.
At the exact moment their noses nearly brushed, the hand Fu Minglin was using to hold her earphone suddenly vibrated.
An abrupt ringtone shattered the instant peace.
Snapped instantly back to reality, the two of them froze in shock as their eyes landed on the caller ID flashing across the phone screen:
Mother.