Lin Yao gave birth to a son and stayed in the hospital for three days.

Among the generation of Jin Wenhui, most men placed great importance on having sons. Of the three unfilial acts, having no heirs is the gravest, and “heirs” refers specifically to sons.

Indeed, some men are exceptions and do not have such strong reproductive urges. Before Lin Yao gave birth to a son, Jin Zhao had been Jin Wenhui’s daughter for sixteen years, and she had once thought that Jin Wenhui was one of those exceptions.

It was only after Lin Yao gave birth to a son, when Jin Zhao saw a vigor and high spirits in Jin Wenhui that she had never seen before, as if he had attained enlightenment overnight, that she realized the indifference Jin Wenhui had displayed before the son was born was not because he did not care, but because he had resigned himself to it.

If one were to use a not quite appropriate yet very appropriate analogy, the previous Jin Wenhui was like someone who had lost the imperial jade seal, utterly disheartened, able only to put on an air of indifference. With a son, Jin Wenhui had finally retrieved a treasure lost for many years, and day after day he was so elated he wanted to wave his arms and shout, wishing he could grant amnesty to all under heaven.

Even though he did not have an imperial throne at all, much less a realm, and that imperial jade seal of his was plastic—9.9 yuan with free shipping, and it even came with an ink pad.

Lin Yao spent her confinement month at home. During that time, relatives and friends came one after another, and the not-so-high threshold of the Jin family was nearly trampled to pieces, the house noisy day after day. In that not-so-large home, it was as if a looping recorder played endlessly every day—

“Brother Hui finally has a son! Congratulations, congratulations!”

“I never imagined I’d see this day—at my age, I can still have a son!”

“A son in one’s later years, a great joy in life! Congratulations, congratulations!”

…

That sense of long-awaited fulfillment and the pleasure of holding one’s head high again would, time and again, pass through the tightly shut door, seeping through every crack and drilling into Jin Zhao’s ears.

Even when she stuffed in her earplugs and wrapped herself in her quilt, she could still hear the unrestrained laughter outside.

But not every visitor cared so much whether the child was a son or a daughter. At times like this, those people became the kind of guests who would be disliked for congratulating the wrong point.

Once, when Jin Zhao went out to get some water, she happened to hear chirping voices from Lin Yao’s room, complaining that the gift from a friend who had just left was too light—

“We had a little brother, and this is all they gave?”

Jin Zhao could not understand why, after having a son, even the gifts had to be more expensive.

During that period, she always went out early and did not want to come home after school. But she was still a minor and had nowhere else to go, and if she came home too late she would run into bleached-haired boys smoking and fighting on the road.

Jin Zhao did not like bleached hair, did not like fighting, and hated the smell of smoke even more.

She liked the scent around Meng Yanxi, that cold mountain pine and mist, clean and clear. But she was far out of reach.

Ever since the day they met while feeding the cat, Meng Yanxi had not spoken to her again. A few times they passed each other head-on; Jin Zhao’s heart fluttered, but he did not notice her at all. Jin Zhao suddenly realized that the reason he had spoken to her so much that day—though it was not really that much—was simply a momentary stir of pity on his part, or perhaps because she, crying in the office, had reminded him of his younger sister. He might have been thinking that he absolutely could not compromise, otherwise the one shedding embarrassed tears in an office in the future would be his sister.

He might not even remember her name, just as he could ask with a perfectly clear conscience: Who is Wu Fei?

Meng Yanxi was indeed high above, but what fault did he have? He simply did not remember that her name was Jin Zhao.

And they were, to begin with, people from two different worlds; you could not fault someone from another world for not remembering you.

What was more, he had even kindly given her a bit of advice, though it had not been of much use.

She did not have such formidable means as his. As for how to be unkind, all her limited knowledge came from palace intrigue dramas with forced abortions and from Today’s Rule of Law with murder for wealth. But those were too terrifying, certainly not what Meng Yanxi meant. And aside from that, she could not think of any other ways to be unkind without harming others, so she gave up.

She could only work hard to grow her wings, and then work a little harder.

The bad news was that National Day arrived in the blink of an eye, and the second year of high school was actually getting five days off.

For the first three days, Jin Zhao went to the library every day to work on problems. October 4th was Wu Nian’s birthday. In the evening, Jin Zhao left the library early to attend Wu Nian’s birthday invitation.

Wu Nian lived in the same residential complex as Jin Zhao and was two years older than her. Today was her eighteenth birthday. If she had followed the normal path like her peers, attended high school, and taken the college entrance examination this year, she would already be on a university campus by now. But Wu Nian chose to drop out after graduating from middle school and started working to earn money.

It was not because her family was poor.

Wu Nian had a younger sister named Wu Fei—the girl who had fallen out of Class A because of Meng Yanxi, the one who received tens of thousands in monthly allowance yet retook the college entrance exam for love. The two shared the same father but had different mothers.

Same father, different fates. Wu Nian once made a comparison about their relationship that Jin Zhao found particularly fitting. She said they were like Yiping and Ruping from Romance in the Rain.

Wu Fei was Ruping; Wu Nian was Yiping. Their circumstances were similar. Wu Nian even, like Yiping, was born with a good singing voice. After dropping out of middle school, she easily found work as a resident singer at a bar. Even Wu Nian’s boyfriend also had the surname He; his name was He Yu. According to Wu Nian, they met at the bar where she sang. He Shuhuan—no, He Yu—came every night to listen to her sing and even fought for her.

Wu Nian felt that He Yu was He Shuhuan, but Jin Zhao thought that aside from sharing the surname He, the two had nothing whatsoever in common.

He Yu seemed to gather together all the traits Jin Zhao disliked—bleached hair, smoking, fighting.

But Wu Nian’s psychological self-suggestion was far too strong. No matter how Jin Zhao hinted openly or subtly, Wu Nian simply could not walk out of her own Romance in the Rain.

The birthday gathering was set at the bar where Wu Nian worked. Its name was Crossroads.

Jin Zhao had never been to a bar. She had an almost old-fashioned resistance to things minors were not supposed to do, including going to bars and KTVs. She did not want to go, but Wu Nian smiled, wiped her face, and said to her, “Come on. There’s no one else—just He Yu and a few coworkers.”

On Wu Nian’s eighteenth birthday, her first day stepping into the adult world, there were no parents by her side, no relatives, no friends. But she did have a younger sister, Wu Fei, who lived in a world at the opposite extreme from hers.

At that moment, Jin Zhao suddenly understood why Wu Nian felt that He Yu was He Shuhuan.

She only had He Yu.

Jin Zhao still nodded. Subway, then bus—the trip took nearly an hour.

Crossroads Bar was located at an intersection in the old northern district, with heavy but divided foot traffic. On the left was a cluster of low buildings, mostly products of the seventies and eighties of the last century, their walls still dull gray concrete, with tangled electrical wires strung outside. On the right were high-rises. Though they could not be considered new, their façades still bore the old green glass of earlier years, but at least it was a mature, orderly commercial area.

Naturally, this place could not compare to the city center across the river. Yunsheng Tower stood by the riverbank, a landmark of Suiyi. On its brand-new exterior walls, a light show shimmered and shifted, dazzling and colorful.

Recently, during the National Day holiday, Yunsheng had even obtained a permit for fireworks displays. Every night from eight-thirty to nine, there was a fireworks show.

High-saturation neon light wrapped around the two characters “Crossroads.” Jin Zhao took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Deafening electronic music burst out at once, slamming into her eardrums until they trembled. In the dim space, heads crowded together, and the colored lights overhead swayed back and forth, far too glaring. Jin Zhao instinctively raised her hand to shield her eyes.

In a large booth in the corner, a circle of people surrounded a table, shouting and laughing at the top of their lungs, their voices shattered by the thunderous drumbeats. Sitting in the middle, Wu Nian had good eyesight and spotted Jin Zhao from afar. She immediately stood up and walked toward her. “Lingling, over here!”

Jin Zhao looked over, and her vision went dark.

Wu Nian had originally been very good-looking—an oval face, eyes like autumn water, gentle and classically refined features. Especially her long hair, black and soft; when the wind blew, she looked like she had stepped out of a painting.

But that was the “original” Wu Nian. Today, Wu Nian had cut her hair and dyed it the exact same yellow as He Yu’s.

Jin Zhao was shocked. She had always thought that the lifeless yet strangely greasy straw-yellow on He Yu’s head was the result of a failed dye job—perhaps the barber had even had to pay compensation. She had never imagined that one could dye an identical “couple hairstyle.”

“What’s wrong with you? Weren’t you fine just last night?” Jin Zhao could not believe her eyes and hoped it was an illusion. She reached out, wanting to touch Wu Nian’s hair, but did not dare to.

Wu Nian grabbed her hand in one motion and rubbed it messily over her own head. The already chicken-nest-like yellow hair became even more disheveled.

Wu Nian: “Well? Looks good, right?”

Jin Zhao: “…”

She often felt out of place with this world.

Jin Zhao took out the gift she had prepared for Wu Nian from her backpack—a box of oil paints.

Before dropping out, Wu Nian had been an art student, studying oil painting; her paintings were better than her singing.

The smile on Wu Nian’s face faded for a moment, then she tugged Jin Zhao into the booth. “Come sit. Don’t kill my mood.”

There were six people present in total: Wu Nian, Jin Zhao, He Yu, one of He Yu’s friends, and two others who were Wu Nian’s coworkers at the bar. Wu Nian had prepared alcohol for the others; for Jin Zhao, she had prepared yogurt. Everyone gathered together to sing Wu Nian a birthday song, then took turns giving her their gifts.

The atmosphere was more harmonious than Jin Zhao had imagined, though He Yu indeed had not prepared a gift for Wu Nian, instead giving himself to her.

On the way there, Jin Zhao had been wondering whether He Yu would, like He Shuhuan in Romance in the Rain, give himself to Wu Nian.—Sure enough, He Yu did not disappoint her.

Wu Nian, however, was moved beyond measure. The two of them, with their matching yellow “couple hairstyles,” embraced and kissed passionately amid the thunderous drumbeats and the air thick with alcohol and sweat.

Jin Zhao wanted to leave.

She decided she would leave immediately after eating cake.

But the atmosphere suddenly took a sharp turn downward—Wu Nian and He Yu started arguing.