The boy’s fine black hair brushed against the rim of her ear. His voice pressed into the scarf, sounding somewhat muffled.

The tip of his nose brushed her neck, his warm breath laid bare against her skin, tingling and itchy.

His whole being, along with his breath, enveloped and surrounded her.

Tao Zhi paused, then raised her hand, palm resting on the back of his head, and gently rubbed.

His hair was unexpectedly soft.

“Did something unhappy happen?” Tao Zhi said softly.

Jiang Qihuai didn’t speak, his arms holding her tightly.

There was a pleasant scent on her body.

Like that day—the scorching sunlight baking the earth, green trees casting shade, tender green, fuzzy buds growing vigorously in great swathes.

Jiang Qihuai exhaled a long breath, loosened his arms a little, and lifted his head.

His expression didn’t change, as if all the abnormalities Tao Zhi had keenly sensed were nothing but her illusion.

“No,” Jiang Qihuai raised his hand, pulled up her slightly messy scarf, and said in a low voice, “Come on, I’ll send you home.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When Tao Zhi arrived home, it was already two in the morning.

She tiptoed inside and slipped upstairs, taking a shower.

Even though she was so sleepy that her eyes ached and it felt hard to keep them open, strangely, she had no trace of drowsiness.

Tao Zhi lay on the bed, eyes staring straight at the ceiling, thinking about Jiang Qihuai from tonight.

He really was—very different.

Too different from usual.

He was the kind of person whose emotions rarely showed; even if he was displeased, it was hardly visible—like wearing a thick mask. No one knew what he was like beneath it, or when that would change.

A mask worn too long becomes something one can’t take off.

Perhaps even Jiang Qihuai himself sometimes couldn’t sense the abnormality in his own emotions.

But Tao Zhi could see it clearly.

She tilted her head up, watching the mask on his face crack open slightly, revealing a faint slit to her.

But she couldn’t bring herself to ask further.

Tao Zhi rubbed her face irritably, reached under the pillow, and took out her phone. The screen’s bright light made her squint; after a moment of adjustment, she opened WeChat.

She stared at that puzzle-piece avatar at the top for a long time.

Tao Zhi sighed, locked the screen again, and tucked the phone back under her pillow.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Time stepped into a new year. The calendar on the blackboard at the front of the classroom was also replaced with a new one. The large Arabic numerals on it were crossed out one by one with a red pen. Life seemed the same as before, without any change.

Jiang Qihuai, too, hadn’t changed.

Tao Zhi quietly and carefully observed him for several days. This person still attended classes when he should, did practice papers when he should, and whenever he decided to be sharp-tongued, he mocked her without mercy. During breaks and lunch, he was sometimes dragged out by Li Shuangjiang and the others to play basketball. In all the pop quizzes and small in-class tests, he tormented the hearts and eyes of the entire Class One like a machine.

As if that fervent yet restrained initiative from New Year’s Eve had all been just her illusion.

Gradually, Tao Zhi forgot about that matter.

She put all her focus into the upcoming monthly exam.

For the past half year, Tao Zhi had mostly been catching up and rebuilding her foundation. Although now, when doing papers, she no longer felt as strained as before—at least she could answer about seventy percent of the questions—she had fallen into a new kind of struggle.

She was stuck at this stage, meeting a bottleneck.

For some questions, she always felt she had written the correct process and reached the right answer, yet the result still ended up wrong.

At first, she was patient, photocopying and cutting out all her wrong questions to paste into the error notebooks for each subject. But as this continued without much improvement, and her mock exam scores remained stagnant, she began to grow anxious with the monthly exam approaching.

Jiang Hesheng noticed her abnormal state. After class one day, he stayed behind to talk with Tao Xiuping, and afterward, arranged a private tutor for each of her subjects—all experienced teachers.

The way teachers interpreted problems and taught was markedly different from how students explained to each other. Still, she continued attending Jiang Hesheng’s lessons. But with this arrangement, her entire Saturday and Sunday were completely filled with tutoring sessions.

On Sunday evening, after seeing the physics teacher off, Tao Zhi’s brain—having been running all day—was on the verge of shutting down. She rubbed her sore eyes and collapsed onto the bed.

Her face pressed into the sheets, head buried in the blanket, she closed her eyes to rest for a while as the heavy drowsiness slowly crept in.

Studying was a tiring thing.

Tao Zhi disliked being tired. During breaks, if she could lie in bed, she wouldn’t sit up. Even in P.E. class, she would avoid running eight hundred meters whenever she could. She had her period almost three times a month and didn’t want to suffer even a bit.

But the moment she chased after something and reached it, that sense of accomplishment was undeniably real.

Only, she no longer had time on weekends to go find Jiang Qihuai to play.

Come to think of it, it had been a long time since she’d eaten Grandpa Jiang’s delicious cooking.

What was Jiang Qihuai doing at this hour?

On Sundays, he should be working part-time.

She lay sprawled on the bed, only turning her neck to glance out the window.

It wasn’t yet dinner time, but the sky was already dark. A few days ago, it had snowed again in the Imperial Capital. The un-melted snow still clung to the treetops and branches, pressing down a bright, glistening layer of white.

Tao Zhi watched for a few seconds, then suddenly sprang up.

She quickly changed her clothes, grabbed her bag from the corner, folded the unfinished test paper on her desk, and stuffed it inside. Then she left her bedroom and went downstairs.

Dinner was almost ready. Tao Xiuping and Ji Fan were both in the living room. Seeing her come out fully dressed, Tao Xiuping glanced at her from the corner of his eye and asked, though he already knew the answer, “Where are you going? Dinner’s about to start.”

“You two eat. I won’t be eating at home,” Tao Zhi waved her hand.

“What else could she be doing—off to see her beloved, of course,” Ji Fan said, looking up briefly from her comic book, condescending enough to spare her a glance before speaking sharply. “You’re going out like that? Not changing into something new to dress up a bit? Put on some red lipstick, maybe paint your eyelids blue while you’re at it.”

Tao Zhi turned her head expressionlessly, grabbed the gloves placed on the entryway shelf, took two steps forward, swung her arm like a baseball pitcher, and threw them.

Ji Fan still had his comic book in hand and couldn’t react in time. The gloves flew straight toward his face and landed softly with a “pa-ji” sound.

Tao Zhi said, “Homer! Home run!”

Ji Fan clutched his nose and shouted dramatically, “My nose is broken! Old Tao, she used violence against me!”

Tao Xiuping watched the two of them making a racket like chickens and dogs flying everywhere and sighed.

His son was hard to manage, and now his daughter had grown up and was flying out of the house every day too.

Raising children was really difficult.

He pointed at Tao Zhi, face stern. “Be back before nine.”

Tao Zhi saluted him. “Yes, sir!”

Seeing this, Ji Fan lowered the hand covering his nose, squeezed the now limp gloves in his hand, leaned forward eagerly, and said, “Dad, I also want to go out to play. I’ll definitely be back before nine tomorrow morning.”

Tao Xiuping said, “You, stay put.”

Ji Fan: “…”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Aside from tutoring, Jiang Qihuai had already quit his convenience store job. The café job, since it paid better by the hour, he probably still had. Tao Zhi took a taxi to that café in the city center.

She located the shop’s exact address on her phone. Sundays were peak hours; there were many commercial areas nearby, and the traffic was jammed solid.

Tao Zhi simply got off one street away and walked the rest of the way herself.

She hadn’t told Jiang Qihuai she was coming.

She had it all planned out. Later, she’d pretend to be a customer placing an order, and when Jiang Qihuai looked up, she’d suddenly appear, catching him off guard—then act like she didn’t know him.

Tao Zhi busied herself with her little plan, imagining what kind of expression Jiang Qihuai would make then, and couldn’t help wanting to laugh.

Pressing her lips together in a smile, she followed her memory of the route, walking along the street and looking up ahead.

She hadn’t remembered wrong; the café was just a short distance ahead. But things didn’t go as she imagined—there were two people standing in front of the shop.

In the icy weather, Jiang Qihuai wore only his work uniform, a thin shirt material that looked cold just to see.

His head was lowered, the corners of his lips taut. Unlike his usual calm indifference, there was a wary, irritable sharpness in his eyes as he stared at the man before him—his gaze as piercing as icicles hanging under the eaves.

The man wore a thick black padded coat. He was probably tall but slightly hunched, making him appear shorter than Jiang Qihuai.

His voice, buried under the neon lights and bustling noise, was hoarse and strange, carrying an unhidden, sickening malice. “You’re not even an adult yet and already out working? What, that old man’s got no money to feed you?”

Jiang Qihuai’s lips moved slightly. He said only one word: “Get lost.”

The man drawled, “That can’t be right. With his pension and retirement pay, there should be plenty. Is he deliberately hiding money from you?”

Jiang Qihuai still said, “Get lost.”

The man completely ignored his attitude and let out a cold, sinister laugh. “That old bastard thought he hid it well, huh? And yet I still found him, didn’t I? You think if I can find you, I can’t find him? As for you—”

Before he could finish—

Jiang Qihuai suddenly moved.

He stepped forward in an instant, reached out, and grabbed the man by the collar, jerking him upward hard. The man’s frame looked sturdy, but there seemed to be little real strength in him—he was lifted like a scrawny chick, easily dangling in Jiang Qihuai’s grasp.

The thick collar pressed tight against his throat and windpipe. His face turned crimson as his filthy hands clawed desperately at the one gripping him, struggling violently for a few seconds.

Jiang Qihuai stared at him expressionlessly as the man thrashed helplessly, the line of his jaw taut and sharp. His voice was cold. “What’s wrong? You think I’m still the same as when I was a kid?”

The man’s struggling grew weaker and weaker.

Tao Zhi’s heart clenched. She broke into a run.

As she ran, she shouted in alarm, her voice ringing out, “Jiang Qihuai!”

Her voice cut through the noisy, bustling crowd—like breaking a wall that had sealed them off from the world. The boy’s movement froze, and he turned his head.

Tao Zhi rushed straight up to him, clutching his arm tightly, speaking fast: “Let go! Calm down first!”

The man’s toes were hanging off the ground, his eyes already rolling upward, showing the whites.

Jiang Qihuai released his hand as if shocked by electricity.

The man dropped heavily to the ground, clutching his throat and coughing violently, gasping for breath in ragged, desperate gulps.

Seeing that he was still alive, Tao Zhi let out a long breath, her fingers slowly relaxing their grip on Jiang Qihuai’s arm.

Jiang Qihuai lowered his eyes, looking down at the man from above—his gaze cold, like staring at a heap of trash. “I told you,” he said, “if you dare appear in front of him again, I won’t let you off.”

Jiang Qihuai crouched down, his voice hoarse, threaded with barely restrained violence. “You can try.”

The man sat slumped on the ground, greedily drawing in the frigid air, unable to speak a single word.

Tao Zhi tugged Jiang Qihuai’s arm, pulling him away and walking forward.

They walked for a long distance, all the way to the street corner, before Tao Zhi finally stopped. The boy followed a few steps behind her.

Tao Zhi turned and looked back.

The man was still on the ground, and a small crowd had gathered. Some passersby bent to talk to him, but he didn’t respond—he only sat up and leaned weakly against the wall.

Tao Zhi pulled Jiang Qihuai around the corner until the man was out of sight.

Then she turned to face him.

The boy stood in front of her, lashes lowered, silent. His eyes—usually light and clear—were now shadowed and darkly suppressed.

He didn’t speak. His lips were tightly pressed together, his fingers at his sides curling inward bit by bit.

More than anything else, what she had just witnessed filled her with a cold dread that spread through her whole body.

Tao Zhi’s eyes reddened.

Once the tension faded, fear began to set in.

She wanted to speak—to scold him—but no words would come.

She didn’t know who that man was, or why Jiang Qihuai reacted like that upon seeing him. She didn’t even know, if no one had stopped him, whether he would have been able to hold himself back.

The cold wind swept through the bustling street, shaking the snow from the branches above. The flakes drifted down in scattered clusters, gently falling.

No one spoke.

Tao Zhi took a deep breath, then raised her hand, removed the scarf from her neck, and stood on tiptoe to hang it around his.

Warmth wrapped around him in an instant. Jiang Qihuai froze, his eyes lifting in a daze.

Tao Zhi didn’t look at him; her gaze stayed fixed on the scarf. Her fingers pinched the red fabric at both ends, slowly, carefully looping it around him again and again. “Cold?”

It was the first thing she said to him.

Jiang Qihuai’s breath caught.

Tao Zhi sighed, her tone fretful as she scolded him softly, “It’s already this time of year, how can you still go out wearing just that thin shirt? Do you really think your body’s that strong?”

The girl’s eyes were still a little red, and under the bright light they shimmered with a faint wet glow. After adjusting the scarf around his neck, she unbuttoned her coat, muttering nonstop as she worked, “It just snowed two days ago. Without me, you’d turn into a snowman, you know that? I don’t want to hear in a few days that the top student of the grade froze into an ice sculpture on the street.”

As she spoke, she opened her coat wide and pulled both sides together to wrap him inside.

The coat was still a little small—she couldn’t cover him completely, only manage to wrap about half of him snugly. But it was warm enough.

She held him tightly, refusing to let go, her chin resting against his chest as she tilted her head up, smiling. “Warm, right?”

Her body pressed close, and through the soft fabric of her sweater, her warmth spread steadily into him. Snow from the treetops drifted down, landing on her dark hair; under the bright streetlights, it glimmered for a moment, then melted slowly away.

Her lashes curved gently, and her dark eyes looked up at him, clear and bright.

It truly was—warm enough.

Jiang Qihuai’s throat moved. He looked at her deeply, then lowered his head.

His cold lips, careful and reverent, brushed against her warm eyelid.