The absurd air in the bedroom faded away, leaving only silence.

Tao Zhi lowered her head without speaking, playing with Jiang Qihuai’s hand—from his fingertips to his clearly defined knuckles, from the back of his hand with its distinct metacarpal bones to his slender wrist—then finally holding onto his wrist bone.

For Tao Zhi, what had happened in the past was already in the past. There was no need to bring it up again. She had felt grievances and resentment, but more than that, she felt heartache and reluctance.

People all seemed to be like this. When hurt themselves, they could stubbornly and firmly keep going. But once something they did indirectly hurt someone important to them, they would start to question, to feel lost, not knowing for a time how to keep moving forward, not knowing whether their choice had been right or wrong.

Tao Zhi even put herself in his shoes and thought—if she had been Jiang Qihuai back then, would she have made the exact same choice?

She didn’t want him to be trapped by the things of the past. What she looked forward to was the days and the future they were going to walk through together.

“That’s just what being in love is like,” she said softly. “You cry, you feel unhappy sometimes, two people with different personalities and ideas have to adjust to each other—the gears need to bite a little at a time—but most of the time, it’s still happy.”

“And also, why do you have to shoulder all the faults yourself? It wasn’t entirely your problem.” Tao Zhi tilted her head up, looking at him with dissatisfaction. “You think you did something wrong, but I don’t think I was completely right at that time either. I was a little impulsive then.”

Unwillingly, almost grudgingly, she said, “At that time I just suddenly felt like you’d betrayed me. I already knew you were the kind of person who wouldn’t even let out a fart unless someone asked, and I knew why you would say what you did, but I still got angry and didn’t ask anything.”

Back then, Jiang Qihuai had lacked honesty, and she herself had been too impulsive.

To want to become a perfect person—that’s too difficult a thing.

It’s precisely because it’s difficult—because people hit walls, make mistakes, feel regret and unwillingness—that they keep growing up again and again.

No one is born capable of being perfectly flawless in every aspect.

She lifted his wrist slightly, her fingers slipping between his, ten fingers interlaced, their warm palms fitting together. “See? Both of us made mistakes and missed things before, but in the end we still got here. That alone is rare enough—it shows how much I must really like you.”

She repeated, “Jiang Qihuai, I really like you.”

Jiang Qihuai’s eyelashes trembled slightly; he looked at her with a gaze deep and quiet.

She had always lived thoroughly and clearly.

She did not cling to things already past, nor to irrelevant people—she only followed her purest desire forward.

It was precisely because of this that she was like an undying flame, always warm and bright.

He didn’t speak. Tao Zhi shook their joined hands. “Why don’t you say you really like me too?”

She flicked her hand, turned her body, and pinched his ear, discontented. “Hurry up. Don’t you like me?”

Jiang Qihuai let her pinch his ear; his ear tip stood up, looking like that of a big dog.

She tugged at him forward, and as he leaned down, his cool lips brushed against her forehead. After a pause, his voice came out soft, as though melting into the air: “I love you very much.”

Tao Zhi went still for a moment.

Her mind wandered briefly—she almost thought she hadn’t heard him at all. When she came back to her senses, she opened her eyes wide and looked at him. “Say it again.”

Jiang Qihuai tugged at the corner of his lips. “Say what?”

“That sentence just now! Don’t play dumb.” Tao Zhi flailed as she wriggled out of his arms, swung one long leg over, and sat on him. Her thigh pulled tight—aching.

She let out an “Ow!” and loosened her strength, collapsing limply back onto him.

Jiang Qihuai sighed, his hand slipping under the blanket, slowly and steadily massaging her leg. “Can’t you behave for even a while?”

“Whose fault is this, exactly?” Tao Zhi said gloomily.

Jiang Qihuai’s tone was leisurely. “Mine.”

Tao Zhi lifted her head, expressionless as she accused, “Jiang Qihuai, every time you admit your mistakes you have no sincerity at all—especially when you say ‘mine’—that word is never serious.”

“……”

Jiang Qihuai wanted to take back what he’d thought earlier about her not clinging to the past. This little girl clearly held grudges and loved to dig up old accounts.

“Wasn’t I serious enough? It really was my fault.”

He lowered his eyes and gave a quiet laugh. “The princess is never wrong.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The next morning, Tao Zhi slept in. When dawn was barely breaking, she felt the movement of the person beside her getting up. She blinked open her eyes and instinctively looked to the side.

Jiang Qihuai was sitting at the edge of the bed. Noticing she was awake, he leaned down and kissed her. “I’m going to work. Sleep a little longer.”

Tao Zhi burrowed into the blanket, nodding drowsily.

Jiang Qihuai continued, “I’ll cook some porridge for you later. If it gets cold, just warm it up before drinking.”

She buried her head into the pillow, too sleepy to talk, just shook her head a couple of times to show she’d heard him, then fell back asleep.

When she woke again, it was almost noon.

Yawning, she sat up, looked at the somewhat unfamiliar bedroom and the quilt on her body, and took a few seconds to remember where she was—and what had happened the night before.

Tao Zhi decided to grant herself a day off in bed.

She sent a WeChat message to Xu Suinian, telling him she wouldn’t be going to the studio today, then squirmed back under the covers and opened Fu Xiling’s chat.

【Zhizhi Grape】: I woke up.

【Fu Xiling】: ?

【Fu Xiling】: Slept well? Feeling good?

Tao Zhi didn’t know how to describe it, so she sent just one word.

【Zhizhi Grape】: Ah…

【Fu Xiling】: Alright, no need to say more. I understand.

Tao Zhi’s mood lifted. She lay in bed comfortably for a while, playing with her phone, then finally got up, washed, and went to the kitchen to ladle herself a bowl of tomato egg-drop porridge, sipping it slowly.

After finishing, she went to Jiang Qihuai’s bookshelf, picked out a few books, and curled up on the sofa to read.

When one’s mind is idle, time passes especially fast.

After ordering takeout for lunch, Tao Zhi received a call from Jiang Hesheng.

Still reading, she lazily answered, “Hello.”

“The phone you answered fast enough,” Jiang Hesheng said, “but why didn’t you reply on WeChat?”

“Didn’t look at my phone.” Tao Zhi turned a page. “How come Dr. Jiang has time to look for me today?”

“I’m going to A City tomorrow for further training. Don’t know when I’ll be back next time, and I’ve got something I want to say to you,” Jiang Hesheng said. “Have lunch together?”

Tao Zhi said, “Leaving tomorrow already? It’s almost New Year.”

“Mm. I won’t be back for the New Year—need to be on duty, and there aren’t many days off anyway.” Jiang Hesheng laughed. “Doctors don’t really have a New Year to celebrate.”

“Hardworking.” Tao Zhi lifted her eyes to glance at the clock. “I’ve already had lunch. If you’re not on duty tonight, I’ll treat you to dinner instead. I’ll send you the address later.”

Jiang Hesheng agreed.

Tao Zhi chose a restaurant near Jiang Qihuai’s company. He was working overtime tonight, so she calculated the time—it would be just right to pick him up after dinner.

She went home, changed clothes, put on some makeup, and arrived at the restaurant right on time.

Jiang Hesheng had always been the kind of person who arrived ten minutes early. When Tao Zhi came in, he was already seated and waiting.

They ordered their food and chatted casually about recent things as they ate.

Jiang Hesheng was capable and good-natured. Not yet thirty and already being sent for further training—he would surely have a bright future when he came back in a year or two. Tao Zhi teased him: “Dr. Jiang, a golden bachelor—handsome, successful, chased by so many girls at the hospital. You should find someone you like, so Uncle Jiang will stop nagging you every day.”

Jiang Hesheng laughed. “What girls chasing me? There’s really no one.”

Tao Zhi sipped her watermelon juice and said seriously, “Old Tao’s been researching the dating market thoroughly lately. The most sought-after types these days—female teachers and male doctors. He talks about it so often that even I know.”

“So didn’t he already try setting us up before?” Jiang Hesheng looked at her and joked, “Every time my dad comes home, he talks about you, says he treats you like his own daughter. Compared to you, his real son like me doesn’t seem to have much standing at all.”

“That’s perfectly normal, you’ll get used to it,” Tao Zhi said with a grin. “After all, I’m loved by everyone.”

“He even asked me what I think of you,” Jiang Hesheng said.

“Oh? And what did you say?” Tao Zhi said casually. “Did you tell him that when I hired you as my tutor in high school, I could already score four hundred?”

Jiang Hesheng: “Did you reach four hundred? I remember it being three hundred fifty.”

“……”

Tao Zhi looked at him expressionlessly and warned, “Dr. Jiang, I advise you to cherish our friendship.”

Jiang Hesheng laughed.

He looked at her as she lowered her eyes and pursed her lips slightly. The girl’s eyelashes were long and thick, like little brushes—watching them made his heart itch a little.

His smile faded, and his voice turned gentle. “I told him—I think you’re very good.”

Tao Zhi waved her hand. “Of course I am.”

Jiang Hesheng went on, “It’s just that I’m a little timid. I’ve waited many years, and still never dared to confess even once.”

Tao Zhi’s chopsticks paused; she lifted her head.

Jiang Hesheng looked at her with a light smile but a serious expression. “At first, you were young, and I was more or less your tutor, so thinking about such things felt a bit wrong. Later, after you finished the college entrance exam and went to university, we’d known each other for so long that it only became harder to say.”

He lowered his head and gave a bitter smile. “I just keep feeling that if I said certain things out loud, maybe we wouldn’t even be able to stay friends.”

Even for someone as completely insensitive in these matters as Tao Zhi, she fully understood what he meant.

She stared at him in a daze, a little surprised—maybe even a little frightened.

They had known each other for so many years, and Jiang Hesheng had never shown even the slightest hint of ambiguity toward her. The two of them didn’t keep in frequent contact either—sometimes chatting on WeChat, sometimes meeting for a meal.

He was like a gentle older brother—someone who would solve her troubles, who listened to her patiently.

Tao Zhi put down her chopsticks, not knowing what to do.

“A while back, after dinner, I told my dad about it,” Jiang Hesheng went on. “I thought, our families know each other well, and we both know each other’s character. I don’t have any bad habits, and after I finish my training, my career prospects should be good. My personality’s not too bad either. And all this time… I’ve always liked you.”

He took a deep breath, as if finally making up his mind. “I’ll be gone from the capital for quite a while this time. I kept thinking, if I don’t say it now, maybe I’ll never get the chance.”

Tao Zhi’s fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the table. She stammered, flustered, “I…”

Seeing her reaction, Jiang Hesheng smiled again. “Why are you so nervous? I just thought I should tell you, let you know. If you haven’t met someone you like, maybe you could think about me a little?”

Tao Zhi lowered her head, licked her lips, and said softly, “I have a boyfriend.”

Jiang Hesheng froze.

With strangers, Tao Zhi could always reject them cleanly, but facing an old friend she had known for so many years, she suddenly found herself unable to even string her words together properly.

“I’ve always thought of you as a really, really good friend—one of my best friends. When I can’t figure something out, you’re the first person I want to talk to,” Tao Zhi said slowly. “When something happened to my mom, you and Uncle and Auntie helped a lot. I always remembered that, and I’m very grateful, but…”

She paused, speaking with difficulty. “There’s someone I like. I’ve liked him since high school—liked him for many years. And recently, I met him again.”

Hearing that, Jiang Hesheng couldn’t help but recall a scene from many years ago—at a high school sports meet, the cold, openly hostile gaze of a young man, and the vague image of him striding away while carrying her in his arms.

“Ah…” Jiang Hesheng quickly masked his brief loss of composure and smiled again. “Is that so? So our Zhizhi has also met someone she likes.”

Tao Zhi pressed her lips together, silent like a child who’d done something wrong.

“It’s fine.” Jiang Hesheng waved his hand, looking at her with a helpless smile. “Don’t make that serious face, alright? It’s really not a big deal. Getting rejected after confessing—it happens all the time. You can still treat me as your older brother, your friend. If you need anything, you can still talk to me, just like before. Nothing needs to change.”

Tao Zhi nodded.

He said it lightly, but neither of them needed to say it out loud—they both knew that something between them had inevitably changed.

After that, Tao Zhi’s mood was clearly lower than before. But Jiang Hesheng still acted as though nothing had happened, chatting as usual. Tao Zhi didn’t want to make things awkward, so she forced herself to finish the meal with energy.

Because of what had happened at the table, they finished much later than expected. She hadn’t checked her phone the whole time, so she didn’t see the several messages Jiang Qihuai had sent.

When they came out of the restaurant, snow had begun to fall. Standing at the entrance, Tao Zhi pulled her scarf higher, about to say goodbye.

She looked at him, hesitating to speak.

“Hey, I’m really fine,” Jiang Hesheng said with a wry smile. “I’m leaving tomorrow anyway, and we probably won’t see each other much after that. Give me a hug?”

He opened his arms and joked, “A friend-type hug—just to put a comforting full stop to the love that never had a chance to begin.”

Tao Zhi hesitated for a moment, then still took a small step forward.

His movements were polite and restrained, keeping a little distance between them. His arm only lightly brushed hers, and his hand gently patted her back twice. His voice was warm. “Alright, I’m fulfilled now. I wish little Tao Zhi all her heart’s desires come true, and that you’ll always be with the one you love.”

“Thank you,” Tao Zhi said softly. “I also hope you can find someone you like. When you get married, I’ll definitely give you a huge red envelope.”

Jiang Hesheng let go and stepped back.

Tao Zhi said goodbye and didn’t add anything else. She turned and walked away.

She didn’t look back, but she kept feeling that someone was watching her from behind. Feeling uneasy, she pulled her phone from her coat pocket and saw the messages Jiang Qihuai had sent.

There were also two missed calls—the most recent one only two minutes ago.

Tao Zhi didn’t know why, but even though she hadn’t done anything wrong, she suddenly felt guilty.

Just as she was about to call back, the phone rang again.

It buzzed in her hand, and she flinched, quickly answering. Clearing her throat, she said, “Hello?”

Jiang Qihuai said nothing.

Tao Zhi tried again: “Hello? Moshimoshi? Sawadika?”

“Turn around,” Jiang Qihuai said.

Tao Zhi’s heart gave a heavy thud.

She turned her head and saw Jiang Hesheng still standing at the restaurant entrance. He stood there with his head lowered for a few seconds, then turned and walked to a nearby car, got in, and drove away.

“I didn’t tell you to look at him,” Jiang Qihuai said flatly. “Look across the street.”

Tao Zhi nervously turned her head in the opposite direction.

Jiang Qihuai’s car was parked by the roadside diagonally across from the restaurant entrance. He was leaning against the car, standing there. From that distance, she couldn’t see his expression clearly—only the silhouette of him holding the phone, looking her way.

Tao Zhi’s heart suddenly started to panic.

She asked carefully, “You’re off work?”

Jiang Qihuai didn’t answer.

Tao Zhi’s heartbeat fluttered faster. She said again, “Then why didn’t you call me after work?”

Jiang Qihuai gave a cold, mirthless laugh.

Thinking of the missed calls on her phone, Tao Zhi felt even more guilty. She didn’t know when he had arrived or what he might have seen, though that brief hug with Jiang Hesheng had clearly kept a safe distance—just a symbolic touch of their arms.

Softening her tone, she asked cautiously, “Have you been waiting long?”

Jiang Qihuai didn’t answer her directly. He only said, “Look at the snow on my head.”

Tao Zhi: “…”

Jiang Qihuai: “Do you see it?”

“I see it,” Tao Zhi said dryly.

“Do you see what color it is?” Jiang Qihuai continued.

Tao Zhi: “…”

“You’re something else, Tao Zhi.” Jiang Qihuai’s voice came through the phone, cold enough to sound like shards of ice falling in the middle of a winter storm. “Got out of bed and now you’re ready to pretend you don’t know me?”