Chapter 25

Hong Kong always gives off a sense of wear and tear, as if even the light itself comes with a vintage filter. When it shines through the glass into the living room, its golden surface seems naturally oxidized. Even so, Xue Tong still found it glaring.

Lu Shimiao had used her shampoo last night; she could smell it. The familiar scent of a brand she’d used for years had undergone a transformation on Lu Shimiao, becoming a unique fragrance that soothed the mind but failed to calm the heart.

So she blamed her restless insomnia on the light.

Xue Tong raised a hand to shield her eyes, but it didn’t feel like enough.

It would be best if the night could hide her obvious, ulterior motives, swathing them completely, airtight—that would be ideal.

“Sam, close the curtains and turn off the lights.”

The curtains slowly, leisurely stripped all light from the room. The lights descended, leaving not a single gap behind.

So dark. Lu Shimiao couldn’t see a thing.

“Did you sleep enough today?” Xue Tong’s languid voice was deep and restrained.

With only the two of them left in the room, Lu Shimiao knew Xue Tong was asking her. She propped herself up on the sofa and nodded in reply: “Mm.”

“Then sleep a little more.”

Xue Tong shifted half a body’s width deeper into the sofa, reached out, and patted the edge. She didn’t give anyone a choice, only said one word:

“Come.”

And so Lu Shimiao, clumsy like a marionette, felt her way along the edge of the sofa with her hands and stiffly lay down.

She was someone with a sense of boundaries. Her movements were slow and cautious, afraid of crowding the other person in the narrow space.

Seeing her lying down, Xue Tong extended the hand that had been tucked beneath her cheek. The motion was swift and precise, catching the side of Lu Shimiao’s neck just as her body sank into the cushions. Then her slender hand draped down along the sofa’s edge. The scene was as natural as if it had happened many times before.

Senses in the dark are heightened—a human instinct.

Lu Shimiao could clearly feel the warmth from Xue Tong’s arm, as if it were tangling with her own loose hair. The artery on the side of her neck throbbed wildly; she wanted to control it but couldn’t. Everything was magnified, yet also seemed to stand still.

Right now, she was fully awake.

No crying, no fever. Her brain could accurately capture every sensation brought by her perceptive antennae, feeling it all with undivided attention. She felt as if the button that made her body loathe intimate touch had been restored to its factory settings.

Xue Tong’s back was separated from Lu Shimiao’s by a distance. She curled up, pressing her head against the warm collar of her clothes. It seemed like she was supporting her body, or perhaps enforcing a mandatory separation.

The appropriate distance between friends is 1.2 meters.

Right now, she was isolating the desire that kept trying to break through that distance.

Desire, not lust.

Simply wanting it to happen in this moment.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Lu Shimiao could hear Xue Tong’s uneven breathing. She asked quietly, afraid of disturbing someone’s pleasant dreams.

“Tired.”

“Then sleep.”

Lu Shimiao was starting to dislike the address “Instructor Xue.” She was deliberately omitting it, and the other party didn’t notice.

So tired.

Xue Tong obediently closed her eyes, her thoughts swirling. She had a very long dream.

In the dream, she dreamed of Ah Zi again.

In the dreamscape, there was no longer that irritating sound of cicadas. The shattered classroom glass and the chaotic mess of desks and chairs had been restored to order. Ah Zi wasn’t wearing a school uniform, but a black turtleneck sweater. Everything returned to the winter night they first met, the youth that shattered at fifteen.

This time, Xue Tong arrived in the scene a few minutes early.

At twenty-nine, she was no longer running wildly. Her clothes no longer bore the mud stains from stumbling. She didn’t see the scars on Ah Zi’s face. She clearly saw the short hair beneath the scarf she had given her, fluffy and shielding her from the winter wind on the rooftop.

The two of them gazed at each other from a distance, one upstairs, one down.

“So tired.” Ah Zi mouthed, but the wind was too strong to hear. “Arsit, my choice has nothing to do with you.”

Xue Tong had almost forgotten the sound of this person’s voice.

“Don’t jump.” Xue Tong’s eyes darted towards the stairwell. She started to run upstairs.

Yes, she had wanted to return to this scene countless times. At least she could take a few more steps up the stairs. At least she could prevent the person from falling right before her eyes.

But now, after ten years, she had finally dreamed of it, only to feel even more helpless.

“Don’t… jump down like this.” Tears began to fall from Xue Tong’s eyes to the corners of her mouth. Her heart was wrenched so tightly she couldn’t move a single step. The sunlight overhead suddenly vanished, everything dimming at the fastest possible speed. Xue Tong’s tone was almost pleading, “I couldn’t bear it.”

“Hurry up and leave.” Ah Zi stood at the edge of the rooftop, waving her hand dismissively. Her eyes were full of numbness. Half a foot dangled over the edge, as if a gust of wind could topple her.

“Then why did you ask me to come?” Xue Tong covered her eyes, afraid to look. Tears streamed through her fingers, falling endlessly to the ground. She knew what would happen in a few dozen seconds.

She just didn’t know the answer. And this time, she happened to still have the chance. So she cried and asked, “Didn’t I not come late this time? Didn’t I come? I’m already here, aren’t I? So why are you still leaving?”

“Why couldn’t you just hold on a little longer? I was about to enter the police academy. I would catch them. Can’t you wait for me? Or I could take you and run away. We could go to Spain, or wherever you want. Why did you have to die at eighteen like this?”

Ah Zi smiled, but it was an ugly smile. “Arsit.”

“Ah Zi, don’t be like this… wait a moment, wait for me to come up—”

Bang—

The expected loud noise made no sound. Xue Tong was frozen again, looking down towards her feet. Her heart was clenched tight, the dopamine in her body gradually approaching zero, adrenaline plummeting as well. The pain was excruciatingly clear, even in the dream.

Five minutes earlier, Lu Shimiao had heard rustling whispers from Xue Tong behind her—urgent and choked with sobs. She nervously wanted to turn over but didn’t dare.

It wasn’t until the other’s sobbing became more and more obvious that she realized something was wrong and gently turned over. Xue Tong’s head, which had been resting against her back, was now nestled against her chest. “Are you alright?”

Xue Tong’s hand, clutching the fabric near her chest, was pressed right against Lu Shimiao’s body.

“Instructor, what’s wrong?” Lu Shimiao didn’t know if the other was awake or asleep. The hand she extended cautiously approached Xue Tong’s shoulder. When there was no reaction after she placed it there, she realized with a start that the other was having a nightmare.

“Wake up.” She rubbed Xue Tong’s shoulder, beginning to repeat, “Don’t cry.”

Xue Tong was awakened by Lu Shimiao’s voice, call after call. Her senses, pulling free, felt as though they could still hear her own crying from the dream moments before. She wanted to stop immediately, but the pain in her heart hadn’t caught up with her waking mind. She was still hurting, so she couldn’t stop.

Tears, humanity’s most impotent response to pain.

“You were just dreaming.”

A well-intentioned comfort became a pointed reminder.

It wasn’t a dream at all.

Now, Xue Tong couldn’t even find a reason to numb herself.

The tears she couldn’t suppress forced Xue Tong to close her eyes. The hand clutching her chest moved to her mouth. She pressed the back of her hand against her nose and lips, trying desperately not to frighten Lu Shimiao, to hide her own loss of composure.

It must have been because she saw too many fallen girls last night.

Xue Tong attributed this nightmare to that.

The restrained crying was especially jarring to Lu Shimiao. She didn’t know how to comfort people. She said several things, but Xue Tong didn’t answer. Not knowing what else to say, she fell silent.

Xue Tong cried until she was exhausted. “My hand is numb,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Oh, oh.” Lu Shimiao quickly sat up, wanting to turn on the light, but heard Xue Tong speak from behind her. “Don’t turn on the light.”

“Okay.” Lu Shimiao remained seated on the sofa.

The two of them sat in the darkness, in oppressive silence, until the world outside the window had completely darkened. When Xue Tong no longer needed the protection of the curtains, she commanded Sam to open them. The lights were at their dimmest setting.

“Are you hungry?” Lu Shimiao didn’t look at Xue Tong’s swollen eyes, just asked casually.

“Hungry. I’ve been so hungry since this morning.” Xue Tong walked into the bathroom and took a quick shower. By the time she came out, Lu Shimiao had prepared dinner.

A plate of fruit salad, fitting Xue Tong’s low-carb choice.

“You’ll lose weight eating like me. Maybe you should order takeout.” Having showered, Xue Tong had returned to her normal state. Her tone and gaze were as usual, without a trace of vulnerability.

“No need, Instructor. Tonight I—”

“Tonight, you’ll continue sleeping here.”

Xue Tong lowered her gaze, timing it precisely. “After the school handles your matter, we’ll talk.”

“But I’m always disturbing you like this.”

Lu Shimiao remembered how Xue Tong hadn’t come home last night. Perhaps her staying here was causing Xue Tong unnecessary trouble, forcing her to hide away in a hotel during a typhoon. Thinking of this, Lu Shimiao felt both upset and sad.

“It’s fine.” Xue Tong had lost her appetite. She put down her fork, rinsed her utensils, and placed them in the dishwasher.

“You have class tomorrow. You sleep on the sofa tonight. I’ll sleep on the sofa tomorrow.” Xue Tong went into the bedroom and brought out Lu Shimiao’s pillow. “Also, sorry about this afternoon.”

With that, she went back to her room and closed the door.

Throughout the entire night, Lu Shimiao drifted in and out of sleep, never truly resting.

Early in the morning, she got up first, quickly tidied up her area, washed up, and made breakfast.

Xue Tong didn’t eat Chinese-style breakfast, which made things convenient. Lu Shimiao finished getting ready and was about to head out to take the subway to school when the Instructor pushed open her door.

Xue Tong had just finished washing up. Pushing the door open, she saw Lu Shimiao putting on her shoes at the entrance and immediately frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Class.” Lu Shimiao tied her shoelaces.

Xue Tong glanced at the breakfast on the kitchen island—coffee and a sandwich.

She turned and walked into the walk-in closet, her tone calm as she dropped a sentence: “Wait for me to drive you.”

“Oh.” Lu Shimiao scratched her head, puzzled, and sat on the bench at the entrance, fidgeting while she waited.

Xue Tong didn’t have class again today… Was she going out anyway? Couldn’t be going to see her boyfriend again, could it?

Never mind, why think so much? Having someone drive her was already nice; no need to squeeze onto the subway during the morning rush hour.

The door to the walk-in closet opened, and Xue Tong stepped out.

She wore a simple, plain white blouse. Black-ribbed suspenders fell from her shoulders, passed under her armpits, and clipped at her sides to her waist, tucked into loose-fitting suit trousers.

The top two buttons of the blouse were undone. Two thin silver-ribbed sleeve garters on her arms pinned the shirt flawlessly against her body, not a wrinkle in sight. She exuded an air of restrained, taboo beauty.

Lu Shimiao stared, eyes wide.

She had never seen any woman dress like this.

If those suspenders were on her own body, they would be reduced to nothing more than a posture corrector.

Xue Tong politely took a sip of her coffee, bit into her sandwich, looked towards the door, and said, “Let’s go.”

The two quickly went downstairs, entered the underground garage, and walked up to the Aston Martin. Xue Tong pressed the car key and, without a word, opened the door for Lu Shimiao.

…

Staring at the luxury car worth several million, Lu Shimiao suddenly felt that the sense of detached boundaries around Xue Tong made perfect sense.

She had to admit, upbringing truly manifests in a person’s background. Though it’s hard to define good or bad origins, the subtle differences they create are real.

Yet she could genuinely feel it in Xue Tong’s every gesture and movement: her politeness, her stable mood, her adherence to public order and good customs, her self-disciplined weight, the sandwich she forced herself to eat even without appetite, and her respectful apologies and embraces.

The car sped along. The whole way, Lu Shimiao didn’t dare to look at Xue Tong.

The Instructor was too beautiful today—beautiful enough to make a person nervous.

“I’ll pick you up tonight.” As she got out of the car, Xue Tong just tossed out a light, casual sentence.

“No need, I can take the subway back myself.” Lu Shimiao waved her hands repeatedly. She hadn’t been chauffeured around since elementary school; it felt so unfamiliar.

“Give me your phone number.” Refused, Xue Tong pursed her lips, found an excuse, and rolled up the car window.