“Gu Yue-jie!”
Ke Zhuila called out.
She hurried up to the second floor and asked, “Have you seen Wenwei-jie? She hasn’t come back for a long time.”
“What?” Gu Yue jumped down from the sofa and blurted out, “What about Lu Nan?”
Ke Zhuila shook her head. “I just looked everywhere earlier, and Lu Nan’s not around either.”
Hearing this, Gu Yue wasn’t as panicked anymore. The two of them had probably snuck off for a date. There was no need to worry about them.
She said, “It’s fine then. They must have gone out. Don’t worry. Why are you looking for her?”
“The water… the water’s going to be cut off soon. The hot water here is different—it’s all boiled in one furnace and piped to each household at specific times. After eleven, there won’t be any hot showers.”
Ke Zhuila added, “I’m also worried they got lost.”
Hearing this, Gu Yue realized it had been over an hour since she’d seen the two of them. If they’d gotten lost around here, that would be trouble. As Ke Zhuila had said, several villages were clustered together here, with roads leading everywhere. If they strayed too far and took a wrong turn, it would be hard to find their way back.
The crew wasn’t allowed any electronic devices while filming, so there was no way to contact them.
“I’ll go look for them with you,” Gu Yue said.
“Wait, let me call someone first…”
Ke Zhuila pulled her out the door, and they stopped at the courtyard entrance.
“Ah-mei!”
At Ke Zhuila’s shout, the neighboring door creaked open, and a small, skinny shadow slipped out. The girl held a pencil, her expression dazed.
“Sister Ke, what is it now?” the little sister asked.
Ke Zhuila saw her and felt like a savior had arrived. She quickly said, “Hurry, hurry! Two sisters are missing. Quick, sniff them out and tell me where they are.”
“Sister…” The little sister’s brows furrowed. She clutched her pencil and said aggrievedly, “I’m not a dog! You keep treating me like a search-and-rescue pup. I’m gonna cry.”
Seeing how genuinely upset she looked, with tears about to spill from her eyes any second, ready to wail loudly, Gu Yue sensed trouble and hurried forward to comfort her. “Aww, our little baby is the best-behaved, the most obedient.”
She scooped the little sister into her arms and spun her around like she was soothing a child.
“Sister, I’m gonna puke.”
Gu Yue set her down, full of apologies. “Sorry! So, promise sister you won’t cry, and I’ll buy you something yummy as a reward, okay?”
The little sister shook her head. “No thanks. Song-jie already rewarded me. Teacher says I can’t be too greedy.”
“She gave you something? Do you know where Song-jie went?” Gu Yue asked.
“She went out with another sister. They’ve been gone a long time and haven’t come back.”
“What?” Gu Yue turned to Ke Zhuila. “They didn’t really get lost, did they?”
“It’s… it’s possible.”
San Village wasn’t complicated, but once you left, all the main roads led to other villages. They’d had a map in the afternoon to guide them, but now, who knew if they could find their way back.
The two stared at each other wide-eyed.
Gu Yue said, “Where should we even start looking…”
Damn little lovebirds—sneaking off for a date was one thing, but getting lost? How embarrassing!
In the distance, two figures approached from far away.
They supported each other—or more accurately, the taller one leaned on the other. Gu Yue squinted to see better.
The pair drew closer.
Gu Yue patted the person beside her. “A-Zhui, is that them?”
Ke Zhuila’s eyes widened. The two figures pressed close together were exactly the ones they were looking for. She said, “Yes, yes! It’s them. Finally!”
Lu Nan and Song Wenwei walked toward them at a slow pace. Gu Yue itched to rush over and carry them back.
Lu Nan spotted people ahead and slowed even more. She was the “injured” one now—she had to keep up the act.
“Hurry, hurry! Time to show our acting skills. Heads up—I’m starting to fake the limp.”
As soon as Lu Nan finished speaking, her steps grew heavy. She shifted half her weight onto the person beside her, lifted one foot slightly, and grimaced in pain. She really looked like she’d twisted her ankle.
Song Wenwei was amazed. She steadied her and got into character.
She whispered, “Slow down, slow down… Be careful walking. Watch for those big rocks… Slow down…”
Lu Nan was moved to tears—almost literally. “Thank you so much. Really, thank you.”
I could marry you for this, she thought.
Song Wenwei held back a laugh, keeping a straight face. “No need to be polite. We’re good teammates—we help each other. Come on, take it slow.”
They reached a few steps from the courtyard gate.
“You’re finally back,” Gu Yue said softly. “I thought you two eloped. You’ve been gone half the day.”
There were microphones around, so normal conversation would be picked up, but if she kept her voice low and vague, no one would know what she said.
Only when they got close did she see why they moved so slowly.
Gu Yue: “What… happened to you two?”
Lu Nan had been looking down, but at her words, she lifted her head and extended her other hand. “Come support your emperor quick. I twisted my ankle—need an escort.”
Gu Yue rolled her eyes and sighed. “As you command, your humble minister obeys.”
Song Wenwei stayed in character, repeating over and over, “Slow down, slow down.”
She couldn’t say anything else—it was too funny. She was afraid one more word would break her, and she’d burst out laughing.
That couldn’t happen; it’d ruin everything. She forced her expression steady, not letting her lips twitch upward.
Lu Nan turned to her, ever the drama queen. “Thank you, Song Wenwei. Thank you so much. You’re such a good person.”
Song Wenwei shook her head. “It’s nothing, really. No need to thank me. Slow down…”
Gu Yue looked baffled: ???
What was this? Why so formal all of a sudden?
“Uh, anyway, Wenwei, you should go shower quick. There’s a water curfew or whatever—gotta be done before eleven, or it’ll all be cold after. Azhui and I can handle her here.”
Ke Zhuila nodded beside her. She’d almost forgotten to mention this important detail herself—she often did when guests were over.
She hadn’t expected Song Wenwei’s medicine run to take half the day. The little sister had come back, but no sign of Song Wenwei. Ke Zhuila had worried she’d gotten lost.
“Yeah, yeah, go shower. There’s still time. We’ll help Lu Nan inside.”
Song Wenwei pressed her lips together, stifling her laughter. She nodded, then shook her head. “Then I’ll go shower first.”
Lu Nan gave a wry smile. Fine, Song Wenwei, abandon your wife just like that.
She knew it—Song Wenwei was about to crack and laugh, so she bolted.
Can’t act anymore? I’m calling a strike.
Gu Yue supported her, slowing her pace. Seeing the person beside her move a bit faster, she said, “Lu Nan, you’re walking kinda quick.”
Ke Zhuila nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Take it slower. Almost there—no rush.”
Lu Nan’s mind raced. She twisted her face in agony, furrowed her brows into a river character, gritted her teeth, and bore down harder with her hand. Gu Yue nearly buckled under the sudden pressure.
“I…”
“You what? Spit it out.”
Lu Nan pursed her lips, embarrassed. “A person’s got three urgencies.”
“What’s so hard about saying that?”
Gu Yue thought it was something serious—like she was upset Song Wenwei left. Turns out she just needed the bathroom. Totally understandable; anyone could hold it only so long.
Ke Zhuila nodded in understanding. They hustled Lu Nan along, supporting her with big steps. The first-floor bathroom was empty, but Lu Nan glanced up—the second-floor one had the light on.
Makes sense—clothes were upstairs, shower too.
She stood at the bathroom door, leaning on the wall. “I’m good now. I can handle the rest myself.”
“As if.” Gu Yue wouldn’t let go, gripping Lu Nan’s hand tight. “Floor’s slippery as hell. Don’t want you cracking your skull. We got you.”
Lu Nan hesitated. “My stance is steady. Let go already—I’m about to burst…”
Gu Yue was puzzled. She and Ke Zhuila exchanged a glance.
Ke Zhuila: What now? Send her in?
Gu Yue’s eyes flicked: Nah, she’s shy. Let go.
Getting the message, they reluctantly released her.
“Go on then.”
Lu Nan pushed the door open slowly and entered the bathroom. She shut it behind her, and all signs of pain vanished. No limp, no hunch.
She eyed the pristine toilet and sighed.
Great, dug a pit for myself.
And I have to jump in. Sigh!
She squatted on the toilet, deep in thought.
Lu Nan figured enough time had passed and emerged from the bathroom. She pushed the door open.
Outside, only Gu Yue remained, peering at flowers one moment, counting stars the next. Ke Zhuila was gone.
Hearing the door, Gu Yue turned from the flowers.
“Your Majesty returns from the royal privy. Your ministers failed to greet you from afar,” Gu Yue joked.
Lu Nan waved her hand. “Come receive your emperor properly.”
“Where to, Your Majesty?”
“Escort me to the second floor, Minister Gu.”
“As commanded.”
…
The six slept in a row. The space was huge—enough for ten people. Ke Zhuila had cleaned everything beforehand and laid out sheets and covers.
Gu Yue helped her up to the second-floor room step by step. Ke Zhuila was already inside.
She said, “The crew prepared the beds in this order: Xia Zhengyun, Song Wenwei, Lu Nan, Gu Yue, Tang Qi, Xia Yubing.”
Lu Nan nodded. She was lucky—right next to the person she wanted. She sat on her assigned bed and unpacked her bag neatly.
After dropping her off, Gu Yue heard her own name and dashed to another bathroom to pee.
A figure stood at the door: Xia Zhengyun.
She’d gone silent upon hearing the order. She walked to the first bed by the door. It was too long a row, with only a bulb by the window—the ceiling light was busted.
The spot nearest the door was the darkest. She hated sleeping in corners. She couldn’t explain why, but a voice deep in her mind urged her frantically to flee the dark, to leave that bed.
She stepped out, pondering how to fix it. Best bet: swap with someone. Song Wenwei and Lu Nan were out—they slept side by side, and Xia Zhengyun didn’t want to break them up.
As she thought, she spotted Gu Yue returning from stargazing.
Gu Yue was an acquaintance, easygoing and straightforward. Swapping with her might work.
She grabbed Gu Yue as she emerged. “Do you want the corner spot? Can we switch?”
Gu Yue nodded. “Sure. You okay? Your face looks off. Wanna sit?”
Xia Zhengyun said, “I’m fine. Just scared of sleeping in the corner. It’ll pass.”
“Aw, afraid of the dark? No worries—my spot’s in the middle. Plenty bright.”
“Thanks.” Xia Zhengyun gave her a grateful look.
“No problem.”
Gu Yue didn’t care where she slept or with whom. If anything, she preferred the wall side—felt weird without something at her back.
Xia Zhengyun breathed a silent sigh of relief. Not sleeping there eased her mind. The fear and unease faded; she could breathe easy.
She didn’t know why she dreaded that spot so much. With everyone together, even if afraid of dark, it shouldn’t panic her that bad.
Probably because it was so remote, no light at all. That’s what she told herself.
Still puzzled, Xia Zhengyun moved her bag from the corner to the middle. Lu Nan watched. She tossed her bag aside, slipped on slippers, and headed out.
The act had to be complete. Lu Nan grabbed Gu Yue at the balcony.
“You’re not sleeping in the middle, right?”
“Nope, swapped with Xia Zhengyun. She’s scared of the dark. I’m by the wall now.” Gu Yue saw her gaze darken and asked, “What? You wanna swap too? Didn’t you end up next to your person? Fight already?”
Lu Nan shook her head. “What are you talking about? Just asking.”
Just as I thought.
Xia Zhengyun had started to fear the dark, though people did change. Back when they were in school, Xia Zhengyun had walked dark roads at night to find her, showing no trace of fear of the dark whatsoever.
Perhaps it was in the hospital that she gradually began to fear the dark. Why? Hadn’t Xia Yubing been there watching over her?
Lu Nan always felt that something strange shrouded Xia Zhengyun and her stepsister. But Lu Nan couldn’t understand it or see clearly what that thing was.
Perhaps this was what Xia Yubing wanted to monitor: learning. Learning what? Love…
On Lu Nan and Song Wenwei, there was only love. She studied it, observing the two and pondering.
Familial love, friendship, romantic love—they were all love.
Learning for enduring love, to stay with her sister? Was it because her sister had filled their mother’s role in childhood…
She could only think of this possibility, but no matter how she looked at it, it felt off—an indescribable strangeness.
Lu Nan felt that the answer was about to reveal itself.
