As the year’s end approached, the weather grew even colder. In the latter half of the night, not even rats ventured outside—yet Zhou Ruo An heard a tapping at the window.
In the Zhou family, he had been given the most remote bedroom. It had once been A’Tuan’s painting studio, where one could supposedly never wake up; even after being converted into his room, a few old paintings still remained on the walls.
One of them depicted a girl in white. Though she was smiling, there was a lingering sorrow about her. Whenever Zhou Ruo An met her gaze, he would feel an inexplicable sense of unease.
In a wealthy household’s villa, every bedroom came with a terrace, large or small, each offering slightly different views.
Zhou Ruo An, however, felt nothing for the scenery outside. The Zhou family villa sat halfway up a mountain—distant winds, nearby woods, lush and dense. But in his eyes, it was nothing more than a patch of trees, with birdsong and frog calls disturbing his sleep, endlessly irritating.
Now, someone stood on the terrace, knocking on the window—three long knocks, one short, repeated twice.
Zhou Ruo An had heard this rhythm too many times. Every time he opened a door or window to it, Lin Yi would be standing outside—sometimes bringing urgent news, sometimes merely a stick of candied hawthorn.
Without a cigarette, Zhou Ruo An took out a coin. Sitting at the edge of his bed, he stared at the dark silhouette reflected in the floor-to-ceiling window. The coin flipped up and fell again—heads or tails, neither outcome was satisfying.
Lin Yi knocked twice on the window. The room remained silent. The cold night wind seemed capable of freezing everything—even the steadily beating heart.
He adjusted his cap, turned, and placed a hand on the terrace railing. Just as he was about to swing his leg over, the floor-to-ceiling window slid open with a sharp sound behind him.
“At least give me time to put on some clothes,” Zhou Ruo An said, wrapped in a padded robe, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re still as impatient as ever.”
Lin Yi released the railing and turned to face him. The room was dark, but the bright moonlight made him visible enough.
At the nightclub the previous night, Lin Yi hadn’t even looked directly at Zhou Ruo An. Now, seeing him again, he noticed he had grown thinner. His complexion was still decent, but his aura had become noticeably more somber.
“Aren’t you cold?” Zhou Ruo An asked.
Behind him was a warm room; before him, the icy night. Standing at the boundary between warmth and cold, the tall, slender man smiled as he studied Lin Yi’s night-stalker-like attire—but he made no move to invite him inside.
For the sake of climbing walls and scaling windows, Lin Yi was indeed dressed lightly. He stepped back, leaning against the railing. “I’m fine.”
The terrace was small—Zhou Ruo An could reach Lin Yi with a single stretch of his hand. Tugging down the man’s black knit cap, he revealed the white bandage beneath.
“Does it still hurt?” Zhou Ruo An asked, then smiled. “Answer with a different word.”
A faint smile appeared in Lin Yi’s eyes. “It hurt yesterday. It’s better today.”
“You too—yesterday Bai Ban was set up. Anyone could tell it was aimed at me. They wanted to humiliate me. So why did you step forward?”
As he spoke, Zhou Ruo An curled his fingers in a beckoning gesture. Lin Yi knew he was asking for a cigarette, but cut him off, “I changed clothes. Didn’t bring any.”
He pulled a piece of candy from his pocket and tossed it to Zhou Ruo An. “Bai Ban still had to be saved. Besides, they held him down just to draw me out. We’ve been digging into them—and they’ve been digging into us.”
Zhou Ruo An paused as he unwrapped the candy, then slowly looked up at Lin Yi. “Does Bai Ban know about me?”
“No. He just thinks you got lucky—returned to your family roots.”
Zhou Ruo An placed the candy in his mouth and glanced at the wrapper in his hand. “This… is the candy I gave you last year?”
“Yeah.”
“I remember—I had scammed someone back then, but couldn’t handle it myself. I had no choice but to come to you for help.”
“Right. In the end, your repayment was this piece of candy—and now you’re the one eating it.”
Zhou Ruo An sucked on the candy and smiled. As he smiled, the light in his eyes gradually dimmed. “Sorry about yesterday.”
Lin Yi brushed the snow off the railing and rested his elbow against it, replying in an even tone, “There’s nothing to be sorry about. In that situation, you shouldn’t have acknowledged me or Bai Ban. If you didn’t, they’d only toy with us once. But if you spoke up for us, then anytime you displeased them in the future, Bai Ban and I would be the ones to suffer.”
“Mm.” Zhou Ruo An nodded. “I know Brother Lin is smart—you understand.”
“How have things been lately?” Lin Yi asked.
At that, Zhou Ruo An raised a hand and pointed toward the two largest terraces on the second and third floors. “The eldest young master and second young master usually live in the city—they only come back to the old residence on weekends. As for Zhang Jin’s father…”
His speech paused for a moment, then continued smoothly, “…since I entered this household, I’ve only seen Zhou Jing Tao once. He’s currently abroad on business—supposedly won’t return until before the New Year. His wife takes the third young lady to the seaside every winter. So right now, this house is left with just me and a few servants.”
Zhou Ruo An curled his lips. “You could say I’ve got it pretty good—such a huge house, and I’m the only master.”
The candy rolled once over his tongue before he added, “Though I can’t really call myself a master. Zhou Bin and Zhou Zhe treat me as entertainment, and the servants roll their eyes at me.”
His long, slender fingers rubbed a coin, his tone carrying a lazy smile. “So the situation now is this—the two young masters enjoy watching me make a fool of myself, so I play the fool for them. If they like seeing me wag my tail, then I’ll hold the bowl in my mouth and wag it as fast as I can.”
“And after that?” Lin Yi asked. “Are you going to keep living like this?”
Zhou Ruo An looked up at the man before him, his voice carrying an undercurrent like a brewing tide. “The second young master is sweet-tongued but ruthless, full of ambition. As for the eldest, whatever brain he lacks seems to have grown somewhere lower—he spends his days chasing after women. Even without me, the two of them are bound to clash sooner or later. All I need to do is wait for the right moment… and step in when there’s an opening.”
Lin Yi gave a faint smile. “With you around, they’ll only fight more fiercely.”
Zhou Ruo An shrugged, nudging the candy to the other side of his cheek with his tongue.
It seemed everything that needed to be said had been said. Silence settled between them as the passing wind carried away the white mist of their breath.
Only when Zhou Ruo An adjusted the front of his robe again did Lin Yi ask, “Did you see the message I sent you?”
The candy tapped lightly against his teeth. Zhou Ruo An coughed softly. “I saw it.” Then, somewhat irritated, he added, “Lin Yi, sometimes the way you curse is really filthy.”
“Why didn’t you reply? You even changed your number.”
Zhou Ruo An touched his nose, his tongue, still tasting faintly sweet, brushing over his lips. “Because… it wasn’t convenient.”
“And in the future? Still inconvenient?”
Zhou Ruo An had always hated the sound of wind rushing through dense woods, yet now he wished the branches would sway even more violently—enough to drown out the guilt in his voice.
“Lin Yi, you’re a smart man. You understand that like attracts like. If I want to establish myself in this circle, I have to cut myself off from the other one. Otherwise, just like last night, you’ll always be a tool for others to mock and toy with me—and I’ll never escape the stench of being seen as gutter trash.”
The moonlight remained bright, shining equally upon his pale, porcelain-like face. But with his lashes lowered, shadows gathered beneath his eyes.
Lin Yi finally stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “So you’re going back on your word again?”
His broad hand suddenly clamped around Zhou Ruo An’s throat as he looked down at him. “I shouldn’t have trusted you. I shouldn’t have had expectations for you. Zhou Ruo An—you’re trash.”
His other hand rested against the smooth fabric of the robe, sliding slowly along the curve of Zhou Ruo An’s waist. “Even dressed in clothes like this, you can’t hide the stink of the gutter on you.”
“I am a rat from the gutter, and yes, I often go back on my word—but Lin Yi…” Zhou Ruo An met his cold gaze, trying to explain, “you’ve helped me so much. I wouldn’t do that to you. Just wait until I’ve secured my footing…”
“Shut up.” The force of the shove slammed Zhou Ruo An’s head hard against the doorframe. The glass vibrated with a buzzing hum, and his vision went black for a moment, briefly losing focus.
When the initial wave of pain subsided, Zhou Ruo An slowly opened his eyes. On Lin Yi’s face, he saw the same ruthless ferocity he wore when beating someone. “Zhou Ruo An, and you still dare to say things like that to fool me? You’re only saying this because you’re afraid I’ll expose your dirty secrets.”
“You wouldn’t.” With his throat being gripped, Zhou Ruo An spoke with some difficulty. “Because you’re the kind of person who values fairness the most. Lin Yi, you’ve helped me a lot—but don’t forget, I’ve risked my life for you too!”
The belt of his robe loosened. Zhou Ruo An pulled open his collar, exposing his left shoulder. “This scar—I got it taking a knife for you.”
Shaking free, Zhou Ruo An grabbed at Lin Yi’s clothes, dragging down his coat and shirt. At the same spot on his left shoulder, there was a matching scar. “Back then, that lunatic stabbed you here—left a bloody hole. I rushed over to save you and got stabbed too. Lin Yi, do you remember what you said afterward?!”
What had he said? Lin Yi froze for a moment…
It was summer—hot. Lin Yi sat shirtless on the windowsill, staring at the sky. Beside him, Zhou Ruo An, wearing a sleeveless undershirt, fiddled with a cigarette. Smoke passed in and out of his mouth, never going deeper than his throat.
Both of their left shoulders were wrapped in gauze. Zhou Ruo An glanced at Lin Yi’s, then at his own, and suddenly laughed. “Damn, looks like a couple’s matching scars.” He propped up one leg, resting his chin on his knee, and asked casually, “This is the first scar I’ve ever gotten—and I gave it to you. Are you going to repay me someday?”
Lin Yi re-taped the curling edge of the gauze on Zhou Ruo An’s shoulder, then snatched his cigarette and placed it between his own lips. Looking up at the bright sky, he smiled faintly. “You remember it for me. When the time comes for me to repay you, don’t forget to remind me.”
The cold wind brushed over bare skin, sweeping away the warmth of that memory. Lin Yi placed his hand on Zhou Ruo An’s left shoulder, his fingers slowly tracing the raised scar.
“I remember now,” he said. His fingers slid upward, brushing past the Adam’s apple, then lightly pressed against Zhou Ruo An’s lips. “I really should repay you.”
His fingertip slipped between Zhou Ruo An’s lips, touching dampness. Zhou Ruo An frowned and tried to pull back, only to have his jaw seized and forced open again.
“Lin Yi, what the hell are you doing—…mm—”
Before Zhou Ruo An could finish speaking, his mouth was forcefully pried open. Lin Yi’s hands, more accustomed to gripping sticks, were rough like sandpaper. Against the soft, wet warmth, they felt almost like an act of taking by force.
Zhou Ruo An’s temper flared. He bit down.
He didn’t hold back—the hard knuckles pressed against his teeth, making them ache slightly.
Lin Yi seemed to frown as well, but in the next moment, he tightened his grip on Zhou Ruo An’s jaw, forcing his mouth open wider.
Another finger slipped inside. Amid Zhou Ruo An’s resisting struggle, it moved slowly within the warmth of his mouth, circling once—then, with thumb and forefinger, it hooked the slick, soft tongue and pulled, as if finally locating that piece of candy, drawing it out with his fingertips.
Releasing him, Zhou Ruo An coughed lowly. He quickly pulled his robe closed, covering his left shoulder, and cursed, “Lin Yi, have you lost your mind? If you wanted the candy, I could’ve just spat it out for you. You’re seriously sick!”
Lin Yi glanced at the half-melted pink candy in his hand, then casually tossed it off the terrace. “You don’t deserve to eat my candy.”
As if unwilling to stay even a moment longer, he turned to leave—only to be stopped by Zhou Ruo An’s voice behind him. “Wait.”
Zhou Ruo An walked to the bedside, opened the drawer, and took out several stacks of cash.
He held them out to Lin Yi. “Take this. Zhou Jing Tao gave it to me.”
“U.S. dollars?” Lin Yi’s expression didn’t change, his tone light. “A breakup fee—or hush money?”
“Call it whatever you want.” Zhou Ruo An pushed the money into Lin Yi’s hands. “Lin Yi… forget the Zhou Ruo An who was once covered in filth.”
Lin Yi fell silent for a moment, then split the money into his two pockets. With practiced ease, he climbed over the railing, dropped down, and rolled smoothly to steady himself.
When he stood up again, there was a trace of cold detachment in his figure. Tilting his head up, he looked at Zhou Ruo An standing on the terrace and said softly,
“I thought we’d face the fourth meaning together.”
Zhou Ruo An leaned slightly over the railing. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” Lin Yi waved a hand as he turned away. “We won’t meet again, Young Master Zhou.”
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