The outside was even colder than before.
The only sweater that could have kept her warm was already soaked and stuffed into her bag. By the time she reached her doorstep, Wen Yifan felt like her body no longer belonged to her. She opened the door and instinctively glanced toward the opposite apartment.
At this hour, the man across the hall probably hadn’t returned yet.
Usually, it wasn’t until two or three in the morning—when she was already deep in sleep—that he would pass by her door with a laugh, deliberately knocking twice. The sound was heavy, like thunder in the dead of night.
Then he would return to his own place.
Without doing anything else.
It was infuriating, yet there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Wen Yifan had complained to the landlord several times, but it seemed to have no effect.
After locking the door, she boiled some water and sent Zhong Siqiao a WeChat message: [Got home.]
Zhong Siqiao lived far from Shang’an and was still on the subway: [So soon? I still have a few stops left.]
Zhong Siqiao: [Hey.]
Zhong Siqiao: [I just thought of Sang Yan’s behavior tonight when the wind hit me again.]
Zhong Siqiao: [Do you think Sang Yan threw his jacket at you because he was afraid you’d get cold? And then he was too embarrassed to say it, so he made up that excuse.]
Wen Yifan pulled out a change of clothes from the closet. Seeing this message, she paused: [Be realistic.]
Zhong Siqiao: [?]
Zhong Siqiao: [How is that unrealistic!!!]
Wen Yifan: [He was there to solve a problem.]
Wen Yifan: [So he probably just didn’t want me to freeze and then sue him for medical expenses.]
Zhong Siqiao: […]
Zhong Siqiao: [Then he could’ve just asked someone else to give you a jacket.]
Wen Yifan: [On a cold night like this, that’s not easy.]
Zhong Siqiao: [?]
Wen Yifan reminded her: [He might not have been able to borrow one.]
Zhong Siqiao: […]
Just then, a low battery notification popped up.
Wen Yifan plugged her phone in and went into the bathroom. As she slowly removed her makeup, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and suddenly froze.
The unfamiliar eyes she had seen earlier flashed through her mind.
Lowering her gaze, she absentmindedly tossed the cotton pad into the trash.
Even back when they were closest, Wen Yifan hadn’t known Sang Yan all that well. So she couldn’t tell whether he was pretending not to recognize her or if he genuinely hadn’t.
It was like flipping a coin—heads or tails.
There were no clues to follow, no way to guess. The result depended entirely on luck.
Because, in her opinion, both possibilities were equally plausible for him.
After blow-drying her hair, Wen Yifan habitually opened her laptop and worked on a news draft for a while. Only when drowsiness set in did she return to bed, reaching for her phone on the table.
Shortly after she’d gone into the bathroom, Zhong Siqiao had sent a few more messages: [Anything’s possible. Even if it’s not true, we can still fantasize for fun.]
Zhong Siqiao: [I’m kind of curious—how do you feel seeing Sang Yan now?]
Followed by a nosy emoji.
Wen Yifan thought about it: [He really is quite handsome.]
Zhong Siqiao: […]
Zhong Siqiao: [That’s it?]
Wen Yifan: [Haven’t thought of anything else yet. I’ll tell you if I do.]
Wen Yifan: [Going to sleep now. So tired.] To be fair, saying she felt nothing would be a lie. But she didn’t think it was worth mentioning—bringing it up would only lead to a long, drawn-out conversation, and she’d rather spend that time sleeping.
She tossed her phone aside and tried to drift off.
As usual, Wen Yifan slept terribly.
She hovered in a half-awake state, tangled in bizarre dreams. Just as she felt herself on the verge of breaking free and sinking into deep sleep, the idiot next door slammed his hand against her door, jolting her awake.
Yanking the blanket off her head, Wen Yifan seethed with irritation.
Wen Yifan was known for her good temper. No matter what happened, she could handle it calmly, rarely showing extreme emotional fluctuations.
Perhaps everyone needed an outlet.
So her morning temper was notoriously bad.
Being woken up made her lose all rationality.
Especially in situations like this, where she felt she was just about to fall completely asleep.
Wen Yifan tried to calm herself, hoping the person outside would, as usual, knock a few times and then scram.
But this time, it was as if he’d been possessed—the knocking was incessant, accompanied by drunken hiccups. "Still not awake? Pretty sis, do me a favor—my toilet’s broken… Let me take a shower at your place…"
Wen Yifan closed her eyes briefly, then got up and pulled out her camera. She adjusted its position to record the door. Then, she picked up her phone and dialed 110, clearly reporting the address and situation.
With all this commotion, the last remnants of sleepiness vanished completely.
Middle of the night, living alone, a drunk man harassing her outside her door.
Under these circumstances, Wen Yifan figured she should be scared. But right now, she only felt anger and exhaustion, with no energy left for any other emotions.
Since he got no response, the man had already gone home by the time the police arrived.
Wen Yifan showed them the footage she’d recorded and insisted on resolving the matter at the station. Since things had escalated to calling the police, she had no intention of settling amicably—she planned to move out after this was over.
In the video, the door shook violently under the pounding, accompanied by the man’s slurred voice. It was unsettling to watch.
The police knocked on the neighbor’s door.
After a long pause, the man finally opened it, annoyed. "Who is it?!"
"We received a report," the officer said, "that you were harassing your neighbor in the middle of the night."
"Harassing?" The man paused for a few seconds, feigning drunkenness, his tone less aggressive now. "Officer, I just got back from drinking. Must’ve knocked on the wrong door drunk. Just a misunderstanding."
The officer’s expression hardened. "She provided video evidence. You knocked on the wrong door and asked to shower at her place? Cut the crap. Come with us to the station."
In this weather, the man wore only a tight-fitting short-sleeved shirt, revealing the imposing tiger tattoo on his arm. His muscular frame bulged like a solid wall.
He tried explaining a few more times but quickly gave up when it proved useless.
He lifted his head, his gaze dark and penetrating, fixed on Wen Yifan standing behind the officers.
Wen Yifan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, staring back at him expressionlessly. Her eyes were icy, devoid of any fear—more like she was looking at something filthy.
...
At the police station.The man stubbornly insisted that he was just drunk and talking nonsense, while Wen Yifan clearly explained the situation during this period. However, the incident hadn't caused her any financial loss—only leaving her mentally sensitive and exhausted.
In the end, the man was fined a few hundred yuan and detained for a few days before the matter was settled.
Before leaving the police station, one of the veteran officers kindly reminded her not to live in a shared apartment.
It wasn't just about this issue; there were other safety hazards as well.
Previously, a fire had broken out in a shared apartment due to electrical overload, prompting the Nanwu government to take the matter seriously. Once the policy was approved, regulations would be enforced.
Wen Yifan nodded and thanked him.
Outside, the sky had already brightened.
She decided to head straight back to the TV station.
After returning to Nanwu, Wen Yifan had applied for a job at the urban channel of Nanwu Television Station through social recruitment, submitting her resume for the program Convey .
Convey was a public affairs news program at the station, primarily reporting on local and surrounding county news, with the mission of "focusing on people's lives and conveying their voices."
Wen Yifan felt her situation was quite worthy of attention and absentmindedly considered whether to pitch it as a story idea as she entered the office.
The lights were on inside, but no one was there.
She went to the break room to make a cup of coffee. She was utterly drained and had no appetite for breakfast. Yet, she couldn't sleep either. After scrolling through a news app, she began drafting her report.
The entire day passed in a daze.
While conducting an interview with the new intern, Fu Zhuang, he kept looking at her with an expression that seemed to say he wanted to speak but hesitated. Eventually, he couldn't hold back and asked, "Sister Yifan, did I do something wrong?"
Only then did Wen Yifan realize her bad mood from waking up had lasted nearly the whole day.
When it was finally time to submit the news segment, Wen Yifan, for the first time, chose not to work overtime. She packed up and left immediately.
The night air was cold, the biting wind like sharp blades of ice scraping past her ears.
After walking just a few steps, she received a message from Zhong Siqiao.
Zhong Siqiao: Wen Yifan, I'm dead.
"..."
Wen Yifan: ?
Zhong Siqiao: I! Really! Am! Going! To! Die!
Zhong Siqiao: My bracelet is missing!
Zhong Siqiao: The one my crush gave me! I’ve barely worn it, wuwuwu!
Wen Yifan: Couldn’t find it?
Zhong Siqiao: Yeah TAT
Zhong Siqiao: I only noticed it was gone this morning at work. I thought it might be at home, but I just checked and it’s not there.
Zhong Siqiao: But I think I might have left it at Sang Yan’s bar.
Zhong Siqiao: Can you go ask for me after work? It’s too far for me to go to Shang’an.
Wen Yifan: Sure.
Wen Yifan: Don’t worry too much.
Her mind felt rusted, sluggishly processing directions before she finally took another step. Fortunately, Street of Vice wasn’t far—just a seven or eight-minute walk.
Further in, she found the Overtime bar.
She stepped inside.
Unlike the atmosphere from last night, the stage was now occupied by a rock band, the music so loud it made her ears throb. The dim lighting inside the bar contrasted with the lively mood, colorful beams flashing rapidly across the space.
Wen Yifan approached the bar counter.
Behind it was the same blond bartender from before.
She called out to him, "Excuse me."
The bartender smiled. "Good evening, miss. What would you like to drink?"Wen Yifan shook her head and got straight to the point: "When I came here with a friend yesterday, I lost a bracelet. I was wondering if anyone found it?"
Hearing this, the bartender seemed to recognize her and immediately nodded. "Yes, we did. Just a moment, please."
"Alright, thank you."
Wen Yifan stood where she was and waited.
She watched as the bartender pulled open a drawer, rummaging through it. Then he opened another one and searched again. His movements suddenly stopped, and he looked up, waving toward a certain direction. "Yu Zhuo!"
The waiter called "Yu Zhuo" walked over. "Yeah? What's up, Xiao He?"
Wen Yifan glanced over.
She recognized him at once—he was the waiter who had spilled wine on her yesterday.
The bartender frowned. "Didn’t I put the bracelet you found yesterday right here? Why can’t I find it?"
"Huh? That bracelet…" Yu Zhuo also looked confused before suddenly remembering. "Oh, right. When Yan-ge came down to get his clothes, he took the bracelet too."
"..."
Thinking she had misheard, Wen Yifan froze and couldn’t help but speak up. "What?"
Yu Zhuo instinctively repeated, "Yan-ge took it."
"..."
This time, Wen Yifan heard it loud and clear—and still found it hard to believe.
A bar owner who ran such a large establishment.
Actually, so brazenly, took a guest’s lost property for himself.
The bartender clearly had no idea about this and looked baffled. "Why would Yan-ge take it? Where is he now? Wasn’t he just here?"
Yu Zhuo seemed clueless. "I don’t know."
After a brief silence.
The bartender turned back to Wen Yifan awkwardly. "Sorry, lost items here are usually handled by the boss. Would you mind leaving your contact info? Or you could wait a bit—I’ll try to reach him now."
Wen Yifan didn’t want to stay too long and figured she could come back tomorrow. "It’s fine, I’ll leave my number."
"Sure." The bartender pulled out a business card and handed it to her. "You can write it here."
Wen Yifan lowered her head and wrote down her number before passing it back. "Then please help look for it again. If you find it, just call this number—"
Before she could finish.
The card was suddenly snatched from behind.
Wen Yifan turned abruptly in surprise.
Sang Yan stood right behind her, so close it felt like he was trapping her. Tall and handsome, he tilted his head slightly, glancing at the card with indifference.
Then, his eyes met hers.
Amid the dazzling lights, deafening music, and the mingling scents of tobacco and sandalwood.
His features carried an innate coldness, but now mixed with a hint of roguishness.
A gaze both familiar and unfamiliar.
As if he had recognized her.
In an instant.
The corner of his lips lifted in a faint, mocking smile. "Still not giving up?"
Not understanding his words, Wen Yifan froze.
Sang Yan casually tossed the card back in front of her and slowly straightened, putting distance between them.
"Made a special trip just to leave your number?"
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