First Frost

Due to Sang Yan's sudden movement, Che Xingde stumbled back a few steps. Barely steadying himself, he drunkenly pointed at Wen Yifan, his words slurred from alcohol: "Who...who am I? I'm her uncle!"

Hearing this, Sang Yan glanced at Wen Yifan, as if questioning the validity of his claim.

Wen Yifan pressed her lips together. "No, you're not."

"Hey! First Frost, how can you say that? What do you mean I'm not?" Che Xingde grew angry and stepped forward again. "How can you say such a thing? Doesn't your conscience hurt? Your uncle used to buy you food and clothes—don't you remember?"

Wen Yifan looked up, her eyes unable to conceal her disgust. She didn't want to lose her composure, nor did she want to waste any emotions on someone who had nothing to do with her current life.

"I don't know you."

Perhaps feeling that Wen Yifan's words had humiliated him, Che Xingde grew even angrier and tried to grab her again.

Noticing his intention, Sang Yan immediately pulled Wen Yifan behind him. He seized Che Xingde's arm, his gaze cold as if looking at something filthy. His grip tightened gradually until Che Xingde yelped in pain, forcing him to let go.

Sang Yan's tone was indifferent. "Can't understand human language, can you?"

"You're insane! What business is it of yours if I talk to my niece?" Che Xingde had visited this bar several times and recognized Sang Yan, assuming he was just the owner stepping in. "Get lost! This is a family matter—what are you interfering for? What's wrong with you?"

Sang Yan couldn't be bothered to waste words on him.

Noticing the commotion, He Mingbo asked, "Yan-ge, what's going on?"

"Some drunkard causing trouble. Call Da Jun to throw him out." Sang Yan dismissed Che Xingde entirely, speaking casually. "Don't let him disturb the other customers."

"What did I do to deserve being thrown out?" Che Xingde reeked of alcohol and was furious at Sang Yan's attitude, starting to make a scene. "The owner hits people and kicks out customers, huh? Think you're so great just because you're the owner?"

Che Xingde's behavior gradually drew the attention of the surrounding patrons.

"What?" Sang Yan didn't care about the onlookers at all, smirking slightly. "Since you put it that way, wouldn't I be letting you down if I didn't hit you?"

"..."

Wen Yifan nervously grabbed Sang Yan's hand.

Sang Yan held her hand in return, his thumb brushing lightly over her fingertips, but his gaze remained fixed on Che Xingde.

Seeing that Sang Yan didn't seem to be joking, Che Xingde backed down, not daring to provoke him further. He looked at Wen Yifan again and noticed their intimate gesture, suddenly realizing something. "First Frost, are you dating this owner?"

Wen Yifan stayed silent.

"Oh, the owner." Che Xingde's expression shifted quickly, forcing a smile. "I'm her uncle—no hard feelings. Why be so hostile among family? I just haven't seen my niece in so long, got a little carried away—"

Before Che Xingde could finish, two security guards on duty came in and dragged him out.

One of them muttered, "Stop making trouble."

"What? What trouble am I making?" Che Xingde started yelling again. "What are you doing?"

Sang Yan's expression flickered briefly, a vague sense of familiarity crossing his mind at Che Xingde's appearance. But the thought vanished as quickly as it came, and he couldn't recall where he might have seen this man before.The good mood from earlier had completely dissipated because of this incident. Sang Yan lowered his gaze, staring at Wen Yifan. "Going home?"

"Hmm?" Wen Yifan snapped out of her thoughts and forced a smile. "Okay."

Sang Yan somewhat regretted calling Wen Yifan over tonight. He turned his head and gave He Mingbo a few more instructions before taking Wen Yifan's hand and leaving the bar. In a low voice, he asked, "Did he hurt you just now?"

Wen Yifan answered absentmindedly, "Hmm?"

"That guy," Sang Yan gently rubbed her wrist. "Did he pull you too hard?"

Only then did Wen Yifan look up, curving her lips. "It didn't hurt."

Sang Yan could clearly sense Wen Yifan's emotions and could also tell that her demeanor had been off ever since encountering that man. His expression darkened slightly as he asked, "Do you know that guy?"

"..." Wen Yifan was silent for a few seconds before answering honestly, "He's my aunt's younger brother. He has nothing to do with me. You can't really call him an uncle."

Sang Yan: "Has he always been like this?"

Wen Yifan: "What do you mean?"

Sang Yan: "His attitude toward you."

Wen Yifan lowered her head again, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm not close to him. He's not a good person either. If you run into him again, just ignore him. Treat him like a stranger."

She had never imagined she would encounter these people again.

And she absolutely didn’t want her family’s messy affairs to affect Sang Yan.

Silence fell.

After a while, Sang Yan suddenly spoke. "Wen Shuangjiang."

Wen Yifan: "What is it?"

"If there's anything, you can tell me," Sang Yan said. "Anything at all."

As if realizing her reaction had affected his mood, Wen Yifan smiled, her voice carrying a soothing tone. "It's nothing serious."

Then, she averted her gaze, speaking calmly. "They're all things I can handle myself."

The two returned home.

In just the short time it took to drive back, Wen Yifan had regained her composure. Her expression was normal, as if she hadn’t just encountered that man, and she chatted with Sang Yan as usual.

But she didn’t bring up what had happened earlier.

Wen Yifan made Sang Yan a cup of honey water and couldn’t help but say, "You should drink less. You have so many bad habits—smoking, drinking, staying up late. Your body’s going to give out sooner or later."

Sang Yan raised an eyebrow, feeling like she was making him sound like some delinquent. "I only had a couple of sips."

"That’s still not good," Wen Yifan continued nitpicking. "And you always drink ice water too."

Sang Yan chuckled. "What’s wrong with drinking ice water?"

Wen Yifan: "It’s bad for your stomach."

"Alright," Sang Yan, who usually hated being nagged, found this rather enjoyable now. "Got it."

"Then finish this and go to bed early," Wen Yifan yawned sleepily. She sat beside him, watching him drink, then suddenly leaned over to hug him. "I’m going to sleep."

Sang Yan hugged her back. "Still not feeling good?"

Wen Yifan shook her head. "I’m just tired."

"..." Seeing that she clearly didn’t want to talk about it, Sang Yan didn’t press further. He reached out and ruffled her hair. Their eyes met, and he kissed her lips lightly. "Go to sleep."

After Wen Yifan went to her room, Sang Yan stayed in the living room a while longer. He lowered his head, tapping his fingers lightly against the cup, seemingly deep in thought.

After a long while, Sang Yan finally got up to wash up before heading to his own room.

...

Late at night.Sang Yan woke from his dream. His expression was grim as he finally remembered where he had seen Che Xingde before.

Prior to this, Sang Yan had only encountered the man once.

—On his last visit to Beiyu to see Wen Yifan.

That day, Sang Yan got off the bus and habitually walked along the narrow alley. Before arriving, he had texted Wen Yifan, but this time, there was no reply from her.

He decided to wait for her downstairs at her place.

But before he could get there, at the alley's intersection, he saw Wen Yifan being harassed by a man.

The man looked at least a decade older than Wen Yifan, slightly overweight, pulling at her while saying something. His face bore an unrestrained grin, brimming with ill intent.

In that moment, all of Sang Yan's good mood evaporated at the sight. He immediately stepped forward, pulling Wen Yifan behind him. His youthful temper flared uncontrollably, a surge of violence making him want to kill the man right then and there.

The man wasn’t tall and seemed physically weak, collapsing to the ground after a few moments, whimpering in fear.

Before Sang Yan’s anger could subside, Wen Yifan tugged at him, pulling him quickly in the opposite direction. Staring at the pale nape of her neck, he demanded, “Who was that?”

Wen Yifan didn’t turn back, her tone flat. “I don’t know him.”

That man’s face now overlapped with the Che Xingde he had seen today.

At this moment, Sang Yan desperately didn’t want to believe his memory. He tried to recall Wen Yifan’s expression and emotions from that time, but they were all too hazy now.

Sang Yan closed his eyes, his sleepiness gone. He got up and left the room, intending to grab a bottle of cold water from the kitchen, when he noticed Wen Yifan sitting quietly on the living room sofa.

Seeing this, Sang Yan instantly understood. He changed direction, no longer heading to the kitchen. As he had done every time before, he pulled over the small stool beside the sofa and sat in front of her.

As if unaware of his presence, Wen Yifan stared blankly at the clock.

Sang Yan reached out and took her hand, his lips curving slightly. “Why do you always look at the wall clock?”

Wen Yifan didn’t blink, nor did she say a word.

“Isn’t it scary sitting alone in the living room at night? It’s pitch black,” Sang Yan said. “How about I leave my door open when I sleep? You can just come into my room, okay?”

Wen Yifan showed no reaction.

Sang Yan sat before her and didn’t speak again, simply keeping her company in silence.

An unknown amount of time passed.

Sang Yan watched as Wen Yifan finally tore her gaze from the clock and lowered her head. She stared at her hands resting on her knees, one of which was still held by Sang Yan. Her expression was dazed, much like the prelude to her previous episodes of getting up to return to her room.

He couldn’t make out her face clearly.

Just as Sang Yan thought her sleepwalking was about to end—

He suddenly felt something drop onto the back of his hand.

Sang Yan froze, his gaze dropping to see a droplet of water on his hand where it held Wen Yifan’s.

He looked up again, the smile fading from his lips.

Wen Yifan’s eyes were empty as she sat motionless. In the silence around them, something fell, one drop after another, unceasing.

Falling onto the back of his hand like scattered starlight.

—They were her tears.