The shop fell into silence. Diao Zhiyu, who initially thought he had won, noticed Hu Xiu's unusual demeanor in the darkness. As he drew closer, he saw her red-rimmed eyes: "I was genuinely worried, but didn't dare ask if you wanted me to accompany you to the hospital. I only dared to fall asleep after you did..."
She actually couldn't take this kind of joke. With Hu Xiu's soft sobs in his ears, Diao Zhiyu's hands—still not dried—hovered awkwardly near her shoulders: "I'll be honest with you, I really had a stomachache yesterday. But I... genuinely don't know how to handle such awkward situations, so I wanted to tease you.
I finished a bowl of rice in five minutes on the Snowpiercer, and it really messed up my stomach.
But after taking medicine and lying down to sleep, it was bound to get better. Asking you to stay with me was truly just me being stubborn.
But just now, I really just wanted to joke with you. Please don't cry. When girls cry, I never know what to do. Please, really, don't cry..."
Hearing a sudden snort, Diao Zhiyu realized Hu Xiu... was also acting. Planting his hands on his hips, he watched her wiping her tears while laughing, and he sighed in relief: "Still the acting prodigy I personally trained—not sure whether to praise you or scold you."
When Hu Xiu first went to the Snowpiercer, she was the kind who got bullied for being too nice—either slipping on her feet or bumping into phone booth coat racks. Now she could even perform crying scenes in front of professional actors.
The two locked eyes for a few seconds, growing somewhat flustered under each other's gaze. Hu Xiu said: "I should go. I need to get to work."
"But it's only 5:30."
"Oh... Then..."
"Never mind you. I'm going back to sleep. I slept on the beanbag sofa all night—my back is about to break. If you don't claim a spot soon, I'm heading for the camp bed."
Slept all night... Then... Did he know everything about her stealing a kiss yesterday?
Hu Xiu's face burned. Diao Zhiyu peeked out from the doorway: "Are you coming or not? I'm really too tired."
"Yesterday... I... You..."
"What?"
"Did you notice anything unusual while you were sleeping yesterday? Like mosquitoes or something?"
"Nope, I was dead asleep—work's been exhausting lately. With Christmas season approaching, we perform from 9:30 AM to 2 PM daily. I seize any chance to crash immediately. Plus—this stomach medicine has pretty good sleep-inducing effects."
Forget it. Even if he knew, he wouldn't say anything. After all, Diao Zhiyu had no intention of addressing the elephant in the room.
Hu Xiu sat on the beanbag sofa. Diao Zhiyu wrapped her tightly in the blanket from head to toe, murmuring softly that the temperature had dropped.
Hu Xiu stood up and dragged the beanbag sofa flush against the camp bed, sharing the blanket with Diao Zhiyu. Secretly, she thought Diao Zhiyu had the most captivating voice in the entire universe. Back when Feng Youjin provoked and searched her on the Snowpiercer, Qin Xiaoyi's declaration—"Are you meeting me, Qin Xiaoyi, for the first time?"—made her remember him by his voice alone, back when she couldn't even recall his face.
Last night's thoughts were right—this hopeless crush had zero chance of a kiss.
That fleeting, dragonfly-skimming kiss from last night left no clear memory. His lips were soft, his breathing even—everything else was forgotten.Qin Xiaoyi lay with one hand behind his head, eyes closed. Hearing the sound of Hu Xiu shuffling her feet, he opened his eyes and noticed her rubbing her ankles. He wrapped the blanket back around her: "Don't give it to me, I'm not that cold. It was my fault insisting you stay here yesterday—you should've been sleeping warm in bed. Freezing like this is on me."
"It's fine. Shanghai's always cold this time of year—I'd usually be awake from the chill anyway. The AC in my rented place is ancient."
"Same when I lived in the dorms—17th floor, once winter hit the wind howled like it wanted to rip the blankets right off you. Still, compared to the north, it's warmer here. Back then, most of my roommates moved out to live with girlfriends, leaving just me in the dorm. Rehearsals would run late in winter, and I'd have to warm the bed with body heat—quite the experience."
From the sound of it, Diao Zhiyu didn't seem to have a girlfriend in college. Hu Xiu, steering the conversation elsewhere, asked: "Why... did you want to become an actor?"
"Probably because I'm handsome. Sounds like bragging, but I've heard 'you're so good-looking, you should be an actor' more times than I can count—I'm immune to it now. Childhood dreams are always wild—being a knight-errant, a Grave Robbing Captain, an imperial inspector, even wanting to be the eagle in The Return of the Condor Heroes... All things that don't exist in reality yet spark imagination. So in a way, it felt like acting chose me—destiny pulls you toward where you belong. I scored decently in academics during art school entrance exams—500 points—but gradually people stopped caring about my grades. Being the second-place in the acting program was enough to make them look beyond my face. That second place taught me appearances aren't everything; temperament is what truly enhances them. And second place was my limit back then."
"I think I know why the winner took first. In my senior year, I competed in Jiangsu Province's piano competition. The top prize came with 20 extra points for college entrance exams—I got second. The defeat hit me so hard I didn't speak for a week. My dad moved out because of it, probably disappointed in me. Later, I realized him leaving wasn't just about my failure."
"Exactly. People sometimes take things that belong to us. In my sophomore year, I landed a lead role in a web series, only to be replaced two weeks into filming. I was stunned, constantly questioning what I'd done wrong. Turns out—it wasn't just me; the director and screenwriter got swapped out too. Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a star, and that's fine. Being a small-time actor suits me. It's the same with Live Action Role Playing Games—I never see them as inferior to film sets. Because through interaction, we give players up-close emotional fulfillment and satisfaction. Some revisit different factions to relive the story, while others linger captivated by the actors' charm. A good Live Action Role Playing Game is a dream-making machine."
"So, am I the obsessive player you've won over?"
"You're also the actor I've trained. Your acting has improved leaps and bounds." Diao Zhiyu had more to say on the topic: "The only unsatisfying part of Live Action Role Playing Games is how players might see us as Non-Player Characters—just tools to trigger plots. I'd rather they recognize that in Interactive Theater, we are actors."Hu Xiu leaned against the edge of the camp bed wrapped in a blanket, Diao Zhiyu's arm resting beside her shoulder. The warmth radiating from him reminded her of that time she followed him after work and saw his gaze linger on Lin Qiumei. Unable to resist, she asked: "So, after acting in so many scenes, do the feelings for someone in character ever carry over offstage?"
The person beside her fell silent, only clearing his throat quietly. Something seemed stuck in his chest before slowly sinking down.
Hu Xiu couldn't possibly misunderstand. When someone you like too much hesitates to speak, yet can talk freely with you in the morning but won't share the same bed or beanbag sofa with you, maintaining a friendly safe distance—there's only one real reason: you're not the first priority in their heart.
Her blanket-wrapped body gradually grew cold. Watching Diao Zhiyu's profile, Hu Xiu's heart softened. Don't press this brilliantly perceptive boy—if the paper window gets torn now, there would be nothing left... It's better to self-deceptively pretend he's restraining his feelings according to propriety.
The alarm rang—it was time for Hu Xiu to get up for work. Leaving the coffee shop, she saw the moon that hadn't yet retreated from the sky. The pale moon, because of its brightness, always made people forget it was covered with scars, like an injured face.
After exiting the subway station, Hu Xiu paused for a few seconds at the shengjian stall before turning away to only buy herself a sandwich before heading to the office.
Fifteen minutes later, her senior colleague arrived. Several people were conversing in Shanghainese. Hu Xiu caught key phrases and understood that Pei Zhen was very angry. Hearing that "he'll get used to such things eventually—he's still young," she grew somewhat curious.
With gossip sticking to this senior colleague, one never needed to ask proactively. Sure enough, the senior colleague messaged Hu Xiu on WeChat to go out and buy breakfast.
"That emergency burn patient Dr. Pei took last week left the hospital secretly and went home.
He finished surgery after 1 AM, originally planning to work through the night preparing application materials to request more treatment funding for the patient, but they gave up."
"Is the treatment very expensive?"
"Full-body skin grafting is extremely expensive. And you have to wait until the wounds heal enough to reach graftable condition before surgery, covering piece by piece with pig skin. It costs about a million.
They're self-employed from some village town without much money. Waterdrop Crowdfunding only raised over a hundred thousand, and they have a newborn baby at home. In the end, they went home."
"Then what will happen next... will it worsen?"
"Waiting to die. Our hospital performs debridement so frequently, yet the infection risk from these necrotic cells remains high. Small local hospitals definitely won't be this meticulous, and they might not even go to small hospitals—because of money.
They'll basically just wait to die. Xiao Pei always gets angry about such cases, even though he can't do anything about it."
The senior colleague paid, her coffee-sipping sounds calm: "Being a doctor means distinguishing these things clearly. When you're powerless to help, don't let it affect you too much.
He was supposed to go to the US in December, but insisted on delaying a month to discharge all his current patients. Such a great opportunity at Boston University given to someone else—he can't prioritize life's important matters clearly."
Hu Xiu stored these words in her heart, detouring to the shengjian shop to buy some shengjian buns and place them on Pei Zhen's desk.
The sky was somewhat overcast. Through Pei Zhen's office window, Hu Xiu saw a crow perched on a tree.Pei Zhen was probably in the morning handover meeting—no wonder he had returned early from the café yesterday. It turned out the burn department really had matters to attend to.
Back in the office, she worked until noon when the vice president suddenly stopped by to discuss three exchange conferences in Jiangsu. One was jointly organized by Jiaotong University and their institute, and Pei Zhen was listed among the keynote speakers. Before that, he needed to give a preliminary presentation at Jiaotong University Medical School.
Within five minutes, Pei Zhen appeared at the office door, looking somewhat downcast. He politely greeted the dean: "I still have consultations upstairs this afternoon, plus I need to apply for a visa. I likely won’t have time to visit Jiaotong University this week."
"It’s best to make time. The professors at the School of Life Sciences are quite fond of you, and Professor Qi specifically requested you visit. These connections will be invaluable for your future publications."
"Time is truly tight. I’ll see what I can arrange."
After the dean left, Pei Zhen checked the time and scratched his head impatiently. Hu Xiu approached him: "Is there anything I can help with?"
"I need to rush home to fetch something at noon, but it might be too tight. I didn’t go home yesterday, and fetching the materials would take two hours round trip. Unless I visit Jiaotong to meet the professors first."
Pudong and Minhang were indeed in opposite directions. With nothing else to do at noon, Hu Xiu blurted out: "If you don’t mind, I can fetch them for you. Just give me the keys."
Pei Zhen remained silent, eyes fixed on his phone, but his hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a keychain. "Then I won’t stand on ceremony. I’ll text you the exact address. Let’s split up and meet at the embassy."
Hu Xiu estimated the timing and set off immediately at noon. As she ducked into the subway, water splashed into her eyes—it had started raining.
The distance from Lujiabang Road to Century Park wasn’t far, but by the time she exited the station, the rain had intensified. A north wind swept fallen leaves across the ground, and with only an hour and a half left to reach the embassy, there was no time to buy an umbrella.
She jogged while checking the map. Even at her fastest pace, the 1.3-kilometer distance would likely leave her clothes soaked.
Hu Xiu mused that she and rain seemed fated—being drenched had practically become a theme of her twenty-seventh year.
Pei Zhen lived on the 12th floor. After exiting the elevator, she turned toward the deepest end, where a brown storage shelf stood by the door, likely for parcels.
Though mentally prepared, she was still stunned upon entering—
The entire room, from wallpaper to furniture, was beige. Impeccably clean and tidy, it felt overwhelmingly warm. It hardly resembled the home of a man who kept irregular hours; everything was meticulously arranged. One might assume a gentle housewife maintained it, not a lone occupant.
Following Pei Zhen’s instructions, she entered the bedroom and spotted the document folder on the bed. His private life was so orderly—the man was downright fastidious.
No group photos or personal pictures adorned the room. The bookshelf held only medical texts and films; he seemed to have a habit of buying pirated DVDs from physical stores.
Without lingering, Hu Xiu found a thick kraft paper bag, wrapped the folder inside her clothes, and hurried back the way she came. The heavy rain blurred her vision—she truly detested winter. Thick, cumbersome clothing, grimy puddles under trees… While waiting for a traffic light, her black down jacket was spattered with muddy rainwater.
When she finally reached the embassy, Pei Zhen waved from his car, signaling her to get in.Hu Xiu merely tapped on the car window and handed in a kraft paper bag: "I'm soaked all over, I don't want to dirty your car. The subway station isn't far, I'll head back to work first."
"If you're not in a hurry, wait for me a moment. I have an appointment scheduled and will be out soon. We can drive back to the hospital together."
"Really, it's fine..."
Pei Zhen looked at Hu Xiu, her hair completely drenched, her knuckles pale from the cold rain, cheeks flushed red from running, her expression somewhat complicated.
Hu Xiu felt momentarily flustered: "It's really not that I don't want to ride with you. The tasks Senior assigned me aren't finished yet. See you at the hospital?"
The car window suddenly rolled all the way down. Pei Zhen unbuckled his seatbelt with a sharp click as it retracted. He reached out, cupped Hu Xiu's chin, leaned out and kissed her lips.
The entire movement was so swift that Hu Xiu didn't have time to react, yet her lips remembered the sensation - chapped and peeling from being too busy, yet unusually warm. Perhaps from running against the cold wind for so long, she desperately needed warmth at that moment.
Pei Zhen only said softly, "Being so attentive about my matters will make me overthink things."
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