Zhou Tuoxing originally thought that as long as enough time passed, he could forget He Chuan Zhou.
He thought that he could mention this name without feeling anything and casually talk to others about those
poor and difficult times.
However, as time passed, this name seemed to take root in his heart. From a wild weed, it grew into a
towering tree. The complex roots gripped his heart, causing a pang of pain with every breath whenever he
tried to appear nonchalant, reminding him how unrealistic that was.
There were no harsh winds in spring, no bitter rains in autumn. But that night, the wind and rain were
dismal, coming all at once.
Zhou Tuoxing was drenched in the rain, his limbs cold, only the breath he exhaled carrying a bit of warmth.
Before He Chuan Zhou appeared, he was firmly convinced that no matter what harsh words He Chuan Zhou said,
they wouldn’t be sincere. He believed he could remain indifferent.
After He Chuan Zhou left, he waited in the rain for half the night, savoring each of her words, wondering if
she would pity him and come back to see him, showing a trace of reluctance.
Raindrops slid down his face one by one, the profound sorrow soaking into the rain just like his clothes.
He looked up, seeing the dense canopy of trees above his head, with a few scattered lights in the distance.
Soon, those scattered lights also went out one by one behind the glass windows.
The plants in the flower beds twisted into strange black shadows under the ravages of the gale.
Zhou Tuoxing blinked his reddened eyes, the world gradually becoming blurry, as if phantom shadows were
swaying. When he felt he was about to faint, he stood up, stumbling along the route he had walked countless
times.
He didn’t know how he got home, lying down on the cold, hard bed and falling asleep immediately. When he
woke up, he was too sick to speak. It was Jiang Zhaolin who came to find him the next morning, discovering
his fevered, hazy state, and hurriedly took him to the hospital for two days of IV drip.
Once his condition improved a bit, his mother took him to the school to handle the transfer procedures.
At that time, He Chuan Zhou had also returned to school and started classes again.
When he went to see the class teacher, Zhou Tuoxing glimpsed her figure from the back window of the
classroom. He Chuan Zhou didn’t seem to care about his presence at all.
He asked a classmate to tell He Chuan Zhou that he was leaving, that this was the last time he would come to
the school.
When he came out of the office and went back to the classroom to pack his books, He Chuan Zhou still sat
quietly at her desk, not even changing her posture, her head down, seriously looking through her papers. The
side of her face, illuminated by the slanting sunlight, looked as if it were glowing.
At that moment, Zhou Tuoxing thought, maybe she really didn’t like being disturbed by outsiders.
When he walked out of the school gate, the sudden sharp pain told him what it meant to have a heart cut like
a knife.
For so many years, Zhou Tuoxing never understood why He Chuan Zhou, who wasn’t the one who stayed with him
the longest, could leave such a deep impression on him.
In a small noodle shop outside the sub-bureau, when He Chuan Zhou seriously called his name once again, this
question that had always troubled him was suddenly answered.
—Loneliness is more painful than poverty.
Leaving City A, he no longer had a home.
During these years, he really lived very poorly.
Holding the person in his arms, he genuinely wanted to tell her about his wandering life in City B as an
outsider.
His mother always complained about his father’s crudeness in front of him, while his father criticized his
mother’s snobbery over the phone.
He was not a likable person, he might not speak more than ten words in a month.
His sister could enter his room at will and rummage through his things.
His stepfather would ask at the dinner table if he had enough money, regardless of his answer, he would
count cash from his wallet and hand it to him, telling him to spend sparingly.
It wasn’t until he went to college that he finally had the freedom to distance himself. He rarely went back,
nor did he take any more money from his stepfather.
But occasionally, they would still call him back to attend social events, showing their concern and
generosity in front of guests. Many people, whether he knew them or not, would pat his shoulder and tell him
how his stepfather had raised him, urging him to take good care of his sister.
Every time, he wanted to run back to City A. Back to He Chuan Zhou’s home, sit by the window, bask in the
sun, listen to He Xu talk about human warmth and coldness, and live a life as plain as water.
And he really did so.
“I came back to see you,” Zhou Tuoxing said with his eyes closed, in a low voice. “Many times.”
The first time he returned was near the end of the year, seeing He Chuan Zhou carrying a bag, going to the
supermarket alone, and returning home alone.
Zhou Tuoxing watched from a distance downstairs, waiting until she didn’t come out again, then took his
phone to take photos of the places they often went.
He took pictures of the cats out at night and people wandering the streets late at night. Watching the neon
lights, the incomplete moonlight, recalling the scenery from the last time he passed by.
Before leaving, he went to visit He Xu’s grave, gaining a small yet precious sense of peace, and then took
the train back to his City B.
This journey repeated every year, helping him maintain familiarity with City A. During these revisits, He
Chuan Zhou was mostly alone.
Sometimes eating in a small restaurant, sometimes exercising in the park. Zhou Tuoxing wanted to get closer
but didn’t know what to say.
After she graduated and started working, it became much harder to find her.
Zhou Tuoxing took a deep breath, “I don’t know if you wanted to see me.”
If you still felt I was unfortunate. If you truly hated my disturbances.
The more He Chuan Zhou brooded over He Xu’s death, the more she fought against life, the less Zhou Tuoxing
could comfort himself.
Even if meeting He Chuan Zhou was the luckiest thing in his life.
“You never said sorry to me,” Zhou Tuoxing said softly, his words deliberate, “nor did you ever welcome me
back.”
“I really…” The hoarse voice revealed a bit of broken fragility, “feel very uncomfortable.”
He Chuan Zhou was silent for a long time, unable to say anything too sentimental. Feeling Zhou Tuoxing’s
breath on her ear, hot and scorching, she hesitated for a moment, then turned her head and gently patted his
back.
Zhou Tuoxing immediately hugged tighter. The faint scent of laundry detergent on him grew stronger,
dispelling the damp, musty smell of the corridor.
He spoke obliquely and restrainedly, but He Chuan Zhou understood.
Despite being introverted and steady, with a thousand thoughts swirling in his mind, she always surprisingly
understood him.
She also knew she had hurt him, had been particularly unkind to him. Seeing him return, lingering around
her, felt unreal.
No one wants to repeat past mistakes, so why did Zhou Tuoxing never give up, even showing his vulnerability
to her?
“Sorry,” He Chuan Zhou paused, considering, “Actually, seeing you back, I’m very happy.”
Zhou Tuoxing’s tone rose, feeling closer, with a hint of disbelief, “Really?”
He Chuan Zhou said, “Hmm.”
After responding, even without seeing each other’s faces, He Chuan Zhou could feel the joy on his body.
Overflowing with an indescribable joy.
At this moment, heavy footsteps came from the stairwell, a neighbor returning from some floor.
He Chuan Zhou pushed him forcefully, and only then did Zhou Tuoxing slowly let go, glancing coldly at the
corridor, and turned to twist the rusty key.
The door opened quickly, and they walked in together.
The furnishings inside were somewhat different from what he remembered. Most appliances had been replaced
with new ones, but the discarded furniture was still kept, piled in the corner of the living room like
exhibits, making the space unusually cramped.
He Chuan Zhou was too busy to tidy up the house, and since the living room wasn't her main activity area, it
looked particularly messy.
Zhou Tuoxing asked, "Haven't you thought about moving? Or renovating?"
The neighborhood was too far from the bureau, with no subway nearby, making commuting inconvenient. The
building's facilities were old, the electrical and network wires were outdated, and living here was
uncomfortable.
"Too busy, and there’s too much stuff," He Chuan Zhou said, taking off her coat and glancing at the
cluttered room, feeling unusually embarrassed. She added, "I do plan to move. The kid downstairs is taking
the college entrance exam this year and has been complaining to the community about my schedule affecting
his studying."
Zhou Tuoxing was deep in thought when he heard He Chuan Zhou say, "It's very late."
He stood there without moving or speaking, so He Chuan Zhou politely suggested, "How are you getting back?
Should I call a driver for you?"
Zhou Tuoxing pointed to his hair, suddenly remembering, "You still haven't cut my hair."
"Next time," He Chuan Zhou said reluctantly. "I still have to sweep up. There’ll be hair all over the
floor."
"I'll clean up," Zhou Tuoxing insisted.
He Chuan Zhou looked at him for a moment, unsure what to do. After hesitating, she rolled up her sleeves and
said, "Then go get a chair. But I haven’t cut anyone’s hair in a long time."
He Chuan Zhou found scissors in the study room. The old ones had rusted, so these were new ones she had
bought.
They weren’t second-hand and weren’t very expensive; she usually used them to trim her own hair.
Zhou Tuoxing sat on the balcony, opening the window to let the breeze in.
The dusk sky was splendid and colorful, the clouds half ablaze. The small garden on the top floor across the
way was bathed in a layer of golden light, with the leaves of the plants shining brightly, becoming soft and
brilliant.
Zhou Tuoxing carefully observed the outside scenery, comparing it with his memories, feeling a sense of the
fleeting years, like floating clouds and flowing water, a decade passing by in the blink of an eye.
He Chuan Zhou came over with a water bottle, wetting his hair and combing it simply, checking his hairstyle.
Seeing him fidgeting, she reached from behind, held his face with both hands, and pressed his head down,
signaling him not to move.
Her fingertips were cold, and when they touched Zhou Tuoxing's skin, he stiffened almost imperceptibly.
He Chuan Zhou moved in front of him, her fingers slowly passing through his hair, measuring the length
unskillfully.
As she lifted the hair near his ears, the exposed skin gradually turned red. Noticing this, He Chuan Zhou
hesitated momentarily, then quietly moved away.
After a couple of snips, tiny hairs fell down, while a gaze lingered on her face. Unable to resist, she
looked down, meeting Zhou Tuoxing's eyes.
That deep and calm gaze seemed to harbor some indescribable emotions, making the atmosphere turn oddly
tense.
Neither of them spoke.
Zhou Tuoxing casually shifted his gaze, staring blankly at He Chuan Zhou’s slender wrist exposed by her
sleeves, then turned to look at the blooming potted plants on the windowsill.
The silence was unbearable. In the sound of the wind, Zhou Tuoxing started a conversation, "If you're ever
very tired, I can help pick you up from work next time."
Waiting for a detective to get off work?
Even He Chuan Zhou didn't know what time she’d finish when working on a case.
She simply responded with an "Mm," not rejecting the offer.
As the sky darkened, He Chuan Zhou went to turn on the balcony light. The faces that had been shadowed by
the dusk were once again clearly illuminated.
She asked him to close his eyes, gently brushing the loose hair from his face.
In the dense and sparse sounds, He Chuan Zhou realized for the first time that cutting hair was somewhat
intimate.
The mere proximity was enough to cause awkwardness. As she leaned slightly, there was an illusion that she
could almost share breaths with Zhou Tuoxing.
Even slight touches to his ears or cheeks made the muscles on Zhou Tuoxing’s back tense reflexively, making
her feel as if she were teasing him.
She didn’t know why Zhou Tuoxing was nervous, but it made her unskilled hands work even slower. What should
have been a simple men’s haircut took over half an hour to finish.
He Chuan Zhou stepped back and said, "Done."