“An accident.”
Lin Luxiao clearly had no desire to discuss it further.
“Oh.” Xia Wan sighed.
Lin Luxiao glanced at her. “What did she say to you?”
Xia Wan smiled lightly. “The way she said it was so ambiguous, I thought the two of you were…”
She trailed off deliberately at the halfway point, stealing a sidelong glance at him.
Lin Luxiao let out a scornful laugh.
Xia Wan added: “She really is beautiful — it’s just that she smokes. If you’re close to her, you should try talking to her about it. Smoking isn’t good for your health.”
Lin Luxiao: “We’re not that close.”
“Oh.”
The four of them returned to the private room.
Candles were lit, the cake was cut, the rest was smeared on Lin Qi’s face as custom dictated, and once all was said and done, they began gathering their things to head home.
Xia Wan asked Lin Luxiao: “Did you drive here? If not, I can give you a lift?”
Lin Qi, who was on his way to the washroom to wash his face, overheard and said: “Xia Wan, you just go ahead — I’ve called a driver to come pick me up.”
Xia Wan looked toward Nan Chu: “Miss Nan, shall I give you a ride?”
Before Nan Chu could reply, Lin Qi cut in again: “I’ve arranged a driver for her too.”
Xia Wan: “……”
After Xia Wan left.
Lin Qi went to the washroom to wash his face.
Outside, the sky had gradually darkened, and a slim crescent moon hung at the edge of the horizon.
Neon lights glittered beyond the window. On the other side of the hotel was the Lin River of Beixun, a waterway with a hundred years of history. Fishing boats of all sizes drifted across its surface, while the two banks were strung with lanterns in every color of the rainbow, their reflections shimmering on the water in solitary, glittering strands.
Only two people remained in the private room, seated across from each other.
The sudden quiet settled in as they simply stared at one another. As for the atmosphere — how to put it —
It was a little strange.
Lin Luxiao reclined against the back of his chair, legs spread, head lowered, a lighter spinning idly between his fingertips.
Nan Chu cut a slice of cake and asked: “Do you want some? You didn’t eat a single piece just now.”
Lin Luxiao had always disliked sweets. Without even lifting his head, he declined outright: “No.”
Nan Chu nodded, withdrew her hand, and placed the slice in front of herself to eat.
“What’s your birthday?” Nan Chu speared a small piece, held the fork between her teeth, and watched him.
Lin Luxiao said nothing.
“Surely you’re not keeping that confidential too?”
Lin Luxiao put away the lighter, tucked it into his trouser pocket, and raised his head to look at her. “August 9th.”
Nan Chu counted the days. “So that’s next month?”
“Mm.” Lin Luxiao got ahead of himself: “But I don’t celebrate my birthday.”
“And I didn’t say I was going to celebrate it for you.” Nan Chu blinked at him.
“……”
Why did you even open your mouth if you can’t get the last word with her.
With that realization fully internalized, Lin Luxiao decided to stop engaging with her. He let out a light, mocking twist of his lips, then reached for the cigarette box on the table, plucked one out and tucked it between his teeth, fished out his lighter from his pocket, and loosely cupped it in one hand — directing a questioning glance toward Nan Chu, seemingly seeking her permission.
Nan Chu made a “please, go ahead” gesture.
The lighter flicked to life. The tip of the cigarette caught. Lin Luxiao drew in a deep breath, exhaled a plume of smoke, and tossed the lighter onto the table, his gaze drifting toward the window.
Nan Chu rested her chin on her hand and watched him.
The entertainment industry had plenty of fresh-faced, better-looking young men — but none of them were as interesting to look at as he was.
Lin Luxiao’s features were sharply cut, his face well-proportioned and defined. When he smoked, his brows furrowed ever so slightly. Broad shoulders, narrow hips — he didn’t work out, yet he was clearly muscular. Leaning against the back of the chair, spine slightly curved, abdomen bent inward, the fitted T-shirt clung to him, and you could just faintly make out the lines of his abdominal muscles — not obvious, but there.
The view beneath a lifted hem of his shirt would surely be quite worth seeing.
Gray-white smoke drifted like a layer of gauze between them.
An idea came to Nan Chu.
She reached out, grabbed a handful of cream, and shot to her feet — leaning forward across the table, stretching her arm out toward Lin Luxiao’s face to smear it on him.
Lin Luxiao’s reflexes were sharp. The corner of his eye caught something rushing toward him, and his hand closed around it on pure instinct.
A woman’s hand.
Soft. Delicate. Cool. Slender.