Zhou Wan hesitated before kicking off her canvas shoes and stepping into his slippers.
The slippers were too big, fitting her poorly.
She bent down to place her shoes neatly on the shoe rack, noticing there weren’t any other slippers there except the pair she was wearing.
Lu Xixiao lived alone—this entire three-story house belonged to just him, all alone.
“Can I turn on the lights?” Zhou Wan asked.
“Whatever.”
This was the first time Lu Xixiao spoke, his voice as rough as if it had been scraped with sandpaper.
Zhou Wan found the switch on the shoe rack and turned on the chandelier in the living room.
Lu Xixiao, unaccustomed to the sudden light, frowned deeply and raised his hand to shield his eyes.
Zhou Wan saw the messy living room.
Beer bottles lay scattered across the floor, dozens of cigarette butts stuck out of the ashtray on the coffee table, and the air was heavy with an overwhelming mixture of smoke and alcohol.
Zhou Wan went to open the windows for ventilation.
Lu Xixiao lay on the sofa, watching the girl’s busy silhouette. He smirked, lifted a nearby bottle for another sip to wet his throat, and asked: “Why are you here?”
“Jiang Fan asked me to check on you. He said he couldn’t reach you.”
Zhou Wan looked at his face, sickly pale, though she couldn’t tell if it was from injury or lack of sunlight.
Lu Xixiao let out a derisive laugh.
Zhou Wan asked: “Are you hurt?”
He turned his head away without answering.
“Where?”
“What, you want to bandage me up?”
Zhou Wan nodded: “Mm.”
He gave a light laugh, got up, went into the bedroom, and came back shortly with a bag that he tossed onto the coffee table. A roll of gauze fell out, unraveling across the floor.
Lu Xixiao sat back down, leaned against the sofa, and pulled up his pant leg.
He wore loose gray lounging pants, with gauze wrapped around his thigh—bandaged carelessly, as if he’d just wrapped it a few times. Fresh blood was seeping through from inside.
He was lean but fit, his muscles not bulging or showing signs of regular training, but their lines twisted and curved, showing traces of wild growth.
Zhou Wan was startled by the blood, stared for three seconds, then suddenly blushed deeply.
Lu Xixiao watched her reaction with amusement.
“Didn’t you say you’d bandage me up?”
Zhou Wan remained silent, then after a long while took one step forward, but only one, and didn’t advance further.
Having enjoyed her expression enough, Lu Xixiao didn’t push her. He let out a mocking laugh, sat up straight, bit a cigarette between his teeth, and unwound the bloodstained gauze circle by circle, throwing it in the trash.
Zhou Wan stopped looking at him and lowered her head to clean up the mess on the coffee table.
The floor was covered in bottles. Zhou Wan looked around the room and found the water dispenser to get some hot water.
Next to the dispenser was a photo of a beautiful woman with a gentle smile.
She had the same narrow eyes as Lu Xixiao.
From those eyes, Zhou Wan quickly determined who the woman in the photo was.
Lu Xixiao’s mother.
She poured a cup of warm water. Lu Xixiao had finished changing his bandage and was leaning back on the sofa, about to drink more alcohol.
Zhou Wan went over and gripped the bottle: “You’re injured, you shouldn’t drink.”
He disliked being constrained. He looked up, his eyes cold: “Who are you to control me?”
Zhou Wan froze, released her grip, and placed the warm water on the coffee table in front of him.
He finished the remaining alcohol and threw the bottle in the trash.
“Lu Xixiao.”
Zhou Wan didn’t know his past, but she could see the boundless pain beneath his calm exterior. She tried to comfort and encourage him, hoping he wouldn’t continue sinking into depression.
“If your mother were still alive, she wouldn’t want to see you like this,” Zhou Wan said softly.
Lu Xixiao’s movements stopped abruptly as he suddenly sat up straight.
The movement was too large, pulling at his leg wound, but he didn’t even flinch.
“Zhou Wan.” His voice was cold, each word distinct. “Who do you think you are?”
Zhou Wan’s whole body stiffened. Yes, who did she think she was?
She and Lu Xixiao weren’t even friends—what right did she have to stand on someone else’s pain and give advice?
“Or are you trying to say you like me?” Lu Xixiao stared at her. “You don’t want to see me like this?”