The distance between them collapsed in an instant.
The man's familiar scent descended upon her, his features now within arm's reach. His eyes possessed thin double eyelids, slightly upturned at the corners, carrying an innate sharpness. When he scrutinized someone, it invariably felt like cold examination—aloof, distant, and indifferent.
Yet now, as he leaned down to meet her gaze, that sense of remoteness seemed to diminish.
Wen Yifan pressed back against the elevator wall, returning his stare without averting her eyes. Her thoughts felt muddled, unable to process with clarity. She only sensed that his words weren't a favorable suggestion, and replied with stiffness: "I don't have any such plans at the moment."
Sang Yan straightened his posture, the curve of his lips not yet fading. It remained unclear whether he believed her or not.
After brief contemplation, Wen Yifan couldn't suppress the urge to add formally: "When I do in the future, I'll let you know."
Silence.
Having delivered this declaration, Wen Yifan didn't await his reaction and calmly exited. She felt her steps were steady, yet they seemed heavy, difficult to lift—as if she were walking on cotton.
Sang Yan finally registered something was amiss with her condition. "How much did you drink tonight?"
Wen Yifan stopped. "One glass."
"One glass of what?"
Wen Yifan shook her head. "I don't know."
Sang Yan frowned, his tone betraying displeasure. "You don't know, yet you drank it anyway?"
"Xiao Tian gave it to me."
She resembled a robot, answering whatever was asked, seemingly not much different from her usual self. If not for that earlier statement, Sang Yan wouldn't have realized she was intoxicated.
Fearing she might fall, Sang Yan stepped forward, reaching out to steady her. "Stand still."
Seeing his movement, Wen Yifan instinctively retreated while simultaneously raising her hand to press down on her hoodie's cap. "Sang Yan."
"?"
Looking into his eyes, Wen Yifan's lips compressed into a straight line, and she unexpectedly uttered a profoundly sincere sentence, as if attempting to bridge the distance between them: "I feel I've been quite nice to you lately."
Sang Yan's movement suspended slightly.
Then he heard her continue: "I haven't argued with anything you've said, and I've been very compliant."
Sang Yan withdrew his hand, responding coolly: "What are you trying to say?"
"So I want to... make a deal with you." Wen Yifan felt nausea rising again, leaning closer to him. Inhaling his scent made her feel marginally better. "Can you not constrict me?"
"?"
"I want," Wen Yifan articulated word by deliberate word, "to breathe properly."
Silence.
As she said this, Sang Yan finally noted that she'd been constantly pressing down on her cap. This reminded him of his earlier behavior toward Mu Chengyun. His mouth twitched perceptibly, at a loss for words, as he grasped her arm.
Wen Yifan's hand remained stiff and unmoved, her body language radiating wariness.
"Alright," Sang Yan clicked his tongue, though his actions remained gentle. "I won't touch your cap."
Silence.
Hearing this assurance, Wen Yifan's expression registered half-believing, half-doubting, as she slowly lowered her hand.
Sang Yan loosely supported her as they proceeded toward the apartment door. Observing her profile, he lowered his eyes to her arm, which seemed as soft as if it contained no bones, and said in a barely audible voice: "You're not that type of person to me."
After entering the apartment, Wen Yifan changed into indoor slippers and instinctively walked toward her room. But after several steps, she was pulled back by Sang Yan, who guided her to the sofa. "Sit down."
Wen Yifan responded with an "Oh," watching as Sang Yan boiled some water. Then, he pivoted and walked toward the kitchen.
Shortly after, he returned to add: "Don't touch that water."
Wen Yifan didn't know what he was planning to do, so she could only nod. Her stomach felt uncomfortable, and her eyelids were drooping involuntarily. She wanted to drink something hot and then surrender to sleep.
She waited for a while.
Noticing the water had just boiled beside her, Wen Yifan sighed in relief, contemplating pouring herself a cup of hot water to drink. She unconsciously reached out her hand.
In the next moment, Sang Yan's voice rang out: "What are you doing?"
Wen Yifan immediately withdrew her hand.
There was a sense of guilt, as if she'd touched someone else's belongings without permission.
Sang Yan returned, settling down next to her. He held a jar of honey, which he spooned several times into a cup, then added cold water, followed by hot water.
He still wore his suit, broad-shouldered and long-legged. It lent him an air of seriousness, tempering his usual carefree attitude.
Wen Yifan registered his attire again. "Why are you dressed like this today?"
Sang Yan didn't answer, placing the cup before her. "Drink this."
Wen Yifan accepted it, sipping slowly, and continued her inquiry: "Did you find a job?"
He remained particularly cold, still withholding answers.
But Wen Yifan, having consumed too much alcohol, was more talkative than usual. "When did you find it?"
Though most of what she articulated were questions.
She didn't seem to care whether he answered or not, continuing independently: "Does this job require formal wear?"
Sang Yan smiled. "You sure have a lot of questions."
Wen Yifan blinked.
"But right now," seeing that she'd consumed about half the cup, Sang Yan stood up, "I'm not interested in conversing with an intoxicated person."
Feeling falsely accused, Wen Yifan immediately protested: "I only had one glass."
Sang Yan ignored her and continued toward the kitchen.
Wen Yifan called out from behind: "At your graduation ceremony, you drank over a dozen bottles of alcohol. That's what you call drunk."
He suddenly stopped and rotated back. "How do you know that?"
Wen Yifan answered honestly: "Mu Chengyun told me."
Silence.
"Why did you drink so much?"
After prolonged silence, Sang Yan looked away. "That was so long ago."
"I've forgotten about it."
"Oh." With half a cup of honey water consumed, Wen Yifan felt her mind clearing marginally, and her stomach wasn't as uncomfortable. "Then you should drink less in the future."
Sang Yan didn't respond further, proceeding directly into the kitchen.
Not long after.
Sang Yan emerged with a bowl of porridge and placed it before Wen Yifan. He reclined on the sofa, seemingly having finally completed his tasks, and said with characteristic laziness: "Finish this and go to sleep."
Silence.
At this moment, Wen Yifan truly felt the happiness of having a roommate. She thought to herself that Sang Yan was remarkably kind, and if he ever felt unwell in the future, she would reciprocate and care for him.
Sang Yan lay there engaging with his phone for a while.
Wen Yifan was slowly consuming the porridge, just about to express gratitude when Sang Yan's phone rang.
Sang Yan answered directly: "Speak."
He always seemed to be like this—not exchanging pleasantries when communicating with people he knew. It was as if he possessed no patience, his tone from the outset urging the other person to get straight to the point.
Wen Yifan swallowed the words of thanks she was about to articulate.
The person on the other end said something, and Sang Yan inquired: "Whose birthday?"
"Oh, you didn't need to specially call to remind me." Sang Yan's tone was casual, sounding completely unconcerned. "You can just tell Duan Jiaxu directly that at his age, there's nothing worth announcing to the world about his birthday."
Silence.
"If he wants to celebrate, he can do it privately on his own." After a pause of several seconds, Sang Yan sneered. "What do you mean I'm old too? Tell that '80s guy not to lump himself in with us '90s kids."
"Alright, go study," Sang Yan said. "Your college entrance exam is next month—why are you bothering with this trivial matter?"
"Hanging up."
Although the call concluded, the room fell silent.
Wen Yifan's brain slowly processed the information, and she remembered something: "Isn't your birthday in January of 1990?"
Sang Yan glanced at her. "So?"
"It seems to be the day after New Year's," Wen Yifan said. "That's just two days different from 1989."
Sang Yan engaged with his phone as if he hadn't caught her implication, speaking in a not-so-serious tone: "You seem to remember my details quite clearly."
Wen Yifan paused momentarily, then said softly: "Because that date is easy to remember."
"Oh." Sang Yan looked unconcerned, his expression nonchalant. "It is easy to remember."
After finishing the porridge, Wen Yifan thanked Sang Yan and returned to her room. While showering, the steam cleared her thoughts marginally, and she gradually recalled the foolish things she'd done and said that night.
She belatedly felt embarrassment, once again regretting consuming alcohol tonight.
The remnants of drunkenness pushed Wen Yifan's drowsiness to its peak.
Emerging from the bathroom, she flopped onto the bed, her eyelids too heavy to open, with no energy left to dwell on tonight's events. As she drifted off, she remembered the cup of honey water Sang Yan had pressed into her hands.
It was exceptionally warm.
The temperature seemed to spread from her fingertips throughout her entire body.
Just before losing consciousness completely.
A thought involuntarily materialized in Wen Yifan's mind.
She hoped Sang Yan could stay here, for a little longer.
Perhaps because of Mu Chengyun's words tonight, Wen Yifan very fittingly dreamed of her graduation ceremony. But the images were somewhat blurred, seeming real yet not quite real.
Making it difficult for her in the dream to distinguish between reality and illusion.
In her impression, the graduation ceremony seemed to have concluded in the afternoon.
Wen Yifan, wearing her graduation gown and holding her diploma, departed the auditorium with her roommates, following the flow of people.
Outside, there were numerous people, mostly graduates in gowns capturing photos with family and friends. Walking along, she encountered many familiar faces.
Wen Yifan was also occasionally pulled over to take a few photos.
Due to internships in their senior year, everyone had been occupied with their affairs, and the girls hadn't seen each other for quite some time. Now they had plenty to discuss, chattering about various incidents that occurred during their internships.
After one topic concluded, Wen Yifan heard one of her roommates exclaim: "Oh right, when I came down after getting my diploma, I saw a super, super, super handsome guy in the back row. I wonder which department he's from."
Another roommate responded: "Damn, why didn't you call me to see!"
"How can you blame me, you were waiting to go on stage to get your diploma at that time. By the time you came down and I wanted to tell you, I couldn't find that handsome guy anymore. I even felt like I might have been seeing things."
"Alright, I'll just assume you were seeing things."
Wen Yifan listened to their conversation, unable to help but smile.
Not long after, the four of them were summoned over by a familiar classmate to take photos.
Wen Yifan was led over by her roommates. She was arranged in a position near the middle, looking at the camera with a faint smile. The photographer held the camera, counting down loudly: "Three, two..."
Before the last number could be called out.
At that moment, amidst the mixed crowd, Wen Yifan suddenly heard someone call her name. The voice was neither loud nor soft, but incredibly familiar. Her breath caught, and she unconsciously rotated her head to scan the surroundings.
The photographer exclaimed: "Senior, why did you suddenly move?"
The roommate beside her also inquired: "What's wrong?"
Wen Yifan was still searching around, her mood peculiar. "I think I heard someone call me."
"Huh?" Hearing this, her roommate also looked around. "Did you mishear? I didn't hear anyone call you. Maybe someone's name is similar to yours, with so many people here..."
Wen Yifan didn't hear her roommate's subsequent words.
Her gaze was fixed in a certain direction.
A tall, slim male figure, as if he had come specifically to attend someone's graduation ceremony, was wearing a proper white shirt and suit pants. At this moment, he might have been looking at his phone, his head lowered, slowly moving away from the bustling crowd here.
Walking toward an area with fewer people.
In that instant.
Wen Yifan recalled a rainy night four years ago.
Despite the rain, the air had remained sultry.
The young man had silently walked her to her building, the pride in his eyes completely crumbled. That boy, who had been spirited and proud from their first meeting, seemed to have had humility forcibly planted in his core, no longer able to conceal it.
In that alley that seemed endlessly long.
He had silently turned his back, step by step, walking out of her world.
In a daze.
These two silhouettes seemed to overlap.
Wen Yifan's mind went blank, and she involuntarily took a step in that direction, only to be pulled back by her roommate in the next moment.
"Xiao Fan, where are you going?"
The photographer also said at this moment: "Senior, let's take another photo!"
Wen Yifan dazedly withdrew her gaze.
She only felt that he must be in Nanwu at this time, and couldn't possibly appear in Yihe, thousands of kilometers away.
He had no reason to appear here.
Wen Yifan absent-mindedly finished taking the photo and then looked in that direction again.
The scene she'd witnessed a minute ago seemed like just an illusion.
That familiar figure had long since dispersed into the crowd, no longer visible.
Wen Yifan woke from her dream.
Her mouth was uncomfortably parched, and she rose to activate the bedside lamp. The bright light assaulted her eyes, making Wen Yifan squint, feeling her mind remained somewhat hazy.
The memory from the dream was still exceptionally clear.
But at this moment, Wen Yifan couldn't remember with clarity whether she'd truly seen that figure on her graduation day, or if the dream had simply added an extra stroke of color to her memory.
Wen Yifan stared blankly for a while, then after considerable time, closed her eyes briefly.
Perhaps influenced by the dream, or maybe because emotions are amplified at night.
Wen Yifan's mood at this moment was at its lowest point.
She had lost all sleepiness, so she simply rose, intending to pour herself a glass of warm water.
Afraid of disturbing Sang Yan, Wen Yifan didn't wear slippers, opened the door quietly, and tiptoed toward the living room. Just as she was about to reach the coffee table and sit down, she heard the sound of a door opening behind her.
Wen Yifan's footsteps stopped.
She turned to look.
She saw that Sang Yan had also emerged from his room. He wore a casual short-sleeved shirt and shorts, looking slightly drowsy. As if he was rising to use the bathroom. Catching sight of her presence from the corner of his eye, he rotated his head and casually said: "Sleepwalking again?"
Silence.
"What triggers your sleepwalking?" Perhaps because he'd just woken up, Sang Yan's voice was low and hoarse. "You can even sleepwalk when drunk?"
Wen Yifan remained silent.
At that moment, the images from her recent dream surged back to her mind. Her thoughts were entirely occupied by the figure moving further away from the crowd. The quiet space and dim light seemed to be imbued with allure. An impulse welled up inside her, recalling what Sang Yan had said earlier.
—"You suddenly ran out and hugged me."
After all, he didn't know. He thought she was sleepwalking. He had no idea she was fully awake.
Wen Yifan slowly moved toward him.
Sang Yan lazily yawned and made space for her, teasingly saying: "Not taking advantage of me this time?"
Just this once. She acted on her impulse only this once. It felt like a return to that summer after the college entrance exams.
In her youth, she had watched that boy's figure grow distant, struggling to resist the urge to step forward and embrace him. With firm resolve, she had pulled her gaze away, slowly retreating, choosing to exit his world.
At this moment, it felt as if time had reversed.
She wanted to perform the action she had longed to take back then. Wen Yifan was consumed by that desire and the remnants of her intoxication, leaving no room for reason. She paused beside him, her heart racing so fast it felt like it might leap from her chest.
The distance between her and Sang Yan was just a step away.
The scent of him was unchanged from their youth. A faint aroma of sandalwood filled the air.
Since it was her first time doing something like this, Wen Yifan held her breath, her movement faltering slightly.
Sang Yan continued: "Hurry back—"
But before he could finish, Wen Yifan lowered her gaze, leaned in, and wrapped her arms around him.
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