Sang Yan's eyelashes lowered as he watched water droplets gather and slide down the back of his hand. His Adam's apple moved slowly. After a moment, he raised his eyes and asked, voice rough, "What's wrong?"
She sat motionless, silent except for the tears falling uncontrollably from her eyes.
As if this was the only way—silently, in this empty night, to digest all that pain alone.
Sang Yan lifted his hand, gently brushing away the tears on her face. These ice-cold tears felt like molten lava, scorching through him. His throat tightened, words nearly impossible.
Finally, he managed, "Wen Shuangjiang."
Wen Yifan's gaze remained fixed on her knees.
"You asked me if I've been doing well these years."
"…"
"What about you?" Sang Yan's voice softened further. "Have you been doing well?"
They'd been roommates for over a year now.
After Wen Yifan's first sleepwalking incident, Sang Yan had researched the condition extensively. The causes varied—lack of sleep, life stress, past traumas, painful experiences that wouldn't fade.
Given Wen Yifan's demanding work schedule and job pressures, Sang Yan hadn't found it particularly unusual.
Her sleepwalking wasn't frequent, with no clear pattern. He'd noticed how self-conscious she was about it. Later, when episodes occurred without significant incident, he chose not to mention them.
But through all those times she'd sleepwalked, this was the first time Sang Yan had seen her cry.
He didn't know if something else had happened today. But considering her reaction and his own recollection, the likely reason for her tears was that man from earlier tonight.
Had she endured constant harassment from this so-called "uncle" all these years?
And did she cry like this every time—alone in the darkness, silently bearing it?
Several minutes passed before Wen Yifan's tears finally stopped. She raised her eyes mechanically toward Sang Yan, frozen for a long moment before standing. Sang Yan, still holding her hand, rose abruptly with her.
Then he felt something shift—she seemed to grasp his hand in return. His eyelashes flickered as he followed, wondering if he'd imagined it, trying to loosen his grip slightly.
Their hands remained joined.
Wen Yifan was holding his hand.
Sang Yan's eyebrows lifted slightly.
He'd assumed she would go to his room as usual. Instead, when they passed the second bedroom, her footsteps continued forward without pause.
Sang Yan didn't think much of it. Her sleepwalking behaviors varied; there were always deviations.
He let her lead him onward.
At the master bedroom door, Wen Yifan raised her free hand and turned the knob. She walked in, bringing him with her.
Once inside, she turned back habitually and slowly closed the door. Her movements were natural, barely distinguishable from her waking behavior—just slightly stiffer, slower.
They reached her bed.
Sang Yan was planning to settle her in and return to his room when he felt her lift her foot onto the mattress. The pull on his hand remained firm, as though she intended to drag him up too.
Now Sang Yan realized something was different.
"You want me to sleep with you?"
Wen Yifan looked up at him quietly, clearly unconscious yet giving him the strange impression that she'd found some treasure in her dream and wanted to smuggle it back to her little hideaway, claiming it as her own.
Her grip wasn't strong—he could break free easily.
But he had a feeling that if he did, she'd start crying again.
Though they'd shared a bed several times before, Sang Yan knew being in his own space versus invading hers were entirely different matters. He stood still, patiently suggesting, "How about we go to my room instead?"
No response.
After another moment of standoff, seeing she wouldn't compromise, Sang Yan conceded. He stopped worrying about such trivialities, glanced at the bed, and lay down on the empty side. Uncomfortable and wide awake, he pulled the blanket over her.
She continued holding his hand, finally seeming at ease as her eyes gradually closed.
Sang Yan lay beside her, looking down at her face.
After a long while, he leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead.
Early the next morning, Wen Yifan opened drowsy eyes to the sensation of being held. Her eyelashes moved slowly as awareness returned. This had happened enough times that she didn't pay much attention, simply focusing on waking up properly.
When her consciousness fully cleared, she glanced around. The remaining sleepiness vanished instantly—something was wrong.
This was her room.
Wen Yifan blinked in confusion, turning her head toward Sang Yan.
He was awake, eyelids drooping lazily, expression still drowsy. Noticing her gaze, he appeared entirely unconcerned, closing his eyes again and shamelessly tightening his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
As if planning to sleep longer.
"…"
His composed, natural manner made Wen Yifan question which of them had the problem.
She couldn't help saying, "This is my room."
His voice was low from just waking. "So?"
"Why are you here?"
"What do you mean, why am I here?"
"…"
"Your attitude is quite hurtful." Sang Yan's forehead rested against the back of her neck, tone casual. "Count how many times you've set fires, and this is only my first time lighting a lamp—"
"No." Wen Yifan interrupted good-naturedly. "I just want to know why you're here."
"Oh." Sang Yan laughed. "You're asking why?"
"…" Wen Yifan turned her head.
Sang Yan raised his eyes in response.
Their gazes met. After a few seconds, Wen Yifan ventured, "Did you sleepwalk too?"
Sang Yan raised an eyebrow. "Of course not."
"Oh." She tried again. "Then did you have a nightmare, or were you scared after watching a horror movie and didn't dare sleep alone? So you came to my room in the middle of the night?"
"Not that either."
"Or did you simply want to sleep with me?"
This time Sang Yan explained: "You sleepwalked in the middle of the night."
Wen Yifan nodded. "Mm, and then?"
Staring at her face, Sang Yan's dark eyes held hers as he slowly stroked her cheek. Then he smiled and calmly finished: "You hugged me and brought me to your room."
"…"
Wen Yifan pictured the scene—herself sleepwalking in the dead of night, suddenly gaining incredible strength, going to Sang Yan's room and effortlessly lifting this man who weighed over seventy kilograms.
What nonsense! How could he say such things?!
She suppressed her emotions, speaking calmly: "I... hugged you?"
Sang Yan didn't answer, his silence seemingly confirming it.
"Could I even..." Wen Yifan felt he was treating her like a complete fool, but couldn't bring herself to say so directly. She could only point out the logic flaw step by step. "...carry you?"
Sang Yan observed her expression, lowered his chin, and laughed quietly. He showed no intention of changing his story, sighing shamelessly: "I didn't expect it either."
"…"
Wen Yifan didn't bother arguing further with someone so thick-skinned. Unlike previous times, this was an outrageous tall tale requiring no evidence to disprove.
They stared at each other for a few more seconds.
Wen Yifan managed to squeeze out four words: "Then I'm quite manly."
"…"
Sang Yan hummed in response, wanting to pull her back for more sleep.
The word "manly" reminded Wen Yifan of their first meeting. Her mind went blank, and she oddly felt compelled to bring up: "So apart from the name—"
Sang Yan glanced at her.
"It seems my strength is also manlier than yours."
"…"
It was almost time to get up for work.
The moment she spoke, Wen Yifan regretted it. Afraid Sang Yan would hold a grudge, she quickly got up and fled toward the bathroom with a parting line:
"I'll make breakfast, you keep sleeping."
By the time Wen Yifan finished washing up, Sang Yan had left her room. The blanket lay neatly arranged on the bed. She stared at it for several seconds, still unable to figure out why he'd been in her room.
Her last guess seemed most reasonable, yet given Sang Yan's personality, she doubted he'd do such a thing.
Unable to puzzle it out, she decided to ask him later. She changed clothes and headed to the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator and deciding to simply cook noodles.
Just as she removed the vegetables, Sang Yan entered the kitchen, habitually taking out a bottle of cold water.
Their eyes met.
Wen Yifan's gaze dropped to the cold water in his hand, then rose again. After a few seconds of staring, she said nothing, moving aside to get a pot while asking gently, "Is noodles okay for breakfast?"
Sang Yan paused. In a moment of silence, he returned the cold water to the refrigerator.
"Sure."
After the night had passed, Wen Yifan's bad mood had mostly dissipated. While pouring water into the pot, she watched his movements. Seeing this, the corners of her lips curved upward—she found the small gesture strangely amusing.
Sang Yan moved to her side, washing vegetables and meatballs.
They chatted intermittently.
Though Wen Yifan had intended to make breakfast, Sang Yan ended up doing most of it. She sat at the dining table, sipping soup in small mouthfuls, about to ask again why he'd woken up in her room.
Sang Yan spoke first: "Wen Shuangjiang."
"Hm?"
Sang Yan raised his eyes, seemingly casual: "That man who said he was your uncle yesterday—I think I've seen him somewhere before."
"…"
Wen Yifan's expression froze slightly, remembering Che Xingde from last night. She slowly withdrew her gaze, took a bite of noodles, and answered honestly: "Mm, you saw him before when you came to find me."
"You seemed to say at the time," Sang Yan chose his words carefully, "that you didn't know him."
"Yes." Wen Yifan nodded, speaking gently. "Because I don't like this person. Every time I see him, I avoid him and don't want any interaction. Whoever asks, I always say I don't know him."
"…"
Wen Yifan smiled. "What's wrong?"
Sang Yan's gaze rested on her face as if observing her expression. His face was unreadable, thoughts unclear, though he didn't seem to doubt her words: "Has this person been bothering you?"
"No." Wen Yifan lowered her head, continuing to eat. "I haven't seen him since I started university. I thought he was still in Beiyu. I don't know when he came to Nanwu."
Sang Yan continued watching her, this time silent.
Noticing his gaze from the corner of her eye, Wen Yifan looked up. She thought for a moment, roughly guessing his concerns, and added: "I never thought I'd encounter him again. I've been living quite well all along."
Sang Yan's lips curved slightly. "That's good then."
With that, silence fell over the table.
Wen Yifan didn't know what to say. Last night's incident felt like a small episode, not worth revisiting. But she also didn't know her uncle's family's current situation.
Were they still staying at Zhao Yuandong's place? Had they settled in Nanwu? Would they return to Beiyu?
Wen Yifan felt that Nanwu was a very large city.
Through chance encounters alone, one probably wouldn't meet more than a few times in a lifetime.
Yet she felt vaguely uneasy.
She didn't know if the person Mu Chengyun had mentioned earlier was Che Xingde, or if he would try finding her through this method after learning about Sang Yan's existence.
She didn't know why they'd suddenly moved back to Nanwu, or if they would keep bothering her.
Though Wen Yifan felt there was no reason for it, she remained apprehensive about the possibility.
Thinking this, she looked at the man before her again. Remembering Che Xingde causing trouble at his bar last night, her lips gradually pressed into a line, and she spoke: "Sang Yan."
"Hm?"
Wen Yifan had nothing to worry about for herself—she wasn't afraid these people could cause any ripples in her life. She was no longer that child who could only rely on others, with no abilities of her own.
She didn't think they could cause any trouble.
But she feared they might affect Sang Yan.
Wen Yifan met his eyes, earnestly advising: "If that person from yesterday goes to 'Overtime' to find you again, no matter what he says to you or what he wants, you don't need to pay any attention to him."
Sang Yan observed her expression and chuckled softly, raising his hand to ruffle her hair forcefully. As if he hadn't taken this matter to heart at all, his tone carried playful undertones: "What are you worried about?"
"…"
"You brought up something from a year ago to pick on me—how would I dare casually talk to people anymore?"
Hearing this, Wen Yifan instantly remembered her drunken mention of "you smiled at four girls in one night." Her attention diverted, feeling somewhat embarrassed.
If not for her drunken words, she wouldn't have realized she'd been focused on that detail.
"Besides you," Sang Yan laughed, "who do you think could get anything from me?"
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