Chapter 1

In the old district of Hecheng, the pace of life was slow and the environment was just passable. There were no towering skyscrapers that made it hard to breathe, nor any iconic landmarks—only a cluster of unremarkable old residential buildings, among which ran an unremarkable alley.

Liu Alley.

Like this declining old district, there was nothing particularly special about it.

The alley was not wide; two cars could barely pass side by side, and anyone with poor driving skills would likely end up driving over the curb. It was usually quite quiet, too, seeing as the capable young people had all gone elsewhere to study and work.

At the very end of the alley stood a large willow tree, its gnarled trunk branching out into countless limbs, with willow switches drooping softly and swaying in the breeze to cast large patches of shade. The thick trunk was so wide that it would be hard for two people to wrap their arms around it, and even in the rain-drenched summer, parts of its old bark remained dry.

It was luxuriant and thick, yet it failed to evoke any sense of upright pride—after all, that twisted trunk had already begun to lean. Like an elderly person whose back had been bent by the passage of time, it simply stood quietly at the corner, together with this city, calmly watching as one sedimented story after another unfolded.

Lining both sides of Liu Alley were three-story buildings: a bridal photo studio, a barbershop, a Shaxian snack shop, a bookstore... everything was there. Right next to the old willow tree at the end of the alley stood an internet cafe on the third floor, with a tattoo parlor tucked around the corner.

Fengsu Internet Cafe, a space of a hundred-odd square meters, was filled with the clatter of keyboards and mice, occasionally punctuated by curses. Internet-addicted youths were completely immersed in their gaming worlds, and the "No Smoking" signs on the walls were mere decorations.

At the front counter sat a huge computer monitor, behind which a young man's buzzcut was vaguely visible. The right side of his head had two lines shaved into it by a barber, leaving the scalp clearly exposed—a bit cool, very edgy. Just as cool as his hairstyle was the loose black T-shirt hanging off his frame.

His arms emerged from the sleeves with the distinct, bony sharpness unique to a youth.

Yet this very cool guy was playing a video game with a completely expressionless face—Super Mario.

The power of classics made one tremble.

"Nice game console!"

Just as Song Feng's last life was chewed to death by a Piranha Plant, someone walked in from outside, came up to the counter, and very sensibly handed over a can of cola.

"Two hundred, take it away." Song Feng tossed the game console onto the desk and lazily accepted the canned Pepsi.

"Two hundred?" Chen Hui blinked, picked up the game console to examine it front and back, and then set it back down with a hint of disdain, "A game console you bought for one hundred eighty comes with a power bank?"

The ice-cold aluminum can, just taken out of the refrigerator, seemed to grow shy upon touching his warm fingertips, beading with condensation.

Song Feng hooked the pull-tab with his index finger and casually popped the lid open with one hand.He lifted his chin slightly as the bubbles in the liquid flooded his throat, bursting one after another and leaving behind an icy sweetness. Refreshing. "Brother Feng, with this kind of skill, should we go and street-perform? You can open the bottle caps at the front, and I'll bang the gongs and drums at the back to collect some loose change. Wouldn't that make more money than running your shop?" Every time, Chen Hui couldn't help marveling at Boss Song's skill of opening bottle caps with one hand. It wasn't that the action itself was all that difficult, but when someone good-looking performed such an ordinary action, it became extraordinarily good-looking. What a waste, though. Chen Hui glanced around. A bunch of grown men and brats—what was the use of looking this good? Did he expect them to make starry eyes at Boss Song? If so, he might as well stay single for another twenty-one years. "Loose change?" Song Feng looked at Chen Hui, whose mouth never seemed to stop, feeling a strong urge to shove another can of cola into it. "We young people prefer mobile transfers." "Well, then, can you young people figure out a way to attract some girls and expand our business scope?" Come to think of it, he was actually two months younger than Boss Song. Chen Hui pulled a chair over from the side, having no mood to play games. Just looking at this group of heavily testosterone-laden guys gave him a headache. Speaking of girls... Song Feng cast a glance down past the window, his gaze landing on the tattoo parlor at the corner of Liu Alley, only to pull it back a few seconds later and reopen his handheld console. In the ten days since he had been back, he hadn't seen her come over. Business or no business, Song Feng didn't care. As long as he didn't starve, it was fine: "If you want it, set it up yourself." "Cough, cough... cough..." Chen Hui took a choke on his mouthful of cola. Do it himself? "What do you mean *I* set it up? Your shop has only been open for half a year, and I've looked after it for two months! The day I usurp the throne, you're going to my family's restaurant to wash dishes, and at the end of the year, I'll award you the title of West Street's Prettiest Waiter!" Chen Hui thought about it and chuckled. "Not to mention, business might actually improve. Just based on this face of yours, everyone from junior high school girls to my own mom is utterly infatuated with you." Song Feng picked up his handheld console again, leaning back lazily into his chair with a casual air radiating from head to toe: "Your grandma could be, too." "..." Chen Hui, who had been chattering endlessly, suddenly stopped. "A face really is a great asset." "Take a break. The weather is dry, it's easy to catch fire." The window was open, but the smell of cigarette smoke drifted over from time to time. Song Feng suddenly felt a little empty in his mouth. He licked his lips to suppress the restless urge in his heart, opened a drawer, and took out a lollipop. Faced with this out-of-the-blue remark, Chen Hui's brain couldn't process it for a moment: "Someone's playing with fire? Where?" Song Feng couldn't help but suddenly laugh, a soft hum escaping from his nose: "Your mouth, *mouth*, take a break." Judging by Chen Hui's jaw-flapping frequency, he was quite curious whether his mouth would get thinner day by day; Song Feng actually wanted to fetch a ruler and measure it. Only then did Chen Hui realize he was being disliked again. He curled his lips indifferently, took out his phone, and leaned back against the chair, resting his legs quite naturally on the edge of Boss Song's counter. This arrogant posture looked precisely like a second-in-command borrowing the prestige of the chief bandit to put on a deeply profound act inside a bandit den. Precisely like it. Chen Hui was wearing a printed T-shirt and shorts, looking like a rather capable young man. Although he acted like a hoodlum at times, he was very easygoing in nature. For instance, whenever he and Song Feng walked side by side, girls would always strike up a conversation with him first... Well, to ask him for Song Feng's phone number. After all, cool guys really could look very cool sometimes. It was just this mouth of his... "Brother Feng, want to go sing K tonight? A new shop just opened on West Street and they're running a promotion—sing for an hour, get an hour free, with free popcorn." Chen Hui looked up from his screen. Hearing this, Song Feng pressed the stopwatch on his phone: "Four minutes and thirty-two seconds. Not bad, improving." "..." Chen Hui was stunned for a moment, then quickly put his legs down. "Damn it, you have nothing better to do all day—" Halfway through his sentence, Chen Hui paused. He didn't know what he thought of, but his expression suddenly turned somewhat unnatural. Actually, for someone as thick-skinned and carefree as him to wear such an expression was quite bizarre. Song Feng's gaze remained fixed on the console without even lifting an eyelid as Mario smoothly crawled down a chimney and entered the next level. Giving him a sideways glance, Chen Hui changed the subject: "You were running wild outside for two months, and we haven't gone out together since you got back. I'll call Gouzi and the others to join us tonight." Chen Hui was a man of action; as soon as he finished speaking, he started summoning people on WeChat. Meanwhile, Mario got hit by a turtle and shrank, only to accidentally jump down a suspended ladder right after... Game Over. Song Feng set down the handheld console in sheer boredom, stretched, and listened as Chen Hui mapped out his evening for him. He didn't have any strong opinions about such matters; it was all the same wherever he went, and it made no difference what they did. Anyway... he had plenty of time to kill.Only a tiny bit of the lollipop remained, leaving a sweet and cloying taste in his mouth. Staring blankly at the dead monitor in front of him, Song Feng glanced casually out the window, his gaze sweeping past the tattoo parlor on the corner of the street... He suddenly froze. Then, his eyebrows knitted together by an imperceptible degree, and Song Feng's face displayed what was practically the only emotional fluctuation he had shown in the past few days. Extremely annoyed. "Brother Feng, what are we eating tonight? How about we just go to my family's restaurant? I'll grab Gouzi and we can head over together. My mom happened to stew some pork ribs at noon, how's that?" Chen Hui opened his food delivery app to browse his restaurant's menu, but after a long time, he heard no response from Boss Song. "Ribs are good..." Just as he was about to ask again, Chen Hui looked up and noticed Song Feng's expression. He paused, got up from his chair, and followed his gaze out the window. "What's wrong?" "When," Song Feng's gaze landed on the man and woman under the old willow tree, "did they get together?" "That time Yu Zhiyi came to get a tattoo. Tsk, I never expected a good student to get a tattoo." "You talk about how many girls liked Yu Zhiyi in high school, yet he never showed interest in anyone. Turns out this is his type, but they clearly don't match at all..." Having looked after the shop for Song Feng for the past two months, he had already seen this many times, so the initial shock had worn off. Furthermore, harboring the consideration not to disturb Boss Song's mood for sightseeing, he had sensibly refrained from mentioning Yu Zhiyi in front of him. Chen Hui sat back down in his chair, talking to himself as he looked at the menu, casting a covert glance at Boss Song without noticing anything amiss. Song Feng's legs were casually crossed, his gaze still fixed outside the window, watching the man and woman expressionlessly. In his ears was the sound of a gaming addict cursing away, when suddenly a whiff of cigarette smoke drifted to his nose. As if snapping out of a trance, Song Feng lowered his eyelids, his Adam's apple moving slightly. After two seconds, he pulled open the drawer and took out a cigarette and a lighter. His one hundred and seventy-third attempt to quit smoking had failed. Nicotine and carbon monoxide really seemed capable of numbing the nerves; after not touching them for so long, smoking again felt a little floaty. Song Feng hadn't smoked for over two months. In those two months away, he hadn't touched a single one. Smoke curled upward, and he cast his gaze back toward the old willow tree. Shu Dong had her back to him, so her expression was unclear... Oh, why did he know her name? The corner of Song Feng's mouth twitched, and the black stud in his right ear flashed in the sunlight. Because every time she came to use the internet, when she turned on the computer and swiped her ID card, he would always take a glance. Taking it from her hand. Placing it on the card reader. Going through the motions of facial recognition. Then returning it to her. To Song Feng, Shu Dong was someone he occasionally looked toward out the window, someone leaning against the old willow tree smoking, someone he occasionally looked up to see playing games in the corner of his shop. Nothing special. But Yu Zhiyi was different. He was someone... he had once wanted to tear to pieces. The ruthlessness that flashed across his face seemed never to have existed, replaced in the blink of an eye by a nonchalant smile. Chen Hui looked up and saw Boss Song's look of listless boredom, as well as the cigarette in his hand that had burned down to the very end, making him look exceptionally languid and unenergetic. "Why are you smoking again!" Chen Hui wanted to snatch the cigarette from his hand, but it didn't seem necessary anymore. Then, remembering something, he glanced out the window, and stared at Song Feng in astonishment. "What are you up to this time!" If you listened closely to Chen Hui's words, you would find that while on the surface it sounded like a strict exhortation from a friend, his barely concealable excitement was almost bursting out. Before Song Feng could speak, Chen Hui's phone rang. "The withered, wingless butterfly that never found its flower will never see it fade..." "Hello, Mom... Okay... Okay, I'm heading back now." An extremely brief phone call, shorter than the ringtone itself. "I'm heading out first. My mom wants me back to help her tally accounts. Don't forget we're eating together tonight." Chen Hui grabbed his electric scooter keys and stood up from the chair. Tallying accounts? Song Feng thought he had heard wrong, and he turned his head to look at Chen Hui. "Is this the same tallying accounts I'm familiar with?" After all, back in their school days, he had heard Aunt Wu say those two words to Chen Hui more than enough times. Chen Hui had already reached the doorway, but upon hearing Boss Song's high-level sarcasm, he turned back. "Who do you think you're looking down on? Tallying money, understand? In the future, this young master is going to inherit the family fortune, and by then you can be my little secretary—" Song Feng rubbed his ear, stood up, walked to the door, and opened it. "Get going." Chen Hui suddenly felt a bit at a loss. He paused for two seconds, then walked off in a daze. . Returning to the counter by the window, Song Feng cast an inadvertent glance outside; the old willow tree was already deserted. In the early July afternoon, around five or six o'clock, the heat had subsided a bit, and the sun hung lazily at the edge of the sky. Song Feng collapsed back into his chair, zoning out. Half an hour later, he shifted his posture, only for his lower back to twinge sharply. Frowning, he got up from the chair; lying around like this all day, he was starting to feel less agile than the old men on the street. Waft after waft of cigarette smoke drifted over. Without opening the drawer again, Song Feng grabbed his handheld game console and went downstairs. It being Wednesday, there weren't very many customers, and the few sitting around were chain-smoking. If it were the weekend with a crowd, Song Feng wouldn't have been so indulgent. He didn't go far, just sat on the curb downstairs to play games. The building opposite happened to block the sun, casting a patch of cool shade. Successfully jumping over the piranha fish, kicking away the turtle, dodging the bugs, hopping onto the floating ladder... Finally, he still fell off the cliff. Unbothered, Song Feng put the game console down beside him, looked at the alley where no one had passed by for a long time, and took out a tissue to wipe off some dust that had somehow smudged onto his shoe. Boss Song was a man of propriety. In the blistering heat of summer, on his own turf, he still dressed meticulously in a black T-shirt, black trousers, and black sneakers. Slender, upright, and full of vigor. He picked up the game console once more. . After the customers left, Shu Dong packed up her things, took her cigarettes to the old willow tree outside the door, leaned against the wall, and lit a cigarette. A black slip top suited summer well, and a pair of faded jeans suited summer just as well. Her long, center-parted black hair hung down her back, and stray strands on either side were tucked behind her ears, revealing a very clean face. Clamping the cigarette between her fingers, wisps of smoke curling around her, Shu Dong gazed at the tattoo parlor before her. From the age of fifteen until now, she had spent four years here. Shu Dong lowered her head, looking expressionlessly at the slowly burning cigarette. Her peripheral vision suddenly caught the person sitting on the curb. She gave a faint glance, recognizing who it was. But just as she was about to look away, he suddenly looked over... The two of them locked eyes. As if nothing had happened, Shu Dong calmly turned her head away. Only, that figure in her peripheral vision was drawing closer and closer. Song Feng put down the game console and walked slowly toward her, a faint, ambiguous smile actually lingering at the corners of his mouth. A distance of over ten meters; by the time Shu Dong came to her senses, he was already right in front of her. With only half a meter left, Song Feng took another step forward, leaving suddenly only a tiny gap between them. A uniquely male scent lingered in the air between them. Shu Dong frowned, leaning her whole body against the wall, and raised her head to look coldly at him. Unfazed, Song Feng smiled as he lowered his head, his playful gaze sweeping over her nose, her cheeks, her ears, lingering on her eyes for a moment before shifting to her lips... Then, he lifted her chin with his hand and kissed her. At the sensation of his lips, no matter how unshakeable Shu Dong was, her pupils still dilated uncontrollably. One second, two seconds, three seconds... The temperature of the cigarette butt between her fingers grew hotter and hotter, feeling as though it might burn her hand. After an unknown length of time, he finally pulled back. The initial shock in Shu Dong's eyes had also vanished, replaced by a calmness as if nothing had happened at all; she merely raised her head and gazed steadily at him. With the taste of tobacco lingering between their lips, impossible to tell whose it was, Song Feng smiled and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Feel good?" Shu Dong suddenly laughed. She took a puff of her cigarette, the wisps of winding smoke twisting and dissipating between the two of them. Shu Dong raised her hand and pressed the glowing red cigarette butt directly against the black T-shirt on his chest. A faint smell of burning hung in the air as the cigarette went out. "Feels great."