Night had completely fallen.

  Without the usual stream of traffic and the glow of headlights or bright streetlamps, the restaurant was engulfed in darkness—so pitch black you could barely see your own fingers. Lin Xian and Xiao Wanqing sat face-to-face, not saying a word, the only sound being the soft slurping of noodles.

  “Ah—” Lin Xian suddenly let out a tiny yelp.

  Xiao Wanqing immediately stopped what she was doing, tense, turning her head toward Lin Xian. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. She couldn’t make out Lin Xian’s expression in the dark—only the vague shimmer of her jet-black eyes, slightly glossy with moisture.

  A few seconds later, Lin Xian burst into a quiet laugh.

  “I couldn’t see anything in the bowl,” she explained between giggles, licking her back molars where something had poked her. “So I just blindly slurped up a mouthful of soup. I think there was a piece of clam shell in there—it jabbed me a bit.”

  Xiao Wanqing set down her chopsticks, gently pushed back her chair, and was about to stand. “I told you we should find a candle first.”

  Earlier, she had suggested they light a candle before eating, but Lin Xian had clung to her, refusing to let go until she promised to eat while the food was still hot. The girl seemed to have a serious obsession with people eating their meals warm. Xiao Wanqing couldn’t win against her persistence, so she gave in.

  Now, once again, Lin Xian reached out in the darkness and grabbed Xiao Wanqing’s hand, giving it a playful tug to pull her back into her seat. Her voice was bright, eager, filled with mischief. “It’s fine! We’re almost done anyway. And honestly, isn’t it kind of fun? Every bite’s a surprise.”

  Xiao Wanqing gave her hand a soft squeeze, gently pinching the plush flesh of her palm. Her tone was both fond and helpless. “Aren’t you worried you’ll bite into something and chip a tooth?”

  Lin Xian opened her mouth and clicked her teeth together with a “clack clack,” proudly declaring, “No way! My teeth are strong as ever.” Then, she took another sip of soup.

  Xiao Wanqing was just about to tease her for tempting fate when—

  “Ah!” Lin Xian yelped again, this time sounding more pained than before.

  Xiao Wanqing froze, then leaned toward her in a rush, following the trail of their still-joined hands. She reached out with both arms, fumbling until her palms found Lin Xian’s cheeks and gently cupped her face.

  “What is it? Did you really hurt yourself?” Her voice was clearly panicked.

  But Lin Xian said nothing. She simply looked up at the woman in front of her—so close now, her beautiful face clearly visible even in the dark. She stared, unmoving.

  Xiao Wanqing, thinking Lin Xian might have chipped a tooth and was in too much pain to speak, grew even more anxious. She rubbed the girl’s cheeks in an attempt to soothe her, then withdrew her hands and stood abruptly. “Wait here. I’ll go get—”

  “No, no! Wait!” Lin Xian scrambled to catch her, her fingers grabbing the hem of Xiao Wanqing’s shirt just in time. “Aunt Xiao, I’m fine! I was joking!”

  Xiao Wanqing froze, one foot still half-lifted, stunned. She slowly turned around and stared into the darkness, toward the vague silhouette that was Lin Xian. Her brows furrowed slightly, her voice low, disbelieving: “You were… joking?”

  It was the first time Lin Xian had heard her speak in that low, quiet tone—so unfamiliar and heavy. Her stomach flipped with unease. She swallowed hard. Had she gone too far? Had she taken advantage of Aunt Xiao’s kindness and patience one time too many?

  Suddenly, the joke wasn’t funny anymore.

  Her eyes dropped, and her voice shrank to a whisper, thick with guilt. “I’m sorry, Aunt Xiao. I… I shouldn’t have joked like that. I didn’t mean to make you worry…”

  All day long, Xiao Wanqing had worried herself sick over her—through the storm, through Lin Xian’s discomfort, through every little unexpected situation. And now, instead of appreciating her, she’d gone and teased her at the worst possible moment. Immature didn’t even begin to cover it.

  When she first heard Lin Xian say she was teasing her, Xiao Wanqing indeed felt a bit of barely suppressible displeasure rush to her mind. There had really been too many things happening from yesterday to today. Lin Xian's physical discomfort had constantly kept her in a flustered state, both worried and guilty. These complex emotions that had been absent for so long suddenly returned to her, leaving her somewhat bewildered and flustered. The sleepless night and running around in the wind and rain had further exhausted her both physically and mentally.

  Now that everything had finally gotten back on track, Lin Xian was actually still startling her and teasing her, playing with her feelings…

  But then—

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  Hearing the girl’s small, faltering apology, all her frustration dissipated in a breath.

  She couldn’t see Lin Xian’s face clearly, but somehow she could picture it anyway—that usually bright and confident gaze now dulled with remorse, her clear eyes like a fawn’s, clouded with regret.

  Xiao Wanqing exhaled, forcing her frayed nerves to settle. She began to reflect. What had Lin Xian really done? Just play a small joke? Maybe she had overreacted. Maybe she was the one who scared the child.

  She sat back down beside Lin Xian and reached out to gently ruffle her hair. Her voice softened, and a faint smile crept back onto her lips.

  “It’s okay. I overreacted. As long as you’re not hurt, that’s what matters.” She gave the girl a teasing tap. “Little rascal, finish your noodles.”

  The phrase “little rascal” came out warm and light, her voice lifting playfully at the end—full of affection and indulgence.

  But somehow, hearing that made Lin Xian feel even worse.

  It was her fault, yet Aunt Xiao had turned it around and blamed herself.

  Was Aunt Xiao… someone who never got angry?

  Was she always like this—never lashing out, never blaming others?

  Lin Xian bit down softly on her chopsticks, listening to the gentle clink of bowl and utensil beside her, while her mind began to wander. She couldn’t help but ponder something deeper: If someone always held themselves to such high standards, always treated others with kindness and leniency—didn’t that just mean… they’d have to endure more pain on their own?

  Still not hearing Lin Xian eat, Xiao Wanqing nudged her with a whisper, “What are you thinking about? Your noodles are getting cold…”

  Snapped out of her thoughts, Lin Xian blinked and smiled, brushing it off with a soft laugh. “I was just thinking about how nice you are, Aunt Xiao.”

  Everyone likes to be praised, and Xiao Wanqing was no exception. Her lips curled upward involuntarily, and she gave the girl a playful glare. “You smooth talker. Eat your noodles.”

  Her voice was even gentler than before.

  After dinner, Xiao Wanqing began fumbling around in the dark, overturning drawers and cabinets in search of a candle. It should’ve been a quick task, but after going through every corner of the house, she found only one thing—a stub of an old scented candle.

  That was it.

  She held it up in the dark. If she remembered right, this was part of a gift set Wen Tong had given her years ago…

  Lin Xian held the half-burned candle in her hand, her fingers brushing its rough surface. She couldn’t help but smile a little at the memory of Xiao Wanqing quietly handing her the candle just now, her voice soft and a little embarrassed as she’d murmured, “This is the only candle left.”

  If Mom were here, she’d definitely scold Aunt Xiao for this. Living like this…

  But Lin Xian wasn’t Zhou Qin. She thought she was being quite understanding, really. Tilting her head slightly, she offered a bit of comfort, “It’s okay. As long as there’s some light to see things roughly, it’s good enough.” Then, as if something had just occurred to her, she followed up with, “Do we have a lighter or matches at home?” After how hard it had been to find the candle, she couldn’t help but wonder if the other essentials were missing too.

  Oh well, worst case, they could just use the stove to light it.

  This time, however, Xiao Wanqing replied quickly, her voice steady and lifted with confidence. “Yes, we do.” As she spoke, she bent down gracefully and reached into the TV cabinet drawer with practiced ease, fishing out a small object. A crisp click echoed in the room, and a tiny flame suddenly glowed between them, reflected in their dark, ink-like eyes. The flicker was small, steady, warm.

  Under that gentle, flickering light, Xiao Wanqing’s smiling face looked even more soft and delicate. Lin Xian found herself, inexplicably, a little entranced again.

  Xiao Wanqing, however, seemed entirely unaware. She reached out and took the candle from Lin Xian’s hand, tilting it slightly and bringing the wick to the flame. In no time, the candle was lit. With one hand delicately holding it, her slender fingers curved around the base, she snapped the lighter shut with a decisive click.

  Only now, in the candlelight, did Lin Xian notice that the lighter wasn’t just any old plastic one. It was a sleek, silvery-gray piece that glimmered with a cool metallic sheen, engraved with some kind of design. It didn’t look like a disposable household item—it looked almost… personal.

  Xiao Wanqing turned around naturally, tossed the lighter back into the drawer, and closed it with the same effortless motion, fluid and practiced, like she’d done it a thousand times before.

  A thought suddenly stirred in Lin Xian’s mind. She bit her lip gently, her eyes darkening with the weight of a quiet suspicion.

  The candle now sat on the glass coffee table in the living room, releasing a faint scent of lavender. Lin Xian and Xiao Wanqing sat cross-legged on the blanket they’d laid out in front of the table, facing each other.

  Leaning her elbows on the table, Lin Xian cupped her cheeks in her hands, looking quite bored. Her clear, bright eyes blinked lazily before she asked, half-testing the waters, “Aunt Xiao, is there anything we can play together? Like Chinese chess, military chess… stuff like that?” Honestly, she wasn’t expecting much. After the whole candle-and-medicine incident, Lin Xian had a pretty decent idea of how Xiao Wanqing had been living.

  She lived alone, and aside from her refined eating habits, it seemed like she didn’t really pay much attention to herself.

  Maybe even the good meals were only because Lin Xian had come to stay.

  To her surprise—just like with the lighter—Xiao Wanqing once again caught her off guard.

  As soon as she heard the question, a smile lit up her eyes, and there was even a faint trace of… pride?

  Without hesitation, Xiao Wanqing stood up and walked toward the TV cabinet. “We do. We have Chinese chess, military chess, Go, Ludo, checkers, even playing cards and Monopoly. What would you like to play?”

  “Wow!” Lin Xian exclaimed, genuinely surprised. “I’m good with anything.” Then, unable to hold back her curiosity, she added, “That’s a pretty complete collection… Do you often play with friends at home?”

  She had assumed, with Xiao Wanqing’s quiet and gentle personality, that she probably didn’t invite people over very often.

  Xiao Wanqing carried the stack of games to the coffee table, brushing back a loose strand of hair from her forehead as she smiled and explained, “No. I actually got all of these after I heard you were coming. I thought… maybe we’d have a chance to play together.”

  The joy in Lin Xian’s voice was impossible to hide. She beamed as she teased, “Sounds like you were really looking forward to me coming, Aunt Xiao.”

  Xiao Wanqing opened the Chinese chess box and unfolded the board. At Lin Xian’s teasing, she paused, her gentle eyes settling on the girl across from her. She gazed at her for a moment, then lowered her eyes and smiled softly.

  “Yes, Lin Xian,” she said with quiet sincerity. “I was really looking forward to your arrival.”

  Her voice was calm and honest. But beneath those lowered lashes, there flickered a brief, barely noticeable sadness and loneliness.