“Clatter!”

The path was pitch-black, and the surface of the earthen wall was exceptionally rough. Shi Linchuan pinned Xie Jinghe there, tearing and kissing him. In the process, he inadvertently kicked over an inconspicuous potted plant at the corner of the wall; the terracotta pot collided with a stone, releasing a crisp crack.

It was like a musical rest.

Shi Linchuan immediately backed away. His lips were moist and stinging, the cold wind stealing their warmth as it swept across the surface. By his ears was the sound of Xie Jinghe gasping for breath, which magically synchronized with his own uncontrolled heartbeat, completely impossible to suppress.

Thus, Shi Linchuan silently muttered a magic spell under his breath.

Over and over again.

The millions of times over the span of three years.

Xie Jinghe leaned against the wall. Shi Linchuan lowered his head to rest it on Xie Jinghe’s shoulder, feeling the other party tilt his head to press face-to-face against him. That warm breath brushed against his slightly cool earlobe like a returning warm breeze, gently caressing the cold desolation of the winter night.

The wind shook the world, blowing away the magic within the spell. And Shi Linchuan was utterly helpless.

After a long time, he finally returned to tranquility. He then silently straightened his upper body and strode toward that faintly glowing building not far away. The person who had been kissed so fiercely that he could barely catch his breath was also very quiet, merely reaching out to grab the hem of Shi Linchuan’s cotton jacket after taking less than two steps—as though terrified of losing his way on this tiny path.

Shoes rubbed against the mud ground, emitting a dull, rustling shuff-shuff noise.

The moon was overhead; the light was out front. Xie Jinghe stepped along, following the man’s shadow step-by-step. Shi Linchuan stuffed both hands into his pockets, walking at a leisurely pace, seemingly unfazed by the tugging force coming from behind him—as if he had been born with a bothersome little tail that couldn’t be hacked off even with a knife.

He already… didn’t know what to do anymore. No matter what he did, Xie Jinghe simply refused to stop.

Beneath the eaves of the courtyard gate, a single lightbulb expertly assumed the responsibility of a guiding star, welcoming the two temporary residents through the door. The dim yellow illumination swept across their countenances, casting a moist, glistening shine on their red and swollen lips.

Xie Jinghe looked somewhat disheveled at this moment.

Having been shoved against the earthen wall by the man earlier, his entire back was covered in dust. Particularly around his shoulder blades, his black sweater bore two glaring gray patches, and his trouser cuffs and shoe vamps were also smeared with soil particles from the terracotta pot.

Upstairs, inside the bedroom.

Shi Linchuan turned around to cast a sweeping glance, saying with distaste: “Filthy to death.”

Xie Jinghe followed the man’s line of sight, lowering his head to glance at his own white sneakers. His chin was tucked against the edge of his high-collar sweater, making his face look very small and his voice equally small.

“Clearly it was you who pushed me, and it was also you who kicked over the soil.” Yet he still called him filthy.

Shi Linchuan considered it a win as long as he didn’t proactively provoke the person into crying. How could he possibly reason with him? He instantly let out an unfeeling “Oh,” and expertly turned the tables by counter-accusing: “Then why didn’t you push me away? Didn’t grow hands?”

He had grown them. At that time, they were wrapped tightly around his waist.

Xie Jinghe stared at the man, suddenly stating: “You are truly immature.”

After speaking, he turned around to lay flat his suitcase, rummaging through it to pull out a set of fresh clothes before heading into the bathroom with his head down—not forgetting to place his dust-stained shoes outside the door.

The bathroom was narrow and compact. The mirror was nailed to the wall, its lower edge bearing a horizontal crack.

Xie Jinghe shed his top shirt, discovering that the marks on the neck of the person in the mirror had already faded significantly; perhaps they would disappear entirely after a night’s sleep. Subsequently, he couldn’t resist raising his hand to rub his lips twice. Closing his eyes, he seemed to still be able to feel the man’s violent, tempestuous kiss.

Just thinking about it made him feel somewhat hot. Xie Jinghe complained in a small voice, his words drowned out by the sound of splashing water.

“Why push away… it was so comfortable.” As long as it was given by Shi Linchuan, he felt comfortable with it.

Outside the room.

Out of his clean living habits, Shi Linchuan casually swept the floor. While putting away the broom and dustpan, his peripheral vision caught Xie Jinghe’s shoes; they were so dirty that they were truly a bit eyesore. So he tidied them up in passing, before finally standing on the corridor to light a cigarette.

The concrete-poured railing was somewhat low, and since he was tall, he had no choice but to arch his back, resting his two elbows on the cold, hard railing surface. He lowered his eyes to look at the flame of the cigarette butt clamped between his lips, the faint sound of water echoing behind him.

His tongue pained slightly. Xie Jinghe’s teeth were actually quite sharp; it was truly hard to tell who had forcefully kissed whom.

Thinking thus, Shi Linchuan unaccountably had an illusion that the meat inside his bowl had jumped up to smack him across the mouth. He let out a highly displeased tsk, then took a long, deep drag, copying the way a certain someone blew smoke rings—pop, pop, pop—blowing out a few tiny smoke rings. However, before they could even form, they were scattered by the night wind.

After a span of two cigarettes, Xie Jinghe emerged from the bathroom.

Through the window, Shi Linchuan saw him wearing a set of thickened, fleece-lined ink-blue pajamas, with a black-and-white striped windbreaker jacket bundled over the outside. The zipper was pulled from top to bottom, the collar turned high up to conceal his neck, yet unable to conceal his wrists. Making a high-reaching hand gesture would highly likely expose the secret.

Consequently, he was currently holding the hair dryer inside the room, remaining motionless for a long time.

Shi Linchuan paced into the room. Upon drawing close, he inevitably sniffed the scent on Xie Jinghe’s body. That was the scent of the bath product the other party had brought from home—a shallow coconut fragrance blended with a milky note.

A bit sweet.

Shi Linchuan stood in front of Xie Jinghe. With one hand, he switched off the audio recording equipment, while his other hand snatched the hair dryer away from the other party, simultaneously asking in a neither-hot-nor-cold tone:

“Do you want me to help you blow-dry it?”

While speaking, his finger had already pressed the switch.

The two of them were a distance away from the fixed camera installed in the corner of the bedroom, and the whirring sound of the hair dryer served a concealing purpose. Shi Linchuan raised his hand to aim the air outlet dead at Xie Jinghe’s face, asking: “Does it still hurt?”

Xie Jinghe was blown so hard that he snapped his eyes shut, failing to hear clearly, throwing back a question: “What?”

Shi Linchuan had no choice but to press close to this person’s ear, stating a sentence with even greater directness. This caused Xie Jinghe’s cheeks to instantly flush a violent crimson; he immediately raised his hand to plug his mouth, a sliver of bashfulness surfacing within his eyes.

“We’re recording a reality show, what are you doing?” His hand also bore the residual fragrance of the shower gel.

Shi Linchuan lifted his upper eyelids, discovering that his expression actually looked somewhat pure—resembling the period when the two had just started dating, when even shedding clothes required being covered by a quilt to conceal a torso brimming with desire.

Hmph, looks down on people who pretend to be pure.

Shi Linchuan blow-dried his hair with a cold face, blowing Xie Jinghe’s features into a crumpled mass. He couldn’t resist murmuring softly, his tone arching upward: “If I end up prematurely bald, it will be entirely your responsibility, you know?”

The moment the words fell, the man held the hair dryer to blast his face, resembling an emotionless killer.

“Cut down on acting spoiled with me.”

Xie Jinghe opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, then hesitated but opened his mouth again. He had simply spoken a normal sentence; what kind of acting spoiled did that count as? He was truly wronged deeper than Dou E.

By the time Shi Linchuan emerged from the bathroom, it was already getting late. It was fast approaching 10:00 PM, and the live stream was nearing its conclusion.

The staff members of the program team came over at this exact moment, announcing the final segment of today’s live stream to the two of them. In the hands of another person lay the task cards, along with the other props required for use.

Shi Linchuan took the card from the youth’s hands. According to the requirements of the program team, he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Xie Jinghe, reading aloud the small print stamped on the inner page in front of the camera in unison:

“We request the guests to conduct self-reflection on today’s experience, and after serious consideration, make a choice of ‘whether you desire a divorce’. Those with an intention to divorce press the red light; those with no intention to divorce press the green light.”

This would serve as the ending frame of the day’s live stream.

Nearing 10:00 PM in the evening, it was precisely the peak period for the live stream’s traffic.

In the eyes of the audience, the video was exactly like the teaser trailer—the frame split down the middle into three equal portions by vertical lines, successively displaying the marital choices of the three groups of guests.

When the screen cut to a certain group, one could see the man bundled in the windbreaker sitting on a chair, lowering his head in silence, his disheveled hair strands obscuring the whorl of his hair. The man beside him stood with one hand stuffed in his pocket, suddenly bending his waist to thrust his head beneath his face, uttering a line in a flat tone:

“Crying?”