Just before the rain poured down in earnest, Ji Xun pulled Huo Ranyin into the residential complex where he lived.
A thunderclap rumbled, and the rain followed closely at their heels, slanting down in a flurry, only to be blocked by the wrought-iron flower gate of the stairwell. The sensor light in the stairwell flickered on—a warm, orange glow—making the scene appear peaceful and serene amidst the sudden, heavy drumming of the downpour.
“Good timing,” Ji Xun said, glancing back at the outside world. The dim sky was suffused with dense mist brought on by the heavy rain, drifting at eye level. He let out a breath, “We didn’t get soaked.”
Actually, there had been no need to rush like this. He could have just gone home to sleep and packed his things to move over tomorrow. Coming directly like this meant he hadn’t brought anything other than a single suitcase.
Huo Ranyin thought this to himself, but since they were already at the foot of Ji Xun’s building, the words remained pressed against his tongue, unsaid. He only thought: Never mind, everything I need is in the suitcase anyway.
He followed Ji Xun upstairs. While waiting for Ji Xun to fish out his keys and open the door, he saw Ji Xun press against the door and turn back to shoot him a mysterious smile. This smile caught Huo Ranyin’s attention, but Ji Xun didn’t give him any time to ponder the riddle. The next moment, he pushed the door open, revealing what was behind it to Huo Ranyin.
Things.
All sorts of brand-new things.
Slippers, pajamas, bathrobes, two bottles of red wine sitting in a wooden crate, some corkscrews and decanters… and hair gel and body wash for the bathroom, plus brand-new silk bedsheets—one set in greyish-purple, another in teal.
“…When did you buy these?” Huo Ranyin asked.
“When I was hospitalized in Qin City. Actually, there wasn’t a specific time; whenever I thought of something, I’d buy it.” Ji Xun casually picked up a bottle of red wine, shaking it in his hand. “I saw you drinking wine from this winery at your place. But since you already have plenty at home, I didn’t buy too much. The main concern is that there’s no wine cabinet or bar counter here. I’ll take a look on Taobao later. Once we have everything set up, or perhaps after a bit of redecorating, it will be complete.”
“Alright, change your shoes first. I’ll pour the wine so it can breathe, then I’ll go run a bath. After we shower, we’ll have a drink and head to bed…” Ji Xun fished a corkscrew out of the pile, pulled the wooden stopper, poured half a glass into two long-stemmed wine glasses, and then plugged the bottle with a white sculpted cat-head wine stopper before placing it on the dining table.
Then, he went into the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of running water began, engaging in a rhythmic dialogue with the intermittent crashing of the storm outside.
Amidst this background noise, Ji Xun’s voice called out:
“Do you want to shower first?”
“You shower first,” Huo Ranyin replied, though his voice was soft, as if talking to himself, “I’ll tidy up.”
The person inside clearly didn’t hear him, and a moment later, called out loudly again:
“Huo Ranyin, the water’s ready. You go in and shower?”
“No.” This time, Huo Ranyin raised his voice, “You wash first. I’m going to organize my things and tidy up the place.”
Ji Xun’s voice stopped.
Huo Ranyin sat down cross-legged in the entryway, looking around.
His own things.
His own home.
He picked up the slippers. They were new—four pairs, all made of linen in teal and blue, some simple, some cute.
The simple ones went without saying—solid colors, focused on comfort and simplicity.
As for the cute ones, they were worth describing: the insteps of these two pairs were adorned with round, white, fluffy duck bottoms and two yellow duck feet. The feet weren’t stitched tight, so they bobbed up and down as Huo Ranyin handled the slippers, pitter-patter, as if paddling through thin air.
Why buy so many pairs of slippers?
Looking at the four pairs lined up in front of him, the thought naturally arose in Huo Ranyin’s mind.
But soon… well, very soon—actually, the very moment he saw the four pairs of slippers, Huo Ranyin instinctively understood: Ji Xun was catering to his aesthetic.
Huo Ranyin first picked up the simple blue slippers, intending to put them on, but hesitated and set them back down.
He wouldn’t have minded wearing the simple ones while Ji Xun wore the cute ones—that would have been a pleasant sight in its own right—but he doubted Ji Xun would give him the chance.
He figured that whatever style of slippers he chose, Ji Xun would inevitably choose the matching pair in the same style.
Huo Ranyin wiggled his fingers and finally settled on the cute ones.
He took off his shoes, slid into the duck slippers, and tried taking a few steps.
He thought he would never get used to such an overly cute style, but in truth, his attention didn’t linger on the slippers for long. Once he had them on, he stood up and walked around the room.
The red wine on the table was still busy mingling with the air, releasing hints of a semi-intoxicated buzz.
Huo Ranyin looked around. The living room lacked a wine cabinet but had a diamond-shaped lattice meant for storage. Ji Xun didn’t really use these slots, just placing some ornaments on top.
Huo Ranyin placed the wine bottle horizontally into one of the diamond slots, taking special care to adjust the bottle so the cat head faced upward.
Then, he walked past the brown leather sofa. The color was more like that of yellow cowhide, a rather lively hue.
He had slept on this sofa before. It was firm yet soft—a nice spot for lounging, playing games, or watching movies during occasional spare moments.
—Huo Ranyin had realized this during his last visit.
Under Ji Xun’s television wall sat a PS gaming console, though it was clear the owner rarely used it; even though the console was black and masked dirt well, a thick layer of dust still covered it.
Huo Ranyin grabbed a couple of tissues and wiped the dust away.
Once wiped clean, the room, which had previously felt like it was shrouded in a slight mist, suddenly became much more familiar.
Clutching a box of tissues, Huo Ranyin wandered through the living room and into the kitchen.
Ji Xun’s kitchen was immaculate, not a speck of oil or grime—typical of a home where the stove is rarely used. He stood there, opened the spice rack for a look, and glanced over the countertops and cabinets, pondering where to put the knives later so that Ji Xun wouldn’t accidentally open a drawer and find them.
Then, his gaze caught an apron.
A pink piglet apron.
The one Yuan Yue had worn.
Huo Ranyin took the apron down, rolled it up, and calmly tossed it into the trash can.
My home.
Must have my apron.
He walked out of the kitchen and onto the balcony, looking out, but the rain was torrential and his view was obstructed. Huo Ranyin made a mental note to check the overall layout of the complex and the neighbors tomorrow morning.
He walked off the balcony and into the bedroom.
Along the way, he was still clutching the box of tissues, then switched to a box of wet wipes.
Ji Xun’s place was cleaned by a housekeeper and looked tidy on the surface, but there was still dust and debris in the corners. It wasn’t the housekeeper’s fault; one only notices these things in their own home.
He didn’t go to Ji Xun’s master bedroom first, but to the study.
Recalling how it looked from his previous visits, he sat in Ji Xun’s computer chair.
It was an ergonomic chair.
At first, he hadn’t been used to it, but the longer he sat, the more he grew accustomed to it, and he found it light and effortless—the kind of chair that made you never want to move again.
…Much like its owner.
Back in Qin City, they had briefly discussed the study’s designation.
This would become his workspace. Aside from holding important police files, it would also be where he would organize his thoughts and perform analysis…
Huo Ranyin pressed his toes against the floor, spinning the chair half a turn. He shifted from facing the computer to facing away from it—toward the entire bookcase and the mobile whiteboard hidden behind the curtains.
The front of the white board was covered in writing, scattered and sparse; Huo Ranyin saw the name “Xing Yishan,” likely a brief outline written by Ji Xun.
Huo Ranyin didn’t want to spoil the plot for himself, so he didn’t examine the text on the board closely. However, as he went to push the board back into the curtains, it shifted, leaving a gap between the board and the frame.
That was when Huo Ranyin realized the board could rotate.
He held the board, tipped the edge with his fingertip, and the board spun around, revealing its reverse side.
The back of the whiteboard was a blackboard.
It was also covered in writing—white chalk on a black surface.
Mo Nai, Gao Shuang, Wei Zhenzhu, Duan Hongwen, Zhuo Cangying… The names went on and on, all victims and suspects from cases they had worked on.
Does this study really need to be changed?
The question popped into Huo Ranyin’s mind, unbidden.
Perhaps…
He poked the edge of the board, spinning it back to hide the whiteboard, hiding the blackboard, hiding a little bit of Ji Xun’s duplicity.
Everything that should be here, was here.
Perhaps all he needed was another desk, another chair, like in their office—desks placed back-to-back, where he and Ji Xun could face opposite directions and work.
He walked out of the study and into the bedroom.
The bed was two meters wide. Despite his struggles with sleep, Ji Xun actually had decent sleeping habits, consistently staying on his own side—the side closest to the bedroom door—every night.
Huo Ranyin hadn’t intended to sit down.
He had been out all day, hadn’t showered, hadn’t changed, and was covered in dust; it didn’t seem worth it to sit now and then have to change the sheets later anyway.
But under the warm bedroom lighting, the slightly off-tone, pale green bedding seemed to possess a strangely nerve-soothing effect. He only stood there for a few minutes before being tempted to sit down.
Since he was already sitting, lying down seemed like the natural next step.
The moment he lay down, Huo Ranyin’s first thought was:
Ji Xun’s bedding is high quality.
It must be quite expensive.
Lying there, he felt like he was resting on clouds. The sense of vigilance, which had already been whittled down to almost nothing, now vanished like morning dew under the sun.
He closed his eyes.
The vibrations of the car wheels against the tracks during his journey seemed to have followed him home. The “cloud bed” beneath him cradled him, piling up around his waist, back, arms, and legs. Relaxation and exhaustion, joined by the rhythm of his breathing, ebbed and flowed like a tide…
Until a warm presence embraced him from the side.
Huo Ranyin felt that he should summon his vigilance.
But the vigilance that was usually ingrained in his body felt as if it had been drugged—sprawled out in his mind, fast asleep, dragging his spirit down with it, making it impossible to keep his eyes open.
“Tired?” Ji Xun’s voice came.
“…” Huo Ranyin listened to his own voice, hazy and muffled, as if separated by frosted glass. Perhaps he hadn’t made a sound at all, just lazily vibrated his vocal cords, giving Ji Xun a meaningless syllable.
“Why are you sleeping just like that? Won’t your back hurt?” Ji Xun’s voice came again.
How strange.
He was clearly exhausted, yet the sound of Ji Xun’s voice could always pass clearly into his brain, deciphered without the slightest effort.
Huo Ranyin felt himself shake his head, but he was already being held by Ji Xun.
With just one hand, Ji Xun deftly helped him roll over, and his outer jacket was removed… As the last bit of restraint left his body, the sense of comfort grew, and his eyelids felt glued shut, impossible to open.
He could only feel something very light and soft brushing back and forth over the bandages on his back.
Was it Ji Xun’s fingers, or Ji Xun’s lips?
Outside, the thunder and rain roared.
On his back, the slanting wind and gentle rain.
The slanting wind and gentle rain coaxed one to sleep.
Huo Ranyin completely plunged into this comfortable embrace, forgetting everything else.
