It was Lu Nanyang’s first time setting foot in the medical school’s territory.
His major was far from the med school. All he knew was that it was in a remote part of campus—but he hadn’t expected it to be this far.
Just finding their classroom building required climbing a steep hill. To find the dorms? Another steep hill.
Now Lu Nanyang finally understood why the school built another cafeteria in the north and genuinely admired Xie Quan for making such a long trek to the infirmary every week.
Classes hadn’t started yet, but he could already see med students hurrying around with books and umbrellas from a distance.
Standing below the teaching building, Lu Nanyang suddenly realized—he had no idea which class Xie Quan was in.
None of his messages had been answered. Calls went unanswered too.
Lu Nanyang frowned, then simply stepped forward to stop someone directly.
“Excuse me, do you know which class Xie Quan is in?”
“Hey, do you know Xie Quan?”
Thankfully, Xie Quan was quite well-known—on the second try, someone pointed Lu Nanyang in the right direction, though they gave him a strange look as they walked away.
Lu Nanyang didn’t have time to care about that. He quickly thanked them and ran upstairs.
He had come in such a rush that he didn’t even bring an umbrella. Though the rain wasn’t heavy, it had been falling non-stop all morning, soaking him completely. His hair was dripping with tiny beads of water.
But Xie Quan wasn’t in the classroom—not even with one minute left before class.
Lu Nanyang also checked Professor Qi’s office and the dorm building, but unfortunately, he found nothing.
Once the class bell rang, the campus fell silent. Aside from birdsong and the occasional stray cat passing by, the only sound was the monotonous patter of rain on the buildings.
Lu Nanyang looked up. The sky was blanketed in thick, heavy clouds, and the rain fell like silver needles. There were no stars or sun, but for some reason, Lu Nanyang felt certain that Xie Quan was there.
Maybe it was the rain or something else, but the iron door to the library rooftop was even rustier than usual. Lu Nanyang pressed one shoulder against it, using his arm to force it open.
With a grating screech, the door finally gave way. The rooftop offered a wide, open view, and through the hazy rain, he really did see someone standing there.
Standing not far from the edge of the rooftop.
Lu Nanyang’s heart dropped. Without thinking, he rushed forward. “Xie Quan!”
Water splashed up in a line behind him as he ran across the puddle-filled rooftop. Just then, Xie Quan turned around, holding his phone out as if he was taking a photo.
Lu Nanyang skidded to a sudden stop halfway, his arm frozen in an awkward half-extended position as they looked at each other from a few steps apart.
“…Taking pictures?” Lu Nanyang cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Yeah.” Xie Quan gave a small, amused look. “Two seagulls just flew past.”
Lu Nanyang stepped closer and followed his gaze. Sure enough, two white birds were circling overhead, looping once before swooping past Xie Quan’s lens again.
“Seagulls, huh? Yeah, you can see them sometimes if you’re lucky,” Lu Nanyang said. “The school isn’t that far from the coast. Sometimes lost seagulls fly over.”
“This is my first time seeing them,” Xie Quan said. “I’ve never even been to the beach.”
“You’re a local and you’ve never been to the beach?” Lu Nanyang was shocked. “It’s only a 30-minute ride on the No. 9 bus.”
“Isn’t it normal for locals to never visit tourist spots?” Xie Quan lowered his phone. “No one took me when I was little, and once school started, I didn’t have time.”
“What about now?” Lu Nanyang asked.
“Now?” Xie Quan gave a soft laugh. “Now it just feels pointless.”
Rain fell silently on them. Lu Nanyang looked down at Xie Quan’s hand, wrapped in a soaked bandage. His slender fingers held the phone, now beaded with water. The droplets gathered and slid between his fingers, like silent tears.
Lu Nanyang rummaged in his pocket but couldn’t find any tissues. So he just took off his jacket, shook the rain from the outside, and used the inside as a towel. He threw it over Xie Quan’s head. “Don’t just stand here getting soaked. Come on, let’s head down.”
“What are you—”
“Come on, come on, let’s go down first…”
Xie Quan started to struggle, but Lu Nanyang pressed down on his shoulder, roughly wiping his hair and neck with the other hand. His skin was icy, like he’d been pulled from freezing water. Who knew how long this guy had been standing in the rain like an idiot?
But suddenly, Xie Quan resisted hard and shoved him back. “Lu Nanyang!”
The rooftop was slick with water. Lu Nanyang slipped and stumbled a step backward, nearly falling.
“If I wanted to die, I would’ve done it twenty years ago!” Xie Quan flung the jacket back at him. “You don’t have to act like you care whether I live or die!”
Lu Nanyang caught the jacket and stood upright, supporting himself on his knees. He looked at Xie Quan. “Fine, I don’t care. But could you do me a favor and care whether I live or die? I ran from our department to yours, and back again, without even grabbing an umbrella. I’m about to freeze to death.”
Xie Quan stared at him, breathing heavily. Lu Nanyang met his gaze quietly. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Finally, Xie Quan gave in first and headed toward the iron door.
The stairwell was much warmer than the rooftop. Though the floor was dusty, Xie Quan sat down without hesitation, probably thinking everything would need washing anyway.
Lu Nanyang draped his jacket over him again—this time, Xie Quan didn’t resist.
He was only wearing a short-sleeved shirt. The light fabric was soaked and clung to his chest, outlining the faint shape of his muscles. It was so cold that a pink nipple stood sharply out, hard to ignore. Lu Nanyang had to force himself to look at Xie Quan’s face instead.
His eyes were downcast, long lashes hiding those beautiful light-gray pupils. His glasses had slipped down his nose and were fogged over with condensation.
Lu Nanyang used his jacket to roughly dry Xie Quan’s hair. Xie Quan didn’t move at all, obedient like a worn-out cat.
Finally, Lu Nanyang covered him with the jacket, and reached into his own pocket. “Xie Quan, I think I need a smoke.”
“You really needed to report that to me?” Xie Quan said.
“You don’t like the smell of smoke, right?” Lu Nanyang took out a cigarette.
“So if I say don’t smoke, you won’t?” Xie Quan countered.
Lu Nanyang paused. “No.”
Xie Quan shot him a cold look. “Then what the hell are you asking for?”
Lu Nanyang laughed, biting down on the cigarette and lighting it. A light tobacco scent filled the air, and Xie Quan noticed it wasn’t strong—it even carried a faint, pleasant fragrance.
It smelled like lemons.
Very different from the smoky, suffocating smell he used to know from the old house.
“The situation isn’t as serious as those people on the forum think,” Xie Quan lowered his eyes, watching the smoke dissipate in front of him. “Even though there’s a record of medical supplies being purchased, it only proves that I bought these medications. It doesn’t prove that I took them myself.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I said it was a charity donation to an off-campus mental health institution,” Xie Quan said. “I’ve already had a friend send over fifteen bottles of the same medication with identical packaging. The paperwork, forms, and proof letters are all in place.”
Lu Nanyang stared at him, speechless. Xie Quan chuckled lightly, “Did you think I would take this risk without securing a way out first?”
Lu Nanyang wanted to say that normally, addicts don’t have the presence of mind to plan an escape route.
If someone could stay that rational, they usually wouldn’t fall into addiction in the first place. It’s the lack of reason that causes people to sink and fall.
But Xie Quan was different.
He was someone who stepped into darkness with his eyes wide open—falling with a terrifying clarity.
