Wen Ruqing’s internal clock had always been punctual. His body began moving before his mind fully woke up. After washing up, he still felt a little groggy, but he remembered there was coffee in the kitchen, so he shuffled over in his slippers to make a cup and wake himself up.
The rich aroma of coffee gradually filled the entire kitchen. Wen Ruqing poured himself a cup, then pulled out the bread Bai Xizhou had bought from the cupboard to make himself a simple breakfast.
With a piece of bread in his mouth and the coffee in his hand, he walked out of the kitchen—only to hear the sound of the door opening. Turning around, he saw Bai Xizhou at the entrance.
Bai Xizhou gave him a look, then walked over as if he owned the place—no trace of a guest’s formality. He casually grabbed the remaining bread and took the coffee right out of Wen Ruqing’s hand, replacing it with a bowl of sweet tofu pudding and a bag of soup dumplings.
“I brought you breakfast. The coffee is confiscated.”
The warmth of the coffee transferred through his hands, thawing his cold fingers.
“Don’t waste it. You drink it,” Wen Ruqing said calmly, taking his breakfast to the dining table.
The breakfast must’ve come from the little shop near the community entrance. Only that shop made vegetarian soup dumplings—and they were just as tasty as the meat-filled ones. Wen Ruqing ate a few, then opened the tofu pudding container. It was the sweet kind, just how he liked it. He took a sip—it was fragrant, not too sugary, and not overly rich.
“What’s wrong?” Bai Xizhou noticed his pause and asked gently, “Not good? Or do you just prefer savory ones?”
“No.” Wen Ruqing shook his head. “I just haven’t eaten this in a long time.”
The last time he had tofu pudding was back in elementary school. That was the only time he’d buy it for breakfast. Other than breakfast shops, there would also be street vendors selling tofu pudding in the afternoons—riding around on tricycles with a big tub of it, calling out through the alleyways. If he happened to be on break from school, his mother would always buy him a bowl.
“When I went to buy it, it had just finished cooking, so I got a bowl,” Bai Xizhou said, sitting down across from Wen Ruqing with the coffee.
Whether it was sweet or savory? That had just been a guess.
Wen Ruqing lowered his head and continued eating. Bai Xizhou watched him—his hair was a bit messy, with a few strands sticking up. He ate slowly.
Recently, because Bai Xizhou had been keeping an eye on him, Wen Ruqing’s eating and sleeping patterns had become much more regular. Although he hadn’t gained much weight, he looked noticeably healthier than when they first met.
Realizing he’d been staring too long, Bai Xizhou finally looked away and took a sip of coffee, pretending nothing had happened. The taste was exactly the same as it had been in Yunduan Town.
After breakfast, Wen Ruqing went back to his room to change clothes. Bai Xizhou also took out the book he brought—still tightly wrapped. He hadn’t opened it once since coming back from Yunduan Town.
“You didn’t ask anyone else to help you?” Bai Xizhou asked, slicing open the packaging with an X-Acto knife. He had been the one to wrap it up himself—only to end up unwrapping it himself again.
“I don’t trust others. And when you start something, you should finish it.”
At the time, he had thought Wen Ruqing would be coming to Yunduan Town soon, and they’d meet again—then he could pass it back to him to finish restoring.
Since it had started with him, it should end with him too.
But Bai Xizhou didn’t say those thoughts out loud.
Once the binding threads were removed, he began separating the pages that had stuck together. Most of the damage was just from fire, so restoring this book wouldn’t be as complicated as working on ancient texts.
After separating the remaining sheets, Wen Ruqing went to the kitchen again. When he came back, he was holding a bowl of milky-white liquid.
“What’s that?” Bai Xizhou asked curiously, unfamiliar with the process.
“It’s starch water—we’ll need it in a bit,” Wen Ruqing explained casually, picking up the papers on the table and heading toward the study. But then he paused at the door and turned back to Bai Xizhou. “My workbench is in the study. Are you coming to watch, or heading home?”
Of course, Bai Xizhou chose to stay and watch. Even though he’d seen Wen Ruqing working across from him many times in Yunduan Town, he’d never really watched closely. He had nothing to do at home anyway, so he got up and followed Wen Ruqing into the study.
This room had originally been used by Bai Xizhou. Even after he moved, he left some books behind. After Wen Ruqing moved in, he shifted Bai’s books aside and filled the shelves with his own. The leftover space was packed with all sorts of paper.
Wen Ruqing sat down at the workbench, not paying attention to what Bai Xizhou was doing. After trimming away the charred edges, he tore new sheets the same size as the originals, dipped them in the starch water, and brushed them along the burned edges. Some of the damage was within the page itself, which required smaller patches—carefully applied along the edges. It didn’t look hard, but it required patience.
He was too focused. Whenever Wen Ruqing got into work mode, the rest of the world faded out. He didn’t even notice when Bai Xizhou brought a chair over to sit beside him, or when he started filming the whole thing on his phone.
Only after he finished one page did Wen Ruqing stretch his neck and back, loosening his stiff muscles.
Bai Xizhou watched and finally understood why Wen Ruqing had so many back and neck problems.
“Ruqing… why do you like restoring ancient books?”
This kind of craftsmanship required both passion and patience. Back when Wen Ruqing was in school, very few people pursued it seriously as a profession. Only in recent years, with increased publicity, had more people started entering the field.
He was curious about Wen Ruqing’s mindset—just like how he once asked him why he became a lawyer. But this time, Bai Xizhou’s eyes were just casually curious—not like back then, when he’d asked with an obvious purpose.
“I haven’t told you?” Wen Ruqing looked surprised.
The light reflected in his eyes, and in them, Bai Xizhou saw his own reflection.
“To be honest… I didn’t like it at first.”
He hadn’t chosen this path out of passion—it was because of his late parents.
“My parents were both history teachers. They used to tell me stories about history, saying it was to spark my interest. My father also knew how to mend books and taught me a bit. After they passed, I thought long and hard before choosing this field. I felt like it was the only way to stay connected to what they taught me. I didn’t want to forget what they left behind.”
“No wonder you asked me back then if I chose this profession for someone,” Bai Xizhou suddenly understood.
Back then, they weren’t close yet, and Bai had just been fighting with his own family—so the question had hit a nerve. But now that he heard the story, it all made sense.
When someone doubts their own path, they instinctively search for similarities in others—for recognition.
“Later, I applied for graduate school. I thought, if I’m going to do this, I have to be the best. I believed I’d pass. My written test was excellent, but I didn’t expect to fail the interview.”
He was the last one to enter the interview room. The interviewers asked many professional questions, and he answered them one by one. He even saw smiles on their faces and thought he had it in the bag—until one of them asked a question he couldn’t answer.
“One of the interviewers asked, ‘Do you genuinely love ancient book restoration?’ He said this work requires lasting passion to persevere. Then he asked me, ‘Do you have that kind of passion to support you through it all?’”
If he hadn’t lied, Wen Ruqing would’ve said “no” at that time. But he didn’t lie—he chose silence instead. Those interviewers had sharp eyes; his lies couldn’t hide from them. They ruthlessly shattered Wen Ruqing’s facade and touched something deep inside him.
Sitting in that chair, Wen Ruqing, for the first time, began to truly reflect on why he chose this path in the first place.
If he kept using his deceased parents as his spiritual support moving forward… could he really say he loved this profession?
“You can probably guess the outcome. I didn’t pass. Back then, I still didn’t get it. I stubbornly believed that as long as I had the skills, everything else didn’t matter. Passion wasn’t that important. But the interviewer’s words, and the result, made me realize—I might not even know what true passion means. I was just forcing what I thought were my parents’ wishes onto myself. And in the end, I turned myself into a complete mess.”
Wen Ruqing shrugged slightly, a bit helpless as he spoke of it.
“Later, I went back to Cloud Town. And then… I met you. The fire in you—was something I lacked. And you told me how much you love your work. So I wanted to get closer to you. But in the beginning… I think I chose the wrong way.”
Bai Xizhou listened silently. His gut feeling had been right—Wen Ruqing now resembled his past self. The difference was, Bai Xizhou became lost after following his parents’ expectations. Wen Ruqing, on the other hand, defied them and chose a major he didn’t fully understand.
But he himself had been a little luckier—he found what he loved while still in college.
“So… how about now? Do you actually like this field?” Bai Xizhou asked.
“I do,” Wen Ruqing replied without hesitation. “Books carry the memory of an era. Restoring ancient texts is like piecing back together broken memories—allowing them to reappear gracefully in front of the world.”
Wen Ruqing leaned back in his chair, then turned slightly to look at Bai Xizhou. Something seemed to strike him—he smiled. The small brown mole beneath his eye was now hidden, hard to see clearly.
“I’m doing something meaningful, aren’t I?”
Their eyes met, and Bai Xizhou suddenly smiled.
“You know, I used to be like you. But then I studied abroad, came back to China, and handled case after case. I saw clients cry and laugh. I watched young people begin to catch up to me. That’s when I knew I made the right choice. So, you see—being lost is normal. It’s a path we all must go through.”
Some people aren’t born knowing what road they’ll walk. They have to keep trying, overturn everything again and again, and finally, from the rubble, find the one thing they love most.
Some find it early. Some never do. Bai Xizhou was grateful he found his. And he was happy Wen Ruqing had found his too.
Suddenly, Wen Ruqing seemed to think of something. He sat up, leaning in quickly—the distance between them shrinking fast. Their breaths almost touched.
“Lawyer Bai,” he said, “I’ll tell you a secret. It was your reaction—when you saw that restored page—that made me realize the meaning behind what I’m doing. It made me fall in love with this field, truly. And it made me willing to dedicate my life to it.”
The closeness was too much. Bai Xizhou instinctively turned his head away, leaning back slightly. His heart was beating too fast. Wen Ruqing was still speaking, but Bai couldn’t hear anything—his own heartbeat drowned everything else out.
“L-lunch… It’s time for lunch,” Bai Xizhou stammered. He felt a little breathless, stood up, and rushed out of the study.
He made his way to the kitchen, flung the window open. Cold air poured in, finally calming him down.
It must’ve just been the warmth of the room making him feel strange. That had to be it. The crazy heartbeat—it was just from lack of oxygen.
It wasn’t anything else. Definitely not.
He stood there in the wind for a while, letting it blow away all the fuzzy, dangerous thoughts swirling in his head, before finally closing the window.
*
For lunch, they just used whatever ingredients were in Wen Ruqing’s house and whipped up something simple. After eating, Wen Ruqing returned to the study again—but this time, Bai Xizhou didn’t follow. He sat on the couch outside, reading a book.
Midway, Wen Ruqing came out to get a glass of water. As he passed by Bai Xizhou and was about to return to the study, his phone rang—it was a video call from Wen Qing.
He looked a lot better lately, so Wen Ruqing answered the call. Immediately, Wen Qing’s and Xie Yuzhu’s faces appeared on the screen.
“Happy New Year, bro!” Xie Yuzhu was still her usual loud, energetic self, showing zero awareness of being a soon-to-be senior in high school. “Don’t forget to send me a red envelope!”
“Ruqing, are you home? Not with Xizhou? Isn’t it lonely spending New Year alone?” Wen Qing pushed Xie Yuzhu out of the frame.
“Nope, Bai Xizhou is here. We’re spending the New Year together.” As he said this, he turned the camera to face Bai Xizhou, who was quietly reading.
Seeing Bai Xizhou, Wen Qing was visibly relieved.
“Why do you look even thinner than before? Are you not eating properly?” Elders always seem to have this mysterious power to instantly detect weight loss or gain.
“I am eating properly,” Wen Ruqing replied weakly.
But Wen Qing looked at his thinner face and found that response especially unconvincing.
“I watch him like a hawk every day—don’t worry, he hasn’t missed a single meal,” Bai Xizhou chimed in from behind.
“That’s good. You do need someone to keep an eye on you, or who knows how badly you’d let yourself go.” Wen Qing muttered, saying Wen Ruqing looked even skinnier than last time. “Tsk. If it really doesn’t work, you’re not that young anymore—you should just find a partner already, someone who can keep an eye on you.”
Wen Ruqing’s eyelid twitched. This was the first time Wen Qing had ever brought up finding a partner. So… even his cousin had finally reached the marriage nagging stage?
“Okay okay, I’ve got something to do, hanging up now.” Wen Ruqing made up an excuse and ended the call at lightning speed.
“Need help finding someone?” Bai Xizhou’s voice carried a teasing tone. “There are a few nice girls at our law firm.”
“Thank you for the kind offer, Lawyer Bai,” Wen Ruqing took a sip of water, turned to him, and replied with a polite but clearly fake smile. “But since you don’t even have a partner, why should I be in such a rush?”
