Although the wind is strong, it penetrates my soul.

“…Sure,” Xu Fengluan mumbled, withdrawing her pleading gaze.

She lifted the plastic bag, adding, “Might be a bit cold.”

Qiao Sheng didn’t mind, taking a bun and biting into it casually.

Xu Fengluan’s glance slid sideways.

Kuang Ye sat quietly, maintaining her good-student posture, face calm, as if she saw nothing.

This was…

Xu Fengluan rubbed her face, hesitant to overreact, her hands on her thighs curling silently.

It was nine o’clock, warm sunlight filtering through cheap window stickers, landing on her brow.

Her once-lifeless demeanor showed a flicker of lively embarrassment. Despite sleeping for half a month, tormented by nightmares, faint shadows lingered under her eyes. Her overly pale skin seemed translucent in the light, giving the tall, long-legged figure a frail, despondent air.

“Picked a design yet?” Qiao Sheng asked with a smile.

Xu Fengluan’s lips pressed together. She turned to another staff member nearby, attempting, “I’ll let her do it.”

Chu Cheng and Ji Lunan quickly grabbed other staff, chiming in unison, “I want her to do mine!”

Kuang Ye glanced silently at Qiao Sheng.

Even an outsider could sense the tension. The three staff exchanged looks, their expressions vivid with unspoken thoughts.

“Is that so?” Qiao Sheng’s face showed regret. “I was hoping to do yours…”

Xu Fengluan’s pupils shrank, her spine tensing.

“Your songs,” Qiao Sheng finished, dragging out the word.

The four in the room visibly relaxed.

Qiao Sheng smiled again, her sly fox eyes carrying sincerity. “Really not possible?”

Xu Fengluan didn’t know how to respond. Her brain, like a stalled machine, creaked but wouldn’t turn.

Kuang Ye spoke first, blunt, “It’s fine.”

Feeling her tone too stiff, she added, “Since she likes you so much, A-Feng, let her do it.”

Xu Fengluan’s brow twitched. She finally understood the TV trope of protagonists caught between bickering leads. Kuang Ye’s words felt gritted, deliberately heavy.

*Likes you so much, let her do it?!*

Xu Fengluan sucked in a breath.

She felt like a damp mushroom, dragged into the sun by humans, then slapped by a quarreling couple, spores flying.

“Can I?” Qiao Sheng ignored Kuang Ye, addressing Xu Fengluan.

Another slap.

Kuang Ye called, “A-Feng.”

Another.

Xu Fengluan felt buried in the dirt.

“This design looks nice,” Chu Cheng cut in, showing her phone screen.

“Oh, I haven’t added you yet,” Qiao Sheng said, as if just realizing, passing her phone to Xu Fengluan.

She smiled, “If you’re worried I’ll bother you, you can block me first.”

Chu Cheng blinked, her attempt to help backfiring.

Xu Fengluan, with the offer so direct, couldn’t refuse. Fumbling for her phone, she found it dead.

Seeing this, she and Chu Cheng quietly exhaled, borrowing a power bank from a staff member to charge it.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t add a teammate’s girlfriend—Ji Lunan’s wife, Nanxu, was in their contacts, though they rarely chatted, only liking posts after Ji Lunan did, maintaining a careful boundary.

But in this situation, was it appropriate?

Xu Fengluan wished she could cab home.

The air stilled. The staff stayed quiet, Xu Fengluan and Kuang Ye were mute, and Chu Cheng, after her blunder, hesitated to speak.

Ji Lunan, replying to her wife, looked up, “What designs are you getting? Orange, didn’t you want rhinestones and glitter?”

Chu Cheng froze, rarely so dazed.

She’d mentioned it casually. Actually doing it…

“Right, we’ve got a music festival soon. Let’s go all out for the stage look.”

The festival was booked before their company fallout. A-Jin had called to nag, but Xu Fengluan’s mood delayed rehearsals.

“Even though they’re familiar songs, we should practice a few times before,” Chu Cheng added. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Xu Fengluan nodded.

Adults didn’t let personal pain derail work.

Chu Cheng gritted her teeth and committed, choosing the most intricate design.

With Ji Lunan married and Xu Fengluan listless, dragged out by Chu Cheng’s coaxing, Kuang Ye was the focus. If things worked out today, she might need her nails tonight—removing them would be a hassle. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Chu Cheng sacrificed much to stall.

The staff, thinking she loved the style, promised their best, ensuring a dazzling, durable manicure.

Chu Cheng, near tears, forced a grateful smile.

Even in her gloom, Xu Fengluan’s lips twitched upward.

“This one suit you?” Qiao Sheng chimed in, showing her screen.

Xu Fengluan’s faint smile faded, glancing at the simpler design—black polish with white doodles, beginner-friendly.

She paused, something stirring, and nodded slowly.

Kuang Ye and Ji Lunan’s designs were similar.

Nail art was polarizing—loved or baffling. Burning Meteor wasn’t one to skimp, but they’d never bothered before. This was purely for Kuang Ye’s love life.

They sat, bottles clinking as they opened.

Xu Fengluan extended her hand, letting Qiao Sheng decide the pattern, indifferent to the outcome.

She glanced at Kuang Ye, still silent.

Xu Fengluan sighed inwardly.

—

Elsewhere in S City, untouched by sunlight, the hospital felt desolate. Leaves swirled in the wind, carrying the crispness of post-storm nights and a damp, decayed scent.

In a quiet room, a white-coated doctor frowned, troubled.

Pear, beside her, was anxious and worried.

Only the other woman, Liu Tingsong, seemed detached, her downcast eyes mourning another.

“No other way?” Pear asked, unwilling to accept.

The crumpled paper in her hand showed white knuckles.

“I’ve tried everything,” the doctor said, removing her glasses, eyes weary. “Based on what you’ve said, Miss Liu’s father had severe mental issues, and there’s a genetic predisposition…”

“There’s no proper, systematic solution in medicine yet. I can only offer psychological guidance.”

“But Miss Liu isn’t cooperating, even resisting sleep.”

“And you said this is her second time losing her voice.”

“If her first loss was treated abroad and healed, I suggest leaving S City to find her former doctor.”

Pear’s face darkened, voice trembling, “She has to leave? She just returned.”

“If both losses happened in S City, leaving and avoiding triggering places is best.”

The doctor cleaned her glasses, adding, “People don’t have to be brave forever. As they say, running is shameful but effective, especially for patients like Miss Liu. Avoiding triggers is key.”

Pear protested, “But, but…”

She recalled half a month ago, urgently trying to reach Liu Tingsong, only to get no answer. She asked Xu Fengluan, who, voice grim, said Liu was at S University and to take her home.

Pear sensed their rift.

Desperate, she kept calling Liu Tingsong, who answered but didn’t speak, alarming her until a message revealed her location. Rushing over, Pear’s worry didn’t ease—learning of Liu’s second voice loss only deepened her panic.

This half-month, they’d visited multiple hospitals, all saying similar things: address the cause or leave the country.

The first, Pear considered, but Liu Tingsong forbade contacting Xu Fengluan, threatening to skip meds and doctors. Pear relented.

The second option…

Pear rubbed her brow, stumped.

Liu Tingsong tugged her sleeve, signaling to leave.

No matter Pear’s pleas, Liu leaned on the chair’s armrest, struggling to stand. Sleepless and barely eating, even simple movements were taxing. Pear helped, preventing a stumble.

The door slammed shut, the waiting car starting again.

In the passenger seat, Pear informed Du Yurong, then glanced back.

Liu Tingsong curled into the leather seat, her wrists and ankles skeletal, veins stark under thin skin, unsettling to see.

“Sis,” Pear called softly, cautious not to startle.

Liu Tingsong reacted slowly, eventually meeting her eyes.

“Some water?” Pear gently offered a bottle.

Liu refused, lips cracked, gesturing instead.

*[Tablet]*

“Drink first, then look, okay?” Pear negotiated.

Liu shook her head stubbornly, repeating.

*[Tablet]*

“One sip, and I’ll give it.”

Liu’s face hardened, staring coldly, her usual elegance replaced by obstinance.

This wasn’t the first time in half a month. Pear, helpless, handed over the charged tablet, compromising, “One hour, then ten minutes’ rest, okay?”

Her demands lowered repeatedly, but Liu ignored her, opening the tablet.

Pear didn’t need to look to know the routine.

Liu would check Nanxu, glance at her chat with Xu Fengluan, confirm she wasn’t blocked, and study Xu’s two posts.

Ten minutes later, she’d switch to Weibo, scouring Xu’s content, rereading familiar posts. An hour later, she’d play Xu’s old videos on a loop. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Finally, she’d stare at their silent chat until the battery died, from night to dawn, dawn to dark, endlessly.

Only then did her dull eyes show a faint glimmer, like a dying person clutching a lifeline.

Pear couldn’t persuade her—Liu clung to this as her sole anchor, too fragile for disturbance.

Her thoughts paused, glancing back worriedly.

But this time, unexpectedly, Liu stared at the screen, tears streaming from lifeless eyes, like an abandoned rag doll.

Pear panicked, “Sis! What’s wrong?”

Snatching the tablet, she saw a trending tag: *#Xu Fengluan and Bandmates Meet Girlfriend, Conflict Resolved?*

The blurry photo showed a charming woman pulling Xu Fengluan’s hand, talking with a smile. Xu Fengluan leaned in, listening intently, no resistance.

Pear’s heart sank, thinking, *It’s over!*

Back at the salon, Xu Fengluan stared at her blackened nails, adorned with white smiley faces. She tugged her lips, unable to smile, feelings tangled, forcing out, “It’s… pretty good.”

Qiao Sheng, sly as a fox, seemed oblivious to her discomfort, smiling, “Glad you like it. Next time, contact me ahead—no need to queue early.”

The contact was added.

Xu Fengluan nodded stiffly.

Qiao Sheng, unbothered, scrolled Xu’s profile, intrigued by her sparse posts.

Luckily, Xu rarely posted, too lazy for photos. Her page had two entries: one from Haicheng, a textless sunset-over-sea shot, comments filled with bandmates’ teasing and blessings; the other, five years old, a poetic excerpt:

*You cured my depression,
Then gifted me sorrow,
The joy between depression and sorrow has overdrawn all my life’s happiness,
The moment I became a stranger to you,
I became a stranger to the world,
The wind is strong,
But it passes through my soul.*

Qiao Sheng fell silent, but before she could speak, Chu Cheng said, “Xiao Sheng, we’ve got extra festival tickets. Wanna come?”

She looked up, smiling, “Sure.”