After lunch, they visited a few more scenic spots before taking a boat back to their lodge. Word had it there would be a bonfire party that night. Chen Jin had zero interest, but Lin Wan was curious, so he could only trail along.
The spacious courtyard was already packed with guests. Young Mosuo men and women in bright traditional dress danced passionately in the center, their steps fiery and wild. The guests, however, were even more excited than the performers—shouting, stomping, waving arms like they'd been possessed. Chen Jin had to guard Lin Wan closely so no one would take advantage. Eventually, he simply dragged her out early.
Back at the inn, they had barely washed up when the power went out. Wrapped tightly in a bathrobe, Lin Wan curled into the rattan chair by the window, staring at the sky in boredom. Just her luck—the stars weren't even as bright as yesterday.
Seeing Chen Jin shamelessly squeeze in to share her chair again, she complained, "We should've stayed longer. They were going to do the singing exchange…"
Chen Jin chuckled. "What's so special about singing back and forth? We can do that too."
Lin Wan shot him a look but quickly remembered he couldn't see her in the dark anyway, so she only gave a dismissive hum.
He tugged her into his arms and murmured, regret dripping from his voice, "Wanwan, I've never heard you sing."
"I haven't heard you sing either."
She'd only said it casually, but unexpectedly it sparked his enthusiasm.
"How about I sing for you?"
He cleared his throat, then chuckled again. "Good thing it's dark. Otherwise, I might actually be embarrassed."
Lin Wan snorted. "You? Embarrassed?"
"Why not?"
"I thought your skin was too thick for such complex emotions."
Chen Jin squeezed her arm in playful retaliation. "You dare insult me sideways now? You're getting bold."
Lin Wan shrank back in annoyance. "If you're going to sing, hurry up. I want to sleep."
"Oh great, nothing like performing for someone who's forcing herself to listen. Fine, what do you want to hear?"
"Anything."
"That I don't know," Chen Jin deadpanned. "How about Leslie Cheung?"
"Never heard him."
He sighed dramatically. "The generation gap is real. Fine, I'll sing one of his."
After another round of throat-clearing, he lifted his hand… then said, "I need a sip of water." And dashed off to find some.
Lin Wan couldn't help laughing. By the time he returned, she sensed something had changed around him—like a cloud-heavy sky right before it rained.
And then he began to sing.
Her first feeling was surprise—she had never imagined Chen Jin would choose a song so soft, so gentle. He didn't seem like someone who sang at all, and if he did, she always assumed it'd be something like a Nazi marching anthem.
Her second feeling was… his voice was actually pleasant. She'd never listened closely, probably because the things he said were usually infuriating or shameless.
Her third feeling was familiarity.
No one knew Leslie Cheung. Classics existed beyond eras. It wasn't that Chen Jin's voice resembled his—it was the emotion. The tenderness.
Very quickly, Lin Wan became restless. This version of Chen Jin felt far too unfamiliar.
But his arm around her held firm—she couldn't move, didn't dare move. As if the slightest shift would press through a hidden switch and tear open a thin, fragile veil between them.
Thankfully, this was a Cantonese song—one she'd never heard before.
Chen Jin sang with deep concentration; Lin Wan listened in torment. Maybe it was relativity—time stretched unbearably, and the song felt endless.
He'd said the night could conceal him.
But in truth, the night stripped people bare. Made them soft. Defenseless. Easy to breach.
His voice was like silken threads spun by a spring cocoon—wrapping her layer by layer until she couldn't move. Like some addictive poison seeping into her bloodstream, numbing her, dragging her into a dreamlike haze…
Until her head began to bob like a dozing chick.
Only then did she realize—she was simply sleepy.
Apparently, Chen Jin's singing had… hypnotic properties.
Or maybe she was just exhausted from the long day.
She mumbled, "Why is this song so long…"
And tipped her head onto his chest, completely still.
Chen Jin finished the last line and whispered, "Wanwan…"
Nothing. She was fast asleep.
The room was pitch-black—no power, no moon.
Chen Jin lifted his right hand and let his fingertip trace the curve of her cheek. Her skin was smooth, supple, with a dangerous allure that made him smile in the dark.
He never indulged in alcohol, yet somehow he'd stumbled into the strongest intoxication of his life.
Earlier, when she'd smiled without any guard, he'd instantly thought of a lyric:
Even the spring breeze could never compare to your smile; those who haven't seen you would never understand.
He had replayed "Obsessed" countless times.
He realized what he felt for Lin Wan wasn't love at first sight.
It was an obsession.
The song hadn't actually been long—he had simply repeated it several times.
He could tell she didn't understand the lyrics.
Good.
He pressed a light kiss to her cheek and pulled her closer.
What state was she in now?
That question gnawed at him.
Her earlier words had terrified him. Later, when he found a spare moment, he'd called Li Jin from thousands of miles away. Hearing his account, she'd laughed and said:
Mr. Chen, you're overreacting. That was just a feeling—a common one.
After hanging up, Chen Jin thought:
When her illness is cured, he will be the one beyond saving.
His voice dropped, roughened, and he started singing again—same melody, but Mandarin lyrics this time:
In the dark of night walk two shadows, chased tightly from behind…
Don't hide your loneliness, though the world is harsher than we imagined.
I won't veil my own desolation, just to see the innocence in your eyes…
We hold each other to keep warm; we learn together just to survive…
Even if we sink into the vast sea of people…
The first song was "The Coldest Day."
This one was "Keeping Warm."
There are countless people in this world.
But those who can truly warm you are very few—
And the one you truly need never exceeds one.
And if he really lost her…
He knew he could live out the rest of his life shining on the surface—
But inside, he would always be cold.