Immediately afterwards, before Zhou Zishu could say anything, Wen Kexing continued bullshitting endlessly, "Many years ago, I saw a corpse by the roadside which hair had already withered, the mess clumped into a ball. The colours of its clothes had faded until I can no longer tell what they once had been. It had a face that was gory with blood and flesh, its nose sliced off, its features indistinguishable. A spear had pierced it, from the chest in front all through to its back, coming out from under the shoulder blades. I glanced at it a few more times--one look at those shoulder blades, and I knew that this had to be an unparalleled beauty when they had been alive, and guess what?"

Zhou Zihu inhaled deeply, but Wen Kexing interjected before he could speak, "I have yet to misjudge a person’s beauty, having told a person's beauty by their bones my whole life. So, A-Xu, you might as well wash off the disguise on your face, and let me kiss and hug you until my addiction is sated. Beautiful people are rare in this world, but they're also not too difficult to come across. I’ve embraced almost all of the beauties in this world, and have never pestered them afterwards. Who knows, perhaps after I’ve seen your true face, we develop passionate, torrid emotions for each other, have a one-night stand, and I won’t think of you afterwards again. But the way you are now...makes me want to live out the rest of my life with you instead.”

Zhou Zishu had wanted to say something, his words already on the tip of his tongue, but instantly forgot them once he heard this. He stared at Wen Kexing, eyes wide and tongue-tied.

Then Wen Kexing cackled, rocking back and forth in his laughter, and pointed at Zhou Zishu as he said, "Scared you to death, didn't I."

"Fuck you," Zhou Zishu evaluated simply, then paused. As though he had thought of something, he suddenly patted his shoulder, and said, "Forget it, my condolences."

Wen Kexing froze, and asked hesitantly, "What?"

But Zhou Zishu said nothing else, only leant against the wall, and closed his eyes to rest.

Why would someone remember a dead person's appearance so clearly that they could still relate what they had been wearing and how their hair had been in such extensive detail, even after so many years had passed? He must have had gone over it countless times until it had been carved into his heart, narrate it in a joking manner as if it was nothing to him, over and over again, only fearing that he would forget how the deceased had looked like.

Inexplicably, Zhou Zishu understood that feeling--they might have met in the ocean of strangers out of coincidence, ignorant of each other’s background, but this did not stand in the way of them being kindred souls.