Qian Duoduo stared at the miniature military knife in her hand, lost in thought.
Zhao Jingxi studied her face and raised an eyebrow. “That thing looks pretty menacing. One of your coworkers collects this kind of stuff?”
Qian Duoduo shook her head. “This probably belongs to Lu Qiming.”
“Lu Qiming? Who’s that?” The unfamiliar name from her friend’s mouth made Zhao Jingxi curious.
“He’s the guy my mom introduced me to for a blind date,” Qian Duoduo said frankly, not intending to hide anything from Zhao Jingxi. “I told you about him that night— we ran into each other at the restaurant. You probably remember.”
“And then you went home together?”
“No. A motorcycle came flying down the sidewalk and almost hit me,” Qian Duoduo explained in detail. “Lu Qiming got hurt trying to save me, so I took him to the hospital.”
Zhao Jingxi snorted and switched to a teasing tone. “You two sound like a scene straight out of a rom-com.”
Qian Duoduo laughed. “You’ve acted in too many short dramas. Everything looks like a rom-com to you.”
“In a typical script, the female lead finds something that belongs to the male lead and, of course, looks for a chance to return it. Then they spend more time together, and slowly sparks start to fly…”
Zhao Jingxi had striking, sultry features— a classic femme fatale, the kind who attracted both men and women.
She leaned in, hooked an arm around Qian Duoduo’s shoulder, and with the scent of alcohol wafting from her red lips like an enchantress, she murmured, “If you ask me, you might as well give this soldier boy a shot. Dating doesn’t cost you anything.”
“Thanks.” Qian Duoduo cupped Zhao the beauty’s face and smiled sweetly as she pushed her away. “He’s not my type.”
“Who says you have to date your type? Men are just tools to satisfy physical needs. As long as the body’s good and healthy, that’s all that matters.”
“I don’t have any physical needs at the moment.”
“Pfft, not now— what, are you never going to have them?”
“…Then I’ll deal with it when I do.” Qian Duoduo’s ears turned red. Afraid Zhao Jingxi was about to spout another outrageous line, she quickly pushed her toward the door. “Go take your shower.”
Qian Duoduo was gentle, reserved, and easily embarrassed— traits Zhao Jingxi found adorable.
She loved teasing her any chance she got.
Seeing her like this, Zhao Jingxi burst into laughter, tossed her long hair, and sauntered off, swaying her hips with satisfaction.
Finally rid of the loose-lipped, tipsy beauty, Qian Duoduo let out a quiet sigh of relief.
A moment later, she lowered her head and looked again at the souvenir military knife in her hand.
Even though most of Zhao Jingxi’s wild speculations were nonsense, one point did make sense.
Since she’d ended up with Lu Qiming’s knife, she should find a way to return it.
With that in mind, Qian Duoduo pulled out her phone, found that starry-night profile picture on WeChat that she hadn’t messaged in ages, and typed a message.
Qian Duoduo: [Mr. Lu, sorry to bother you this late.]
Qian Duoduo: [Is this yours?]
She snapped a photo of the knife in her palm and sent it along with the messages.
*
In Shishui District’s special operations brigade, officers’ dormitory building.
Lu Qiming returned to the base at midnight.
The complex had been built back in the ’90s, and the dorms still had that old-school look.
When Lu Qiming was first transferred there, none of the rooms even had private bathrooms.
The whole floor shared one communal restroom, one washroom, and one bathhouse.
During peak hours, people had to line up just to use the toilet.
It wasn’t until later renovations that things got better and the living conditions improved for the officers and soldiers.
But the renovations only upgraded the plumbing— the building materials remained the same, and the walls between dorms still offered poor sound insulation.
After showering, Lu Qiming lay down on his single bed, trying to drift off.
But a loud shout pierced through the wall straight into his ears.
“Nice shot!”
Lu Qiming frowned slightly and turned to face the wall.
“Run, damn it! You think you’re out for a stroll on the field? Even grannies are faster than you! Move it!”
“…”
With a cold expression, Lu Qiming got out of bed, threw on a training shirt over his lean, muscular torso, slipped into his slippers, and headed out the door.
Two minutes later, after some “friendly negotiation and persuasion,” the night owl next door finally quieted down.
Lu Qiming closed his eyes and tried to sleep again.
In the first two years after graduation, he’d been selected to carry out a mission in the uninhabited zones of Tibet.
After the mission, he was awarded a second-class merit and a first-class achievement, but he also came back with a lingering problem— sleep disorders.
His sleep quality was extremely poor; even the slightest noise in the environment made it impossible for him to fall asleep.
He lay quietly for another half hour or so, then got up again, poured himself a glass of cold water, and drank it in one gulp.
Why couldn’t he sleep?
Sure, his neighbor Xue Hao loved soccer and often watched games in the middle of the night. That definitely didn’t help a light sleeper.
But Lu Qiming knew that wasn’t the real reason.
Something— or rather, someone— was keeping his mind restless tonight.
There was a box of unopened cigarettes on the desk.
A colleague had just returned from leave and brought them back from his hometown— every smoker in their department had gotten one.
After finishing the water, Lu Qiming stood still in the dark for a while.
Then he put the cup down, reached out, and picked up the box of specialty cigarettes.
The box was a deep red, with two characters in the center: Su Yan.
When his colleague handed it over, he’d explained that Su Yan was different from other tobacco— it had a strong aroma, a hint of sweetness and floral notes, and a smooth, clean aftertaste.
For some reason, when those words— sweet, smooth, clean— came to mind, a face appeared unbidden in Lu Qiming’s thoughts.
Graceful, alluring, with soft, gentle eyes— like a spring breeze brushing over the most tender part of the heart.
A moment later, two long fingers tapped the box.
A slim, white cigarette was pulled out.
Lu Qiming casually stuck it between his lips.
Just as he started searching for his lighter, his phone on the nightstand suddenly lit up, cutting through the darkness like a sharp beam of light.
Lu Qiming paused for a moment.
He didn’t have many friends— aside from a childhood buddy back home, the only people he kept in touch with were his military academy classmates and a few coworkers.
Who would message him this late?
Still biting the cigarette, he walked over and picked up his phone.
A few unread messages lay quietly in WeChat, sent by “Qian Duoduo.”
He skimmed through her text quickly, then opened the photo.
In the girl’s fair, delicate palm, cupped slightly upward, lay a miniature military knife.
His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable.
Then he replied: [It’s mine.]
Qian Duoduo: [I found it in the car. You must’ve dropped it by accident.]
Qian Duoduo: [If it’s yours, I can mail it to you. Just give me an address and I’ll send it out tomorrow.]
Lu Qiming: [No need.]
Qian Duoduo: [No need?]
Qian Duoduo: [Um… what do you mean exactly?]
Lu Qiming: [Mailing it would trouble you.]
Lu Qiming: [Give me an address that’s convenient for you. I’ll come pick it up tomorrow.]
On the other side of the city, under the night sky—
Qian Duoduo hesitated for a couple of seconds, then replied: [That’s fine. Qingyuetai Community, Jingning District.]
Qian Duoduo: [Let me know when you’re at the gate.]
Lu Qiming: [What’s your phone number?]
Qian Duoduo blinked and didn’t reply right away.
A moment later, another message popped up from him: [I don’t have your number.]
Qian Duoduo: [Oh, right.]
She sent her number over.
Lu Qiming: [Got it. See you tomorrow.]
Seeing the words “See you tomorrow” on the screen, Qian Duoduo replied politely: [Okay, call me when you arrive. I won’t disturb your rest anymore. Good night.]
Lu Qiming: [Good night.]
He set the phone down, lay back in bed, one arm folded behind his head, and stared expressionlessly at the night outside the window.
Then, faintly, his lips curved upward.
Earlier, while browsing Qian Duoduo’s profile, he’d seen from the comments that she would be filming a video at a Cantonese restaurant that evening.
So when his coworker suggested dinner, he’d deliberately chosen the same place.
No one knew better than Lu Qiming where that “accidental” encounter had come from.
Today, he’d left the house with five items: his ever-present officer’s ID, phone, cigarette case, lighter, and a miniature military knife.
The knife wasn’t standard issue— it had been a gift from an old comrade when he left the military three years ago, someone they’d fought alongside in the uninhabited zones.
There were thousands of similar knives online, but this one marked a brilliant, anonymous chapter of their lives.
And gave him a reason— an opportunity— to stay connected.
*
Two best friends living together naturally had endless things to talk about.
After their showers, Qian Duoduo and Zhao Jingxi lay in bed chatting, and for a moment, they both felt as if they’d gone back to their teenage years.
Zhao Jingxi’s parents divorced when she was twelve, and she’d lived with her mother ever since.
In Qian Duoduo’s eyes, Zhao Jingxi was optimistic, independent, resilient, beautiful, and self-made— a classic “strong female lead.”
But as her friend, Qian Duoduo also knew that Zhao Jingxi’s mother and her childhood had always been a thorn buried deep in her heart.
“When was the last time you saw my mom?” Zhao Jingxi suddenly asked, staring up at the ceiling.
Qian Duoduo curled her index finger slightly, scratching at the soft pillowcase as she thought. “It’s been years… ten? Maybe eight?”
Zhao Jingxi gave a lazy tug at the corner of her lips. “Three years for me. Not that different from you.”
Qian Duoduo felt a tightness in her chest.
She couldn’t help reaching over and taking Zhao Jingxi’s hand, but said nothing.
Zhao Jingxi said lightly, “She’s got her hair dyed red this time, nails freshly done, barely any new wrinkles on her face. Looks like she’s living quite well.”
Qian Duoduo was silent for a moment, then asked, “Did she come back to Nancheng for something?”
“No idea,” Zhao Jingxi said flatly. “I didn’t talk to her.”
The childhood trauma Zhao Jingxi had experienced wasn’t something most people could imagine.
Any attempt at comfort would only seem hollow.
Qian Duoduo felt a pang of sadness and tightened her grip on her friend’s hand.
She gently brushed her fingers over Zhao Jingxi’s brow and whispered, “It’s late. Let’s sleep.”
*
The next morning, Qian Duoduo was woken up by a phone call.
Ring ring, ring ring—
She’d gone to bed late the night before and was still exhausted.
It took her a long while of fumbling before she finally grabbed her phone and squinted at the caller ID with one eye.
A long string of unfamiliar numbers.
Qian Duoduo assumed it was a spam call and was about to hang up when, in the last second before she did, something clicked in her brain— and she quickly answered.
“Hello?” she said tentatively. Her voice was soft and drowsy, touched with a lazy, seductive quality.
“Good morning, Miss Qian.” The voice on the other end was deep, with a subtle huskiness. “This is Lu Qiming.”
“Oh, Mr. Lu…” Qian Duoduo stifled a yawn, suddenly remembering he was supposed to come by today. “Where are you now?”
“Just arrived at your building’s gate.”
He was already here? Oh no.
Flustered, Qian Duoduo quickly mumbled, “Okay, I’ll be right down. Please wait a moment,” and hung up, dashing into the bathroom.
The noise woke Zhao Jingxi as well. She frowned and asked, “You’re heading out this early? Who are you meeting?”
“Number Eleven.” Qian Duoduo had finished brushing her teeth and washing her face, and threw on a puffy jacket over her pajamas.
Zhao Jingxi looked surprised. “Number Eleven? How’d he even find your place?”
“I’m just giving him something. Go back to sleep.”
With that, Qian Duoduo grabbed the military knife and ran out the door.
*
It was a soft, sunlit weekend morning.
Qian Duoduo hurried out through the pedestrian gate of her residential complex, glancing around.
She quickly spotted a man standing tall and composed, like a figure from a painting.
Lu Qiming stood beside a patch of withered landscaping, his presence calm and stern, his gaze steady as he looked at her.
Qian Duoduo walked over.
“Mr. Lu,” she greeted him with a polite smile, then reached into her coat pocket to retrieve the folding knife.
Just then, a hand entered her field of vision— long-fingered, with a striking scar across the back of the wrist, holding a plastic bag adorned with cute floral patterns.
It was oddly mismatched, out of place.
Qian Duoduo blinked, confused. “What’s this?”
“Have you had breakfast yet?”
“Not yet.”
“I passed by that dessert shop we went to before and picked something up for you,” Lu Qiming said, pausing slightly, as if double-checking that he’d remembered correctly. “Babalouya.”
“…” Qian Duoduos’s eyes widened in surprise.
He continued, “You ordered it during our blind date.”