Chapter 1: Mint Cigarettes

“Tap, tap, tap…”

Qin Yan sat on the sofa, drenched. The room was dark, with only a faint trace of light from outside the window.

He vaguely heard a sound—perhaps water dripping from his pant leg onto the floor.

He stared at the television. Inside the screen, a dark, indistinct figure was staring back at him in a daze.

He no longer seemed to recognize who that was.

Strands of wet hair clung to his face. His pale skin looked as if it had been soaked in cold water for a long time. His eyes were lifeless, devoid of light.

“Tap, tap, tap…”

The sound echoed again, lingering around him like a restless ghost.

His scattered gaze slowly focused on the door. This time, he heard it clearly—someone was knocking.

The sound was soft, it sounded like fingernails tapping against the door.

He had lived in this city for two years but hadn’t made any friends. No close colleagues, no familiar neighbors. He did have a boyfriend—but now, he was dead. Just buried earlier today.

Qin Yan remained motionless on the sofa, waiting for the knocker to leave.

“Tap…”

“Tap tap tap…”

“Tap! Tap! Tap!”

“Tap tap tap” “Tap tap tap” “Tap tap tap” “Tap tap tap” “Tap tap tap” “Tap tap tap” “Bang bang bang!”

The knocking grew faster, more frantic, until the heavy pounding made the door shake.

Qin Yan stared at the flimsy door, thinking, With that much force, surely a neighbor will open their door to check on the lunatic outside.

Or maybe not. The security in Pingan Community is terrible. If it’s a criminal outside, they might be too afraid to come out.

Qin Yan got up and walked toward the door.

The knocking stopped abruptly.

He pressed his eye against the peephole and looked outside. The hallway was pitch black—no one was there.

Maybe the intruder was hiding, crouching just outside the peephole’s view.

He shouldn’t open the door.

But then, he suddenly thought of Zhou Shurong, lying alone in a coffin—so lonely, so pitiful.

His fingers gripped the latch.

If he opened the door, maybe a knife, gleaming with cold light, would greet him…

Qin Yan smiled and opened the door.

A faint breeze brushed against his face.

The doorway was empty. Nothing was there. Nothing happened.

His lips slowly flattened.

He didn’t know what he had been expecting. Had he truly wished for a criminal to break in and stab him?

As he closed the door, a thought struck him—

The knocking was so loud and violent. Why didn’t the motion-activated hallway light turn on?

Qin Yan didn’t dwell on it. He returned to the sofa and resumed staring at the television screen.

His memories played in his mind like a broken film reel—flashing ominous static, flickering disjointed fragments of his time with Zhou Shurong.

In the end, he saw a pale, frozen face. Zhou Shurong lay in his coffin, in eternal slumber.

—Then, the screen went black.

From outside, the sound of an erhu melody drifted in.

Qin Yan stiffly moved his body and walked to the window.

Down in the plaza, a group of middle-aged women danced while an old man played the erhu to accompany them. The melody was lively and festive. Young people occasionally stopped to watch, take pictures.

He recalled Zhou Shurong’s funeral, where mournful music filled the air.

Qin Yan stared at the plaza below—so bright, so full of people holding colorful lantern balloons, making it look like an outdoor festival.

Every face was blurred and indistinct, yet he could see the laughter in their eyes.

Suddenly, a man knelt down with a bouquet, proposing to a woman.

The crowd erupted in cheers:

“Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!”

Their voices were so loud that even the residents upstairs leaned out of their windows to watch.

“Look at those lantern balloons! Wow, they formed a heart shape—so romantic.”

“Today is May 23rd. ¹love you” (我爱你, wǒ ài nǐ). This is because the numbers “520” sound similar to “我爱你” when spoken in Mandarin. Because of this, May 20th (5/20) has become an unofficial “Internet Valentine’s Day” in China520 was days ago—this romance is overdue!”

“523 can also mean ‘I love you for three lifetimes.’”

“Wouldn’t one lifetime be better than three?”

“Three lifetimes can’t compare to one?”

The dancing women stopped to join the commotion, and the plaza’s focus shifted to the couple.

The woman accepted the proposal, and the crowd erupted into applause and cheers.

Qin Yan stood quietly, alone, like a stray cat wary of crowds, hiding by the window.

The vibrant colors were too distant from him.

Only the pale, translucent moonlight favored him, gently caressing his fine brows and eyes, as if afraid to be tainted by the sorrow in them.

He lowered his gaze, thumbed open the lid of his cigarette box, and pulled one out.

The cigarette was pure white, slender, with a faint mint scent.

It was Zhou Shurong’s favorite brand.

Zhou Shurong had left many traces of himself in Qin Yan’s home.

He rarely smoked in front of Qin Yan, always making sure to avoid him. Qin Yan had only discovered it by accident—Zhou Shurong would wait a while after smoking, spray on a bit of cologne to mask the smell, and only then come to see him.

The smell of cigarettes lingered for a long time. Sometimes, even after the scent of his cologne had faded, the smell remained. Qin Yan would catch a faint whiff of mint.

Zhou Shurong would only notice the lingering scent when he changed his clothes.

At those times, he would look at Qin Yan with a slightly guilty expression and complain, “You knew I was smoking. Why didn’t you tell me when you smelled it?”

Qin Yan just smiled and said nothing.

Then, Zhou Shurong would ask nervously, “Does it stink?”

Qin Yan shook his head and said the scent was quite pleasant.

“Click.”

The moist, light amber-colored eyes reflected two flickering orange-red flames from the lighter.

Qin Yan lit a cigarette.

This was his first time smoking. He had no experience, so he took a heavy drag and immediately coughed, bending over. When he straightened up again, his pale face had gained a slight flush.

The cigarette was too cool—so cool that it made his eyes well up with tears. He blinked rapidly, trying to force them back.

But since he had already lit it, he couldn’t let it go to waste, right? This was Zhou Shurong’s favorite brand.

He took another deep drag, the distinct sensation stimulating his fragile taste buds. Tears welled up again, pouring down like a spring that could no longer be stopped.

He didn’t know how long had passed. The crowds in the square gradually dispersed, and the colorful lights went out.

Qin Yan smoked one cigarette after another.

The night grew darker, heavy and oppressive, as if even the moon had retreated.

Suddenly, the phone rang from behind him.

Holding the cigarette between his fingers, he was startled. He turned to look.

A faint glow appeared in the dimly lit living room, the phone vibrating incessantly.

Qin Yan wasn’t in the mood to chat, no matter who was on the other end.

The phone kept buzzing for a long time, the caller persistent. The cigarette was about to burn his fingers when Qin Yan suddenly snapped out of it and walked toward the living room, picking up the phone from the coffee table.

He sniffled his reddened nose before glancing at the caller ID—Zhou Langxing.

The moment the name entered his vision, an image automatically formed in his mind—a strikingly handsome face, brows like ink, eyes like stars, a straight nose sharp as a blade. Even among men, his looks would draw admiration. But the rebellious air in his expression declared him an untamed wolf.

Qin Yan took a deep breath. Zhou Langxing was Zhou Shurong’s twin brother.

Though their appearances were similar, their differences in temperament were obvious at a glance. No one could mistake them for each other.

Qin Yan had heard his boyfriend mention this younger twin before—Zhou Langxing had been wild from a young age, throwing himself into all sorts of extreme sports without fear. Father Zhou had tried several times to send him into the military to discipline him, hoping to mold him into someone more mature and steady, but every attempt to capture him ended in failure.

When Zhou Shurong talked about “maturity and steadiness,” his smile carried a hint of teasing.

“I can’t even imagine him like that. It’s terrifying.”

Qin Yan had never speculated on just how much truth there was to that statement. In his mind, Zhou Langxing was a one-dimensional symbol labeled—“Zhou Shurong’s younger brother.”

They had only met a few times, about as rare as seeing Zhou Shurong smoke. They weren’t close. The only connection between them was Zhou Shurong.

The first time they met was when Zhou Shurong officially introduced Qin Yan to Zhou Langxing. Out of courtesy, they exchanged phone numbers. But that phone had never called each other. Until tonight, after Zhou Shurong’s burial.

Having lost the person dearest to them, did Zhou Langxing call to seek comfort?

Qin Yan answered. He had ignored the call for so long—he needed an excuse.

“Sorry, I was busy just now.”

His voice was extremely hoarse, so unfamiliar that even he was surprised.

Zhou Langxing fell silent for a moment.

At the funeral, Qin Yan had clearly cried very quietly.

Had he broken down in tears once he got home? Or had he fallen ill from the rain?

No… what was that sound over the phone? It was faint, almost imperceptible in the heavy silence between them. But he recognized it—it was someone flicking the ash off a cigarette.

Qin Yan was smoking?

He had never heard of Qin Yan smoking before.

Even Zhou Shurong had said he wouldn’t smoke in front of Qin Yan. Zhou Langxing had assumed Qin Yan was sensitive to the smell of cigarettes. But now, it seemed more like Zhou Shurong had wanted to maintain a perfect image in front of Qin Yan.

As his twin brother, Zhou Langxing understood Zhou Shurong’s hypocrisy better than anyone.

At the time, he had scoffed, “If you want to smoke, then smoke. Sneaking around like this—how is that enjoyable? Bro, did you get a boyfriend just to chain yourself down? And he’s three years older than you? Are you that desperate for love?”

Zhou Shurong had given him a look that saw right through him.

Then, with a voice that made Zhou Langxing’s skin crawl, he had whispered:

“Ah Xing, you’re jealous of me.”

Sometimes, “brother” was truly an infuriating word.

They knew you too well.

The phone call was silent except for their breathing. Qin Yan took a drag, exhaling slowly. He felt a bit calmer.

Alright. He felt stronger now.

People said twins had a mysterious bond. If losing a twin was like losing half of oneself, then Zhou Langxing must be in the most pain.

Qin Yan figured Zhou Langxing was just seeking comfort.

He called his name. “Zhou Langxing.”

“Ah… I’m here!”

His voice sounded flustered. He softened his tone as much as possible and asked, “Have you eaten dinner?”

Zhou Langxing’s lips trembled slightly. He hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of concern. Qin Yan had looked so devastated during the day. Zhou Langxing had called to comfort him—yet now, he was the one being comforted.

“I have.”

—A lie. None of the family had an appetite. He had only drunk some alcohol.

“Can’t sleep, huh?”

“Mm.”

“There are so many stars tonight. Looks like tomorrow will be a good day.”

Zhou Langxing was standing on his balcony. He looked up, and the sky full of twinkling stars filled his eyes. There was a particularly bright star near the moon.

Qin Yan held his phone and walked back to the window. Gazing at the starry sky, his eyes were filled with loneliness, but his voice was unbelievably gentle.

“You’ve heard the story of people turning into stars, right?”

Zhou Langxing knew what he was about to say. After his mother passed away, their grandfather had told him the same thing. When their grandfather died, no one said it anymore.

That kind of old, comforting lie—young Ah Xing had believed it, but grown-up Ah Xing didn’t.

But… at least someone was willing to lie to him, right?

“They say those who leave become stars in the night sky. Whenever you miss them, just look up. Which one do you think he is?”

“Obviously, the brightest one next to the moon!” Zhou Langxing tried to sound casual. “Don’t be fooled by how gentle and quiet he seemed—he was actually super arrogant and always stole my stuff behind my back.”

Qin Yan chuckled. Looking at the bright star, he said, “I heard he used to steal your toys when you were kids, right? He secretly told me he loved seeing you cry your eyes out.”

“Tsk, he even exposed my embarrassing childhood?”

Zhou Langxing pretended to be annoyed, but his nose stung.

He suddenly said, “I want a cigarette.”

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  love you” (我爱你, wǒ ài nǐ). This is because the numbers “520” sound similar to “我爱你” when spoken in Mandarin. Because of this, May 20th (5/20) has become an unofficial “Internet Valentine’s Day” in China