Just over a month ago, Gu Pan had gone out of his way to give Yu Yan’s bedroom a good cleaning, a fresh start.

　　He washed and replaced the curtains, duvet cover, and pillowcases. He dusted off and rehung the Black Widow cross-stitch on the wall.

　　The sachets in the wardrobe had lost their scent, so he made a special trip to the little accessory shop Yu Yan loved and bought the same fragrance to replace them. Scents were one of Yan Yan’s trademarks. She once mentioned that in English, you “wear” perfume, showing it’s as important as clothing.

　　Gu Pan thought he understood, but maybe not completely. He did get the idea of lingering fragrance. It’s something that gets better the longer it’s stored, the deeper it’s hidden, especially when it seeps out from the wardrobe’s nooks and crannies.

　　Yu Yan had said that they were poor now, and the sachets were just temporary. Once she graduated and started making money, she’d buy herself a bottle of high-end perfume. Gu Pan had promised, “Sister Yan Yan, I’ll buy it for you someday! A branded one!”

　　As the holiday ended, the new sachets were just reaching their peak fragrance.

　　Gu Pan returned from County B to County A, dragging his suitcase into the apartment. As he passed Yu Yan’s bedroom, he instinctively turned the door handle.

　　He just stood there, doing nothing else. In this room that was always dim, rain or shine, Gu Pan stood with his hands at his sides, like he was fulfilling a duty.

　　This dim room, he increasingly felt, was like another safe haven Yu Yan had created after leaving the small town. It didn’t have the musty smell of old wood and worn-out quilts but instead exuded a long-lasting fragrance. Yet, this didn’t change the room’s core purpose: it was a place to store his devoted stance. From the age of eight to eighteen, Yu Yan had appreciated that devout, almost worshipful posture for a full decade.

　　But he didn’t allow himself to become aware of this. Even a tiny spark of realization would be a betrayal of the scar on Yan Yan’s forehead.

　　In the room, Gu Pan took a deep breath, using his half-understood “aromatherapy” to rescue the potential “deserter” within him.

　　From the narrow gap in the wardrobe, the tuberose scent drifted out, telling him of the thirty-plus days of separation.

　　With each breath, he felt his chest fill with the fragrance. Those particles were countless, just like the endless debt of gratitude he could never fully repay.

　　The particles continued to multiply.

　　Finally, he started having trouble breathing. Just before he was about to suffocate, he quickly fled the room, shutting the door behind him.

　　2　

　　Not long after Gu Pan got home, "Xinyuan" uploaded a new video.

　　The notification sound chimed just as Gu Pan finished scooping up his homemade rice noodles and topping them with freshly cooked tomato and scrambled eggs.

　　Ever since that time he sat in on Ling Hanlu's class and saw her looking dizzy and weak, he had decided to learn how to cook. The young man knew little and thought she had fainted from hunger. He always felt women cared more about dieting than their health. As a guy, the least he could do was sharpen his cooking skills and create opportunities to show off, hoping to make her love eating. Ideally, he dreamed of becoming her personal chef.

　　From that day, Gu Pan started following at least ten popular cooking bloggers. Chinese, Western, frying, steaming, braising—he started from scratch.

　　He planned to slurp his noodles while studying how to make a healthy soup. But when "Xinyuan" posted a new video, he couldn’t ignore it.

　　The new video’s theme was the Lantern Festival.

　　Just seeing the words “Lantern Festival” in the title didn’t bring back good memories for Gu Pan. Instead, he immediately recalled a charred lump that looked like a pile of rocks. That was Li Danxia’s masterpiece.

　　Not long ago, on the fifteenth day of the Lunar New Year, his mother Li Danxia had gotten up early. The night before, she promised to make tangyuan for the whole family, so father and son could sleep in. Gu Xueping was skeptical, but when he heard noises from the kitchen in the early morning, he felt assured and went back to sleep.

　　But half an hour later, a loud bang and a scream jolted him and his son out of bed.

　　Gu Pan, half-dressed and in slippers, rushed downstairs into the kitchen. He found his mother, who had finally decided to cook, squatting on the floor among scattered pots, pans, and small, blackened lumps. She was cursing, blaming the stove for not working properly and the utensils for being uncooperative. In her frustration, she kicked the “little coal balls” around.

　　These innocent black lumps were supposed to be Li Danxia’s impromptu attempt at making caramelized tangyuan.

　　It took Gu Xueping and his son an hour to clean up the kitchen. His father chuckled wryly, saying, “Well, life sure is long and hard.”

　　This was the first chaotic Lantern Festival Gu Pan could remember. That evening, Li Danxia, with her high blood pressure and hyperthyroidism, went to her sister’s house to relax, leaving father and son to hold down the fort in their two-story house under the full moon.

　　In the living room, on the small table, were two cold dishes, four hot dishes cooked by old Gu himself, and a cheese pumpkin that young Gu had tried his hand at baking.

　　“Son, you know, after this New Year, you're officially in your twenties, even if it's just your nominal age.” Gu Xueping raised his small white porcelain cup, inviting his son to drink with him.

　　"Yeah, time flies. So, Dad, what were you doing when you were twenty?"

　　"Me? I'd been working for two years already after finishing vocational school."

　　"Did you know Mom back then?" After the chaos in the kitchen that morning, Gu Pan had a lot of questions. With his mom out of the house, it was the perfect time to ask. "I mean, when you were twenty."

　　"No, not yet. We met later through an introduction."

　　"Oh, right. Mom said you got a haircut for your blind date, but it turned out bad."

　　"Yeah, but your mom didn’t judge by looks, which was good. She was outgoing, lively, made friends easily, and got along with everyone quickly..."

　　"Her personality... Are those really good traits, in your opinion?"

　　Old Gu paused, turning his small porcelain cup in his hand. "Well, they don’t sound bad, do they? Son, I get what you’re asking. People change, and so do their needs. How good can someone’s temper be when they’re always struggling? … Sigh, son, have a drink! Here’s to your twenties!"

　　After a few drinks, Old Gu's tongue began to loosen. Young Gu could tell his father had more to say but was holding back. Though they weren't quite on brotherly terms yet, it was clear his father now saw him as an adult man...

　　This adult man was now slurping his homemade rice noodles in an apartment in City A, scrolling through his phone and browsing other people's Lantern Festival celebrations.

　　From the new release, it was clear that "Xinyuan" had visited an art gallery in a nearby water town on the day of the Lantern Festival. Gu Pan had heard about this place in one of his classes. The young teacher had shown several photos of the site hosting events during various traditional festivals. Photography was this teacher's forte. Without a word, he used his camera to capture the serene beauty of a classical Chinese garden, the soft light filtering through gauzy windows.

　　He had also photographed the Lantern Festival. The night scene by the gallery's pond was filled with people releasing lanterns. Through his wide-angle lens, the floating lanterns, carrying wishes, seemed endless and vast.

　　In contrast, "Xinyuan" had a more intimate perspective. The video showed a girl in Hanfu, delicately placing a lantern on the water's surface, meant to ward off evil and bring blessings. Her slender fingers, thin frame, and long hair falling to her shoulders, paired with her melancholy expression, were all captured lovingly by "Xinyuan." There was a clear sense of tender affection in the shot. Gu Pan smiled knowingly, remembering a moment when he had looked at a fainting woman with the same kind of love.

　　Rather than just appreciating the new work, Gu Pan was more interested in "Xinyuan's" replies. Regarding "how can a man be principled," PP Jun received the following response:

　　"The key points in your question are 'man' and 'principled.' If I'm not mistaken, your confusion relates to a woman. To me, being principled means having mature and effective discernment, not doing ambiguous things. For instance, clearly defining the boundaries between a girlfriend and female friends. Just for reference."

　　After reading this, Gu Pan instinctively glanced at the ceiling. There was nothing up there—no cameras, no prying eyes, nothing suspicious probing his thoughts. Yet, he felt his heart being stirred.

　　In his mind, Lu Yitong popped up. But what exactly was his relationship with this girl?

　　The only thing Gu Pan regretted was using her to practice his kissing skills in that small path outside the theater. Originally, because of Li Danxia's involvement, his situation was already passive. That kiss made it even harder to refuse or be cold whenever he wanted to.

　　Speak of the devil. As Gu Pan was lamenting, Lu Yitong called. She said she didn't mind going through great lengths to sit in on a class. She wanted to join Gu Pan in attending Ling Hanlu's class, claiming that studying with a partner would be more effective.

　　This sense of guilt surfaced at just the right moment. Lu Yitong said she was sure Gu Pan would fulfill her desire to learn and her good intentions, as it was a request no one could bear to refuse.

　　Gu Pan felt as if he was once again forced to meet those pleading eyes beneath the bangs. Not just one pair, but countless pairs, leaving him with no escape. So, he asked Ling Hanlu if he could bring a junior student along.

　　Teacher Ling put down her phone and continued typing on her computer. In fact, as she repeatedly read and confirmed Gu Pan's message, her screen had already gone into sleep mode.

　　This was a piece of news that evoked complex feelings. She couldn't help but pick up her phone again.

　　Seeing her middle-aged face reflected on the black screen, she thought of the young girl's collagen-rich face and laughed self-deprecatingly in her empty room.