Ice and Fire

Slender white fingers suddenly grabbed the small corner of the black sweatshirt.

There is a sense of proportion, but not much.

The movement was too quick, too fierce, and the collar slipped. The collarbone was sharp and the shoulder line was smooth.

It's not a sudden release of spring light, it's a forbidden area being broken into.

It is by no means a provocation, but it is more deadly than provocation.

——The temptation to lose control.

Bo Yi stumbled half a step, as if pushed by fate. His hands, grasping at the wind and shadows, grasped only a cold emptiness.

The sweatshirt has drooping shoulders, exposing a forbidden area of ​​skin.

Outside, snow and wind streamed in through the cracks in the window, bringing a chilly, minty smell. Their shadows entwined on the ground, their breathing in sync, their ears warming in unison.

"sorry."

Bai Luo was at a loss and let go of his strength. Suddenly, he felt his fingers getting hotter and hotter.

I regretted trying too hard and losing control.

His Adam's apple rolled in an arc, but he was neither anxious nor annoyed. Instead, he took a half step closer, his breath turning into a wisp of cool mist, brushing against her earlobe.

"Still watching."

A blatant mockery.

“…”

She didn't mean it.

As if he understood her helplessness, he slowly pulled the sweatshirt back to her neck, but deliberately left a gap.

It was neither deep nor wide, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of the scenery she shouldn't see.

It seems unintentional, but it is actually provocative. It seems to give in, but it is actually encroaching.

The figure flashed, disappearing into the shadows of the living room, cold and heavy. Only a voice remained, hoarse and distant, with a sense of control that could not be questioned.

"Let's go out for a midnight snack later."

"good."

Bai Luo lowered his eyes and responded. He had eaten almost nothing today.

I had an empty stomach in the morning, and made the last bag of instant noodles to fill my stomach at noon. In the evening, I replaced my meal with water as usual.

Wireing money to overseas accounts on time every month feels like a never-ending indulgence. Unbreakable, fate is stronger than the rules.

In the middle of the month, the other party called, his tone was anxious:

"Urgent!" "Turn a little further!"

Just a few short sentences, imperative, no explanation, no negotiation.

She didn't ask, she had no right to ask.

Feelings were ground to ashes in repeated transfers, and doubts rotted into slag in silence.

She simply remitted the last of her savings from her part-time job. Four hundred yuan was all her liquid assets.

At the end of the month, his entire fortune was less than ten yuan, and he had no choice but to borrow a place from someone else and make a living.

People seem to be alive, but in fact they are using their flesh and blood to pay off debts and feed a shadow that never shows up.

The bedroom is deserted, with a strange scent floating in the air. It is not a home, but a temporary cage.

Her luggage was surprisingly thin: a few winter clothes, a set of bedding, and basic toiletries.

To survive, only the minimum configuration is required.

The low cabinet is used to store underwear boxes.

Inside the wardrobe, the hangers are clearly arranged in layers:

The shirt goes on top, the pants go on the bottom, and the shoes go on the bottom.

Order is the only dignity she can control.

After she had packed up, she changed into her pajamas. She disliked heavy clothes, and even more so, she disliked being bound. Whether it was clothes or her life.

While Bo Qi is away, take off the shell of the day first.

People who steal time always have a kind of desperate elegance.

But she knew that every second under the eaves did not belong to her.

Outside the window, the narrow alleys were being blocked inch by inch by inch by snow. Layer upon layer of white covered the entire outline of Hangzhou Port.

The field of vision was filled with gray light.

Bai Luo casually tied his long hair into a loose bun, and the hair fell on the side of his neck, like a thread of moonlight leaking through.

The living room is dark, and the kitchen is even darker.

The light outside the window flickered, and with that little light, she could clearly see the skull earring on the boy's ear bone.

Rusty rebellion, cheap sharpness.

Bai Luo's eyes moved, extremely indifferent and cold.

Gadgets... She had bought them before. More than one, more than once.

She wasn't surprised, nor afraid, nor worried. She curled her lips in sarcasm.

Some things shouldn't appear.

Some people shouldn't do that.

But the snow kept falling and the door kept opening. Fate never cared whether people wanted to meet again or not.

She stood at the junction of light and darkness, cold, sharp, and calm.

Bai Luo has never been a heroine waiting for redemption.

She was not the one chosen by fate.

She is the one who—

A person who steps on the back of fate and climbs to the altar step by step.

＿＿

No one cared about her in high school. For her, skipping classes to go to the internet cafe was just a different place to spend her time.

The class schedule is just a decoration, the bell is background noise, and the classroom is a temporary base that she occasionally visits.

She became a crack in Nanhuai No. 1 Middle School.

At that time, some bizarre things were popular, especially unconventional necklace pendants.

Devil's eye, rusty cross, skull, the more weird it is, the more people will attract.

Every time I pass by a jewelry store that is glittering with gold and shines like the entrance of a nightclub, my heels feel like they are rooted to the spot and I can't pull them away.

One day, she fell in love with a skull necklace. She was depressed, sad, and world-weary, just like herself. She paid for it without saying a word.

Nanhuai No. 1 Middle School has strict school rules:

Girls are not allowed to wear makeup or necklaces, and boys' hair cannot be longer than their ears.

Unfortunately, she was a regular scapegoat, a poor student, a troublemaker, a frequent target of bold and red marks on the disciplinary office's files.

The teacher's attitude towards her had long since changed from "disappointing in her" to "forget it, let her be".

If other students are late, the head teacher can scold them into an argumentative essay.

She missed classes for two days and the teacher just glanced at her.

"It's OK as long as people come."

It’s not that I’m not angry, it’s that the anger can’t move.

She has the wind behind her, and no one dares to touch her.

She only wears the necklace occasionally.

It was the evening study session of the first week of the second semester of my senior year in high school, and the air was filled with the lingering fatigue from the winter vacation.

She was absent-minded, scribbling the steps to solve a math problem with her pen.

I want to see someone so much that I can't sit still.

Before I could come up with an excuse for skipping class, there was a loud bang above my head and the whole classroom was plunged into darkness.

There is a power outage.

Her eyes lit up and she sneaked away during the chaos.

The corridor was pitch black. She hunched her shoulders and walked hurriedly, like a cat treading in the night.

There were only a few dozen steps from the third floor to the first floor. Unexpectedly, she bumped into him the moment she turned the corner.

Not a wall, not a railing, but a person.

A warm, firm, minty young body.

She screamed, her body falling forward uncontrollably.

The young man obviously did not expect such a sudden disaster to appear from the darkness. He reached out to help her in a panic, but was restrained by the force of her fall and stumbled back.

With a "bang".

The two of them fell heavily to the floor.

The tiles were bone-chillingly cold, but what was even more devastating than the cold was the momentary feeling of touch.

The two thin lips collided.

Soft. Warm. Jasmine. Minty.

It was not deliberate, nor was it romantic. It was a chaotic, embarrassing, and extremely absurd accident.

But there was an indescribable electric current that ran from the corners of the lips to the spine, burning and making the heart and chest numb.

She was stunned and he was frozen.

It was a dark night and no one moved.

It was as if the silence of the entire teaching building was holding its breath for a moment of absurdity.

Bai Luo felt the tension in the other person's back, and his own cheeks felt burning.

In the darkness, the two pairs of pupils became mirrors of each other's fear, reflecting broken shadows in their eyes.

An accident that shouldn't have happened happened.

The wind at the end of the corridor was blowing wildly, blowing her neat short hair, and a few strands of hair brushed his face.

Itchy and a little teasing.

“The light… is on!”

Someone from some classroom growled.

Suddenly, the lights in the entire corridor suddenly lit up.

Under the glaring white light, she stood up, her elbow accidentally brushing against the boy's hot earlobe.

He stretched out his hand hesitantly, his cold fingers only brushed across a cool necklace, grabbing an empty dream.

Bai Luo turned the corner as if fleeing, and the necklace broke with a sound.

Behind him, the young man realized what was happening and cursed softly.

"Fuck, my first kiss."

The sound is deep and wild, rebounding with triple echoes.

The students in the classroom on the first floor all leaned over to gossip and watch the show.

"Brother, you lost your first kiss?"

"Who did it? Tell me your name!"

"Who's so bold? Have you become stupid from studying?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, they even dare to move God, awesome."

Laughter, exclamations, the clatter of tables and chairs filled the air. Despite their noise and fury, the young man stared silently at the empty corner. It was an illusion, but also a calamity.

The wind picked up again, ruffling the strands of hair on his forehead.

“…It’s quite soft.”

Second evening study session, power outage, first floor corner, first in grade, first kiss.

Five words, the virus generally goes viral in Nanhuai No. 1 Middle School.

Everyone is looking for people and digging out details.

Who? Where? How did it happen?

But there was one person who didn't even lift his eyelids from beginning to end.

Lying on the table, she slept soundly, as if no matter how crazy the world was, it could not wake her up from the dream she had voluntarily fallen into.

She is the biggest outlier in Nanhuai No. 1 Middle School.

No star chasing, no chart chasing, no taking photos, no writing love letters.

Live like a shadow, decadent and indifferent to the world.

Almost every girl's diary contains traces of youth related to Bo'er.

He was the unspoken throbbing.

But in his radiant projection, Bai Luo was just a shadow. He didn't look up, didn't move his heart, and didn't record anything.

He was just a passing figure in her broken life.

＿＿

The theater of memories has always been good at deceiving people.

But now, the person hidden in the shadows of the kitchen is even more dreamlike than the boy in the white shirt and the arrogant smile in my memory.

Really, it looks so much like him.

"Haven't you seen enough?"

He spoke, his voice too lazy to bring out the hook.

As the light flashes, people become more unreal, just like a frame of film that is played repeatedly and is about to fade.

"How about, come closer?"

A fanciful invitation, a blatant provocation. It's a gamble where they know you won't dare, yet they insist you take the first step.

“…”

Bai Luo half-awkwardly pulled a dimple.

Suddenly, a bowl of clear soup noodles appeared.

There was no warning, no foreshadowing, it suddenly came into view.

It is said to be ordinary, but in fact it is nothing more ordinary.

But it is this kind of "ordinariness" that is the most fatal.

The noodles are covered with layers of condiments:

Shrimp, eggs, mushrooms, tofu, and green leafy vegetables.

After being stunned for a long time, I suddenly felt a long-lost bitterness in my throat.

＿＿

In the mist of memory, the figure of my father standing in front of the stove gradually became clearer.

My father was still alive at that time. Even though we couldn't see each other for many years, every time I went home, he would stir the spatula and cook the noodles in various ways, each one amazing.

He always said:

“When it comes to noodles, it’s not about the amount of ingredients, but the sincerity of the heart.”

But she didn't understand at that time. She only knew that after eating a bowl of clear soup noodles, the whole world felt warm.

The best taste in the world is never the delicacies from land and sea served in golden bowls and silver spoons, nor is it the empty talk of Michelin three stars.

Sometimes it’s just a bowl of plain soup, a few noodles boiled in boiling water, and a little bit of honest sincerity.

But fate is never merciful.

In 2007, during the late summer of her fourth year, her father died in the line of duty. The news was like a silent punishment from heaven, striking down upon the world.

There were no last words, no farewells, only a piece of official document, a cold corpse, and a tragedy that no one could bring to an end.

My mother had already started a new family and her new life was full of excitement and brightness.

She has no home anymore.

No one loves her anymore.

In this world, no one will cook a bowl of noodles for her at her body temperature.

But she is still eating.

Bite by bite, I chew on loneliness and swallow the cold eyes.

That means she hasn't lost yet.

＿＿

Bai Luo's mesh was filled with thousands of bright lights, and the waves of light pushed one layer after another until a snap of fingers broke the silence.

"As a mascot?"

The tone of the voice is cold, and the ending sound is a little mocking.

“…”

"No."

Bai Luo sniffed barely perceptibly, but the bamboo chopsticks that Bo Xi stuffed into his palm warmed up the coldness.

What he delivered was the first whiff of fireworks in the world.

Endless darkness rolled in. Outside the window was the extravagant life of Hangzhou and Hong Kong, while inside was the simple food and drink of the rented house.

The steaming heat hit her long and thick eyelashes, making them wet and red at the ends of her eyes.

Bai Luo lightly picked up a strand of noodles and slipped it into his mouth. The bone broth was rich, chewy but not stiff, smooth but not greasy.

Looking up, there is mist at the corners of my eyes, but I try to pretend to be cold.

"Do you cook for yourself every day?"

"no."

Bo Xi glanced at her sideways and replied vaguely while biting noodles.

After a pause, he added slowly.

"Instant noodles, takeout, and dinner. That's all."

It is exactly as he said.

On the day of high school graduation, a thin divorce agreement revealed that my parents had already parted ways and reorganized their families.

And he was just an outsider who found out belatedly.

My heart sank heavily to the bottom of the sea, and my attachment to home dried up and shattered inch by inch.

Since his freshman year, he has lived alone in a rented house, relying on fast food for three meals a day, living like an isolated island.

Occasionally, he would call up a few friends, squeeze into a dimly lit restaurant on the corner of the street, sit around a table, and eat and drink to his heart's content.

The beer clinked loudly and he laughed crazier than anyone else in the smoke.

But who would really believe that the noisy laughter is the joy that comes from the heart?

It's just to steal a few seconds of false warmth from the hustle and bustle, to warm up the bones and blood that have long been cold.

The night wind was cold, ruffling their cool-toned hair. Bai Luo responded thoughtfully.

His gaze suddenly dropped to a pair of hands with sharp finger bones.

On the little finger of the left hand, there is a silver ring.

A cold light flashed, just like him, distant, sharp, and repulsive.

She understands the subtext of the pinky ring.

——Unmarried, uninhibited, and never compromise.

But is he really a non-marriageist? Or is he just too lazy to make a move?

When WeChat passed, his nickname was extremely perfunctory.

——BL.

There is no beginning or end, no emotion, no warmth, and no story.

But she knew that the more such a person was, the more ruins he had hidden in his heart.

Furthermore, his initials are clearly BD.

Thin. Thin. Thin. Thin.

bó diàn. bó diàn. bó diàn. bó diàn.

Repeat silently in the throat.

The extra L is a loophole, a flaw, and a weakness that cannot be hidden.

She was certain that L was a girl's surname, an obsession deep in his bones and blood, and a nameless white moonlight.

As for the pinky ring, is it just for decoration?

Absolutely not.

But Bo Xi had long since uprooted the word "home".

He only believes in loneliness, freedom, and BL. It's not that he won't get married, but that he won't surrender.

Bai Luo ate at a normal pace, while the person opposite him finished his noodles and soup in just five minutes.

He put down his chopsticks, pushed the porcelain bowl away, and leaned back lazily, his silhouette three-dimensional and sharp.

A sincere compliment.

"You...are very skilled."

"Aren't you the birthday boy? You should eat something good."

A casual remark made Bai Luo stunned and confused.

"What?"

Bo Yi stared at her steadily.

A girl's eyes are truly forbidden in this world.

Transparent, bright, quiet, and dark.

Use all the contradictory yet beautiful words to describe it: brilliant under the lights, gloomy in the darkness.

Light and darkness coexist, beauty and danger coexist.

Love and fear, madness and death.

"Isn't today your birthday?"

He raised his hand to hook the loose hair on his forehead, and the ending tone was lazy and unruly.

I just verified through WeChat and found out that today is her birthday.

WeChat account: [BL971231].

BL, Bai Luo, is the abbreviation of clear and obvious.

971231, the birth code, a clear destiny.

On December 31, 2017, New Year's Eve, at one o'clock in the morning, she officially turned twenty years old.

The first snow falls at the end of the year, and time ignites a fireworks display for her.

It's a beautiful day, so you should eat something good. Otherwise, it would be a waste of all the snow in the city.

Old paper-cuts were pasted on the windows, casting skewed shadows. The dancing snowflakes, stained by the streetlights, blurred the vision of those inside.

The red eyes looked at the flying snow, but they turned into an unreasonable flower.

Stubborn, stubborn, and never give up.

"I don't celebrate my birthday."

"It's quite boring."

Two sentences, understated, the lighter, the more painful.

The more you try to hide something, the more obvious it becomes. You are just afraid of being seen through.

She actually really wanted to.

After my father passed away, birthdays became a holiday cancelled by the world.

My uncle’s gifts arrive on time every year, and even if they are halfway around the world, the bow on the gift box is still neatly tied.

But no matter how exquisite the gift box is, it cannot hold a whole home.

She had stopped believing it a long time ago.

I don’t believe in cakes, I don’t believe in candles, and I don’t believe that the four words “Happy Birthday” can warm people’s hearts.

Over time, I even forgot to remember the date.

What's the use of remembering it? It's just a reminder to myself again and again:

You've been left behind.

Hangzhou-Hong Kong, old town, Nanfeng Lane, rental house, teenager.

What is the end of darkness?

No one knows, no one dares to ask.

Only the snow falls madly and wildly.

"I'll go wash the dishes."

Without waiting for a response from the person opposite her, she stood up swiftly.

When the cold knuckles touched the edge of the bowl, a burning arc suddenly rolled across the wrist.

It was also like the moment when the palm of the hand was clenched by heat and stinging between the mottled brick walls of an old alley.

In the eternal night that was as cold as a bone marrow, he felt a warm light.

After all, a beam of light is enough to illuminate a teenager's world.

"You don't have to wash the dishes. It's late. Go get some rest."

His voice was emotionless, yet every word was powerful. He raised his wrist, and a frosted white mug landed in her hand.

"Why?"

She frowned, her tone a little unconvinced. She never ate or drank for free, and never owed anyone a favor.

Her life motto is just one:

Either exchange for equal value or don't interact.

Otherwise, outsiders would see this and confuse right and wrong.

He treated her as the landlord and him as a stray dog ​​who was asking for food and shelter.

The figure holding the bowl and chopsticks approached lazily, with a slanted shoulder line and a ruffian air.

"I'm afraid you might drop the bowl because you're clumsy."

After a pause, he stabbed again.

"There aren't many to begin with. If one falls, we'll have to take turns licking the plate."

Actually, there are only two.

One for soup and the other for rice.

One was the loneliness he was accustomed to from living alone for many years, and the other was the exception he tacitly agreed to after she broke in.

And she became the first and only person he had ever placed into the desolate world.

It wasn't by flattering or showing weakness, but by being dragged in from outside the rules and stuffed into a restricted area that he had never opened to anyone.

“…”

Is his mouth poisoned?