September 30, evening.
Wang Xiaoliang came out of Fan Qishan's room and pulled the door shut behind him.
The living room lights were off.
He had barely taken two steps when he caught a figure on the sofa out of the corner of his eye.
His heart clenched, and he slapped the light switch on the wall.
The lights came on.
Luo Bisheng was curled up in the middle of the sofa, clutching a bottle of ice water covered in condensation. He sat huddled there, staring blankly at the coffee table.
He did not even squint when the lights suddenly came on.
He just slowly raised his head and glanced at Wang Xiaoliang.
"Fuck!" Wang Xiaoliang patted his chest. "Sitting here in the dark in the middle of the night-are you trying to scare someone to death?"
Luo Bisheng did not smile. His expression did not change.
"I just got some water from the fridge. Thought I'd sit a while before heading upstairs."
Wang Xiaoliang walked over and sat down across from him.
"I can't get hold of Huanhuan."
Luo Bisheng's voice was painfully dry as he offered this without being asked.
"Her old Jiangcheng number was disconnected ages ago. Her new number won't go through either. She won't reply on WeChat or answer voice calls."
He unscrewed the cap, took a sip, then screwed it back on.
"I called Jiajia. She said Huanhuan was fine and told me not to worry."
"Jiajia can reach her?" Wang Xiaoliang caught the implication.
"Jiajia said Huanhuan just didn't know how to face me."
After saying it himself, Luo Bisheng paused, as though he had listened to it again before finally tasting what it meant.
He set the bottle on the coffee table and sank into the sofa.
"How long have you been