In February, on the day Shao Mingyin returned to Shijiazhuang, Liang Zhen was already there.

That day’s broadcast kept announcing delays due to military exercises, causing Hebei Airlines’ originally scheduled 5:50 PM flight to be postponed. If there had been no delay, Shao Mingyin would have arrived at Zhengding Airport by 8:30 PM, but as he waited in Wenzhou, he still hadn’t started boarding at that time. He messaged Liang Zhen, telling him not to pick him up because there was a high chance the flight could be canceled. Liang Zhen just replied to notify him once he boarded, and he would come over.

After waiting until 10 o’clock, Shao Mingyin finally boarded the plane. He felt a bit nervous because it was not only his first flight in three or four years but also his first time leaving Wenzhou, with his destination being Shijiazhuang.

He sat by the window and, after messaging Liang Zhen, turned off his phone, his gaze fixed outside the window. Once the plane took off, he saw the neon lights flashing all the way from Jiangnan, but that didn’t last long before they were enveloped by dark clouds. He pulled down the window shade and sat quietly in his seat, overhearing some conversations around him.

He heard Wenzhou dialect. Shao Mingyin could understand it well enough but couldn’t speak it. On this flight to Shijiazhuang, he heard more of the Hebei dialect.

Unlike the southern dialects, northern dialects are not very different from standard Mandarin. Sitting next to Shao Mingyin was a couple, whose speech was very authentic. They were the ones who first asked where he was from. As soon as he spoke in his regional accent, they knew he was a fellow countryman.

The couple ran a hardware business in Wenzhou and owned their own shop. When Shao Mingyin asked if they were going home for the New Year, they said yes, but they actually didn’t plan on returning this time. Their hometown had been gradually developing, and even if they earned less, they preferred staying there. After the plane landed, the man sitting next to Shao Mingyin even showed him a picture of his seven-year-old child, who needed his parents around.

Without any checked luggage, Shao Mingyin said goodbye to the couple and walked towards the domestic arrivals exit with his small suitcase. After turning on his phone, messages from Liang Zhen popped up, sent half an hour earlier, saying he was waiting at Gate 5.

Shao Mingyin walked over, and as soon as he stepped outside, the cold wind hit his face. Just as he took out his phone to ask Liang Zhen for his exact location, someone suddenly appeared behind him. Before he could turn around, a scarf was wrapped around his neck.

“You were lecturing me, yet you’re not dressed warmly either,” Liang Zhen adjusted the scarf. “Didn’t you check the weather forecast? It’s going to snow in Shijiazhuang in a few days!”

“You’ve seen snow before,” Shao Mingyin said as they walked towards the taxi stand together. “Lanzhou gets snow every year.”

“But Wenzhou doesn’t,” Liang Zhen replied. “I’ve never seen snow with you.”

They reached the hotel they had booked around midnight. Driven by professionalism, Shao Mingyin insisted on registering his ID at the front desk. Liang Zhen objected, saying it would ruin certain play scenarios. After kicking him and saying he had no interest in playing, Shao Mingyin went to the front desk. When he returned to the room, Liang Zhen looked him up and down and said he looked different from his photos.

Shao Mingyin played along, asking, “How do I look different?”

“You look younger in the photos,” Liang Zhen said, putting his arm around Shao Mingyin’s waist and leading him into the room, closing the door. His other hand pinched Shao Mingyin’s chin as he continued to examine him. “How old were you when you took that photo?”

“I had just come of age and started this job,” Shao Mingyin whispered, turning his face slightly away. “If the boss isn’t satisfied, find someone else.”

“No need to find someone else. There’s something good about being young, and something equally good about being a bit older.” As Liang Zhen spoke, his hands roamed lower. “I don’t think you’ll disappoint me.”

“I won’t, I have a good reputation,” Shao Mingyin said, embracing him, fingers tapping his spine. “About the price…”

“The price is negotiable,” Liang Zhen said confidently. “If you satisfy me, I’ll give you a house or a car.”

“You’re so generous, boss. But…” Shao Mingyin pressed against him, lowering his head. Liang Zhen loved his submissive demeanor and his voice softened. “But what?”

“But your partner handles all your finances. If you give me a house and a car, how will you cover up the financial gap when they ask?”

Liang Zhen: ???

That sentence snapped Liang Zhen out of his role-play. He collapsed onto the bed, wrapped himself in the blanket, and stared dejectedly at a smug Shao Mingyin.

“Can’t you let me enjoy the role-play for once?” Liang Zhen complained. “Every time, it’s the same. Shao Mingyin, you should be a rapper. You’re a rapper who missed his calling because you chose to serve the people.”

“It’s you who comes up with these scenarios. I think you’re the actor who missed his calling for rap,” Shao Mingyin said, heading to the bathroom. He asked through the door, “Is this fun for you?”

“Yes,” Liang Zhen said, popping out of the blanket and heading to the bathroom to bother Shao Mingyin. “Playing these games with you feels great, it’s such a sense of achievement! If you wore a uniform, we could play—”

Before he could finish, Shao Mingyin threw a towel at his face. “Don’t even think about it.”

Liang Zhen’s mock-cry was pitiful. “Now I can’t even think about it! I have no dignity in this house!”

“You lost your dignity long ago,” Shao Mingyin teased, pinching his face. “Who was it that came rooting around like a pig?”

“Hmph!” Liang Zhen couldn’t win the argument and sulked out of the bathroom. Shao Mingyin shook his head in exasperation, thinking how Liang Zhen, despite being twenty-one, still acted like a child around him. By the time he finished washing up, it was nearly 2 AM. Exhausted, Shao Mingyin slept until noon the next day. When he woke up, Liang Zhen had already left, leaving a note with the name of the performance venue.

Liang Zhen’s performance was the next night, and that day he was just rehearsing, so it didn’t matter if Shao Mingyin went to watch or not. After lingering in bed for a while, Shao Mingyin finally went out. Liang Zhen had booked a place in the city center, but a few blocks away, there were some distinctive snack shops. Shao Mingyin went into one and ordered a bowl of spicy soup. It had been so long since he had it that he was choked by the pepper on his first sip. After several coughs, the shop owner, thinking he wasn’t used to it, poured him a cup of hot water.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Shao Mingyin thanked her in Mandarin and continued stirring his soup. After finishing the bowl, he felt warm and no longer cold in the winter air.

He headed to the livehouse where Liang Zhen was rehearsing. On the way, he passed a donkey meat sandwich shop he frequented as a child and bought two, intending to share one with Liang Zhen. During the day, the livehouse was empty, and the door was open, so Shao Mingyin walked straight in without calling Liang Zhen. Inside, it was dark except for the stage. Liang Zhen and the staff were upstairs in the control room, testing the stage lights for the next day’s performance.

Since Liang Zhen was busy, Shao Mingyin didn’t disturb him. He could hear him clearly directing the staff on what colors he wanted and which lights to turn on at specific moments. The stage lights changed continuously with his instructions. Soon, Liang Zhen said, “Can we run through it one last time?” The lighting technician laughed, saying they had recorded everything accurately and it wouldn’t go wrong, but they still cooperated for another run-through.

Shao Mingyin also heard it, thinking that Liang Zhen should be coming down after finishing the test. The donkey meat sandwich in his hand had already gone cold, so he walked to the radiator in the corner and put the plastic bag on it to warm it up.

It was only after he stood there that he noticed the livehouse had windows. They were sliding windows, but to create an underground atmosphere, the glass was covered with posters just like the other walls. There was a small nail on the window frame with a decorative glass pyramid hanging from it.

Shao Mingyin wasn’t sure what he was thinking, maybe he just felt too stuffy, so he reached out and grabbed the handle of the sliding window. After turning it, he pulled the window inward, creating a gap about ten centimeters wide at the top. He had just come in from outside and knew it was a sunless day, but the gap still let in a beam of white light, causing him to close his eyes immediately.

“Why did you open the window?” Liang Zhen had come down, the lighting test was already finished. Shao Mingyin adjusted to the brightness, opened his eyes, and handed the now warm donkey meat sandwich to Liang Zhen. Liang Zhen wasn’t hungry, but he happily accepted it with both hands and started eating. While he was eating, he saw Shao Mingyin step back a couple of paces, look at the gap in the window, and then step forward to close it again.

Liang Zhen still had a mouthful of the sandwich and wanted to ask something after swallowing it, but it was too delicious, so he took another big bite and chewed, watching Shao Mingyin lift a corner of a poster, allowing a single beam of white light to come through. Shao Mingyin took down the glass pyramid and placed it three or four centimeters away from that corner, then asked Liang Zhen to extend his hand.

“My hands are greasy,” Liang Zhen mumbled, but he still opened his palm, letting Shao Mingyin hold his fingers and place his hand in the beam of light.

Then Liang Zhen’s chewing paused as he saw the colors on his hand. The principle was simple, just the refraction from the prism, but even after he swallowed the sandwich, he continued to stare at the colors in amazement and exclaimed, “Rainbow.”

“Wow,” he said, forgetting about the sandwich, adjusting the height of his hand, repeatedly saying he had caught a rainbow. After he had enough fun, Shao Mingyin hung the small pyramid back and was about to reattach the corner of the poster. He had already let go of Liang Zhen’s fingers, but as the beam of light turned white again, Liang Zhen suddenly grabbed his hand.

Shao Mingyin thought Liang Zhen wanted him to catch the rainbow again, so he was a bit reluctant, but Liang Zhen quickly clasped his fingers and told him they should catch something else.

They fell silent, their gazes dropping to their clasped hands. This kind of action had become very natural by now, including Liang Zhen moving behind him, which Shao Mingyin didn’t mind at all. Liang Zhen’s right palm pressed against the back of Shao Mingyin’s right hand, fingers interlocking. He lifted his hand, making Shao Mingyin’s open palm get as close as possible to the torn corner of the poster.

When the light fell entirely on it, they couldn’t see the original scar because of the angle and the brightness of the light.

Then Liang Zhen whispered in Shao Mingyin’s ear, saying that Shao Mingyin had caught the bright light.

Shao Mingyin smiled, looking at the white light and Liang Zhen’s hand, and said he had caught Liang Zhen.