CHAPTER 5: ZEBRA ZEBRA

When the games at the table started later that night, Ruan Zhizhi immediately regretted not going back to the hotel to sleep earlier.

The game they were playing, called “Ten-Thirty,” had her losing three rounds in a row. Every time she lost, she had to drink a full cup.

Now, staring at the cup filled almost to the brim, she felt like she might throw up just from looking at it — let alone drinking it down.

Chen Jiayan, clearly a party king, was having the time of his life and kept urging:
“Zhizhi, hurry up! Follow the rules — no dodging your drinks!”

Ruan Zhizhi closed her eyes, sighing in resignation, and bravely picked up the cup.

The next second, before she could even lift it, the man opposite her snatched it away and downed it in one gulp.

Ruan Zhizhi, already tipsy from the earlier rounds, felt her head spinning, her sense of direction blurred. She shook her head, staring at him for a long moment, only to realize… the one who drank her cup was Shi Yan.

Everyone stared in surprise. Chen Jiayan blinked, slightly confused:
“Shi Yan, are you drinking her punishment for her?”

“No.” Shi Yan set down the empty cup. “I was thirsty.”

Chen Jiayan: “…”

Yan Rui: “…”

Ignoring the incredulous stares around him, Shi Yan raised an eyelid to glance at Ruan Zhizhi. His dark eyes were empty, unreadable, yet the next words made her sober up almost instantly:

“I drank all the drinks for you tonight.”

The flickering lights of the bar danced across his face, casting a soft, ephemeral glow.

It took Ruan Zhizhi nearly ten seconds to process what he had just said. She had wanted to refuse, but considering she might get too drunk to even get back safely, the words that came out of her mouth ended up being:
“Thank you.”

He arched an eyebrow, replying effortlessly:
“No need. Just remember, you owe me one.”

Ruan Zhizhi hated owing people favors, but glancing at the nearly ten bottles of beer on the table, she reluctantly acknowledged that this was one favor she could not avoid.

All of it came down to her poor tolerance for alcohol.

As promised, Shi Yan didn’t hold back. Every single drink Ruan Zhizhi was supposed to finish, he took instead — effortlessly. He drank with such ease that even Chen Jiayan’s amused gaze took on a hint of curiosity. He drank with such decisiveness that Ruan Zhizhi could feel the full brunt of Yan Rui’s envy even across the table.

Whether it was forgetting to check the calendar or just fate, Ruan Zhizhi ended up the biggest loser of all the games that night. By the end, Shi Yan had consumed nearly two-thirds of the drinks on the table.

Finally, the case of beer Chen Jiayan had brought was completely finished, and Ruan Zhizhi felt a slight sense of relief.

She glanced at Shi Yan — he was casually folding a napkin, showing no sign of intoxication. Her guilt eased just a little.

Perhaps noticing her gaze, Shi Yan lifted his eyes toward her. Ruan Zhizhi felt suddenly flustered under the depth of his black eyes.

Neither spoke. After a long pause, taking advantage of the distraction around her, Ruan Zhizhi silently mouthed:
“Sorry.”

He pressed his lips together. A fleeting smile, subtle and complex, crossed his eyes. Then, extending his hand, he handed her the carefully folded paper rose, silently mouthing:
“For you.”

Perhaps it was the alcohol dulling her hesitation, but Ruan Zhizhi didn’t even try to refuse. She accepted the delicate paper rose.

It still retained a trace of warmth from his palm — faint, but unmistakable.

Her cheeks burned. She could feel the alcohol creeping up her system. She stared at the paper rose, lost in thought. Just as she was about to ask him, “Have we met somewhere before?” the chattering girls beside her hijacked the conversation.

The little courage Ruan Zhizhi had mustered immediately vanished. Asking such a question would be awkward, and might even make Shi Yan think she was awkwardly trying to hit on him. Besides, the chances of them having met before were basically zero, so… it was better not to ask something so stupid.

Even though his gaze really did feel familiar.

Gloomy, distant, tinged with fatigue, always perceptive, always observing from the sidelines.

“Shi Yan, I just noticed a tattoo on your left arm. Does it have any special meaning?”

“Are tattoos really popular abroad? It looks so cool. I want one too.”

“Does it hurt when you get one? Do you need anesthesia?”

…

The barrage of questions and chatter around her made Ruan Zhizhi dizzy. She decided it was better to go to the restroom and splash some water on her face to wake up a bit.

Just as she came out of the restroom, she happened to run into Chen Jiayan, who was on the phone in the corridor.

Seeing him from a distance, she couldn’t help but stop.

He really did look a lot like Li Sicheng, especially when he smiled.

“Zhizhi, what a coincidence.” Chen Jiayan hung up and walked over to her, genuinely concerned. “You haven’t drunk much tonight, right? You’re not drunk?”

Not drunk, my foot.

Though her mind was in turmoil with complaints and resentment, she smiled politely on the outside and replied,
“I’m fine. I really haven’t had much.”

Chen Jiayan studied her carefully for a moment to make sure she was sober, then continued with a teasing grin:
“But isn’t it surprising that that weirdo Shi Yan would shield you from drinking? Usually, he just observes from the sidelines. Last time we went clubbing, a girl in our group got so drunk she threw up — he didn’t even raise an eyelid.”

As they walked back together, Ruan Zhizhi absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and replied casually,
“Maybe he just wanted to drink tonight, and since he hadn’t lost in the games, he thought he’d take my punishment instead.”

“You’re overthinking. Shi Yan’s not that kind of person.” Chen Jiayan waved it off, then after a pause, half-joking, half-serious, asked,
“Do you think… he likes you?”

Ruan Zhizhi froze. “…What a joke.”

And yet, her heart inexplicably skipped a beat.

Fortunately, by this time, they had returned to the table, putting an end to that awkward topic.

For some reason, Ruan Zhizhi found herself unconsciously searching for Shi Yan’s figure the moment she looked up. After scanning for a while, she finally spotted him sitting on a chair on the left side of the bar’s stage.

Cradling a guitar.

Shi Yan’s head was lowered, his long lashes casting tiny shadows on his eyelids. His fingers lightly brushed the guitar strings, calm and composed, like an endless ocean, bottomless and serene.

Ruan Zhizhi knew nothing about guitars, yet she thought he played beautifully. The melody was slow, faint, carrying a lingering sense of lonely melancholy.

“Zebra, zebra, you’ve returned to your home, but I’ve wasted my cold years. In your city, no door opens for me, and in the end, I must return to the road…”

“Zebra, zebra, do you remember me? I’m a fool who only knows how to sing. Zebra, zebra, sleep now, I will carry my guitar and leave the north.”

Ruan Zhizhi recognized it as a folk song — Zebra, Zebra.

Chen Jiayan, unusually quiet beside her, sighed after a long pause.
“Who knows what’s going on in that guy’s head all day.”

Zebras, when alone at night, cannot sleep.

He must be singing to someone.

Ruan Zhizhi tilted her head, noticing for the first time a trace of humanity in this otherwise inscrutable man.

At least, he had feelings, perhaps had even suffered heartbreak.

As she thought this, she couldn’t help but glance back at the stage — only to meet his gaze.

His eyes were darker than the surrounding haze, wandering through the red-and-golden lights, always tired, always decadent, always… mesmerizing.

Her fingers, buried in the pocket of her down jacket, accidentally brushed the paper rose and inexplicably trembled.