He closed his eyes, leaned against the sofa, and rubbed his temples. He let out a long sigh, stood up, pinched the hem of his shirt, and pulled it off, tossing it casually into the nearby laundry basket before heading into the bathroom.
After showering, Sheng Kuang directly turned off the lights and got into bed.
Five minutes later, he turned over.
Three minutes after that, he turned back.
He tossed and turned like this for about ten minutes before he suddenly sat up in bed.
The room was quiet. He stared blankly at a spot in the dim nightlight for a while, then threw back the covers, slipped on his slippers, and decided to go to the balcony for some fresh air.
The curtains in the villa rooms were all drawn, so it wasn't bright on the balcony.
Sheng Kuang leaned on the balcony railing and felt the breeze for a while.
In early autumn, the mornings and evenings were still a bit cool, and a thin layer of chill gradually settled onto him.
After standing for another moment, he propped his elbows on the railing and was about to straighten up to go back to his room when the balcony door next door was pushed open. The sound of a lighter flicking was heard, followed by a faint smell of smoke drifting in with the night wind.
The balconies on the second floor were different from the third. The entire third-floor balcony was connected, but the second-floor balconies were separated between each room.
Sheng Kuang leaned a little further out over the railing and saw Lan Bowen standing on his balcony, contentedly exhaling smoke towards the distant night sky.
Lan Bowen took a few puffs of his cigarette and sensed someone watching him. He tucked the cigarette between his fingers and poked his head out over the balcony.
He saw Sheng Kuang and his eyes widened in surprise. He took the cigarette away from his mouth, "What are you doing?"
Sheng Kuang's gaze fell on his hand resting casually on the railing, its tip glowing a faint red. "Didn't the doctor tell you to smoke less?"
"I don't smoke much, just one a day. I didn't smoke today, so I thought I'd have one before bed." Lan Bowen glanced at Sheng Kuang, "What about you? Out here in the middle of the night for?"
Just then, an airplane flew overhead, likely heading for the nearby airport, flying quite low.
Sheng Kuang couldn't even be bothered to think of a reason. "Watching the plane."
"..."
Lan Bowen was stunned into silence for a few seconds by such a perfunctory reason. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray beside him. "Alright, you take your time watching. I'm going back inside."
Sheng Kuang didn't say anything. As Lan Bowen was about to close the balcony door, he suddenly asked, "Wen Zi, are you not sleepy?"
Lan Bowen turned back, "Huh? No, I'm not sleepy. What's up?"
Sheng Kuang: "Wanna chat?"
"..."
Lan Bowen thought to himself, What the hell kind of chat do I have to have with you?
Despite his thoughts, ten seconds later, Lan Bowen was leaning back on the railing again, and the two of them began to chat across a wall separating their balconies.
After five minutes of talking, the balcony was still silent.
Lan Bowen couldn't stand it anymore, "Well, talk then."
Sheng Kuang said, "Let me think."
This thought led to another long silence.
Lan Bowen couldn't help himself again, "Still haven't thought of it?"
Actually, Sheng Kuang had initially wanted to talk to Lan Bowen about the girl living on the third floor. But after thinking for a long time, he realized there wasn't much to talk about.
What was there to talk about?
Talk about how she was his fan, a huge fan, and not a crazy one, but a rational one with good values and who was very dedicated.
And then he became unhappy.
This should have been something to be happy about, but he was unhappy.
If he said it out loud, Lan Bowen would probably think he had some serious illness.
Sheng Kuang was silent for a few seconds, "Forget it, let's not talk about it."
Lan Bowen was starting to get annoyed, "Are you playing with me in the middle of the night?"
Sheng Kuang said, "Well, if you insist on talking, then we can talk."
Lan Bowen wanted to hit someone. Who insisted on talking?
Before Lan Bowen could get angry, Sheng Kuang added, "Let's talk about your girlfriend."
Lan Bowen's exasperated expression instantly vanished, "She's my wife, we're married. Thank you."
He paused, then turned to Sheng Kuang, "You're bored, why are you bringing up my wife?"
Sheng Kuang said, "Ah," with a perfunctory tone, "Isn't your wife your fan? I'm just curious, how did you pick her out from so many fans back then?"