First, then, love.

The room fell into a deathly silence.

Shu Yao lay on the large bed.

The air in the bedroom seemed to have been sucked away by the sound of the door closing.

The space, which was just a moment ago bustling with activity and so hot that even breathing felt like a fire, is now as desolate as an icebox.

The warm wind was still blowing, but it couldn't dispel the deep-seated emptiness within me.

Shu Yao slowly sat up.

She reached out and touched her collarbone, which he had just kissed.

It still hurts a bit, and my lips are swollen and burning.

But the person is gone.

She turned her head and looked at the left side of the bed.

The sheets were a little messy, wrinkles left from when he rolled out of bed, but they were no longer warm from him.

Shu Yao got out of bed barefoot.

I stepped out of the bedroom.

In the living room, the main lights were not on; only moonlight shone in.

The huge 300-square-meter single-level apartment appeared eerily empty in the dead of night.

She went to the kitchen.

The ginger soup in the small saucepan on the island had cooled down completely, and a thin film had formed on the surface.

She picked up the water next to her and took a sip.

The icy liquid slid into her stomach, sending a chill down her spine.

Walk to the floor-to-ceiling window.

The God of War did not sleep.

Dogs have the keenest instincts; they knew their owner had gone out with a murderous aura and hadn't taken them with him.

The God of War paced restlessly on the anti-corrosion wooden floor, letting out uneasy whimpers.

I saw Shu Yao walking over.

The God of War stopped, turned the giant dog's head, and looked at her with a wary look in his eyes, as well as a hint of vulnerability seeking comfort.

Shu Yao used to be a little afraid of this dog.

The retired military dog, weighing 80 pounds, had a scar on its face and looked fierce; she usually didn't even dare to touch it.

But tonight, looking at this beast that was also left in the empty house, she suddenly felt a sense of shared suffering.

She crouched down, her skirt trailing on the floor.

After hesitating for a moment, she extended her fair hand.

Slowly, it was placed on the giant dog head of the God of War.

The God of War stiffened for a moment, neither dodging nor baring his teeth.

It merely snorted softly, then gently rested its heavy head on Shu Yao's knees.

Shu Yao's fingers ran through its coarse, black and yellow hair.

The dog has a high body temperature and rough, stiff fur.

The feel of it was surprisingly similar to that of the man.

Shu Yao rubbed the God of War's ears, her eyes inexplicably stinging.

"He went to catch bad guys, armed with guns," she whispered to the dog, as if talking to herself.

"You think he's so fierce, those bad guys shouldn't be able to beat him?"

The God of War couldn't understand, but he exhaled a puff of hot air from his nostrils and sighed heavily.

Shu Yao sat on the floor, hugging the dog's neck.

That's when I suddenly realized.

Without realizing it, she had become accustomed to the presence of men.

I got used to the smell of soap on him, used to him sleeping next to me like a fireplace at night, and used to the ribs he cut like stones.

She even grew accustomed to his domineering and unreasonable style, yet he could still give her an absolute sense of security in the details.

Once he left, this home became a lifeless showroom.

*

The next day, dawn broke.

Shu Yao opened her eyes, the sunlight stinging them.

She sat up abruptly, and the silk quilt slipped off her body.

She glanced down at the messy sheets and her crumpled silk nightgown.

Those unspeakable scenes from last night instantly flooded my mind.

Shu Yao's face flushed red all the way to the roots of her neck.

She covered her face with her hands and rubbed it vigorously.

They've gone mad, they've really gone mad.

She threw off the covers, got out of bed, and rushed barefoot into the master bedroom's bathroom.

Turn on the tap and splash cold water on your face.

I looked up and saw myself in the mirror.

The corners of her eyes still held a hint of spring, and the dark red teeth mark on her collarbone arrogantly proclaimed everything that had happened last night.

She dried her face and walked out of the master bedroom.

The room was deathly quiet.

Shu Yao walked to the front of the island platform.

He turned off the stove last night, but didn't drink the ginger soup.

She reached out, picked up the pot, and poured it all out.

*

For three consecutive days.

A full seventy-two hours.

He Zheng seemed to have vanished into thin air.

There was no phone call, no WeChat, not even a punctuation mark was sent.

Shu Yao goes to work at the Starry Sky Art Center every day as usual, and drives home after get off work.

Life seems to be the same as before.

But something just doesn't feel right.

In the morning, no one buys the steamed buns from the plump lady in the south of the city; in the evening, no one serves the thickly sliced ​​spare ribs.

Every day, the God of War lies down next to the shoe cabinet in the entryway, barely eating any dog ​​food, his chin pressed against the floor, his eyes fixed on the tightly closed security door.

As soon as the elevator outside the door makes a sound, it immediately perks up its ears.

Upon realizing it wasn't its owner, it slammed its head back onto the floor in disappointment, letting out a long sigh.

Looking at the dog, Shu Yao felt a growing sense of unease and restlessness in her heart, like weeds growing wildly.

*

Sunday afternoon.

It was a cloudy day outside, with low-hanging, leaden-gray clouds that looked like it was about to rain.

The living room was dark, with the lights off.

Shu Yao sat on the cashmere carpet in front of the French windows.

He held the cello between his legs, and with his right hand he was applying rosin to the bow hair.

The friction produced a rustling sound.

To avoid making the room too quiet, she casually turned on the LCD TV on the wall.

I switched to the local news channel and used it as background noise.

She set up the violin, pressed down the strings with her left hand, and pulled the bow with her right.

Bach's Cello Suites for Solo Performance.

The tunes I can usually play with my eyes closed, I just can't get right today.

My mind is not at peace.

The finger placement on the string was always off by a millimeter, resulting in discordant semitones in the pitch.

Harsh and sluggish.

She stopped what she was doing in frustration and readjusted her breathing.