On the seventh day of my insomnia in my senior year of high school, I dreamed of a man playing the piano.
>In the scent of cedar, his bony hands slid across the keys: "Su Tinglan, you can't run away."
>I woke up to the same cedar scent in the law section of the library.
>The man was removing books from the bookshelf above my head.
>He lowered his eyes and looked at me: "Classmate, can you give me this book "The Spirit of the Law"?"
>The library card fell out, and the name column read: Zheng Zhaocan.
>——Law school genius four years older than me.
