The first time Song Qianjin met Qi Zhaoxun, the other boy was climbing over a wall to skip class.
His silver hair and earring flashed in the sunlight, and the cuffs of his pants were smeared with mud from the flower bed next door.
"Going to report me, good student?" the boy said, raising an eyebrow with a blade of grass between his teeth.
Only later did Song Qianjin learn that Qi Zhaoxun always hid a Han dynasty jade cicada in his sleeve.
In the restoration room late at night, Qi Zhaoxun ran his fingers over its thousand-year-old crack. "It has better manners than living people."
On a stormy night, Song Qianjin caught sight of him curled beneath a streetlamp, feeding stray cats.
When the umbrella tilted up, raindrops fell from the other's hair into the hollow of his collarbone.
"Had enough of looking?" Qi Zhaoxun suddenly looked up. "Either take me in or get lost."
