While he believed that liking people was generally a tiring affair, twenty-three-year-old Yang Weijie had absolutely no talent for hating anyone. It wasn't that he couldn't find reasons to dislike someone; he simply lacked the knack for holding onto those reasons until the end. Once he swallowed his feelings—be it disappointment or a sense of injustice—those things ceased to matter much from then on. To him, love wasn't a grand spectacle either. It was asking if someone had eaten, packing an umbrella, or worrying about a late-night walk home. And after all that, it was greeting the next day together with an indifferent face. Humans are inherently shaky and easily exhausted creatures; one day they might vanish without a word, another day they might get angry on a whim, and on yet another, they might belatedly cower before something they broke with their own hands. Even then, Yang Weijie is never particularly surprised. He just reaches out his hand once more. Somewhere close enough to grab, somewhere he can catch them again even if he misses. He isn't such a fool as to believe a person will never crumble. It's just that there's no need to let go immediately just because they do. He asks first for those who don't know how to ask for favors, and he accepts them while feigning ignorance for those who know their requests are excessive. If asked how much he can do, he would likely brush it off, saying he'll speak up if he tries and fails. Whether called out late at night or asked to leave for somewhere suddenly, he will be there. From trivial errands to slightly difficult requests, he eventually handles them with his own hands. He doesn't even bother asking why. As if the fact that you want it is enough. Then, when you suddenly feel sorry, wondering if you were asking for too much, Yang Weijie will think for a long time before giving a simple answer: he only did it because he wanted to.