"Then how do I get back?" She leaned on Chen Yi's arm, standing on one leg like a rooster, unwillingly fumbled around in the dark once more before finally kicking off her other shoe. Wearing only short socks, she tiptoed like a ballet dancer, carefully avoiding puddles with each step.
His eyes fixed on her feet, soaked by the rain—their lines were still graceful, small enough to be held in one hand, delicate and gentle.
"Get on my back, I'll carry you."
"No need, I'm completely drenched." She twisted the corner of her clothes, wringing out a stream of water.
"Stop arguing."
Chen Yi shoved the umbrella into her hand, tugged at his pants, frowned thoughtfully, then simply scooped her up by the waist, lifting her until her hips rested in the crook of his arm. One arm hooked under her knees, she sat upright, half a head taller than him, her entire body pressed against his chest and shoulders.
Beneath the black umbrella, Chen Yi's eyes were dark, yet held a flicker of fire. "This saves effort. Hold onto my neck and keep the umbrella steady."
The space between them was filled with cold, wet fabric. With each step, she could feel the tension and strength of his body, as well as her own soft fragility. Their breaths, heartbeats, and body heat were all muddled by the rain, dissolving into a blurry chill. Outside the umbrella, the rain fell in erratic bursts, sweeping over them from all angles—unpredictable and unstoppable. Worried Chen Yi might tire, Miao Jing curled herself smaller, silently wrapping her arms around his neck. She tilted the black umbrella to shield them from the rain, watching water drip down the handle, then reached out with her sleeve to wipe it away. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind snatched the umbrella, sending it tumbling to the ground and rolling away behind them.
Soaked to the bone, the two glanced back at the umbrella blowing farther away, their expressions sheepish.
"Forget it, we're almost home."
Chen Yi quickened his pace, his arm tightening around her, muscles and bones hard and unyielding. It was actually uncomfortable for Miao Jing, and she would have preferred to walk on her own, but neither of them said a word.
Miao Jing took off her jacket, moving closer to him, and held it over their heads. His leather jacket was too precious, and she didn’t want it soaked. She also removed her school uniform, leaving only two thin layers of clothing that clung to her like a second skin. She reached out to wipe the water from his forehead, then brought her face close to his temple, inhaling the clean, robust scent of him amidst the damp rain. Surprisingly, she felt a faint warmth stir in her chest.
Carrying her, Chen Yi showed no sign of fatigue, but Miao Jing’s arms, holding up the jacket, had begun to tremble slightly. He paused under a broken billboard at the entrance of their neighborhood to catch his breath, turning his head just enough to look at her. In that slight shift, his gaze met her face—pale and glistening, her features as vivid as a midnight water lily, eyes sparkling with crystalline tears, lips rosy and moist.
The eye contact was too sudden, and both froze, seemingly captured by each other’s proximity. Whether it was a bewitching impulse or a tacit understanding of exchanged glances, he freed one hand to wipe the rain from her cheeks and the tip of her nose. When his fingers brushed her cold, red lips, he stilled, his thumb tracing them almost imperceptibly. Tempted, he lifted his handsome face slightly and effortlessly pressed his lips to hers.
The taste of fresh rainwater.Their lips met with the lightness of a dragonfly skimming water, yet a powerful, tingling electric current surged through them, making their hearts and bodies tremble and sway. The world spun as if they were falling through clouds. Tentatively, they pressed closer. At first, his mind went blank from the overwhelming softness, but as he became aware of the sensation and the moment, his heart suddenly thumped heavily, like boiling water needing urgent cooling. He gently captured her slightly cool lips, sucking softly, first nibbling and savoring her upper lip before releasing it tenderly, then holding her lower lip with a faint friction. This cycle repeated.
The moment must have been brief, yet in memory it stretched endlessly, each second unfolding in slow motion. Miao Jing’s eyelashes brushed lightly against his cheek, and Chen Yi snapped back to reality, stiffly releasing lips that had grown more vibrant and plump from his sucking. In the rainy night, their four lips parted with a sticky, audible sound.
Both their faces flushed with heat.
“I’ve been drinking.”
After a long pause, he blurted out this explanation in a daze.
“Mm.”
Miao Jing lowered her eyes demurely, a soft murmur escaping her throat.
She struggled to free herself from Chen Yi’s embrace, and they returned to their warm, dark home. Switching on the light, they stood drenched, clothes soaked and clinging uncomfortably to their skin. Chen Yi stripped off his shoes, socks, T-shirt, and pants right by the sofa. Turning, he saw Miao Jing at the balcony door, tiptoeing to fetch a towel from the hanger. She had also shed her outer T-shirt and pants, leaving only a cream-colored camisole and underwear beneath. Whether from the rain or the fabric’s looseness, the camisole barely covered her thighs. From Chen Yi’s angle, her form appeared alluringly transparent, every curve and line vividly exposed, beautiful enough to stir fantasies.
A sudden ache hit his nose, and his body reacted instantly. He yearned to approach her, to wrap his arms around her, to reach out and explore.
Miao Jing showered first, then wrapped herself in a towel and retreated to her room, leaving the bathroom for Chen Yi. When he emerged much later, wearing only boxer shorts, he heard noises in the kitchen. Glancing over, he saw Miao Jing hadn’t gone to bed but was at the stove, brewing ginger soup for both of them.
Chen Yi narrowed his eyes, securing the towel around his waist. He hadn’t realized her sleepwear was so revealing—a black T-shirt she’d once bought for him, too small for his size, which she’d repurposed as a nightgown. The petite frame enveloped in the loose fabric made her look as soft as a dandelion puff.
They sat quietly at the table, sipping the hot ginger soup. Her hair, still damp, draped over her shoulders. An elusive tension hung in the air. Chen Yi downed his soup in one gulp and, gazing at her lips, suddenly craved to taste the ginger on them.
“Can’t finish yours?”
She shook her head.
“Let me drink it for you.”
He swallowed the remainder in one go.
They bid each other goodnight and closed their respective doors, but restlessness kept them tossing and turning. Late into the night, the window rattled from wind or rain, distant thunder rumbling faintly. Chen Yi heard a soft knock, doubting it was real. Hesitantly, he opened the door to find a figure standing in the dim hallway—barefoot, clutching a pillow, with cascading black hair and a slender form in black. Her moon-pale face and legs, paired with clear, shadowy eyes, fixed him with an intense gaze.
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