Chen Yi's throat bobbed, his expression abruptly changing.
Chapter 31: Twilight Hour
A peculiar family arrangement—two people, similar in age, loosely connected. In recent years, they had rarely shared moments of warmth, yet it wasn't that they didn't yearn for it; rather, the emotional barrenness had left them unable to respond.
Miao Jing hugged her pillow, looking desolate and forlorn, her face bearing the expression of a little girl.
Foreign films often depicted scenes like pillow fights, sleepless nights, fear of thunder, feeling too cold, physical discomfort, or simply wanting to be closer.
Chen Yi wrestled internally before finally lowering his gaze. "Come in."
They lay stiffly on the bed, Miao Jing awkwardly curling her limbs. This season, her room already had a light quilt, while his bed remained bare.
"Sleep in my spot." He got up—the place where he had lain was now warmed by body heat, cozy and warm—then rummaged through the closet for an air-conditioning blanket and shook it out.
It felt like a secret paradise.
The room was unlit, with only a faint glimmer of light seeping through the curtains. Pillows side by side, they lay flat, silent. After such a rainy night, what should they say or do?
Chen Yi closed his eyes, his mind blank, lying rigidly. Miao Jing clutched the edge of the blanket; she was actually tired, drowsy, and ready to sleep.
In the silence, on the verge of sleep, she spoke softly.
"When we were kids, we used to share a room too."
He grunted faintly in acknowledgment.
Strictly speaking, they weren't that young—she was eight, he was ten, and they had slept in adjacent bedrooms for over two years.
Miao Jing recalled those times, staring at the ceiling. "Sometimes I'd see you sleeping through the curtain crack and think you were a demon who'd kill me in the middle of the night."
He grinned. "Back then, I had that thought too—to bite everyone who came near me, tear their throats, drench them in blood, rip their skin open."
A bad kid bullying the good kid with small fists, she kept her distance. She didn't know when it started, but gradually, she grew less afraid of him and began walking alongside him.
"So violent." She pursed her lips. "Good thing you went to junior high…"
"I was young then, didn't know how to control that… pent-up emotion." He opened his eyes, tilting his head to look at her serene profile. "A man's fists shouldn't be aimed at the weak."
One didn't know whether to be grateful that Chen Libin had died early.
Chen Yi turned over, facing her, and said slowly, "My mom was a very gentle woman."
"Do you remember your mom?" Her voice was extremely soft.
He blinked slowly, his tone flat. "No, she abandoned me."
Miao Jing's throat tightened.
Late nights weren't suited for pouring out hearts or whispering secrets; they were for bitter thoughts to ferment in silence, shaping the future decisively. Just as they seemed about to fall asleep, Chen Yi stretched out his limbs and brushed against her cold body.
"Still cold?"
"A bit." Her voice was muffled and soft. "I was in the water too long; my leg cramped earlier."
He looked at her silently, moved a little closer, tucked some blanket between her legs, and hesitated before speaking. "Miao Jing, we've known each other for almost ten years. Right now, I'm your brother."
"Mm."Their bodies pressed close, Chen Yi awkwardly encircled her in his embrace. She lay half-curled, her back against his chest, with a few centimeters of space between them. Yet the exchange of breath and warmth flowed unimpeded. His body radiated a heat warmer than mere warmth, enveloping her in a rich, palpable aura. Miao Jing felt both secure and comfortable.
"Is this alright?"
"It's fine."
The room filled with her steady, faint breathing as her delicate, fragrant body drifted peacefully into sleep. Meanwhile, the restless heat of youth rose like thick smoke from a stove. Restraint pricked at him with a subtle sting. He longed to brush aside her hair, bury his face in the nape of her neck, tighten his arms to embed her into his very being, to have a powerful, constricting rope binding them seamlessly together.
Memories flickered: timid, nervous wrists entwined in childhood; her graceful, poignant silhouette during adolescence; sunken, weary eyes in moments of solitude; that thin, stubborn little face; her gentle, elegant smiles and fresh, soft lips. From the malice of two separate beds to the strangeness of sharing one, he didn’t know how it had fermented step by step into this. But he knew clearly: in his nineteen years, she was the person who had evoked the most abundant and peculiar emotions in him.
Everyone’s childhood wish is to have someone sleep beside them.
Night rain, morning dew—that night was filled with bizarre dreams, yet there was a faint solace in his heart. As the pitch-black night gave way to the first rays of dawn leaping over the horizon, in the half-light of daybreak, the two young bodies on the bed stirred, waking almost simultaneously. Their drowsy, muddled eyes met, and for a moment, both were slightly stunned.
Such a quiet, serene moment, even the birds outside hadn’t yet awakened.
Having endured half the night, his defenses crumbled now. He leaned in gently, restless with the urge for a kiss. She turned slightly, openly accepting.
Their lips met, deliberately feigning hazy confusion, drifting in light pecks, one after another, then stilling.
Chen Yi abruptly threw off the covers and stood up, moving stiffly into the bathroom. Miao Jing sat hugging her knees, cheeks slightly flushed. Hearing the sound of water from the shower, she lowered her head, picked up her pillow, and returned to her own room.
A subtle shift in their relationship made the atmosphere at home unbearably strange—Chen Yi dared to wander around bare-armed in just shorts, while Miao Jing’s loungewear wasn’t overly conservative. Their daily interactions grew more casual, yet the oddity lay in the enigmatic nature of their bond. Sometimes they dodged each other, at other times alternating between indifference, agitation, and neglect.
On Chen Yi’s birthday, the nightclub gave him ten thousand yuan as a gift, following Zhang Shi’s suggestion. Chen Yi used the money to book a private room, treating his brothers to food and drinks. As a junior lackey, he had a crew of childhood friends under him—Dai Mao, Bo Zai, and Da Yong, all around twenty years old, idling with Chen Yi at the bathhouse. They loved boasting about Chen Yi’s embarrassing antics from middle school and vocational high school. Zhang Shi overheard a few stories and showed interest in Chen Yi’s middle-school side hustle of reselling smuggled Swiss army knives. Glancing at Chen Yi, he remarked that if Chen Yi had been born twenty years earlier, he’d have had the makings of an arms dealer.
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