When Teng Yi entered the room, Ruan Yu suddenly didn’t know where to stand. It seemed like every tile on the floor had a label, and none of them belonged to her territory.

After all, he was the room’s rightful owner.

“Sit,” he pointed to the edge of the bed.

Ruan Yu nodded and sat down, and Teng Yi sat beside her.

The soft mattress sank instantly under their combined weight.

Their shoulder-to-shoulder position somewhat resembled that scene in TV dramas just before newlyweds enter their bridal chamber…

Heavens, what was she thinking?

How inappropriate.

“Your hand,” Teng Yi spoke.

Ruan Yu extended her arm. Perhaps due to the recent shower, the scraped area looked even redder.

Teng Yi held her wrist, applying the ointment to the broken skin, gently massaging with his fingertips… He would occasionally glance up at her.

Fresh from her shower, her hair tips still slightly damp, her cheeks pink, and she emanated a pure sweetness. Though the wound must have been painful, she kept grimacing without making a sound.

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s fine.”

“So stubborn.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.” He slowed his movements, treating her wound with the gentlest touch he’d ever used.

After a while, Teng Yi released her hand.

“All done.”

“Thank you.”

She withdrew her arm, head lowered as she gently blew on the wound. His hands seemed magical – after his touch, the pain had significantly lessened.

Teng Yi stood up, and the mattress bounced back slightly.

“Get some rest.”

“Mm.”

She kept her head down as if deliberately avoiding his gaze.

Teng Yi took a slight breath, walking toward the door, his slippers making soft sounds against the floor. As he pulled the door open, he turned back.

“Ruan Yu.”

Ruan Yu froze for a moment – this seemed to be the first time Teng Yi had called her by name.

“Mm?”

Teng Yi had many things he wanted to say, about the Red Eagle Street Dance Competition, about their previous distant relationship, but when the words reached his lips, he felt it wasn’t the right time to say these things – too late.

“Good night,” he said, then left the room, closing the door behind her.

As Ruan Yu heard the soft “poof” of the door closing, her heart slowly sank. She had thought he might say something, but if asked what she was expecting, she couldn’t answer.

Between them, it seemed they both knew there was a paper-thin window separating them, but reaching out to tear it was too difficult. It involved courage, pride, and hope that might end up empty.

Neither knew what lay behind that window.

The fear was that once that paper was broken through, even their current distant relationship might become awkward.

“Good night,” she whispered.

The corridor had fallen silent, and the room was perfectly quiet.

Ruan Yu sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the small jasmine plant on the windowsill, waiting for the ointment on her arm to dry before lying down.

Teng Yi’s sheets and blankets were all light gray, with two matching pillows and two silver-gray rectangular cushions at the headboard, all carrying his scent – clean and fresh with a hint of mint.

Surrounded by this scent, Ruan Yu felt both happy and guilty.

Tonight, she would have trouble sleeping.

Jian Xiangxiang and the others were tagging her in their group chat, asking where she’d gone for the night. Ruan Yu only said she was staying at a friend’s place, not daring to mention Teng Yi’s name.

Fortunately, they didn’t press her about which friend, only telling her to stay safe.

Ruan Yu was touched. Although Jian Xiangxiang and the others could be gossipy sometimes, when it mattered, they always cared for her. Having such roommates was also a kind of luck.

–_–

Teng Yi walked into Teng Hao’s room, where Teng Hao was sitting on the bed arranging two pillows.

“Brother, which side do you want to sleep on?” he asked seriously as if this was some crucial question.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I remember when we used to sleep together before, you always had to sleep on the side closer to the door.”

“As I recall, you were the one who didn’t like sleeping near the door.”

Teng Hao was timid as a child, yet oddly fond of ghost stories. He was fine during the day, but once night fell, he’d act as if possessed, seeing ghost shadows everywhere. Too scared to sleep alone, he would squeeze into Teng Yi’s room every night. And even then, he was particular about which side to sleep on – wouldn’t dare sleep near the door, saying he feared ghosts would latch onto him first if they came in… Thinking back, Teng Hao was quite silly and cute then.

After all these years, Teng Hao had finally grown up.

When exactly did he suddenly grow up? Perhaps it was during those days when he realized humans could be scarier than ghosts – those days surrounded by rumors and cold stares.

The brothers lay side by side on the bed, and Teng Yi turned off the lights.

The room’s curtains were blackout curtains, drawn tight, leaving the room pitch dark except for a sliver of light from the hallway, barely outlining the furniture’s shapes.

Because of Ruan Yu’s presence, Teng Yi deliberately left the hallway lights on, thinking she might need to find her way if she got up during the night.

“Brother,” Teng Hao suddenly called out.

“Mm.”

“About me fighting today, don’t tell Mom, and ask Uncle Sun not to mention it either. I don’t want her to worry.”

“Mm.”

“Are you sleepy?”

“No.”

“Then why are your responses so short? Like you’re sending telegrams.”

“Want me to scold you on Mom’s behalf?”

Teng Hao quickly laughed in surrender: “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Since you know Mom would worry, learn from this. Don’t make her worry about anything in the future,” Teng Yi paused. “Also, no more fighting. If you get hurt, how will you dance?”

A dancer should cherish their body more than others.

“Oh, I understand.”

“Sleep now.”

“Mm.”

Teng Hao fell silent.

About a minute later, he suddenly reached over and hugged Teng Yi.

“Brother.”

Teng Yi clicked his tongue and tried to push him away but couldn’t.

“What?” So clingy.

“Brother, do you think my dancing has improved lately?” Teng Hao clung to Teng Yi, with a hint of praise-seeking clinginess.

“No.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I’m not?”

“Hmph!” Teng Hao released Teng Yi. “How can you be like this? Can’t you learn from Miss Top Scholar, give me some encouragement now and then. That’s what motivates me.”

“How does she encourage you?” Teng Yi’s lips curled up in the darkness. “All I hear is her criticizing you.”

“She criticizes when criticism is due, but she’s also generous with praise when it’s deserved.”

“I’m not?”

“You’ve never praised me.”

“That’s because you haven’t done anything worthy of praise yet.”

“Tch.” Teng Hao turned over, facing away from Teng Yi. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Angry?”

“No.”

“Getting angry so easily? Are you even a man?”

“I’m not angry, not angry! Hmph!”

“…”

Angry.

Teng Yi reached out and ruffled Teng Hao’s hair. The youth sulked, burying his head in the blanket, not letting him touch it. Teng Yi smiled.

The long night stretched on.

At sixteen or seventeen, boys usually don’t have many worries or troubles. Teng Hao turned over and soon began snoring lightly, but Teng Yi remained wide awake.

He wasn’t sleepy at all, his mind crystal clear, thinking about everything that had happened today, and about the girl currently lying in his bed.

After a while, he gently lifted a corner of the blanket and got out of bed.

–_–

Ruan Yu couldn’t sleep either, tossing and turning, her mouth dry.

She remembered the cup with the fish mark downstairs, so she got up, turned on the light, and got out of bed. Slippers were placed beside the bed – women’s size, very dainty, fitting her perfectly, but the pants were too long, constantly tripping her.

Ruan Yu held up the pants legs as she opened the door.

All the hallway lights were on. Just as she left the room, she looked up to see Teng Yi also coming out of Teng Hao’s room. They caught each other’s eyes across the cool, quiet night and warm, soft light, both freezing in place.

Teng Yi quietly closed the door and walked toward her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m thirsty,” Ruan Yu looked at him. “You?”

“I’m thirsty too.”

She smiled.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, just think it’s quite a coincidence.”

Teng Yi smiled slightly: “Want me to bring some up for you?”

“No need, I’ll go down myself.”

He nodded.

They went downstairs one after another, Teng Yi leading the way, turning on lights as they went. Light followed his fingertips, beam by beam greeting them, until quickly the entire hall was as bright as day.

The water in the thermos was still hot.

Teng Yi poured her a cup first. Ruan Yu held the cup but didn’t drink, her fingers gently tracing the pattern on the bottom.

How magical.

This deep night, these two people standing face to face, and their identical cups in hand.

“Why aren’t you drinking?” Teng Yi watched her. “Weren’t you thirsty?”

“Oh.” She took a sip, then held the cup up high, tilting her head to look at the little fish on the bottom. “Did you specially customize this cup?”

“Mm.”

“When?”

“A long time ago.” It’s just that she hadn’t visited the Teng house since then, and he didn’t know under what pretense to give it to her, so it just stayed on the bar counter.

Every time he saw it while drinking water, he would think of her.

Ruan Yu remained silent, just cradling the cup in her palms, turning it round and round.

“Do you like it?” The question that had been interrupted by Teng Hao earlier, Teng Yi asked again.

Ruan Yu just drank her water, not answering.

“Seems you do like it,” Teng Yi said.

“Why?”

Teng Yi also just drank his water, not answering.

“Why?” Ruan Yu pressed.

Teng Yi turned sideways, looking at the window glass behind the bar counter, which reflected their two figures. One leaning against the counter, completely at ease, the other holding her cup with both hands, smiling happily.

“Look at yourself, there’s an idiom for it.”

“What?”

“‘Ai bu shi shou’ (cherishing something so much you can’t let it go).”

Ruan Yu pressed her moistened lips together: “This is a reward earned by my intelligence, what’s wrong with cherishing it?”

“So that’s why you cherish it,” he said meaningfully.

“What other reason could there be?”

“For instance, because I especially had it customized.”

He looked at her, his gaze in the warm light melting into tender affection.

Ruan Yu pondered these words silently, feeling there was more meaning behind them. Was she overthinking? Or did he also… She dared not think in that direction.

“Thank you, I’m going up to sleep now.”

She put down the cup, turning to flee.

But as she stepped forward, she accidentally stepped on her pant leg.

“Ah!”

With that cry, Ruan Yu pitched straight toward the bar counter…

–_–

Teng Yi was startled, but fortunately, his reaction was quick enough to pull her back.

Ruan Yu, still shaken, crashed into Teng Yi’s chest, immediately feeling dizzy. She instinctively clutched his T-shirt to steady herself.

“Are you okay?” Teng Yi put down his cup, one arm around her waist, the other hand gently massaging her temple.

They were very close, their lower bodies still pressed together, maintaining their most urgent posture from moments ago.

Ruan Yu froze.

“Scared silly?” He lowered his head, waving his finger in front of her eyes. “If you’re not silly, blink.”

Ruan Yu blinked twice, looking at him.

Teng Yi started laughing, but as he laughed, his smile gradually faded. He probably also felt it – the atmosphere between them had become almost unbearably intimate.

This eye contact, this shared breath – if either of them moved forward just a bit more, they could kiss.

Ruan Yu was so nervous her legs went weak. She released her grip on Teng Yi’s clothes, wanting to step back, but he held her even more firmly in place.

“Ruan Yu…”

He called her name, moving closer inch by inch.

The night most easily bewitches hearts, most easily breaks down defenses, and most easily leads to mistakes. But indulgences in the dark bring regret at dawn.

In the last second before his kiss, Ruan Yu slightly turned her head away.

Her movement was gentle, the angle small. If Teng Yi had been more domineering, more forceful, more irrational, he could have easily held her chin and turned her face back to continue the kiss, but he didn’t.

They still maintained their embrace, even keeping that dangerous distance where things could ignite at any moment, but neither moved.

After a few seconds, Teng Yi released her.

He crouched down to roll up one side of her pant leg.

Ruan Yu looked at his dreadlocks, feeling his fingers accidentally brush her ankle, that tingling sensation bringing her back to reality.

She suddenly stepped back two paces, avoiding Teng Yi’s hand.

“Teng Yi.”

Teng Yi looked up at her.

“Don’t… be kind to me.”

Ruan Yu left these words behind and ran.

The oversized T-shirt swayed on her body, one pant leg still dragging, but she didn’t care, just fled upstairs with uneven steps.

Back in the room, Ruan Yu lay down with her face buried in the pillow, forcing herself not to pay attention to the sounds downstairs, but she still heard them – Teng Yi turning off the lights, Teng Yi coming upstairs, and Teng Yi gently closing his door.

Her eyes inexplicably welled up with tears, her heart unable to tell if it was joy or sorrow. She just felt somewhat relieved that she had restrained herself, preserving her courage to face him in the future, not letting things develop in a more complicated direction.

That night, neither of them slept.

Teng Yi lay awake all night listening to Teng Hao’s snores.

Ruan Yu got up at the first light. After washing up, she changed clothes, washed Teng Yi’s T-shirt and sweatpants, and hung them to dry, then left the Teng house, taking the earliest bus back to school.

Her roommates were still asleep. She quietly opened the door, climbed into bed, and took another nap. The moment she closed her eyes and truly fell asleep, her ethereal dream finally woke up.