A cool breeze swept in from outside, brushing against Zhou Tingzhao’s back. He finally came to his senses and retreated from her embrace, lowering his gaze as he said softly, “Not cold.”

He had almost let her continue holding him like that.

Sang Ru assumed he was feeling embarrassed, so she zipped up her jacket and sat back down, asking, “Why are you here?”

“Running.”

“Running?” Sang Ru asked in surprise. “At this hour?”

Zhou Tingzhao paused slightly before saying, “Thinking about some things.”

Sang Ru responded with an “Oh,” and the atmosphere inexplicably fell into silence.

The wind outside was indeed getting stronger. Two ginkgo trees were planted behind the teaching building—one a century old, the other somewhat younger, but both had grown very tall. Their leaves rustled loudly in the wind, making it much more lively outside than inside.

Sang Ru rested her chin on her palm and tilted her head to look at him. “This is when you should say, ‘What about you?'”

Zhou Tingzhao obliged: “What about you?”

Sang Ru lowered her head and smiled, then said, “I forgot to take back the test papers that needed signatures, so I came back to get them.”

“Mm.”

…

Unable to clear his thoughts, Zhou Tingzhao truly didn’t know what to say.

He heard Sang Ru sigh softly, and in the next moment, she sat on his desk. The desks knocked together with a bang, disturbing the peace of his heartbeat.

The moonlight from the window was the only source of light, and now she blocked most of it. Sang Ru supported herself with her hands on the desk, bent down, and said, “Come closer.”

After gazing at her quietly for a moment, Zhou Tingzhao didn’t ask her why, but leaned forward.

Then, just like that, his face was cupped in her hands.

Sang Ru’s palms applied slight pressure as she rubbed his face, pursing her lips as she said, “Why is our little Zhou unhappy, hmm?”

The familiar words left him unable to react, frozen in place.

Before this strange journey, he should have been with her — the adult version of her. The little princess had a more delicate perception of emotions than he had thought.

There had been displeasure, the last time. He hadn’t handled himself well, and she had noticed. Even so, she had reached up to cup his face, her expression serious despite everything, and asked in that same quiet tone: Is our Director Zhou unhappy?

He had wanted to say no. Couldn’t get the words out.

So she had kissed him instead — light as a dragonfly skimming water — and whispered close to his ear: I’ll kiss you, don’t be unhappy.

Her lips had been cool, but her breath warm. One’s heart couldn’t resist such warmth, and every inch of it softened.

Suddenly, that sensation returned to his lips. His consciousness, which had drifted somewhere unknown, abruptly came back. The girl in front of him, wearing a school uniform with her hair in a ponytail, once again descended from her pedestal in his dreams and bent down to press her lips against his.

“I’ll kiss you, don’t be unhappy.”

His heartbeat pounded in his chest like a drum. Zhou Tingzhao’s breathing suddenly became deep and controlled, his voice hoarse as he said, “I’m not unhappy.”

“Really?” Sang Ru didn’t move away, almost imperceptibly rubbing against his lips. “But you haven’t kissed me today.”

“Just now…”

Opening his mouth meant touching her. Zhou Tingzhao stopped himself and said nothing more.

“Why so shy?” Sang Ru laughed and scolded him lightly, then coaxed him softly, “Open your mouth.”

Her tone was too familiar. Zhou Tingzhao felt somewhat dazed and obediently parted his lips. She then kissed him deeply.

She seemed to have had some milk after dinner, and there was still a hint of sweetness that wasn’t cloying, spreading warmth as she explored. She pulled his hands to wrap around her waist. Zhou Tingzhao complied with everything, his arms gradually tightening around her, and his kisses transformed from passive acceptance to active engagement.

He held her tightly, tilting his head up repeatedly to respond, losing himself in the closeness of her.

Sang Ru finally couldn’t bear it anymore and pulled back, breathless. Zhou Tingzhao leaned forward even more, his head still tilted up, looking into her eyes, gently yet firmly catching her falling gaze.

“How did you secretly improve so much? My mouth is sore from your kisses…”

The corner of Zhou Tingzhao’s lips curved up slightly as he used one hand to wipe away the moisture at the corner of her mouth: “Is that so?”

“Mm!”

He withdrew his hand and wiped his own lips, his gaze never leaving her for a moment. Then he stood up, and suddenly the perspective shifted.

Sang Ru looked up and heard him ask.

“Who are you?”

“Sang Ru, of course.”

Zhou Tingzhao bent down slightly: “Who?”

“…Sang Ru!”

Just as she was thinking that Zhou Tingzhao must have gone crazy, she heard him mutter as if to himself: “Then let’s try once more.”

And with that, her lips were sealed with another kiss.

Among the various ways that lovers express intimacy — embraces, kisses, quiet moments stolen from the world —

She particularly loved the feeling of being held in his arms and kissed. Zhou Tingzhao gave off a cold impression, but his embraces and kisses were always warm and passionate, regardless of his age.

Sang Ru responded with increasing enthusiasm, but suddenly heard hurried footsteps and a familiar voice outside the door, sounding somewhat urgent.

“Baby? Are you there, baby?”

Sang Ru panicked and accidentally bit Zhou Tingzhao’s tongue. She pulled away and said, “My mom’s here!”