When Yao Qiyun brought the antihistamine and water over to Situ Jue, her face and arms already bore several fresh scratches drawing blood — clear evidence she hadn’t listened to a word he’d said, which left him both irritated and aching for her.

She took the medicine, but it wouldn’t take effect right away. Situ Jue cared too much about her looks and would rather die than go see a doctor unless absolutely forced to. The rash had spread to every corner of her body; she wasn’t allowed to scratch, and scratching didn’t even help anyway — the itch felt like it was burrowing into her very bones, maddening enough to set her whole body on fire, leaving her in no mood to stay calm.

Fortunately the household had Xue Shaoping, a veteran pharmacist, so all sorts of standard medications were well stocked. Yao Qiyun listened to her stream of muttered complaints without a word, opened a jar of mentholated ointment, and began applying it along the exposed skin at her collar.

Just as he was smearing medicine on her cooperative left hand, her right hand quietly crept toward the worst-affected area — her neck. Yao Qiyun couldn’t remember how many times he’d already told her that more scratching would only hurt her, and her stubborn refusal to learn finally wore through what patience he had left, already thin from his own bad mood; without a word, he smacked the disobedient hand down hard.

“Ow.” Situ Jue yanked her hand back, and the nameless anger she’d been suppressing finally found an outlet. All the old grievances and fresh resentments she’d temporarily set aside because of her sudden allergic reaction came rushing back — if she remembered right, the two of them had never actually made up. She still hadn’t figured out how to forgive him for the heart-chilling things he’d said that day, and now here he was, taking the offensive and lecturing her first.

“Why’d you hit me? I still haven’t settled the score with you,” she snapped viciously.

Yao Qiyun didn’t even look up. “Because you can’t control yourself. This is for your own good.”

Little did he know, “for your own good” was exactly the phrase Situ Jue could least stand from him these days — as if saying it let him impose whatever decision he thought was right on her, without ever asking how she felt. Even that day he’d broken things off, he’d done it under the same banner of looking out for her.

Fury rose in her without warning; she gave a scornful laugh. “Since when do I need you fussing over me? What exactly are you to me?”

Yao Qiyun, who’d been trying his hardest to avoid revisiting that unpleasant day, found her counterattack landing squarely on his sorest spot, leaving him with nothing to say. He fell silent.

Truthfully, Situ Jue wasn’t entirely blind to the tentative way he’d been trying to make amends lately. But that wasn’t the reconciliation she wanted — passive, hesitant. As long as he refused to take back what he’d said that day, she couldn’t let it go. Seeing him still resting one hand on her knee, unwilling to move it, she yanked her leg away. “Weren’t you so self-aware? Talking about how you can’t afford to keep a piece of jade like me? Fine then, keep your distance — wouldn’t want you breaking something you can’t pay for.”

“Fine, suit yourself. Go ahead and scratch yourself into a mangy dog, and then you won’t even be worth that piece of junk rock you threw out today, let alone jade. We’ll see who wants you then!” Under her relentless goading, Yao Qiyun turned sharp too.

Situ Jue couldn’t stand hearing that. Enraged, she snatched up the stuffed bear he’d just retrieved and hurled it at him. It struck the hand holding the mentholated ointment, knocking the little jar loose — it fell to the floor and rolled, spinning, into the corner by the wall.

That jar was the only topical medicine in the house that could handle the rash for now, with no backup. Furious and anxious at once, Yao Qiyun scrambled up to retrieve it — fortunately nothing had spilled, and it was still usable.

The moment he stood up, he saw Situ Jue sitting cross-legged on the bed, deliberately watching him while scratching furiously at her own arm, as if in open defiance.

“Situ Jue, try scratching again, I dare you.” His patience had been pushed right to the edge of a cliff, held together by nothing but sheer will, teetering on the brink of collapse.

Naturally, Situ Jue scratched even harder. The itch under her fingers was so intense she barely registered the pain — only the alarming red streaks left by her nails. And strangely, the pained look in Yao Qiyun’s eyes brought her a kind of comfort. He’d already said the two of them were done — so why act like this? With that thought, her hand didn’t stop; if anything, it grew more provocative, as if to say: I’ll scratch if I want to, what are you going to do about it?

Truthfully, Yao Qiyun had never dared do anything about her. Since the day they’d met, they’d clashed more times than either could count, and no matter the reason, he always gave way to her when it mattered. This time, it seemed Situ Jue had guessed right again — in his fury, he turned his face away, refusing to let his eyes meet hers. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out… as if that alone could bring back some sense of peace.

Situ Jue smirked, the corner of her mouth just curling up, when without warning Yao Qiyun lunged forward, seized her restless hand, and wrenched it back behind her. Caught completely off guard, she toppled sideways under the force of his grip; he didn’t hold back, letting her fall face-first. Before Situ Jue could make a sound, her face had already met her beloved pillow, both arms pinned behind her back with one of his hands.

She made a few muffled, useless sounds into the pillow, struggling to twist her head to find an angle where she could breathe properly, and cried out, still shaken, “Are you trying to die? I’m counting to three, and if you don’t let me up…”

“Count all you want. I told you to stop scratching — maybe now you’ll actually remember it,” Yao Qiyun’s furious voice came from just above and behind her.

Situ Jue had never experienced anything like this before; her usual sharpness and imperiousness were completely swept away by fright, and in her panic she could only resort to threats. “Keep this up and I’m telling my mom!” Her tone and expression were exactly like a kindergartner rushing to tattle to a parent after being bullied.

Somewhere out of her sight, the corner of Yao Qiyun’s mouth twitched.

“Stay still. Once the medicine’s on you won’t feel so itchy, and the pill you took earlier will kick in soon too — then you can go tell your mom all you want.” Only then did he calmly resume applying the ointment to the rash on her other arm.

After struggling uselessly for a while, Situ Jue tried a different approach, saying in defeat, “Fine, enough. I won’t scratch anymore, okay? You’re twisting my arm half off — let me sit up first.”

She heard no response. After a moment, sensing the grip on her hand loosen slightly, she seized the opening — with all her strength, she twisted free and kicked out at him. “See how you bully me!”

But the struggle failed entirely, and her kick met nothing but air. Yao Qiyun pressed her back down, gripping her hand even tighter, and though it hadn’t actually hurt her, Situ Jue frowned all the same. Worried her legs would cause more trouble, he simply knelt on the edge of the bed and pinned her firmly with his knee.

“Situ Jue, I have to hand it to you — you’ve never once kept your word when you pull this move, and you actually thought I’d be dumb enough to fall for it again.”

As he spoke, he’d already worked his way up to her cheek. Furious, Situ Jue wasn’t about to take this lying down, and the moment his hand came near her mouth, she opened it and bit — but Yao Qiyun, already prepared for her, dodged in time, and her teeth only grazed his fingertip. He was fine, but Situ Jue’s whole face scrunched up, choking on the smell of the mentholated ointment on his hand.

Yao Qiyun finally couldn’t help laughing. “If you like it that much, I can arrange to feed you a few more bites.”

Choking on the sharp scent, she couldn’t get a word out. Knowing she was at a disadvantage now, and sensing no real malice from him, she gave up the pointless fight, lying there limply as if playing dead, letting him spread the ointment over every visible, rash-covered inch of her.

In truth, once she calmed down, the bone-deep itch wasn’t nearly as unbearable as it had seemed. And wherever his hand went, it left behind the thick, cool sensation of the ointment — after a brief tingling sting, her tense skin and nerves gradually relaxed.

“See? Not scratching won’t kill you. Look at you, no sense of gratitude at all.” Yao Qiyun sat up and screwed the cap back on the jar, both hands finally off her body — yet strangely, she didn’t move for a moment.

“Feeling any better?” He smoothed down her ponytail. Situ Jue, her face buried in the pillow, gave a small shake of her head.

Yao Qiyun looked suspicious. “The medicine’s not working at all? That can’t be right.” He thought for a moment, then said, alarmed: “Wait, is this more than just hives on the surface? Are you having trouble breathing? Say something, don’t scare me.”

Situ Jue gritted her teeth and looked up at him weakly. “Breathing, my foot. Even if what you put on me were some miracle elixir that worked instantly, there’s still a huge area you haven’t even touched.” As she spoke, she pulled the collar of her T-shirt back, revealing that her shoulders, neck, and back below were clearly the worst-hit zones.

It wasn’t that Yao Qiyun hadn’t thought of this earlier — it was that, close as the two of them had grown, there were still boundaries between them he didn’t dare cross carelessly.

“Can you manage it yourself?” He handed her the now-closed jar of ointment.

“Obviously. If I could manage it myself, why would I even be telling you?”

“Should I go get my aunt, then…?” Yao Qiyun asked tentatively.

Situ Jue turned and glared at him furiously. “You think I’d let her touch me?” She shot the visibly uncomfortable Yao Qiyun a glance and said, without an ounce of mercy, “What are you even pretending for? Half your body’s already draped over mine — a little late to start worrying about propriety now.”

Left utterly speechless by that remark, Yao Qiyun couldn’t think of a single thing she wouldn’t say. He tapped her shoulder. “Keep talking nonsense and… just don’t move.”

Situ Jue was wearing one of the long T-shirts she usually lounged around the house in, the collar not too deep. Yao Qiyun tried pulling it further back, but worried about tearing the fabric, so instead he reached down and lifted the hem up from below. Sure enough, in the area previously hidden from view, the rash was even more alarming — especially where her bra strap dug into her skin, not just red but faintly swollen. When he gently pushed aside the thin strap at her shoulder blade, he saw a sharply defined mark pressed into the skin beneath, almost like a brand.

Yao Qiyun lifted the thin strap with one hand while dabbing ointment with the other, tracing the mark downward, further down. He wasn’t quite skilled at this, and the redness and swelling in those areas looked painful enough to make even him wince in sympathy — no wonder she’d been lying there earlier looking so miserable. When he decided to undo the fastenings that were in his way, he said nothing, only pausing there for a moment; when she made no sound of protest either, he took it as her silent consent. Throughout it all, they maintained an unspoken agreement not to speak, both understanding that words would only make the moment more charged and awkward than it already was.

His hand moved slowly, and once he’d gone over everything once, he worried he might have missed a spot, so he went back and did it again, more carefully this time. For some reason his throat chose that moment to act up — an inexplicable dry itch — but he forced himself to hold it in, not daring to cough, as if a giant, iridescent soap bubble hung in the air before him, ready to burst at the slightest disturbance.

Situ Jue’s face, turned to the side against the pillow, had flushed a brilliant red — whether from the rash or something else entirely, she couldn’t say. She felt like any normal person should have been scorched senseless by such heat, and yet she remained fully, acutely conscious, sensitive to every faint movement of his fingertips. The coolness he left on her bare back felt like rain falling on parched earth — the most extreme cold and heat meeting not in mutual destruction, but rising together into a hazy mist…

Just then, several sharp, hurried knocks at the door jolted the two young people out of that hazy, dissolving moment. But before they could even react, the door — which hadn’t been locked — swung open from outside, and Aunt Yao stood there, looking uneasy, a few chilled, damp towels in her hands.

Aunt Yao hadn’t expected Situ Jue’s allergic reaction to still be an issue; worried things might get worse, she’d thought it over and decided to check if there was anything she could do to help — only to be met with a sight that left her utterly speechless: her good nephew half-kneeling, half-sitting on the Situ family’s eldest daughter’s bed, while the room’s owner lay beneath him, her clothes half undone. From where she stood, all she could see was an expanse of bare back.

Aunt Yao was, in this regard, about as traditional a woman as they came; at the sight, she didn’t dare even linger a second longer, backing away in a hurry and turning her face away. She felt her own face burn red with secondhand shame for these two shameless young people — especially since one of them was her own beloved kin.

Both Yao Qiyun and Situ Jue flipped upright the instant the door opened. Yao Qiyun quickly pulled Situ Jue’s shirt back down and jumped off the bed, ready to go out and explain himself to his aunt directly — but Situ Jue held him back.

She reached the door before him, and though her face was still flushed, she spoke without a trace of hesitation, looking at Aunt Yao, who still refused to turn her face back.

“Auntie, next time, maybe don’t knock quite so urgently — save everyone the embarrassment.”

“You two are simply, simply—! Qiyun, you—! …Oh—” Aunt Yao’s face burned red, but she couldn’t get the words out.

“If I told you we weren’t doing anything, I doubt you’d believe me. So let’s just do what we already agreed — everyone stays out of everyone else’s business, and you can just pretend you didn’t see anything. It’s better for everyone that way.”

Situ Jue put deliberate weight on the word “everyone,” then, without waiting for a response, shut the door in Aunt Yao’s face and locked it for good measure.

She turned back to find Yao Qiyun had already come up beside her, his face full of worry.

“A’Jue, you…”

Situ Jue said quietly, “That’s your aunt. You don’t understand — deep down she’s already decided I’m out here scheming to seduce you. Even if you explained, do you think she’d actually accept it? Don’t be naive. Since this involves you, she won’t dare gossip about it in front of my parents.”

“The problem is this isn’t good for you.” Yao Qiyun’s brow was still tightly knit.

“I’m not even scared, so why are you worrying so much?”

Situ Jue bit her lip and glared at him.

“Yao Qiyun…”

“Mm?”

“Don’t you think we’re basically doomed to be branded as shameless already, one way or another?”

“Don’t say things like that!”

“Have you really never thought about it that way?”

“…”

“Since that’s the case, then why not…”

“What?”

“Make it official.”

Under the crushing weight of tension and restraint, Yao Qiyun braced one hand against the door and stared down at Situ Jue, who’d just uttered something so shocking, without speaking for a long time.

Situ Jue straightened her back, and his hand still remembered the lovely curve it had traced there.

He heard a small, involuntary sound rise in his own throat. Situ Jue had always been reckless, willful, doing exactly as she pleased — no one knew that better than he did, and what he had to do now was make absolutely sure he didn’t lose himself right along with her in her wildest moment. So he had to refuse.

But Situ Jue beat him to it again. She said, “Yao Qiyun, why don’t we make a bet.”

“Bet on what?” Even with temptation laid out before him like some irresistible siren’s call, though he meant to refuse, he found he couldn’t bear to miss it either.

“Bet on whether you have the nerve to throw everything away and love me.”

…

The sound of his aunt’s retreating footsteps had long since faded, and Situ Jue’s heartbeat, wrapped in an even faster, more urgent sound, spun around his ears — it was a long while before Yao Qiyun realized that sound was his own ragged breath.

A’Jue’s body was covered in the scent of mentholated oil — a supposedly bracing, clarifying scent that now left him dizzy and disoriented instead. He soon tasted that same sharp, throat-scorching flavor himself, spreading from the tip of his tongue deep into every sense, sharp enough to bring tears to his eyes; he furrowed his brow against it while still seeking out more, unable to bear pulling away.

Her bare back, gradually pressed against the faintly cool door, she laughed softly, leaning close to his ear to throw his own words back at him.

“If you like it that much, I can arrange to feed you a few more bites too.”

Yao Qiyun’s response came in the form of action alone — lips and teeth entangled inseparably, neither able to escape the sharp, biting taste between them.

She said she was itching terribly — the more aroused she grew, the faster her blood rushed, and the red marks across her body seemed to bloom ever more vividly. He wouldn’t let her scratch, but he made up for it with his own hands and body.

As he closed in on her, A’Jue offered him a deadly reminder, dressed up as kindness: “Yao Qiyun, you said it yourself — neither of us did anything wrong, we just weren’t meant to be together. There’s still time to change your mind, if you want, so why not take this chance, while…”

He bit down hard on her, “Who says there’s still time?”

At this critical moment, the two of them found themselves rambling on about all sorts of trivial, unimportant things instead, as if doing so could make their equally nervous, inexperienced faces seem a little less absurd.

Finally, A’Jue’s nails dug into the flesh of his arm as she forced herself to speak. “Yao Qiyun, can I ask one more question? Does it feel good to you?”

Qiyun paused, looking at the person now finally, completely his, through eyes hazed with something like mist. “It’s alright. You?”

All her earlier bravado and reckless resolve had vanished; her voice trembling on the edge of tears, she said, “I just think it hurts.”

“I could have sworn you were saying it itched just a second ago.”

“The problem is, it’s not itching there!”

That itch had perhaps already spread through him at an even wilder speed, reaching all the way into the depths of his very soul, restless and stirring. That was the kind of bone-deep, soul-consuming itch that could never be scratched away — only soothed by the raw, primal press and friction of two young bodies against each other.

Footsteps grew louder and clearer just outside, brisk and steady — Xue Shaoping, home from work to change clothes. At a moment like this, continuing was agony, but pulling apart felt like it might actually kill someone. As she drew closer, Situ Jue bit down hard on the hand Yao Qiyun had hastily clamped over her mouth, and as the sound of her mother opening and closing a door drifted through the wall, her body shifted slightly, while his own senses, driven past the edge by the intense stimulation both inside and outside the door, reached their peak all at once — his mind went blank in an instant, and then everything went still. But neither of them moved.

Xue Shaoping finished changing quickly, and as she passed her daughter’s room, she paused for a moment. On the other side of that single door, the two of them held their breath entirely, nothing left but their hearts pounding wildly, uncontrollably.

“Sister Yao, are the kids home?”

Yao Qiyun and Situ Jue exchanged a look, both their hearts leaping into their throats.

After what felt like half a century of agony, they heard Aunt Yao’s voice answer from the kitchen downstairs, “Qiyun’s not back yet. Situ Jue seems to have gone out with Wu Jiang.”

“Alright then. Situ Jue’s father and I won’t be home for dinner tonight.”

Xue Shaoping’s voice faded away downstairs along with her footsteps. Only then did Yao Qiyun let out a breath, reaching over to smooth Situ Jue’s sweat-damp hair.

“Were you scared?” Situ Jue nuzzled against his hand like a small cat.

Yao Qiyun was silent for a moment, then nodded honestly.

Not satisfied, she looked into his eyes and pressed further. “Aren’t you afraid, right now, of being the thief who stole my parents’ most precious treasure? Don’t you worry about breaking it, about living in constant fear for the rest of your life?”

Yao Qiyun pulled her into his arms. “I am. So I swallowed it whole.”