That wave of warmth brushed past Miao Bai’s ear, a flush spreading from her neck to her earlobes.
Miao Bai’s heart suddenly raced.
It lasted perhaps only 0.1 seconds before Meng Bai pulled her lips away.
The kiss was so fleeting that, if you didn’t dwell on it, you could almost pretend it hadn’t happened. Yet the sensation lingered, along with the lingering warmth on her cheek.
Miao Bai found herself quietly savoring that brief moment.
She didn’t dislike it. She didn’t reject it. She didn’t even consider Meng Bai’s action a boundary crossed.
But the words on the tip of her tongue twisted as they emerged: “Not too much? I think it was pretty over the top.”
Meng Bai pressed her lips together. “Sorry. Did I scare you?”
Miao Bai’s reply was nonchalant: “It was just so sudden. Next time, at least give me a heads-up.”
“Oh, so it’s about the heads-up.”
So it wasn’t off-limits. It just needed advance warning.
Meng Bai mulled over the words, her furrowed brow smoothing out.
It was wonderful news. The corners of her mouth curved up, her clear-featured face brimming with youthful energy as she gazed at Miao Bai without blinking.
Miao Bai felt the intensity of that stare like a burn. She lifted a hand to cover Meng Bai’s eyes. “Alright, stop staring. It’s getting late. Aren’t you going home?”
“I can stay out a bit longer today,” Meng Bai explained. “My parents are off visiting relatives—Grandma’s side, someone’s birthday. They won’t be back tonight.”
Miao Bai nodded. “Sounds pretty free.”
“Yeah, so I don’t actually have to go home.”
Her hint couldn’t have been more obvious.
Miao Bai caught on immediately. “So you want to stay?”
“Can I?”
Miao Bai agreed without hesitation. “Sure.”
“Great!” Meng Bai’s face lit up with a smile. She reached out, slung an arm around Miao Bai’s shoulders, and pulled her close in a perfectly natural embrace.
Miao Bai couldn’t stop her own lips from curving upward, though her tone stayed a touch aloof: “What’re you doing? I didn’t say you could hug me.”
“I’m just happy, that’s all. Let me have this—it won’t kill you.”
Miao Bai let out a soft snort of laughter. “Ten seconds.”
Right. Hugs on a rainy day wouldn’t kill anyone. They were the very opposite of death, really—though Miao Bai kept that thought to herself.
~~~
Rainy days stretched time thin, even breaths drawing out long and languid.
It was around seven in the evening, the sky fully dark. Meng Bai’s stomach growled with hunger, so Miao Bai cooked her some dinner.
Meng Bai was buzzing with excitement at the table.
“You’re not really into eating much on a normal day, are you?”
Miao Bai shook her head silently.
“So you don’t really feel hunger?”
“Not much.”
“Does eating hurt you, then?” Meng Bai peppered her with questions like a curious kid rattling off a million whys.
“No harm in it. I just don’t like eating.”
“That’s kinda cool—not eating and not feeling hungry.”
Miao Bai propped her chin on one hand, her eyes soft with gentle light as she studied Meng Bai. She nodded, then shook her head. “But the joy food brings to humans? I can’t experience that.”
Meng Bai paused mid-chew, suddenly struck by a deep empathy.
The table was laid with dishes Miao Bai had made—delicious ones, at that. But knowing the cook had no appetite for food made it all feel somehow pointless.
It was hard to imagine such solitude for someone living alone.
People always said that when you’re down, you should eat something—fill your belly, and your mood would lift.
But what if you didn’t need food at all? If the very act of eating held no meaning, where would happiness even come from?
Meng Bai invited her: “Wanna eat together?”
Miao Bai replied, “I’m not hungry.”
Meng Bai scooted over beside her and held a piece of greens to Miao Bai’s lips with her chopsticks. “C’mon, just try a little bite?”
Miao Bai: “…”
Meng Bai wiggled the wooden chopsticks. “Just a taste. Please?”
Miao Bai opened her mouth, took a small nibble, chewed slowly, and swallowed—like performing some mechanical task.
“Can you taste it?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you feel it going down?”
“Yeah.”
“So, do you get the happiness food’s supposed to bring?”
Miao Bai paused, then answered honestly: “Truthfully? I don’t feel any joy from it.”
“What about me?” Meng Bai pointed to herself. “If I’m right here with you, caring whether you get any joy from this—does that make it even a tiny bit better?”
The words were a little roundabout, but Miao Bai grasped her meaning.
She didn’t deny Meng Bai’s influence, nodding. “A little better, yeah.”
Meng Bai coaxed her: “So, wanna try a bit more? You keep watching me eat while sitting there like an outsider.”
Like some stranger cut off from the world—Meng Bai hated that image.
Miao Bai considered it, then gave in.
It was the first time Meng Bai and Miao Bai had shared a proper meal, chatting idly as they ate.
Along the way, Meng Bai asked when Miao Bai had last eaten anything. Afternoon, she said—the bite of pear.
And the time before that?
Miao Bai said it was that night at the night market a while back, when Meng Bai had fed her something.
And before that?
Miao Bai’s answer was staggering: excluding the two times Meng Bai had fed her, the last time she’d eaten was over a decade ago.
The absurdity rang true coming from Miao Bai’s lips.
In that simple dinner, Meng Bai suddenly understood the bone-deep loneliness of those endless years.
She might not grasp whether Miao Bai truly minded the solitude or not.
But putting herself in those shoes? It wrenched her heart, chilled her to the core.
She recalled Miao Bai’s earlier words: nothing much to hold onto in this world, being like an immortal wasn’t all that joyful.
Ah, so that was it.
~~~
After dinner, Meng Bai pulled out her worksheets and started on homework.
Miao Bai switched on the room’s lamp for her—an old-style desk lamp that cast a warm orange glow over the wooden surface, gilding it like antique bronze. Beautiful.
Meng Bai spread out the pale yellow sheets on the desk and glanced at Miao Bai. “Does this light bother you?”
Miao Bai lay on the bed reading a book and shook her head. “No.”
Meng Bai teased: “When’s the last time you turned this lamp on?”
Miao Bai thought for a moment. “A few years ago, I guess.”
Meng Bai said, “……You’re really something else.”
“Get to your homework.”
In the time that followed, the two of them didn’t disturb each other.
Meng Bai was utterly focused as she did her homework, her pen flying across the paper with a steady scratch-scratch. Math problems that would take others ten minutes to solve, she figured out almost instantly.
Miao Bai, meanwhile, lay on the bed reading a book, the occasional rustle of turning pages the only sound from her.
This quiet companionship brought an unexpected sense of peace and stability.
Meng Bai threw herself even deeper into her work, eager to finish quickly so she’d have more time to hang out with Miao Bai.
Miao Bai appeared calm on the surface, but her mind was elsewhere—drawn toward the pool of light from the desk lamp.
The scratch of the pen drew her gaze.
There sat Meng Bai at the desk, her expression one of intense concentration, utterly meticulous. Her pen never paused, though she’d occasionally furrow her brow before smoothing it out again just as quickly.
Miao Bai found it fascinating. She rested her book on her chest and began to observe Meng Bai more closely.
She started with Meng Bai’s overall demeanor, but her attention soon settled on her face.
Eyes, nose, mouth—her gaze lingered on Meng Bai’s lips.
They were plump and red, with a soft sheen that sent Miao Bai’s thoughts wandering. Her mind drifted back to that kiss from earlier in the evening.
She couldn’t help savoring the memory of those lips brushing against her cheek, brief as it had been.
She set the book aside entirely and just stared, wondering when Meng Bai would finally notice her.
One minute. Five minutes. Ten…
Meng Bai never looked up.
This girl was seriously focused.
Just as Miao Bai was about to give up, Meng Bai set her pen down with a long sigh of relief. She stretched her arms high above her head, then glanced toward Miao Bai. Their eyes finally met.
The moment Meng Bai saw her, a bright smile lit up her face, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Wasn’t I fast?”
Miao Bai offered a restrained compliment. “Not bad.”
“Can’t you praise me a little more?” Meng Bai gathered her things from the desk, packing them neatly into her bag before rising slowly and sauntering toward the bed.
When she reached the bedside, she flopped down onto it, propping her chin in her hands. “What book is that?”
Miao Bai tilted the cover for her to see.
“I have this one too. Xu Zhou and Zhou An gave it to me for my birthday.”
“I know.” Miao Bai glanced up at her. “That’s why I bought it—because I saw you reading it.”
“Ah?” Meng Bai’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “Because I was reading it?”
“Yeah.” Miao Bai closed the book fully and set it aside. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m just… happy.”
Miao Bai noticed she was barefoot. “Aren’t you cold?”
Meng Bai wiggled her toes and nodded. “A little. I think I’ll take a quick shower first. Then we can lie in bed and chat. Sound good?”
“Chat about what?”
Meng Bai shrugged. “Whatever.”
~~~
It was during the shower that she first felt the approach of autumn and winter.
Warm water streamed over her body, only for the chill to cling to her skin almost immediately. She felt cold all over, without a trace of summer’s sticky humidity.
Meng Bai finished up as quickly as possible and hurried back to the bedroom.
The clock on the wall read ten o’clock.
“Come here.” Miao Bai sat up on the bed. “I’ll dry your hair for you.”
Meng Bai was shivering as Miao Bai handed her a small blanket to wrap around herself.
“How is it so cold already…”
“Autumn’s been especially short this year. Winter’s right around the corner, and it’ll be even colder then,” Miao Bai said.
Meng Bai’s damp hair draped over her shoulders. Miao Bai pulled her closer and gently pressed the towel to her hair, rubbing it dry with care.
With her back to Miao Bai, Meng Bai listened to the soft friction of towel against hair and felt the gentle pressure of her hands. She murmured, “I’m still not used to you drying my hair.”
“Then do it yourself.”
Meng Bai bit back a smile. “Nope.”
Miao Bai’s hands paused for a moment. After a few seconds of silence, she said, “Your hair’s really pretty.”
It was a pure, glossy black—not stiff at all, but soft to the touch.
Meng Bai squinted her eyes in contentment. “Mm, Zhou An and the others say the same.”
Miao Bai’s gaze lingered on the hair, but it inevitably drifted lower.
She could see the smooth curve of Meng Bai’s neck, her fair skin so delicate it seemed it might yield to a pinch. The elegant line of her shoulders led down to the lovely shape of her shoulder blades, like delicate butterfly wings.
Oblivious to it all, Meng Bai went on, “I’ve got tutoring tomorrow. I don’t want to go at all.”
Miao Bai, distracted, murmured, “Mm.”
“That tutor, Zhou Yizheng—he covers stuff I already know.”
“Then skip it.”
Meng Bai turned around, and the blanket slipped from her shoulders. “But I need to figure out what he’s really up to. He just seems… off.”
She wasn’t wearing much to begin with, and without the blanket, her straight collarbone was fully exposed. Miao Bai’s eyes flickered, and she quickly looked away.
“It’s mostly dry. Let’s get into bed.”
Meng Bai took the towel from her and gave her hair a few more haphazard rubs. “Sure. We can lie down and chat nice and slow.”
Miao Bai turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness. Meng Bai slipped under the covers, a strange tension bubbling up unbidden.
“Miao Bai.”
“What?”
“We’re not sleeping together for the first time, so why am I still a little nervous?”
“How should I know?”
