The embrace came suddenly, but it wasn't rough—in fact, it was remarkably gentle. With an undeniable force, deep and heavy, it left no room for her to refuse.
Cheng Buxi felt herself completely enveloped in his domain and scent—raw, domineering—and stood there dazed, forgetting to cry.
She could clearly feel the arms tightly wrapped around her, along with his broad, solid back, both trembling violently and uncontrollably.
It wasn't fear or tension, but an eruption of excitement and ecstasy that had been suppressed for far too long, like a volcano finally finding its outlet after years of accumulation.
Especially near his chest, his heart pounded fast and urgently, each beat like a drum, striking against her ear.
"Why… why did you run off so fast?"
"I couldn't find you if I looked away for a second."
"Thank goodness, thank goodness it's you."
That single phrase, "thank goodness it's you," seemed to lift a thousand-pound burden, as if he had finally recovered a lost treasure. It was as if he wanted to make up for all the lost years. Cheng Buxi didn't understand where this overwhelming affection came from. She instinctively struggled to look up at him, but his arms remained tightly wrapped around her, showing no sign of letting go.
-
The return trip on the subway.
During rush hour, the subway station was packed like a sardine can, with cars stuffed full of people heading home.
They stood, as expected, squeezed together like a sponge with no moisture left—hardly any gap remained. Cheng Buxi pressed tightly against him, her tear-streaked face still not dry.
Ning Ci's tall frame formed a small barrier in front of her, shielding her from part of the crowded flow. One hand protected her, while the other held the strap, ensuring they wouldn't be jostled apart.
The train swayed back and forth, people pushing and shoving. His steps shifted lightly—his muscular build wasn't just for show—and he maintained a mountain-like posture, allowing her to lean steadily on him.
She smelled wonderful. He couldn't tell if it was her body wash, shampoo, or natural scent—like freshly opened pure milk mixed with sweet honey water.
The fragrance wasn't strong, but it was clinging, lingering on collars and in strands of hair. It left a trace wherever she touched. Hmm, did she even know? As her body temperature rose, the scent seemed to seep into one's heart. Her frame was so small that holding her in his arms made him reluctant to let go. He just wanted to hold her and take a long nap.
She had stopped crying, but the constant rocking of the train made her eyes redden again. Her sobs were like the suppressed whimpers of a wounded animal—not a loud wail, but a long-held grievance finally seeping out, bit by bit, making one's heart tighten and ache.
Seeing this, Ning Ci tightened his arms. From his angle, he could clearly see every subtle emotional change in her. The deepening red at the corners of her eyes was darker than rouge. He gently patted her thin shoulder.
"What happened in the previous generation has nothing to do with you."
"You are you, they are they. No matter what, the past can't be laid at your feet, understand?"
His voice was very soft, coaxing, and his movements became even more careful, as if handling fragile porcelain: "Don't cry. Anyone seeing us would think I bullied you."
His gaze was focused, sincere, and pure, all fixed on her. The surrounding crowd willingly faded into the background.
Cheng Buxi didn't know why she suddenly started crying again. She wasn't usually this fragile. Perhaps it was because the person she was leaning on was Ning Ci?
Because it was him, that's why she could be like this, that's why she dared to be like this.
If it were anyone else, she wouldn't shed a single tear or show any emotion.
It reminded her of when she was a child, around six or seven, just after she had been taken to the Lu family. She was unfamiliar with everything. The luxurious villa was overwhelmingly grand and solemn. Three floors, every detail lavish and exquisite.
At night, lying in the princess bed of the "Second Sister" she had never met, the window showed sturdy, twisted tree shadows, rustling. She was always scared to sleep. Her brother would come every night without fail, take her to his room, his world, tell her countless fairy tales, and coax her to sleep.
It was an unwavering routine.
Actually, deep down, she wasn't as scared as she appeared. As a child, she was fearless. It was easy to go from frugality to luxury. She had endured even the bitter days at her aunt's house. Later, facing the provocations of her stepmother and stepsister, she remained calm and composed. The Lu family was paradise for her.
But with her brother—precisely because it was her brother—she dared to be willful, to be capricious, to be unscrupulous.
Because it was her brother. And why? Because she had someone to rely on. She knew the profound significance her big brother had in her life. He was the first ray of light to break through the darkness of her dreary existence, her salvation. No matter what happened, he would never abandon her, would always favor her, until the end of time. Even knowing that many of her little schemes were fake, he turned a blind eye and tacitly allowed her to act out.
Now, this long-lost feeling was once again experienced through another person—Ning Ci.
This young man was reckless and arrogant, yet he looked like a gentleman. He was good at studying, good-looking, good at sports, good at singing and dancing. She liked him as such a vivid and concrete person.
Just as she really, really liked… the brother from the past.
-
As they walked out of the station, the world seemed to suddenly empty.
November in North City. The night was deeply dark, like a piece of faded dark blue flannel, rough and stiff, pressing heavily overhead. The sky was vast, without stars or moon, only a few red aviation obstruction lights on distant high-rise rooftops, glowing faintly and stubbornly.
The air was cold, dry and biting. Inhaling, one could feel the crispness drilling straight into the bones.
As if winter was about to arrive at any moment.
They were supposed to part ways, but Ning Ci, worried about her condition, insisted on seeing her home.
Cheng Buxi, with her pale, fragile face, asked him, "Am I being too delicate?"
"Crying at the slightest thing, without any spirit or backbone."
Ning Ci's gaze was firmly fixed on her, unwavering. After a moment, without hesitation, he said, "If you think this is being delicate, lacking spirit and backbone," he shrugged slightly, "then next time you cry, remember to squeeze into my arms a little tighter."
"That way, no one will know."
Cheng Buxi's pupils slightly dilated, as if struck by an invisible electric current. She froze on the spot, her heart seemingly slowly gripped by something.
The streetlights cast a dim yellow glow on the few bare ginkgo trees beside the sidewalk. The shadows of the branches stretched long and twisted on the cold concrete. The wind wasn't strong, but it blew intermittently, carrying a clear whistling sound, sweeping up curled dead leaves along the ground, rolling them away.
His gaze was calm, focused as if penetrating the heart. Each word was clear and steady, carrying undeniable power: "Do you know, Cheng Xiaoman? We are accomplices."
"From now on, we're in the same boat. You have no choice, because you owe me this."
It was a debt of twelve whole years.