The man closed his eyes, got off her, reached for his lighter, and lit a cigarette.
With one hand, he pushed open the window. The nicotine mixed with the cold wind slowly rose past his high-bridged nose, stirring the hair on his forehead, like a pendulum knocking sense back into him.
Chang Xuyu sat up in shock, instinctively moving back.
She wrapped her arms around her knees, the light purple silk nightgown slowly bunching up from her calves.
Her hand, clutching the fabric, trembled slightly.
In the early hours, stars occasionally dotted the night sky. The man turned his back to her, slowly inhaling the smoke, then gently exhaling. Smoke rings drifted faintly, wisps wafting into the room.
Chang Xuyu had hereditary asthma and disliked the smell of cigarette smoke.
She buried her head and coughed softly.
Yi Zhuo's hand holding the cigarette had distinct knuckles. He paused at the sound.
He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, opened the window wider, letting the wind blow in, and draped the velvet blanket back over her shoulders.
"I'm sorry."
His apology was hoarse, deep and magnetic, lingering in her ear.
She looked up and saw the corners of his eyes red. Maybe it was from the cigarette.
He wasn't in the habit of smoking; he only did so occasionally.
Chang Xuyu opened her mouth but didn't say anything.
She knew she had treated him badly just now, but she couldn't control herself.
Yi Zhuo had been good to her, but this "goodness" had come too abruptly, too surreal.
More like a flash in the pan—like the people or things she had once relied on that suddenly disappeared.
She was too afraid of losing.
Just two months ago, they were still strangers.
Yet the feeling Yi Zhuo gave her was as if they had known each other for many years.
"It's, it's okay."
She pursed her lips. She felt this apology came out of nowhere too, but she didn't know how to respond.
Yi Zhuo sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to ruffle her hair.
It was a gesture he had always liked to do to her.
Very familiar.
Chang Xuyu didn't think much about it; she just silently watched him.
Dawn was about to break. A hint of early light illuminated, and the silver glow gradually dissipated.
Her eyes were light in color, bright and clear when exposed to light, like a clear sky after rain, like bamboo shoots sprouting in spring.
Yi Zhuo's Adam's apple moved. He withdrew his hand to close the window and draw the curtains.
There was still time. He could hold her and sleep peacefully for a little while longer.
Lying in bed, the man reached out to embrace her and felt her waist tremble.
He frowned.
"Xuyu, are you afraid of me?"
His words carried a hint of urgency, and his aura suddenly turned fierce.
She turned over and finally found her voice in the darkness—
"No. I just hope you'll take what I said to heart..." She paused. "Yi Zhuo, everything between us right now is too illusory."
Silence all around.
"I don't want this."
She turned her head, her expression indifferent, and said abruptly.
Hearing this, the man's brows knitted together.
He remembered her mild temperament, how she was amiable to everyone, but only offered him a faint smile. It had been like this from the start—she never seemed to show him any true feelings. It wasn't just because she was low-key and calm.
He could feel it: her subtle, elusive distance from him.
After a long time, he asked hoarsely, "Do you hate me that much?"
His voice was like a frozen lake in winter—touch it, and it felt icy and piercing.
Author's note: Feel free to leave comments!