Knock, knock, knock—

“Sis Yiyi?”

After tidying the living room, Tang Coco went to Ye Yiyi’s door and knocked, her knuckles tapping like little drumbeats.

“Coming—”

From inside came Ye Yiyi’s excited voice and quick footsteps, light as a sparrow skimming a branch.

“Come in, quick—”

Ye Yiyi caught Coco’s hand and tugged her inside, like reeling a kite into safe wind.

…

The moment Coco stepped into Ye Yiyi’s room, a lovely fragrance brushed her, soft as blossoms after rain.

“Mm? Smells so good—”

“Really? It’s okay, but it can’t beat the scent in your room,” Ye Yiyi said, her smile as warm as lamplight.

“Huh? I didn’t put on perfume,” Coco said, puzzled, her words hovering like mist.

“Coco, you don’t know? You carry a scent of your own, sweet as honey on a breeze,” Ye Yiyi said, meeting her eyes like calm water.

“Huh? I did hear that before, but that was days ago. No one’s brought it up lately, so I thought it was gone,” Coco said, sniffing at herself like chasing a cloud she couldn’t catch.

“How could it be gone… maybe they just didn’t say it. Isn’t that odd? Sometimes your scent swells, like a field washed by rain,” Ye Yiyi said, voice drifting like a lilt of wind.

“How…?” Coco was more speechless now, her thoughts flopping like a fish in shallow water.

“Maybe your constitution’s special, Coco, like a spring hidden in your bones.”

“Hey—don’t overthink it. It’s not a bad thing anyway,” Ye Yiyi added, laugh light as a drifting cloud.

“Mm.”

“Coco, you bathe first,” she said, pointing at the bathroom, steam gleaming like a small lake.

“No, you go ahead. I’ll grab my pajamas from my room,” Coco said, passing the moment like handing off a lantern.

“Okay, then we’ll pick a movie later, for a mellow night like warm tea.”

“Sure.”

Coco headed to her room for pajamas. Ye Yiyi slipped into her bathroom, shed her dress and lingerie like petals falling, and sank into the tub, steam coiling like mountain mist; her little face flushed red like a cherry.

Warm nerves fluttered in her chest like a caged bird. “Mm… is this really okay… Will Coco mind?” she whispered, her thoughts bobbing like leaves in a stream.

“No, no… since it’s already said, the arrow’s left the bow,” she breathed, then forced the doubt away like cutting a ribbon.

With that, she submerged everything below her head, a pearl hiding beneath clear waves.

Coco returned with her pajamas to Ye Yiyi’s room, set them on the bed, and wandered at a loss, like a cat in a new garden. The room brimmed with cuteness, soft as cotton clouds; plush dolls sprawled everywhere, no fewer than ten, and the biggest on the bed was longer than Coco was tall.

Then she spotted an album by the computer desk, a window into yesterday. Curious, Coco opened it. Inside were photos of little Ye Yiyi; the adults beside her were likely her parents, solid as shade trees. Some photos showed Ye Yiyi with another girl, two saplings leaning together.

“Is this Li Muyan?” Coco murmured, puzzled, her voice thin as thread.

Yiyi had said she and Li Muyan played together since they were kids, but this photo felt off, like winter sun over deep water. Little Li Muyan wore a child’s innocence, yet his eyes held a depth beyond his years, a well too dark for that age. They say the eyes are windows onto the roads a soul has walked; Coco often reads people through their eyes, like scanning the horizon for storms.

Click—

The bathroom door sounded; Ye Yiyi must be out. Coco set down the album and picked up her pajamas by the bed, then turned—and froze like a deer in moonlight.

Yiyi stepped out wrapped only in a towel, long neck and thighs bare, water beading on her skin like dew on jade.

Shock tugged at Coco’s breath like a sudden tide. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen bodies; she’d been through things with Gu Xin and Meng Yuting, and their figures were top-notch, full as ripe fruit. What stunned her was that gentle, sweet Ye Yiyi hid a bold flame under velvet.

“Uh… I, um… forgot to bring my pajamas in…” Yiyi said, lifting her head, and her face popped red again like a ripening apple.

“Ah… oh! I—I’ll go in first,” Coco blurted, awkward as a startled bird, and hurried into the bathroom like diving into a cloud.

Relief poured through her like warm rain. “Good thing I’m a girl… or that would’ve been way too awkward…” she muttered, hand resting on the tub like anchoring to shore.

She noticed fresh warm water already drawn, steam blooming like dawn mist.

“So thoughtful—” she breathed, and slipped into the bath like a fish gliding into a clear pond.

A little over ten minutes later, Coco came out in a violet gauze nightdress, twilight draped over her shoulders, toweling her hair as drops clung like tiny pearls.

“Seriously, my hair’s a pain every time, like vines that won’t untangle,” she said with a sigh, light as a flute note.

“Hehe—Coco, be patient. Here, I’ll dry it,” Ye Yiyi said, smile bright as morning.

She set Coco on a stool and brought a small dryer, sending warm wind through Coco’s hair like soft sunshine over grass.

“All done—”

In a short while, Coco’s hair was much drier, smooth as blades after dawn.

“Mm, Sis Yiyi, you mentioned a movie—what are we watching?” Coco asked, choosing like picking a star from a sky.

“Mm… Coco, do you like animated films?” Ye Yiyi asked, eyes lighting like twin stars, leaving Coco speechless again like a quiet pond.

“Anything’s fine—” Coco said, though in truth she hardly watched TV before, a bird more used to open air than screens.

“Perfect. I couldn’t find anyone to watch with,” Ye Yiyi said, happiness flaring like a lantern finally lit.

Ye Yiyi burst into joy, opening like a spring bloom. She turned on the TV and found a U.S. animated film, colors dancing like kites on wind.

“Come up—” she called.

Yiyi had slipped under the covers and patted the quilt beside her, inviting like a hand beckoning a cat to curl.

“Oh…”

Coco answered, tiptoeing onto the bed like stepping through soft snow. Unexpectedly, Yiyi hugged Coco’s arm at once and leaned closer, ivy curling to an old tree.

Coco glanced at Yiyi and saw she was focused on the film, gaze steady as a river. Maybe she was overthinking it, she told herself, and pretended to watch, while inside her thoughts fluttered around the system like moths circling a hidden flame.