The tree trunks lining the street bent and swayed in the gale, leaves whipping into the restless wind before vanishing into unseen, shadowy corners.

The old bus was packed to the brim—every inch of floor claimed. It felt like an ark of the apocalypse, the fragile thread tethering everyone’s survival.

Puddles pooled on the metal floor from drips falling off hair strands… clothing hems. Muddy water slicked the ground, filthy and treacherous.

Gripping the handrail, Su Yu carved out a sliver of space in the cramped cabin. Xia Qian Ge stood within it, back to him, gazing out at the apocalyptic desolation beyond the window, lost in thought.

Her hair carried a sweet, familiar scent. Damp strands dripped softly, occasionally brushing Su Yu’s nose. In the dim, chaotic cabin, their closeness stirred a faint, tender tension.

Suddenly, the bus jolted violently—catching everyone off guard. Passengers slipped on the wet floor, tumbling down. Women screamed; men growled. Order shattered in an instant.

Instinctively, Su Yu leaned forward to shield Xia Qian Ge—but his foot slid. He pressed flush against her. His jaw met the delicate ridge of her shoulder blade; his cheek hovered near the slender curve of her neck. Her fragrance deepened. His hurried breath warmed her pale, translucent skin. An unmistakable intimacy hung between them.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to,” Su Yu stammered, trying to pull back. But the crushing crowd pinned him. After several futile tries, he remained trapped. His eyes fell on the delicate skin of her neck, flushed crimson all the way to the earlobe peeking through damp hair.

“I… I’m fine,” she murmured, voice muffled, trembling with choked whimpers.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, suppressing… suppressing something. How many times had she dreamed of this closeness? Now real, the thrill jolted every nerve, softening their ends until they spasmed uncontrollably.

The bumpy stretch passed amid grumbling complaints. As the bus steadied, Su Yu straightened up. A flush flickered across his face; he couldn’t bring himself to look at Xia Qian Ge.

But Xia Qian Ge turned. She stared at the boy’s gentle, jade-like cheeks, the shy crimson staining his earlobes. Her heart hammered. The corners of her mouth twitched upward against her will. She swallowed hard, throat bobbing.

“I’m getting off here.”

Su Yu glanced out at the familiar bus stop sign. His stop was next.

Longing… longing. Don’t go. Stay. Every cell in her body screamed it.

The fleeting warmth of his body still clung to her skin like creeping vines. His hot breath had brushed her neck, teasing her fraying sanity. Not yet… Fingers hidden behind her back clenched white. How much longer must she endure?

“Shall I walk you home?” Xia Qian Ge asked, thick curly lashes trembling. A faint pink bloomed on her cheeks. “I have an umbrella.”

“Oh, no need. One umbrella won’t fit us both. Besides… someone’s picking me up.”

“Someone… picking you up?”

Her gentle smile froze. She glanced ahead at the shelter crowded with waiting figures—yet her eyes locked instantly on the girl. The one who’d brought him water that day…

Holding a bright yellow umbrella, she stood out vividly. One… Why only one? Would they share it? Replicate the very intimacy she and Su Yu had just shared?

Xia Qian Ge lowered her head. Damp bangs hung heavily. Her eyes burned, bloodshot and raw. She looked as wretched as a forgotten specter by the roadside. Three years of pride at Yangming High—shattered by a girl who appeared from nowhere.

“Her name’s He Mu Qing, right? I heard she’s popular in Grade 11. What’s your relationship?” Xia Qian Ge lifted her head, smile brilliantly in place.

A girl with such terrifying composure wouldn’t crumble. She pressed the mask firmly back onto her face.

“Childhood friends. Never mentioned it. Few at school know.”

Xia Qian Ge smiled sweetly, feigning casualness. “Childhood friends, huh? She seems fond of you—to come in this rain.”

“It’s… fine. I should go. Goodbye.”

“Mm. Goodbye.”

Before she could finish, she watched helplessly as Su Yu stepped off. Her smile shattered.

…

Near the stop stood residential blocks. Passengers poured out; the crowded cabin emptied in moments, seats left vacant.

Xia Qian Ge leaned against the rail, mind fixed on the slender figure vanishing into the distance. Her pupils were hollow. The hand gripping the rail turned deathly pale. Only as blood slowly returned did her consciousness seep back.

She’d glimpsed hope—only to watch it slip away, powerless.

He was flustered… face flushed red without reason. If no affection stirred his heart, where did the ambiguity come from? Why blush?

After long neglect, she’d nearly believed her charm had faded. Yet that brief touch left him so shy.

But the closeness between that girl and Su Yu still ignited jealous fury. Childhood friends? No one was allowed. No one could share his umbrella. No one could press so close.

She hadn’t lost. By any means—if her body made him glance twice, she’d spare nothing. Offer it all—soul and flesh—on a pristine white platter.

Crimson lips bitten raw, nearly bleeding. That skin-to-skin contact had shattered her restraint. Xia Qian Ge hated admitting it: she’d sworn her love was purely for his soul, untouched by flesh.

It shouldn’t be physical. It shouldn’t feel like this. She loved his soul. Yet just now… she’d reacted. Just like him.

A damp heat surged. She shifted, rubbing her thighs together—like a mouse that tasted the master’s dessert, forever haunted by its sweetness. She never expected his body to ignite such insatiable craving.

Her damp tongue flicked the roof of her mouth, drawing a slender silver thread. Huddled in the bus’s shadowy corner, soaked hair concealed the lustful flush spreading across her face.

“Su Yu… I’m sorry. I’m afraid I must break my promise.”