The noodle shop buzzed with voices, the rich aroma of bone broth filling the air. We sat in our usual corner. Head lowered, Chen Jingming poked at the noodles in his bowl with his chopsticks, splashing a few drops of soup onto the table. He ate distractedly, barely touching his food. His brow was furrowed, the corners of his mouth turned down. A cloud hung over him, utterly at odds with the bustle around us.
I knew he was sulking—angry that I had stopped him, and angrier still at what Fang Siyi and the others had done.
On the walk home, the dim yellow streetlights stretched our shadows long. Chen Jingming had been silent the whole way, but as we neared my old apartment complex, he finally couldn't hold back. He stopped.
Turning to face me, he stood beneath a streetlight that cast deep shadows across his face. Only his eyes shone particularly bright in the darkness, and particularly stubborn.
“Nian-Nian.” His voice held a little hurt, a little bewildered frustration. “Why did you stop me today?”
The night breeze stirred the plane trees beside the road, their leaves rustling softly. He looked at me with an earnestness that made my heart tremble. “I know why they came after you. I'm not that oblivious, and I'm not that stupid.” He paused, his voice dropping with an almost obstinate resolve. “I want to protect you. Not... have you put up with this ridiculous treatment because of me.”
He reached out and lightly pinched the cuff of my school uniform jacket, his fingertips faintly cool. There was something childlike in the gesture, both reliance and reproach, like a puppy wounded at being misunderstood by its owner.
“Okay. I know all that.” Something seemed to bump softly against my heart, leaving it aching and tender. Looking at him, I felt a powerful urge to reach up and ruffle that fluffy-looking head, the way I might soothe a sulky dog. My voice softened into a coaxing tone I didn't even notice. “I just don't think people and things that pointless are worth wasting our time and energy on.” My fingers curled slightly at my side. In the end, I resisted the impulse to ruffle his hair. Instead, I lifted my other hand and gave a gentle tug to the sleeve of the hand holding mine.
The fabric was warm against my fingertips, carrying the vibrant warmth of his body.
Chen Jingming seemed to stiffen, then slowly relaxed. He didn't lift his head. His fingers only tightened a little on my cuff as something unspoken quietly stirred between us.
Above us, the city sky was unusually clear. Tiny stars dotted the deep blue velvet. From far away came a few indistinct cicada calls, long and lonely.
Everything we had left unsaid, everything we both understood yet treasured so cautiously, found somewhere to rest in that brief silence. Then it slipped quietly into the summer night, wrapped in cicada song and filled with the stirrings of feelings still unknown.