“How’d you sleep last night?”
I went downstairs. Shen Jianqing had just finished making breakfast and was already eating. Holding a rough ceramic bowl, he was taking small sips of thin porridge. When he saw me, he lifted his head with a friendly smile and greeted me politely.
But the moment he mentioned last night, that eerie, horrifying dream flashed back into my mind. I forced a smile and said, “It was okay. Just… too many bugs.”
Shen Jianqing scooped a bowl of porridge for me and pushed a dish of pickles toward me.
I accepted the bowl gratefully. One sip and warmth spread through my stomach.
Then he suddenly scooted closer and tapped my neck with his finger. “What happened here?”
His fingertip was cold, yet the bump on my neck burned the instant he touched it.
I instinctively turned my head away. “Probably just a mosquito bite. It’ll go away soon.”
“Mosquitoes in the mountains are vicious,” he said, withdrawing his hand—but his eyes glimmered with amusement. “I have some ointment in my room. Come with me.”
I had planned to wait in the living room, but he stood at the doorway, pausing when he noticed I wasn’t following. He gave me a look, gesturing for me to come along.
I had no choice but to go.
This was my first time in Shen Jianqing’s room. It had excellent light; daylight poured through the window, illuminating every corner clearly.
A beautifully carved wooden bed stood against the wall, and beside it sat a wooden cabinet. Shen Jianqing lifted the cabinet’s lid and leaned over it, searching through the contents.
His room was tidy and orderly—worlds apart from my messy dorm back at school.
“Just a sec,” he said.
I looked around the room. My gaze eventually landed on the windowsill. Sitting there was a strange black jar, completely out of place in the neat room.
“What’s this?” I asked, reaching out to pick it up.
“Don’t touch it!” he said sharply, even before my fingers made contact. “There’s filthy stuff inside. Don’t dirty your hands.”
I laughed. “I heard people from Miao villages can use gu. Is this your gu jar or something? Do you keep poisonous bugs in there?”
It was just a joke, but Shen Jianqing answered with unexpected seriousness: “Li Yuze, I don’t use gu.”
His tone was so earnest that I felt embarrassed for teasing him.
“Found it!” After a moment, he emerged holding a small white porcelain bottle. “Sit. I’ll put it on for you.”
His gaze was open and calm, without a trace of ulterior motive. Acting shy would’ve felt strange, so I simply sat on the bamboo stool by the window and tilted my head to expose the bitten spot.
He dabbed a little ointment on his fingertip—the cool herbal scent wafted up immediately. Leaning close, he steadied my shoulder with his left hand and applied the ointment with his right.
The ointment felt cool, probably from the mint inside. His fingertips were warm, spreading it slowly and evenly across my skin.
But after a full minute, he still hadn’t stopped.
I turned my head slightly—and froze. The way he was looking at me was unsettling. Something unreadable and dark churned beneath his calm surface, a beast lurking behind his black pupils, mixed with a hunger I didn’t want to understand.
“Li Yuze, actually I—” His hand remained on my shoulder, and he leaned even closer.
The small distance between us narrowed further.
I cut him off abruptly, jumping to my feet. “Thanks! You don’t have to—really!”
I backed up two steps to put space between us. Not sure what else to say, I edged toward the door and added softly, “I really appreciate it.”
Shen Jianqing didn’t answer.
I turned back. He had lowered his head, his face hidden in shadow. Only the twin cowlicks on his crown faced me. The silver trinkets woven into his hair drooped, tangled in the strands.
I’d heard people with two cowlicks tended to be stubborn and extreme, but Shen Jianqing was gentle and kind. So much for superstitions.
He looked so dejected, like a small dog abandoned by its owner, that a pang of guilt hit me. But his gaze had been too raw—too exposed. Even if I wanted to pretend not to notice, I couldn’t anymore.
I chose to leave.
He liked me. That wasn’t my imagination or vanity. His behavior—the careful support on the chain bridge, the repeated requests for promises, the hug in the woods… I wasn’t slow or clueless.
But it was a kind of affection I had no use for.
Yes. I didn’t need it.
I knew exactly what I wanted from life, what path I intended to take. I wasn’t about to stake my future on someone with no identity, someone who couldn’t even leave this place. No matter how striking his beauty, no matter how soft and kind his heart was—there was simply no room in my plans for a change like Shen Jianqing.
If that’s how things were, then I couldn’t afford to lead him on. Maybe nowadays people think dating and spending your life together are two completely different things—but I’m not one of those people, and I don’t want to get tangled up in emotional messes.
Maybe Shen Jianqing had just been lonely for too long. So when he suddenly met someone his age—someone he could actually talk to—he hurried to give away his affection.
This wasn’t real liking, I told myself. Maybe something I said or did made him misunderstand, but that won’t happen again. He deserves someone who truly loves him, whether that’s a girl or a boy, but in any case, not me.
I needed to keep my distance. I couldn’t give him any wrong signals and let him sink deeper into it.
Once the fire-cutting ritual ended tonight, we would pack our things and get ready to leave. I’d already made up my mind.
For the rest of the morning, I stayed holed up in my room. Even at lunch, I barely ate a few bites before stopping. Qiu Lu stared at me in surprise. “You’re eating that little?”
I nodded dismissively. “I’m full.”
Xu Zirong suddenly set down his bowl and chopsticks. “Hey, A-Ze… your neck…” He waggled his brows, eyes glinting with a sleazy kind of teasing.
Instinctively, I touched my neck and glanced at Shen Jianqing.
He kept his head down, face practically buried in his bowl, silent.
“It’s just a mosquito bite. It’ll fade soon.”
“‘It’s just a mosquito bite, it’ll fade soon,’” Xu Zirong mimicked me in a mocking tone. “No wonder you’ve lost your appetite. Had a romantic encounter, huh?”
Where was this “romantic encounter” coming from?
I looked at him, completely baffled.
Wen Lingyu also stared at me in confusion.
Qiu Lu clamped her chopsticks around Xu Zirong’s lips and snapped, “Can’t even food shut your mouth? Want me to sew it shut? Stop exposing your filthy imagination!”
Xu Zirong played along dramatically, pretending to struggle. With his mouth puckered, he mumbled, “Lu-lu, I’m wrong. It was a mosquito. Okay?”
Qiu Lu gave a sharp little laugh and let him go.
I nodded at everyone and returned to my room.
But I hadn’t been inside long when someone knocked. I got up to open the door—Shen Jianqing was standing outside.
We both fell silent. Neither of us spoke.
In the end, I broke the stiffness first. “What’s up?”
His youthful face was expressionless. “Are you avoiding me?”
“I…”
He looked straight into my eyes, his tone almost interrogating. “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t despise me? And already, your promise doesn’t count anymore?”
“I’m not—I’m not looking down on you.” His coldness caught me off guard; he so rarely showed this side of himself.
He went on: “Or is it because you realized how I feel, so now you don’t dare face me?”
I didn’t expect him to be so bold and direct.
Then again, he’d tested the waters several times already. I’d just refused to believe it.
“Shen Jianqing, you’re still young. Maybe this isn’t real affection—maybe you’ve been lonely too long, and now that you’ve met someone you can talk to, you’re clinging too hard…” I tried to put on a big-brother attitude, wanting to talk him out of it.
But under his deep gaze, my words gradually died out.
Then he sighed, reverting to the gentle version of him that I knew. The tension in my chest eased a little.
He said, “You didn’t eat much at noon. I steamed some glutinous rice cakes for you. They’re in the kitchen.”
“…Ah.” I jerked my head up, staring at him. I didn’t expect him to still be thinking about my empty stomach at a time like this.
He then took out a small white cloth pouch from his pocket—round and stuffed, with tiny, uneven stitches circling the edge.
“There’s anti-mosquito herbs in here. If you keep it on you, bugs won’t bite.”
He offered it to me. When I didn’t take it, he slipped it directly into the front pocket of my shirt.
A faint herbal scent rose up around me.
After placing it there, he gave me one last look, then turned and left without another word.
I watched his tall, slender figure in that dark blue clothing—his thin back and narrow waist—and my heart tightened uncomfortably.
A sour, bitter feeling surged up. My throat constricted, and my eyes prickled, something threatening to push through.
Shen Jianqing was too good. Even knowing I was avoiding him, he still treated me with such wholehearted, stubborn kindness.
Even someone carved from stone would feel their resolve waver.
And I wasn’t made of wood.
If I’m honest with myself, anyone faced with someone this close to perfect would struggle to remain unaffected. I admit I’m rational and cautious—but I also admit that maybe, just maybe, I felt a little something for him.
Pity for the boy who lost his parents young and was bullied by his tribe; gratitude for the one who stepped in to help me without hesitation; admiration for someone so resilient, independent, and pure-hearted; that one dizzying moment when he held me and spoke from deep inside…
But it was only affection. Nothing more.
If he were a girl, maybe—maybe, maybe—
I cut off my thoughts abruptly.
There are no “ifs” in this world.
Anything that begins with “if” is meaningless.
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the herbal sachet, and pinched it between my fingers. It bulged softly, just like my heart at that moment. I let out a long, quiet sigh.
Shen Jianqing was wonderful—but he was still, in the end, a boy.