The Distance—So That Was What It Meant

For no reason at all, Tang Shuyu thought of He Zhuoming's chaotic, jumbled dream.

At the very end of the dream, in the instant he closed his eyes and stepped back, he had also felt He Zhuoming's breath rushing close. Only then, her breath hadn't fallen on his wrist—it had landed on the tip of his nose and his lips.

So the distance at which you could clearly feel someone else's breathing was really this close?

Did that mean that at that moment, He Zhuoming's face had been as close to his as she was now to the hand he was using to apply medicine to her eyes?

Tang Shuyu couldn't figure out why she would have leaned in that close. It couldn't have been to whisper something to him. Whispering meant leaning toward someone's ear, not pressing your face directly into theirs...

He Zhuoming felt the hand pressed against her eyelid suddenly go still. Confused, she opened her eyes. "Why did you stop—"

Halfway through her sentence, her newly opened eye brushed against the ointment on Tang Shuyu's finger. He Zhuoming let out a wail of "Ow ow ow," clamped her hand over her eye, and flopped onto the bed, rolling back and forth.

Tang Shuyu was forced back to his senses. He laughed helplessly. "I told you not to open your eyes. Why did you go and bump into it yourself?"

He Zhuoming: "It hurts hurts hurts, it stings stings stings, wah wah wah—"

Tang Shuyu: "Come here. Let me look."

He Zhuoming: "It hurts so much. I can't get up. Wah wah wah, am I going to go blind?"

Tang Shuyu said, "Your eyes aren't lanterns made of paper. They're not going to go blind that easily."

That said, seeing that He Zhuoming still refused to get up from the bed, Tang Shuyu kicked off his boots, climbed onto the bed, and crawled over to her side on his knees, pressing down on her shoulder.

He Zhuoming was pinned down and couldn't roll anymore, but she kept both hands clamped tightly over her eyes.

Tang Shuyu coaxed her gently. "Take your hands away. Let me see if you've gone blind."

He Zhuoming scrunched up her face and let go of her hands. Beneath them, her eyes were still squeezed shut. Tang Shuyu leaned in close to look, and He Zhuoming asked nervously, "Well? How is it?"

Tang Shuyu: "It's fine. Open your eyes and let me see."

He Zhuoming slowly opened her eyes. A watery haze covered her vision, and then tears spilled out—all tears stimulated by the ointment.

Tang Shuyu tugged his sleeve a little longer and pressed it against He Zhuoming's face to wipe away her tears.

She blinked a few more times, and things became clear. Her lashes lifted, and she saw Tang Shuyu's face looking down at her from above.

The bed curtains on both sides blocked the light into a hazy gloom. Tang Shuyu knelt beside her, his short black hair tousled, with many little spiky strands sticking up.

The corners of his mouth were lifted too, his expression hovering between a smile and a smirk. His long lashes drooped, and when he looked down at someone with those beautiful eyes, there was a feeling He Zhuoming couldn't put into words—it made her slightly dizzy. Her mind went blank as she stared for a while, her gaze drifting aimlessly until it finally settled on Tang Shuyu's mouth.

The faint gleam of light refracting from his earring happened to land between the cupid's bow and the corner of his lips—a bright, hazy little patch of light that made Tang Shuyu's lips look moist as well.

She was staring at Tang Shuyu's mouth in a daze when he suddenly leaned over, his arm propping up beside He Zhuoming's head. He Zhuoming's eyes widened even more, and as she breathed nervously, she caught a faint floral scent.

Tang Shuyu leaned closer and closer until He Zhuoming could feel his breath landing on her face.

She instinctively closed her eyes. They still stung slightly from the leftover ointment, but He Zhuoming had no attention to spare for that now.

Her heart was racing so fast that she felt dizzy and breathless. Even with her eyes closed, an image of Tang Shuyu's mouth surfaced in her mind: lips curved up at the corners in the dim light, a small patch of light dancing on the cupid's bow.

Tang Shuyu stopped when he drew close to a certain distance, feeling the same gentle force of breath as in the dream brush against the tip of his nose.

Both of their breaths were warm. This time, Tang Shuyu's eyes were open—and he realized that that was how close He Zhuoming had leaned in back then.

So that was what it had meant. He Zhuoming had wanted to kiss him.

He Zhuoming liked him.

The moment he realized this, Tang Shuyu swallowed. His Adam's apple rolled in the shadows.

Between the bed curtains hung the heavy, sultry heat of summer. Even Tang Shuyu, whose body temperature always ran low, felt every inch of his skin burning; the unhealed scratches on his cheeks throbbed with pain, and the palm pressed into the soft bedding ached as well.

His heart suddenly beat wildly fast. In that moment of distraction, Tang Shuyu wasn't sure whether the pitifully short distance between him and He Zhuoming had been swallowed up—the thunderous pounding of his heart won with overwhelming force, shaking his mind into a blur.

A cold, sweet-and-cloying flavor spread through his mouth. Plum-flavored ice cream, cool and drizzling, flowed into the boy's hot lips, tongue, and throat.

Tang Shuyu jerked upright, pulling away from He Zhuoming—and subconsciously swallowed once more.

There was clearly nothing in his mouth, but he had definitely tasted something.

He should have known all along. He Zhuoming liked him. It was so obvious it couldn't be more obvious.

Tang Shuyu narrowed his eyes and suddenly smiled, as if nothing had happened. He reached out and snapped his fingers in front of He Zhuoming's closed eyes.

Tang Shuyu said, "I've checked. Your eyes are fine."

He Zhuoming was still a little dizzy. She opened her eyes in a daze and answered in a fog, "Ah... ah?"

Tang Shuyu: "For your scrapes, are you going to apply the medicine yourself, or should I call a maid in to help?"

He Zhuoming: "I-I'll do it myself..."

Tang Shuyu nodded and stood up to leave. He Zhuoming reached out and grabbed his sleeve. "Where are you going?"

Tang Shuyu glanced back at the sleeve she was holding, but didn't pull it free. Instead, he explained patiently, "It's chaos outside. I am, after all, a disciple of the Pear Garden. I should go out and help. Besides, don't you need to apply your medicine? It wouldn't be convenient for me to stay."

He Zhuoming was stunned for a moment, then slowly registered his words. She let out an "Oh" and slowly released his sleeve.

Tang Shuyu added, "I'll be back soon."

With the sound of the door closing, Tang Shuyu went out. He walked straight ahead without turning, forgetting to make the turn, and ran headfirst into a corridor pillar.

Inside the room, He Zhuoming tried to spring up like a leaping carp, but her legs were too weak. She didn't have the strength, and halfway up, she flopped back down.

After flopping back, He Zhuoming was too lazy to try getting up again. She pressed her hand to her chest, staring up at the bed canopy, her head still spinning.

Did he just kiss me? Did he actually kiss me?

He Zhuoming touched her lips, feeling uncertain. Because she had been too nervous—so nervous that her ears were filled with the sound of her own heartbeat, and she couldn't feel anything else.

She only remembered Tang Shuyu leaning in very close, his warm breath landing on the tip of her nose...

He Zhuoming covered her face with her hands and rolled a full circle across the bed, rolling there and back again, feeling the skin under her fingers burning hot and her heart thumping wildly.

She buried her face in the pillow and muttered to herself, "Why did Lin Qingyun kiss me?"

"Does he like me?"

"Hmm... He probably does like me, right? He's so good to me..."

After a while, He Zhuoming lifted her flushed face from the pillow, turned over, and faced the bed canopy. "What does he mean by this? Does this count as... as a teenage romance?"

She thought and thought, but couldn't come up with an answer. Her heart was all in a mess, but the culprit wasn't in front of her.

She suddenly regretted letting Tang Shuyu leave while she was so dazed. At the very least, she should have asked him why he kissed her.

Holding that regretful feeling, she applied medicine to all her scrapes and then fell into a drowsy afternoon nap.

She didn't know how long she slept. In a daze, she was woken by the heat. She rubbed her eyes and sat up—her head heavy and foggy from the long sleep. He Zhuoming squinted and stared blankly for a moment before realizing it was already evening. The sunset streaming in through the window was as red as blood.

She saw Tang Shuyu leaning against the window frame, smiling at her. The long light-pink bead chain, touched by the setting sun, gave off a faint reddish glow.

He Zhuoming didn't even bother putting on her shoes. She ran barefoot to him, delighted. "Qingyun Qingyun—you're back! How's everything outside now? Is it safe? Can I go out and look for—"

Before she could finish, Tang Shuyu raised a finger to signal her to be quiet.

He Zhuoming was confused and looked at him blankly.

Tang Shuyu smiled. "Xiao He, you called me by the wrong name. Didn't I tell you? I'm not Lin Qingyun. I'm Tang Shuyu—the very villainous Tang Shuyu, remember?"

He Zhuoming froze. Her smile stiffened. She was even at a loss, her mouth slightly open but not knowing what to say. Tang Shuyu walked closer to her, still smiling, but He Zhuoming suddenly felt afraid and instinctively stepped back.

"N-no, that's not right. You're not a villain... You're a good person..."

He Zhuoming contradicted him in a stumbling voice, unsure whether she was trying to convince him or herself.

Suddenly, Tang Shuyu's face split open from the middle, and many young shoots grew out from inside. He Zhuoming screamed and backed away repeatedly, tripping over the footrest and falling at the edge of the bed.

Tang Shuyu, with his face split open, still walked toward her. Beneath his pale skin, wood grain churned, like a mass of wood-patterned snakes crawling around inside.

Faces kept flashing in the cracks of the wood grain—the faces of those gamblers who, obsessed with winning money, had sold their souls to the Corrupted Deity.

He Zhuoming could hardly bear to look at such a sight. Crying, she stumbled backward until her back hit someone else's chest.

A gentle voice crawled up from behind her ear, cold and eerie, like a snake's tongue licking her earlobe. "Xiao He, I see you."

He Zhuoming's heart stopped in terror. She woke up with a scream—

"Are you all right, miss? Did you have a nightmare?"

A white-clad young woman steadied her and gently patted her sweat-soaked back. He Zhuoming gasped for breath, trembling, and only after a long moment raised her head to look at the person supporting her. It was a familiar face.

"...Li Shui?"

Li Shui smiled and used a handkerchief to dab at the fine beads of sweat on He Zhuoming's forehead. In a soft voice, she said, "It's me. The Divine Palace is in chaos right now, so the Music Master ordered me to come take care of you. Don't worry—the Corrupted Deity has been driven away. Nothing like what happened before will happen again."

He Zhuoming grabbed her hand—He Zhuoming's sweat-soaked palm was cold enough, but she hadn't expected Li Shui's hand to be even colder than hers.

He Zhuoming: "Where... where is Lin Qingyun now?"

Li Shui: "Please wait a moment. I'll go call him—"

"No, no, no—" He Zhuoming grabbed her arm in a panic. "Don't... don't call him."