Hot flashes

Song Yu looked at her.

He looked at Chen Jingyi's haggard face, which had become haggard from keeping watch all night, and saw the dark circles under her eyes and the lines at the corners of her mouth that were slightly stiffened from being too nervous.

His lips moved slightly, then he swallowed it back.

Then he lay back down, pulled the blanket up, and covered his head.

The edge of the blanket pressed down over his chin, covering his lips and the bridge of his nose, leaving only a section of his forehead that wasn't completely covered and the reddened edges of his eyes exposed.

Chen Jingyi sat beside the hospital bed, still clutching the glass of water in her hand.

She looked down at the outline covered by the blanket, watching the shape rise and fall slightly under the fabric with each breath, and suddenly felt the warmth of the water in her hand seeping away from the cup, getting colder and colder, as if someone was taking it away from her.

…………

Final exam week is like a long receding tide, sweeping people away from the campus layer by layer.

Two-thirds of the seats in the library that required advance reservations were empty, and the lines at the cafeteria windows were halved.

Zhou Heng returned from the library.

Xiao Jue was sitting on the sofa, holding his phone. On the screen was a screenshot of a calendar. He had circled the day when winter vacation started in red and the day when school started in blue.

Zhou Heng walked over and sat down next to him. When his gaze fell on the screenshot, Xiao Jue turned his phone to show it to him.

"Anyway, our families are all in this city," Xiao Jue whined, almost like a spoiled child, "We don't need to go back so early, let's stay a little longer, okay?"

Zhou Heng lowered his eyes. "Well," he said, "I wasn't planning on going back so soon either."

Xiao Jue became happy and hugged him, showering him with kisses.

After the winter vacation started, the days suddenly slowed down and became more tedious.

They slept until they naturally woke up every day. The light coming through the gaps in the curtains slowly changed from gray-blue to light gold. Sometimes Zhou Heng would wake up first and feel the warm weight next to him still pressing down on the blankets—Xiao Jue's face was half-buried in the crook of his shoulder, his breath hitting the skin on the side of his neck, one breath after another, with a rhythm that was made particularly long because he was sleeping soundly.

One of his arms was wrapped around Zhou Heng's waist, his palm pressed against his lower abdomen, his fingertips slightly curled, as if he couldn't bear to let go of that small patch of warmth even in his sleep.

Xiao Jue didn't rush to get up after waking up.

He pulled his face away from Zhou Heng's shoulder, squinted at the light coming through the curtains, then buried his face back in it, his nose brushing against Zhou Heng's neck, rubbing back and forth along the curve between his chin and collarbone, like an animal confirming the boundaries of its territory.

His arms tightened around Zhou Heng's lower abdomen, pulling him closer to his chest. His lips brushed against the skin of Zhou Heng's neck as he mumbled, "Lie down a little longer." Zhou Heng's fingers rested on the back of Zhou Heng's hand.

They didn't have anything important to do after they got up.

Sometimes when Xiao Jue was cooking porridge in the kitchen, and Zhou Heng passed by from behind, Xiao Jue would reach out without turning his head, accurately find Zhou Heng's waist, hook him around, kiss him on the back of the neck, and then let go to continue stirring the porridge in the pot.

They went to the supermarket during the day. Xiao Jue pushed the shopping cart in front, and Zhou Heng walked beside him.

Xiao Jue's other hand's fingertips clasped between his fingers.

In the evening, they sat side by side on the sofa watching TV.

They said they were watching TV, but actually only Zhou Heng was watching.

Two glasses of water were on the coffee table, and a movie that Zhou Heng had randomly chosen was playing on the TV. He had no idea how far the plot had progressed.

Xiao Jue was nestled in the sofa, his back against the armrest, his legs stretched out. Zhou Heng sat between his legs, his back against his chest. The blanket draped over them, covering most of them.

Xiao Jue rested his chin on his shoulder, his lips pressed against the side of his neck, kissing him every now and then.

Each place it passed through left a slightly damp feeling.

His hands were also restless under the blanket.

Zhou Heng stared at the TV screen; the thin layer of fabric from his pajamas under the blanket couldn't hide much.

Zhou Heng seemed to sense something. He was silent for a few seconds, then turned his head, his brows furrowing slightly: "Can't you just shut up for a bit?"