After the breakup, I was taken in by a group of trendy young women.

Her bangs were turned over.

The living room of the rented room was dark, with only the neon lights of the city shining through the balcony, casting an ambiguous pinkish-purple hue over the room.

The springs on the old sofa groaned under the strain, and Qi Liuhai stretched out from his curled-up position, looking like a cat that had just woken up, giving a long, lazy yawn.

Her braids had long since come undone, and her black hair was draped over her shoulders. Her bangs, which were askew to the right, swayed as she turned over and fell down, covering half of her eye.

The strap of the white slip dress slipped down to one side, revealing a slender shoulder and a section of bright white collarbone.

Lin Ye leaned against the sofa armrest, still not asleep.

With his eyes closed, his mind was still replaying the events of the day—Zhang Qian and her older sister's expressions in the KTV corridor, Shen Qing's tiptoe peck on his cheek, Bai Xiaojing drunkenly hanging on his arm saying, "Brother, you are the best person I have ever met in my life."

A slight smile curved her lips, and she was about to turn over when she suddenly felt someone pressing down on her.

She rolled over from the other end of the sofa at some point, landing on him like a weightless leaf.

She rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him. Pinkish-purple light poured in from behind her, illuminating her face, which was half-hidden by her bangs, in a flickering light.

"elder brother."

Her voice was very soft, almost drowned out by the even snoring of the tattooed man in the living room.

Lin Ye opened his eyes and looked down at the head on his chest.

Her fingers had somehow gripped the collar of his T-shirt; her nails were plain, unpainted, and neatly trimmed.

"What's wrong?"

His voice was low and hoarse, as if he were just about to fall asleep.

Qi Liuhai didn't answer.

She lifted her face slightly from his chest, looking up at him, the pinkish-purple light shining into her eyes.

Those eyes weren't big; they were the kind of single eyelids that were very pleasing to the eye, with slightly upturned corners, like a quiet cat.

She pursed her lips, then relaxed them, and then she did something that Lin Ye hadn't expected.

She buried her face back into his chest, her nose touching the area below his collarbone, and snuggled closer to him, like a cat that had finally found its den and, after confirming that it was warm and safe enough, was ready to bury itself inside.

Lin Ye's hand hovered in mid-air, hesitated for a moment, and then landed on the back of her head.

Her hair was very soft, with strands as fine as a baby's downy hair. When you put your fingertips in, you could feel the warmth and slight dampness of her scalp. She had taken a shower that night, using the cheapest shampoo on the supermarket shelf, a faint, indescribable scent, like grass after the rain.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

She shook her head. Her hair brushed against his chest, rustling softly.

"What's wrong?"

She remained silent for a moment.

Then her lips pressed against the skin below his collarbone, her lips slightly parted, her breath warm and moist against his skin, like a feather gently brushing against him.

Her lips were so thin that they were almost imperceptible when pressed against your lips, but that subtle, almost imperceptible touch was more tantalizing than any intense stimulation.

Lin Ye's body stiffened when her lips touched his.

The bangs felt it.

The corners of her mouth curved slightly against his skin.

You could feel those thin lips drawing a tiny curve across his skin.

Her hand slid down from the collar of his T-shirt, her fingers touching the hem of his shirt, and then she shrank back a bit.

Her face slid from his chest to his abdomen, her hair brushing against the fabric of his T-shirt, making a soft rustling sound.

Then her fingers hooked onto the elastic band of his athletic shorts.

Lin Ye's hand slid from the back of her head to her shoulder and grasped her thin shoulder.

"Straight bangs!"

"elder brother."

Her voice came up from below, muffled, with a strange calmness he had never heard before.

"Don't move."

She spoke those three words softly, but with unwavering authority.

Lin Ye released his hand from her shoulder.

Her movements were slow, as if she were unwrapping a treasured gift, carefully peeling off each layer of wrapping paper, afraid of damaging the contents inside.

The elastic band slid over his hip bone, the fabric stretched by the contours of his thighs, and finally the entire pair of shorts was pulled down to his knees.

Her hands were small, with slender, long fingers, clean nails, and the skin on her palms was slightly rough from years of washing clothes and dishes.

He looked down and saw her black hair with bangs falling to his waist, her face buried in the middle, only her forehead and one eye covered by her bangs showing.

Those eyes were open.

She has single eyelids with upturned corners, which look like two dark glass beads in the pinkish-purple light.

She didn't close her eyes; she kept them open, watching his reaction, watching his abdominal muscles tense up because of her movements, watching his fingers grip the sofa cushion tightly, and watching the low, suppressed groan that escaped his throat, like a wounded wild animal.

Her eyes lit up for a moment.

Lin Ye's fingers went from loosely clasped to firmly clenched.

It's like a movie that's playing has been paused, freezing the image at the most breathtaking frame.