As she spoke, she quickly walked into the damp bathroom.
Her foot accidentally stepped onto a slick patch of paint on the floor, she stumbled and her body pitched forward.
Tang Song happened to be turning around to grab the scraper.
Because the space was really too cramped, her forehead bumped straight into his shoulder, and the brush in her hand fell to the ground with a "clack."
"Ouch!" Zhang Yan cried out in pain, her body swaying backward under the force of the impact.
Tang Song reacted extrely fast. Almost by instinct, he dropped what was in his hands, one arm flashing around her slender back, the other hand automatically protecting the back of her head.
"Are you okay? Zhang Yan!"
"I... I’m fine..."
Snapping back to herself, Zhang Yan realized she was now held tightly in Tang Song’s arms, and her whole body went rigid.
His chest was firm and warm; through the thin layer of clothing, she could clearly feel his strong, powerful heartbeat.
Thump after thump, as if it were pounding directly against her eardrums.
At the sa ti, her own heart was racing at an unprecedented speed.
"It’s all red from the bump. It must hurt, right? Good thing you didn’t hit your eye." Tang Song looked at her forehead and gently blew on that patch of skin.
His warm breath brushed over her brow, brushed over her hair.
Zhang Yan’s lips trembled, but she didn’t dare move an inch.
She was terrified that any tiny movent might accidentally brush against him.
Looking down at her flustered, panic-stricken face, feeling the soft, warm body in his arms, Tang Song didn’t imdiately let go.
"It d–doesn’t hurt, I’m fine, thanks, I..."
Zhang Yan stamred, her mind a complete blank; she had no idea what she was even saying.
In the end, she simply clamped her mouth shut, but because she was too nervous, she even forgot to breathe.
A mont later, only when her face was flushed scarlet from holding her breath, did she finally start breathing again—nervously, slowly, gingerly.
Her warm breath puffed against Tang Song’s neck, like an electrically charged feather, making his arms around her unconsciously tighten a little more.
The air in the bathroom seed to turn thick, and ti stretched like pulled sugar strands, every second laden with an ambiguous, restless tension.
Seeing Zhang Yan looking sowhat short of breath,
Tang Song slowly loosened his hold on her, but his hand still hovered protectively behind her, afraid she might lose her balance again.
"I... I’m okay now," Zhang Yan’s voice was as soft as a mosquito’s buzz. She quickly took a step back to put a safe distance between them, then imdiately turned around as if fleeing a forbidden place. "I-I’ll go clean up the trash on the balcony."
With that, she practically ran off in a panic.
Watching her fleeing back, a faint smile and a ripple of emotion rose in Tang Song’s eyes.
By the ti he finished thoroughly cleaning the bathroom and ca out, Zhang Yan had already packed up all the debris in the living room and on the balcony.
She was holding Orange, standing nervously beside the little nook in the corner by the wall.
Tang Song picked up the two heavy trash bags and said with a smile, "I’ll go downstairs to throw out the garbage, then buy a few things next door. It’ll take a while. You can go ahead and take a shower first."
"Ah... o-okay." Zhang Yan lowered her head, her arms tightening slightly around Orange.
Since she’d helped with the work too, she naturally wasn’t clean; there were even traces of latex paint on her face and arms.
This made her anxious. Had she slled sweaty just now when Tang Song was holding her? Is that why he was reminding her to shower?
"I’m off, byebye." Tang Song casually pulled open the door and stepped outside.
"Byebye." Zhang Yan whispered, leaning out the door and watching his figure disappear into the stairwell.
She closed the door.
But Zhang Yan’s heart was pounding like it was about to burst out of her chest.
Her head was full of the hug just now, the blowing on her skin...
Those monts replayed over and over in her mind.
"ow~"
Orange, squeezed too tightly in her arms, let out a protest of displeasure.
Zhang Yan murmured a soft "sorry," hurriedly loosened her hold, then almost like running away, dashed quickly into her bedroom.
She took a clean, pretty change of clothes from the wardrobe and went into the bathroom.
Because Tang Song had bought high-quality low-odor latex paint, once it dried there wasn’t much of a pungent sll.
Looking at the walls, now much cleaner and tidier, she couldn’t help but smile to herself again.
She quickly took a hot shower, dried her body, and changed into the fresh clothes.
Just as she returned to the bedroom and picked up her phone, she saw an unfamiliar missed call on the screen, with a local Yang City number.
She paused, hesitated for a mont, then still dialed back.
"Beep, beep—" The call was picked up quickly.
"Hello? Hi, who is this? Sorry, I wasn’t near my phone just now."
There was a brief silence on the other end, then a slightly hoarse girl’s voice, heavy with suppressed emotion, sounded: "It’s , Chen Shuangshuang."
Zhang Yan’s hand holding the phone gave a violent tremor. Her throat worked. "Shuangshuang..."
Chen Shuangshuang was her half-sister from the sa mother, different father. She was only fifteen this year, in her second year of middle school.
Their relationship had always been complicated.
To this "big sister" who had suddenly appeared in her life, Chen Shuangshuang had always harbored strong rejection.
Their communication was sparse; even when Zhang Yan went to school to see her, Chen Shuangshuang was always indifferent.
This was the first ti she had ever taken the initiative to call.
"Mom is sick." Chen Shuangshuang’s voice ca without any preamble, blunt and direct: "It’s serious."
Zhang Yan’s heart gave a hard jolt. She blurted out, "What illness?!"
"I don’t know," the voice on the other end carried a hint of sobbing. "At noon I... eavesdropped downstairs on Dad and Mom arguing. I heard them talking about getting a divorce, and Mom said ’no money, then I won’t get treated’..."
Zhang Yan felt her brain buzz, as if a heavy hamr had slamd into her. Her face went pale. "Th-this... how... how could this happen..."
She thought of that rainy night a few days ago when her mother ca to see her, of how she’d suddenly beco so thin, of her violent, suppressed coughing, of that inexplicable, fierce hug before she left...
Chen Shuangshuang’s voice grew choked. "They’re going to the hospital on Monday for a follow-up. C-can you co to my school? Help ask for leave... I want to go to the hospital with you to see her."
Because of the big age gap, her relationships with her other two half-siblings from her father’s side were also not very good.
And now that her mom was sick, it was obviously because they had no money for treatnt and were afraid of dragging the family down, that her parents were going to divorce.
Instinctively, she pinned her hopes on this sister who shared the sa mother.
At the end of the day, she was still just a child who hadn’t grown up.
"Okay," Zhang Yan’s voice trembled slightly. "I... I’ll go to your school tomorrow. Tell the exact ti."
"After the first class in the morning, 8:40." Chen Shuangshuang’s voice was thick with nasal congestion.
"Okay!"
There was another silence on the other end of the phone, as if she didn’t know what else to say.
After a long ti, Chen Shuangshuang finally spoke in a low voice, with an extrely complicated tone, a mix of unwillingness and dependence: "Don’t... be late."
Then she hurriedly hung up.
"Beep, beep, beep—"
The busy tone sounded in her ear.
But Zhang Yan still held the phone to her ear as if she were still on the call, tears spilling from her eyes.
The faint, beautiful fantasies about the future that had just begun to form in her heart were once again blown away by cold reality.
Is life always like this?
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