Holding hands.
In Xu Mengzhou’s memory, the closest her hand had ever come to another person’s was when she was learning to walk as a toddler. Her mom and the nanny insisted on helping her by holding her hands. She got annoyed, twisted free with all her might, and ended up slamming her head into the sofa.
The sofa was plenty soft, but when a human leg was propped up on it, it wasn’t quite as forgiving.
Most of her childhood memories had faded with time, but it was hard to forget getting a lump the size of a golf ball on the back of her head.
Xu Mengzhou wasn’t big on physical proximity. It wasn’t about being a neat freak or an anti-social loner. She just found people clinging to her annoying…it got in the way of her running and jumping around, and worse, it felt like a vote of no confidence.
She could handle things fine on her own, no helping hand required.
If she wanted to climb a tree, she climbed a tree. If she wanted to vault over a wall, she did. But if someone was holding her hand or tugging at her hem, how was she supposed to play freely?
Yet right now, a set of fingers that didn’t belong to her was slipped into her palm. They were smooth and cool, like a flute carved from fine jade, but with the undeniable softness of living skin.
She splayed her hand wide, all five fingers trembling as she slowly, painfully tried to wrap them around the unexpected guest.
It felt like grabbing a bundle of cool, slippery little snakes.
Her arm burst into goosebumps!
Before even a minute had passed, Xu Mengzhou couldn’t take it anymore and shook her off with a shudder.
“No, no, no… I really can’t get used to this.”
The bright spark in Ruan Li’s eyes dimmed instantly.
“How about we link arms instead? Is that okay?” Xu Mengzhou scrambled to make amends. Without waiting for a response, she looped her arm through Ruan Li’s.
The silk fabric felt just as cool and smooth, but faint body heat bled through the material, slowly warming it up.
Linking arms actually put them even closer together than holding hands; their shoulders were almost pressed against each other. Xu Mengzhou brushed aside the strands of black hair trapped between them, and as her face drew near, she caught that scent once again.
It wasn’t floral, nor was it fruity. It felt like an aroma radiating directly from that soft, fair, slender neck.
A strangely intoxicating fragrance.
“What perfume are you wearing?”
Right before her nose could touch that patch of pale skin, Xu Mengzhou snapped her head back up. She launched into a whirlwind of activity…tucking her hair, wiping her hands, turning her head, and executing a painfully obvious topic change.
“It smells really nice,” she offered.
“I don’t wear perfume.” Ruan Li gave her a long, unreadable look.
“Come on, there’s no need to hide it.” Xu Mengzhou let out an aiyo and gave her a quick wink. “It really is nice. So sweet.”
“Perfume is too sharp for me; it makes me uncomfortable,” Ruan Li explained with utmost seriousness.
“Is that… so…” Xu Mengzhou’s jaw hung open slightly.
Ruan Li could practically hear the gears in her brain grinding into overdrive as she desperately scrambled to keep the conversation going…anything to smooth over her just-committed, completely inappropriate, boundary-crossing sniff.
A moment later, she heard this hopelessly endearing person say, “We should head home. It’s almost your bedtime.”
Ruan Li smiled faintly, playing the part of the society-approved good wife to perfection. She graciously brushed past the awkward moment and said in a light, easy tone, “Can’t you remember anything from the past at all? Our history, the times we spent together… not a single trace?”
Xu Mengzhou shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” she answered honestly.
Walking arm-in-arm with someone using a cane wasn’t particularly comfortable.
Ruan Li unclipped her arm, slid her fingertips down, and caught the hem of Xu Mengzhou’s top instead. Her voice sounded brisk and light, like raindrops tapping rhythmically on a dulcimer.
“It’s fine. Things are nice as they are right now.”
Xu Mengzhou gave a couple of haphazard mhm-hms.
She thought things were anything but fine. It was already absurd enough that she couldn’t stop herself from sniffing Ruan Li’s pillow, but now? Now she was pushing her rock-bottom even lower…doing it right to the person’s face.
Did she have a secret alter ego buried inside her that suddenly hijacked her limbs?
How was she in any position to laugh at her eight-years-older self now?
If eyes were the windows to the soul, then her pair were currently covered in black paper and choked with soot from a broken stove. Her eyes were utterly lifeless, and her lips were sealed tight, terrified that if she opened her mouth, a plume of thick smoke would pour out…along with more unhinged comments.
Once inside the car, Xu Mengzhou went dead quiet. Her hands, however, were anything but idle, furiously tapping away on her screen.
Never in her life had she felt such a desperate need for a trusted sounding board.
Having received a heavily redacted version of the backstory, Han Shutong sent back three exclamation marks in a row:
Boss, what a coincidence! I’ve been reading up on psychology lately, and I just saw a video describing a state super similar to yours!
Hold on, let me dig through my history.
Xu Mengzhou tapped on the screen anxiously, her fingers flying so fast it sounded like a frantic drumroll.
“How did your phone get broken?” Ruan Li’s attention was drawn by the noise, her gaze drifting over.
It was a brand-new phone, bought less than a month ago. The casing was so glossy it acted like a mirror, yet now several sharp cracks crisscrossed the surface.
Xu Mengzhou instantly pressed the screen against her chest, bowed her head, and rubbed her thumb over the back several times, faking a surprised oh. “Wait, it really is broken. I must’ve bumped it accidentally. It’s fine though, still works.”
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Thanks.”
“Thanks to who?” Ruan Li raised an eyebrow playfully.
She didn’t move, just leaned back lazily against the seat, her clear, cool gaze falling like a tangible weight, circling Xu Mengzhou completely.
Using her actual name would be the wrong answer.
Xu Mengzhou pondered for a moment, then took a cautious stab: “Red… Red Fox?”
Could this custom contact nickname be some kind of pet name between them?
Ruan Li’s expression shifted instantly, twisting into something bizarre, as if she had just bitten into a sour egg tart. Tilted her head slightly as if she hadn’t heard right, she asked:
“Say that again?”