The city of Shanghai pulsed around Qiao Zhi and Gu Yangjin like a living, breathing creature made of light and steel. Neon signs painted the humid air in streaks of pink, blue, and gold, reflecting off the sleek windows of skyscrapers that scraped the velvet night sky. Down below, the Bund hummed with the energy of thousands, but Qiao and Gu were in their own little world, hands clasped tightly, fingers intertwined as naturally as breathing.
They were impossible to miss. Not just because of their open affection – a quick kiss shared waiting for a traffic light, Qiao Zhi's arm casually slung around Gu Yangjin's shoulders as they navigated the crowd – but because they possessed a kind of beauty that made people glance twice, then smile. It wasn't the manufactured perfection of celebrities; it was deeper, brighter, radiating from the sheer joy they found in each other.
