Zhaoyan carefully applied ointment to Yichen's sore skin, and Yichen's face flushed with shyness. He looked at Zhaoyan and asked softly, "Did you really live in Yuncheng during the 90s?"
"Yeah, I did. Why?" Zhaoyan tilted his head.
Yichen stayed quiet, lying on the bed without answering. Zhaoyan gently cupped his face, searching his eyes. "Did something happen?"
Yichen shook his head. "No."
Zhaoyan smiled faintly and whispered, "I'm sorry for hurting you. Next time, I'll be gentle."
Yichen glanced away shyly, and Zhaoyan leaned closer, promising, "I swear."
The following Monday, Yichen sat alone in a café, waiting for the girl. Four cups of coffee were already finished, and he checked his phone again, sighing. "It's already evening… maybe she won't come."
