Erin Lowell didn't feel much like talking, nor did she argue. She just nodded.
She stood ramrod straight. It was early September, the heart of autumn. Though not as windy as the summit, a sharp breeze still cut across the foot of the mountain. She was dressed in light layers—a black jacket over a sweatshirt—her entire body bundled up tightly.
Not an inch of skin was visible; only her face was exposed. Her skin looked exceptionally pale, hinting at a certain fragility.
Her hand, half-hidden by her black sleeve, was clenched tight. She was nervous. Or perhaps it was an aversion to being too close.
Zane Jennings gritted his teeth and stepped back, putting some distance between them. He stopped teasing her. "It's windy here. Go wait for me over there."
He pointed to a spot at the base of the mountain, a place perfectly sheltered from the wind.
Erin Lowell didn't want to speak or argue. With a slight frown, she turned and walked in the direction he had pointed.
'So obedient and good.'
She walked over. She didn't turn around, nor did she bow her head again. After standing for a moment, she started walking toward the small shops at the base of the mountain.
Zane Jennings watched her back for a moment before turning and walking away himself.
The September breeze was mild. Though it wasn't yet five o'clock, the shops were already lit up, their lights shining brightly. The crisp autumn air seemed laced with a sweetness more fragrant than flowers.
Erin Lowell stood with her head bowed, her hat still on, remaining bundled up tightly.
Zane Jennings quieted his footsteps as he came up behind her. "I'm back."
She startled, her shoulders trembling. When she looked up, her brow was knitted tightly. "Oh..."
"This is for you."
He stood behind her, and thanks to their height difference, his hand easily reached past her right ear. He was holding a skewer of tanghulu, dangling it in front of her face.
Erin Lowell jumped, taking half a step back. Her foot landed on his black shoe, and she stumbled right into his chest. She froze. "Wh-what are you doing?"
"This is for you," Zane Jennings said, his eyelashes lowered, his gaze resting on the top of her head. An evening breeze swept by. With her pressed against his chest, it felt as if the autumn wind itself was steeped in sweetness.
Her face flushed for no apparent reason. "Wh-why are you giving this to me?"
She stood bolt upright, only asking the question, not reaching out to take it.
A wisp of sugary sweetness drifted on the wind. The sunset was at its peak, dyeing the vast sky and bathing everything in crimson.
Zane Jennings reached out his left hand, grabbed her left wrist as it hung by her side, and lifted it. With his other hand, he pressed the tanghulu skewer into her palm.
Judging by their shadows, she was leaning into his embrace, his arms wrapped around her.
Sensing her tremble, Zane Jennings let out a soft laugh. His voice was light. "What are you shaking for? You've already thrown yourself into my arms, and you're still scared of this?"
Erin Lowell clutched the tanghulu, ducked out from under his arm, and did her best to compose herself. "Why did you buy this?"
"For you to eat," he said, grasping for an excuse. "I figured girls like this sort of thing."
She couldn't help but laugh. "The 'girls' you're talking about probably doesn't include me."
She was allergic to hawthorn.
Zane Jennings asked, "Why? You don't like it?"
He remembered it clearly. The first time they met, it was on this very mountain. She had been all smiles, holding a skewer of tanghulu. In the end, it had even wound up in his hands.
Erin Lowell didn't explain, nor did she hand it back. "Let's go. It'll be dark soon."
She wasn't one to trust easily. Even with a stranger, and despite the life-saving debt between them, she had been through too much to reveal everything so readily.
Zane Jennings just assumed she was embarrassed and didn't press the issue.
The mountain scenery was breathtaking. The snow on the peaks never melted. Looking down from the summit, the landscape was swallowed by a sea of mist, with only the sharp ridges of the highest mountains visible.
Her gaze remained fixed on the scenery.
When they reached a wooden bridge, she stopped and gazed down at the rushing waterfall below.
Zane Jennings had little interest in the scenery. He leaned back against the bridge, tilting his head slightly. His gaze, fixed on her, held a hidden depth. "Been here before?"
"I have."
At her words, a faint smile tugged at his lips, and his eyes crinkled unconsciously. "When?"
Erin Lowell's eyelashes fluttered. She clutched the tanghulu skewer, fiddling with it in her hands. Her tone was deliberately casual. "I forget. It was a long time ago."
Zane Jennings froze, momentarily speechless. The ripple of hope her first admission had stirred in his heart was instantly stilled by her "I forget." In a flash, all was calm again.
'It was just a casual remark. I can't believe I actually took it seriously.'
Zane Jennings pulled his gaze away, propping his hands on the bridge. His long fingers tapped against the wooden railing. "Then... do you like autumn in Brindleton?"
He could see the fondness in her eyes, a gaze filled with longing, but she said, "I don't."
He tilted his head back toward her, staring at the impassive Erin Lowell as his brows knitted together tightly.
He knew she was lying.
Four years ago, she had worn a white, knee-length dress, her eyes full of starlight. The magnificent scenery behind her had served as a mere backdrop.
She had said, "I love autumn in Brindleton. I want to come back every year at this time."
After speaking, Erin Lowell handed the tanghulu back to him and followed the sparse crowd further up the mountain. She walked slowly, her sweatshirt hood pulled up, obscuring her face and hiding any trace of emotion.
Zane Jennings remained leaning against the bridge in a lazy slouch, watching her retreating figure and pursing his lips.
Even though they had only met that one time, she had changed so much.
He couldn't shake the feeling that something was weighing on her, something that could either crush her completely or drive her to desperately cast everything aside.
He actually had many questions for her. He ran a hand through his messy black hair and hurried to catch up, but then he saw her—completely absorbed in the scenery, as if she had cast all her worries to the wind.
Suddenly, he couldn't bring himself to ask a single thing.
"It's getting late. Can I go back now?" Erin Lowell's gaze fell on Zane Jennings, and for a moment, she looked a little lost.
Zane Jennings had followed her but hadn't gotten too close, maintaining a distance of about two meters. One hand was shoved in his pocket; the other held the tanghulu she had returned. One of the candied fruits was missing.
He was still chewing on it, his every movement radiating a roguish swagger.
He wasn't the type to be described as 'well-behaved.' His eyes were incredibly bright, with a fierce, untamed energy about his brow. He was clearly trying to suppress a certain playboy arrogance, but perhaps because he'd never had to fake it before, his attempt was unconvincing. It didn't hide his wild streak; instead, it gave him a ferocious edge that made him seem difficult to approach.
'Any day now, his true colors would show—the kind of person who'd eat you alive and not even spit out the bones.'
Zane Jennings stood without a word, waiting for Erin Lowell to approach before he spoke. "No. I haven't had enough fun yet."
"..."
He held the half-eaten tanghulu out to her, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Have a taste. It's so da—" He caught himself. "—it's especially sweet."
"I'm not eating it." Erin Lowell turned her head away. She suddenly found him incredibly bizarre, and something about his current expression felt dangerous. "I have something to do, so I'm leaving now. You can keep looking around on your own."
She didn't like being with strangers, and she certainly couldn't appreciate the scenery like this.
With that, she walked past him and headed back, descending the few steps without a single backward glance.
Zane Jennings stared intently at her resolute back. He took a bite of another candied hawthorn, chewing on it a few times as if it were tasteless wax.
It wasn't so sweet anymore.