cigarette

Wednesday evening after self-study, on the rooftop of the laboratory building.

The night breeze carried the humid heat of early summer. Yu Chen, with her back to the iron gate, bent down and lit a thin cigarette with a "snap." The flash of light illuminated her tightly furrowed brows—the family banquet, the stars of Paris, the three questions she hadn't answered yet, all turned into white smoke, churning wildly in her chest.

"Yu Chen".

The voice was icy, like a bucket of ice water being poured over someone's head. An Yi stood at the top of the stairs, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a stack of monthly exam papers between his fingers. His gaze fell on that spot of scarlet, and his brows furrowed instantly.

"You smoke?"

His tone was rarely so sharp, but the last syllable trembled, sounding like a mixture of disappointment and worry. Yu Chen was stung by his voice, her rebellious spirits surging. She took a deep breath, slowly exhaling a smoke ring, the white smoke hitting An Yi's face, and raised an eyebrow defiantly:

"What, the student council cares about the composition of the air?"

An Yi's face grew even colder, and he reached for the cigarette. Yu Chen twisted her wrist, the cigarette disappearing behind her back, the embers drawing a red line in the night. She took a step forward, her toes almost touching his leather shoes, her voice drawn out:

"President An, are you going to report me? Or—just give me a verbal reprimand?"

He took another drag after speaking, this time deliberately leaning closer, the smoke brushing against his earlobe, carrying a mixed scent of mint and nicotine. An Yi's knuckles tightened, the monthly exam paper making a crisp "clattering" sound as he squeezed it.

"Yu Chen!" he said in a low, urgent voice, "You're playing with your lungs!"

"My lungs are mine, the grades are yours." Yu Chen shrugged, stubbing out his cigarette against the iron bars, sparks flying like fireworks ending prematurely. She raised her hand, her fingertips touching his tense jaw, her voice soft yet fiery:

"Don't be so fierce, I'm afraid if I get scared... I won't be able to quit."

An Yi grabbed her wrist, his palm burning hotter than sparks, but his gaze was cold: "If you can't quit, I'll help you quit. Now, give me the cigarette pack."

Yu Chen's smile deepened, but with a nimble flick of her fingers, she tossed the empty cigarette pack into the night sky. The cardboard was swept away by the wind, like a dash drawn on the axis of symmetry—

"Too late, you scared the last one away."

She turned to leave, but An Yi grabbed her back, her back slamming against the iron gate with a dull thud. The boy's breathing was rapid, his voice barely audible.

"If you want to play with fire, I'll play with you. But don't use yourself as fuel."

The rooftop lamp cast a dim yellow light, stretching the two shadows long—one with its back against the iron gate, the other with its hand on the door frame, their shadows overlapping to form a cross, like a pre-announced bell.

Yu Chen's earlobes turned red from the heat of his breath, but she stubbornly raised the corners of her mouth:

"Okay, then, President An—how do you plan to keep me company?"

An Yi's fingers tightened silently, his gaze fixed on her lips, which trembled slightly with provocation, his voice hoarse and drawn out:

"First, take away the fire, then take away the wind."

He lowered his head and touched the back of her ear with his lips—

It wasn't a kiss, it was a seal that confiscated the source of fire.

It's like adding a new footnote to an unfinished analysis:

—I'll take the cigarettes, and I'll take you.

The rooftop lamp flickered twice, as if it too was confused by this operation.

The moment An Yi's lips touched the back of Yu Chen's ear, she heard—

"puff……"

A very soft laugh escaped from Yu Chen's nostrils, carrying the mischievous whimper of a young boy. Her shoulders trembled, growing more and more violent, until finally she buried her face in An Yi's shoulder, laughing so hard she couldn't straighten up.

"?"

An Yi stood frozen in place, his hand still supporting her ear, as if the seal had been cut halfway through. He looked down and saw Yu Chen flip her fingers, holding the "cigarette butt" up to his face—

A white plastic stick with a ring of red paper stuck to the top and a very small line of text printed on the back:

[Props Only, Smokeless, and a Must-Have for Showing Off]

"..."

Yu Chen laughed until tears welled in her eyes, poking his chest with the fake cigarette butt, her voice trailing off even longer than the smoke from before:

"President An, I still have to compete in lung capacity tests, how could I possibly have a lung failure?"

As she spoke, she pulled a whole pack of "cigarettes" out of her pocket and shook it—it was full of plastic sticks, rattling and clanging like a pile of exposed lies.

"I'll just test whether you'll rush up."

She stood on tiptoe and bumped her forehead against his chin, her eyes shining as if she had just won a game. "The result—"

"You really made it up."

An Yi's fingers were still gripping her wrist, but now he didn't know whether to loosen or tighten them. His earlobes turned red visibly, the redness spreading down to his collarbone. He turned his face away, his voice low, almost a mutter:

"……boring."

Yu Chen laughed even louder, shoving the whole pack of fake cigarettes into his arms like tossing a trophy to a referee:

"Let's confiscate it, so you won't worry about your voice cracking next time."

An Yi caught the box, her fingertips tracing the plastic stick, and suddenly chuckled softly, the sound drifting in the night breeze:

"Fine, confiscate it."

He raised his hand and gently tapped the brim of her hat with the fake cigarette butt, his voice hoarse yet soft:

"Next time you try to show off, give me a heads-up."

"I'll play along with you, but stop using yourself as a prop."

Yu Chen raised an eyebrow, hooked her little finger around his little finger, as if bowing to the audience:

"Deal, Chairman An."

The rooftop light flickered, then returned to normal.

Two shadows leaned against the railing side by side. Between them was the confiscated pack of cigarettes. The plastic stick rattled in the wind, like a final bell to end this farce.