The moment before
[Resort's Inner Courtyard Transition Space - Daytime]
As the lighting adjustments entered their final stages, he began to appear more frequently. Previously, he had preferred to observe from the sidelines, but now he personally went to the site, occasionally crouching down to check the wiring and confirming the angles of the light sources with her.
The light strips crawled inch by inch along the base of the wall, their brightness rising slowly like the tide. The sea breeze outside the glass wall carried a salty scent, but the wind couldn't get in; it only pressed the shadows of the trees against the glass, tapping them again and again.
There were whispers within the team. Some said, "President Mu has changed," while others said, "Miss Hu is shrewd." She ignored them, pushed the diagram forward, and looked up at him: "You've come down for inspections again?"
He nodded and said, "I came to see the scene, and also to see the people."
She raised an eyebrow: "Which one first?"
He looked down and turned the page: "Let's look at the scene first." He paused, "And you too."
She smiled but didn't take it, yet a small wave of warmth welled up in her heart, as if touched lightly by a fingertip.
He aimed the laser rangefinder at the corner of the wall, and the light spot landed steadily. He said, "Step back five centimeters here to prevent glare and avoid cutting your hand."
She took a step forward, gesturing with her hand, so close she could see the veins on the back of his fingers. Her breathing unconsciously quickened; the light from the lamplight was clearer at this distance, a soft, patient hum.
The assistant brought in a new lampshade. She bent down to take a sample, and the back of her hand accidentally brushed against his sleeve; before it even touched her, he had already pulled his hand back into his pocket, the movement as clean as sheathing a knife. She looked up at him for a moment, and the corners of her lips slowly curled up.
"If you act like this, people will think you're afraid of me."
He looked up: "I'm not afraid." He uttered those two words as if he had pushed the latch back an inch.
She chuckled softly, tapping the image lightly with her fingertips: "You sound like you're talking to yourself right now."
He didn't reply, but just pressed the thumbtack in even tighter.
She tried walking from a different angle, her movement causing the light tracks to illuminate one by one. Her shadow and the light converged at her feet, like a shadow captured by light, silently watching her. She suddenly stopped and turned back: "How much delay do you want?"
He checked his watch: "0:30."
She nodded, shortening her stride by one finger's width, and said softly at the end of her sentence, "Should I slow down another step, or should you call a stop?"
His gaze fell on the instep of her feet, and he uttered just two words: "Follow the procedure."
She smiled and said, "Fine, you really only believe in procedures."
The technician beside her was taking notes. They worked together quietly, stopping each time they got close, and always maintaining the perfect distance. She knew he was using all his clarity to build a fence around her; she also knew she was standing outside that fence, pressing the grass down inch by inch, flattening it, making it smooth and without sharp edges.
She handed him the test results. He took them, his fingertips tracing the edge of the paper slowly, like sharpening a knife. She suddenly asked, "Have you been sleeping well lately?"
He paused for half a second, then said, "Okay. What about you?"
She tilted her head, looking at the faint bluish shadow under his eyes: "Oh, that's good."
[Inner Courtyard Transition Space - Daytime (Next Day)]
The next day, she organized the data from the previous night's drill and waited for him to arrive. The wind made the leaves rustle.
He arrived. She looked up: "Good morning."
He nodded: "Good morning."
She suddenly laughed: "You were very well-behaved yesterday. Seriously, what are you afraid of?"
He remained silent. She didn't press him, but simply tucked her hair behind her ear, her fingertips brushing against the tip of her ear, leaving a slight chill. She said, "If you're scared, just say so. I'm not going to eat you." As she spoke, she took a small step forward, standing beside his shadow.
The technician arrived and plugged the computer into the wall. She suppressed her smile and began reciting the serial numbers.
"Look here." She pushed the picture toward him.
He leaned down. She stepped back an inch, and he stepped back an inch, their movements mirroring each other. She suddenly whispered, "You always back down."
He said, "I know."
She laughed, "Actually, I can do it too." She looked up, "Then go a little slower."
He looked at her for a few seconds without saying a word.
Sunlight streamed down from the rooftop, falling on the table and making the faint lines on the paper appear even fainter. He reached out and pressed the paper down to prevent the wind from blowing it away. She looked at his hand, its knuckles distinct, its strength restrained; a sudden sense of peace settled over her.
She said, "I will stand here."
He hummed in agreement and whispered, "I can see."
She said, "Take your time."
He said "hmm" again.
The sound of the sea came from afar. The wind gently knocked the bell on the corner of the house.
She turned to the last page of the sketchbook and drew a wolf standing in the wind, its ears pointing towards the sea; there was also a fox, its tail held high, half a step away from the wolf, not touching it. In the corner, she wrote a line of very small words: "Take your time, you will get there." She didn't show it to him, but simply folded the corner of the page inward by a millimeter. That millimeter contained all the courage she had shown that day.
He nodded to the engineers, signaling them to put their tools away, then walked over to her, stopped, and remained silent. She turned to look at him, and he looked at her too.
No one moved forward.
The wind passed between the two of them and headed towards the sea.
[Afternoon at the resort's swim-side relaxation area]
Sunlight reflected off the water, casting a thin, gleaming line on the metal edge of the lounge chair. She tried out the new chair, sighed dramatically, and stretched her legs out to lie back. He turned the parasol halfway, so the shadow fell just above her eyes: "Don't get sunburned."
"Does President Mu have some kind of obsession? His designs are always so restrained, they don't even let you relax properly while sitting."
He said calmly, "Design is for people to use, not for people to lie down and never get up. We've left room for someone to turn around here."
She turned her head to look at him, her eyes slightly raised: "So you're using this chair to keep me at bay?"
He glanced at her and said calmly, "I'm protecting myself."
The air seemed to freeze for a moment. He stood not far behind her, his head tilting down just enough to catch a glimpse of her collarbone rising and falling slightly. She turned slightly to the side, their eyes briefly meeting, and she caught him catch a jolt of breath.
"Mr. Mu," she drawled, "aren't you... a little out of your mind right now?"
She laughed, a sly glint in her eyes: "So, are you holding back from pouncing on me now?"
He didn't answer, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly, his fingertips gripping the edge of his pocket, as if locking a beast that was about to break free in the shadows.
She didn't approach; instead, she leaned back in her chair, her tone leisurely: "Don't worry, I won't pounce on you. Even the most mischievous fox knows when to tuck its tail."
He didn't look away or move closer, but simply pulled his hand deeper into his pocket: "Finish the test on the recliner first."
She curled one corner of her mouth: "Fine, you'll still follow the rules." She sat up straight, and after three seconds, the tension of the chair made her float up and then fall back down. She looked down at the sunlight on her knees—it would come in if there was a gap, she thought, and then put that thought back into her mind.
Children were learning to swim by the pool, the splashing water filling the silence. She suddenly asked, "Can you swim?"
He nodded: "Yes."
She raised her chin: "Are you afraid of water?"
"I'm not afraid," he said.
She laughed: "Okay, so it's something else you're afraid of."
He didn't answer, but simply noted the trial sitting time on the form. She stared at his handwriting, so tight and steady, as if each stroke was the sharpest edge of a knife. She said slowly, "Your handwriting is like your speech, each stroke a sharp cut."
He stopped writing, glanced at her, and didn't deny it.
[Night in the Staff Dormitory]
A sea breeze swept across the balcony, and moonlight cast a pale silver shadow on the railing. She sat in a chair and called Xiaomin: "He's really different now. I thought he'd always stay calm and suppress his feelings, but I never expected him to start responding to me."
"You sound happy," Xiaomin laughed on the other end of the phone, her voice trailing off.
She paused for a moment, then said, "I'm happy, but also a little nervous."
"What's the panic?"
"I'm afraid he'll suddenly back down; I'm afraid that when I get to his door, it will still be closed."
"But you're not really that brave, are you?" Xiaomin said, half-jokingly and half-worriedly.
"I never was," she whispered. "I just really want to know if the part of me that he was pressing down on also wanted to be hugged."
"So what do you plan to do?"
"I won't pressure him, I'll wait. But this time, I won't wait by taking a step back. I'll stand where he can see me."
A notification popped up in her phone's group chat: "Nighttime security drill time confirmed, this Friday at 11:30 PM." She stared at it for two seconds, then dimmed the screen.
"Wait for him to open the door," Xiaomin whispered.
"It's not just about opening the door." She laughed, as if encouraging herself, "Ideally, he wouldn't be able to hold on any longer and would come over on his own."
She hung up the phone, opened her sketchbook, and drew two lines of glass and a beam of sidelight. The little fox and the little wolf stood side by side on a short line in the grass, with a crescent moon hanging in the upper right corner. She then lightened the crescent moon, leaving a blank space, like the unspoken warmth in her heart.
She put down her pen and picked up the pale white glass from the bedside table. Light from the wall slid across the glass, leaving a warm rim. She took a sip, her gaze falling on a round, copper-colored thumbtack on the table, reminding her of the two taps he'd made and the watermark at the bottom of the glass—three points aligned in a line. Her gaze slowly followed that line. She closed the sketchbook.
[Resort's outdoor glass walkway from evening to night]
The light fell on the edge of the glass, like a faint halo. The corner light wasn't fully turned on yet. They squatted on the ground, their shoulders brushing against each other unintentionally, like the wind brushing against their skin, silent yet burning.
He pointed to the corner where shadows and light intertwined: "If we add an angled side light here, it will look more like moonlight filtering through a crack in the wall."
"When did you start caring about feelings?" she asked him teasingly.
He didn't shy away from the question: "You're the one who made me start to care about those feelings."
She smiled: "You've become quite the talker."
He didn't shy away from the question: "You taught me."
Silence fell, broken only by their breathing. She stopped laughing, her voice as soft as a breath: "So, how do you feel right now?"
He turned his head. At that moment, they were too close, close enough that she could see the slight tremor in the depths of his pupils. "I want to kiss you," he whispered, his tone devoid of teasing, only filled with suppressed sincerity.
A construction vehicle's headlights swept past as he turned the corner. He stepped aside, suppressing his emotions. "But I held back." He glanced sideways, his voice low and soft. "Don't be cold."
She looked at his profile as he turned away, then suddenly laughed, her voice almost a whisper: "If you can resist, then come a little closer and take a look. Maybe I'm not as obedient as you think."
After she finished speaking, she pulled her shoe tips back inside the engraved lines on the glass and stood up. The hem of her skirt lightly brushed the ground in front of his knees, like a gentle breeze brushing against his heart. He was still half-squatting, looking up at her backlit profile. His chest burned, his throat tightened, like a trapped beast, only able to grit its teeth and remain motionless.
She smiled: "And what about you now?"
He looked at her, paused for a second, and said, "I still want to."
She neither stepped forward nor backward, her hands behind her back: "Then I'll stand here, and you can choose for yourself."
He stood up, his gaze lingering between her shoulder blade and the glass, his fingertips lifting an inch before falling back down.
"Come on," she said, "let's adjust that corner lamp."
He gave a soft "hmm".
He was on the ladder, she held onto the foot of the ladder, looking up at him. A thin ring of marks was visible on her palm from where the aluminum ladder had bitten her. When he came down, he didn't touch her, but only asked with his eyes, "Does it hurt?"
She laughed, "It doesn't hurt. Do you want to try it?"
He remained silent, looked away, took a band-aid from the first-aid kit next to him, and placed it in her palm: "Put this on." Then he turned to collect his tools.
As darkness fell, the reflections of two figures appeared in the glass, standing very close together. Their faces were almost touching, yet there was still a hand's width of space between them.
It was a routine nighttime inspection. She and the engineer packed up the last two cables. He walked over, said nothing, and simply stood in the shadow of a corner lamp.
She gestured with her chin towards him: "Want to try the black one?"
He glanced at her: "Try."
She turned off that section, and the reflection in the glass was instantly swallowed by darkness. The wind grew closer. She didn't lean in, but lowered her voice: "I'm here."
In the darkness, he moved an inch closer to her, but didn't touch her. He counted to ten in the darkness, his breathing momentarily erratic, but he quickly calmed it down. She could hear him suppressing his urges, one breath at a time, very restrained.
The lights came back on. She blinked, her smile brief: "Not bad."
He simply hummed in agreement: "Move a little further in."
She suddenly asked, "Why did you endure it?"
He didn't answer. She asked again, "Are you afraid I'll back down, or afraid you'll step in yourself?"
He looked at her, and remained silent.
She handed him the tools, her fingertips brushing against the back of his hand for a second before separating. She smiled, "It's fine if you don't tell me, I already know anyway."
[Parking lot / Car interior late at night]
He rested his forehead on the steering wheel, his breathing a little erratic. His fists clenched and unclenched, his jaw tightening. Her scent lingered in his sleeve; he reached up and touched it, letting out a low chuckle, as if cursing himself, or perhaps resigning himself to his fate.
When did this woman not just come closer, but become completely embedded in his reason, affecting every breath he took? He murmured to himself, "Hu Li, if you take another step closer, I might really not be able to bear it."
The scene replayed again and again: she said, "Maybe I'm not as obedient as you think." Her tone was soft, yet it felt like peeling away the most sensitive layer of protection in his heart with her fingertips. He wasn't unaware that she was testing him, but he also knew that she wasn't completely defenseless. He wasn't afraid that she was too fierce, but that she was too gentle; he was afraid that if he reached out, she would fall into his arms without any defenses.
He flipped his phone over, then back over. Her name was flashing in the contact list—he wanted to call, but didn't. He put the phone back on his seat, his hand clenching and unclenching repeatedly; he wanted to go back, but didn't.
He slammed on the engine, the headlights instantly piercing the night. His knuckles gripping the steering wheel turned white, his lips pressed into a sharp line. The impulse pounded in his chest like a burning beast. A few seconds later, he turned off the engine, lowered his head, and gasped for breath. His eyes cleared inch by inch in the darkness—she wasn't the kind of person who should be dragged into the abyss.
The fog on the windshield slowly receded. He leaned back in his seat, motionless for a long time. Something inside him was slowly crumbling. He knew he couldn't hold on much longer; if she came any closer, offered just a little more light, he would really reach out and grab her, and at that moment, it wouldn't just be desire, but the collapse of his entire belief.
He didn't start the car until much later. The car slowly drove out of the underground parking garage, the lamplight casting long shadows on the walls. He suddenly stopped. In the rearview mirror, he saw his eyes like water in the night: calm on the surface, but with a storm brewing within. He said softly, "Hu Li, wait for me."
[Late at night in the staff dormitory]
After showering, she put her feet up on a stool, dried them, and placed the frosted white glass on the bedside table. The construction drawings from the day were spread out on the table. She thought of the moment he said, "I want to kiss you," and her chest burned. She tucked that sentence into the deepest drawer of her heart—unlocked, but never opened.
My phone vibrated, and a message popped up: "Remember to complete what I asked you to do as soon as possible. Don't just waste your time with your useless warmth."
She stared at it for two seconds, then replied, "Received."
She placed her phone face down next to her pillow, closed her eyes, but couldn't fall asleep. The wind brushed against the balcony railing, leaving a slightly salty smell as it passed.
[Sunset in the resort's office area]
As evening fell, she went to the side courtyard to retrieve some spare parts, and the lights along the path began to illuminate the path one by one. He walked towards her and saw her carrying a folder. She wasn't walking slowly, but she slowed down by half a step in front of him. He stepped aside to let her pass; instead of brushing past him, she stopped and looked up: "You're very quiet today."
He said yes.
She blinked: "Did you miss me?"
He looked at her but didn't answer.
She smiled, "It's alright, I'll say it for you—I thought about it." She brushed past him, and just as the timing was right, he whispered. In her silhouette, her shoulder blade twitched slightly, as if teased by a breeze. The path was narrow, lined with low bushes. She shifted slightly to make room, and he shifted too. Their shadows overlapped on the ground, forming a deeper color. He stepped half a step to the side, blocking the bushes, "Watch out for the thorns."
"You go first," she said.
He shook his head: "You."
She laughed and said, "Then let's do it together."
The two of them moved forward at the same time, their shoulders almost touching, and then stopped at the same time.
She looked up, her eyes bright: "You see, we don't follow procedures for everything."
He lowered his gaze slightly and said, "Hmm."
She turned sideways, brushing past him, the hem of her skirt lightly brushing against his knuckles. He neither dodged nor grabbed her; he simply watched her back for two seconds, then turned and the two passed each other as they entered the office area.
The conference room was very cold. Her seat was directly opposite the air vent. He placed his coat on the back of her chair: "Don't be cold."
She tilted her head, her smile impossible to hide.
"Give me back my coat after the meeting."
He simply said, "Hmm."
[Before midnight at the staff canteen]
As the night drill approached, the canteen was nearly empty. She sat in a corner with a bowl of clear soup noodles. He came in and got some black coffee: "Want some?"
She looked up: "No."
He walked to the opposite side of her, but didn't sit down. He used a tissue to wipe away the water stains on the rim of his glass.
She watched that action and laughed, "Are you a germaphobe?"
He looked at her: "No, it's just a habit."
She picked up a small handful of noodles with her chopsticks and put them down: "You have many habits."
He said yes.
She pushed the empty bowl away: "Want to try a bite?"
He shook his head.
She pulled the bowl back, then pushed it an inch further away.
He finally said, "Stop messing around, slow down, it's hot."
She rested her chin on her hand and said, "The more you tell me to stop making trouble, the more I want to make trouble."
He chuckled briefly, a fleeting sound like a blade scraping across a table edge, leaving no mark, only a sound. She paused, staring at him. In that instant, she saw an almost invisible entrance he had closed himself off, or perhaps half-closed. She kept that moment to herself, saying nothing.
[Before the nighttime drill at the corridor corner]
Before the meeting, she ran into him at the corner. He was standing in the shadows. She raised her hand in a small greeting, and he nodded. She took a step closer and whispered, "Are you nervous?"
He shook his head: "I'm not nervous."
She raised an eyebrow: "That's because I was nervous."
He raised his hand to shield her from the wind, saying, "Don't stand in the wind."
The drill bell rang for a long time, plunging the entire park into darkness. She stood at one end of the line, giving instructions in a low voice according to the procedure; he stood on the other side, his gaze occasionally lingering on her, as if confirming something. She would also occasionally glance up at him, like exchanging silent tokens.
The final power outage test was over. She handed him the list, which he took, read, and returned the pen to her. Their fingertips touched for a second, then parted.
She smiled and said, "You did a good job today."
He looked at her for a moment, then said, "Mmm."
Their gazes met in the dim light, neither of them looking away first; the hum of the LED strip gradually subsided, and the light in their eyes flickered back and forth, unable to hide the stirring in their hearts.
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