Three steps
It was 6 PM on the third day back at school.
Yu Chen threw his training bag into the dormitory and heard Ke Xin shout in the corridor: "Sheng Shuo has taken leave. He has a high fever of 39.6 and is going home to rest for two days!"
The air conditioner blew a breeze through her bright red hair, and her heart tightened inexplicably—the star-shaped candies she'd brought back from Paris were still in her pocket, untapped. She turned and went downstairs, hailed a tricycle near the school gate, and headed straight for the Sheng family home.
The Sheng family lived in an old-style villa, two kilometers from the school. Yu Chen rang the doorbell, and the nanny, seeing it was her, immediately let her in: "Young Master just fell asleep, and Madam is still at the company."
In the second-floor bedroom, the curtains were half-drawn, and the light was as soft as if it had been softened by the fumes of fever reducer.
Sheng Shuo lay on the bed, his T-shirt collar soaked with dark circles of sweat, a fever patch on his forehead, and pale lips that made his eyelashes appear even darker. His breathing was heavy, and his brows were furrowed, as if he were running a long-distance race he couldn't wake up from.
Yu Chen tiptoed, placed the lemon gummies she had brought on the bedside table, and was just about to check his forehead temperature—
My wrist was suddenly grabbed.
It was piping hot, like a freshly baked punching bag.
"...Don't go." Sheng Shuo's eyes were still closed, his voice hoarse from the heat, yet carrying the stubbornness unique to young men, "I caught up with him!"
He pulled hard, catching Yu Chen off guard. She was pulled forward, her forehead hitting his shoulder with a very soft "thud." The next second, her waist was grabbed by another hand—through her thin T-shirt, his body temperature was frighteningly high, like someone had pressed a stove against her back.
“Sheng Shuo?” she lowered her voice, trying to pry his knuckles open. “It’s me, Yu Chen.”
"I know." He was delirious with fever, but he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath carrying the hot smell of medicine. "It's because of Yu Chen... that I want to hug you."
Childhood memories, mixed with a high fever, all rushed back at once—
"I've got you! It's your turn to be the ghost!"
"If you lose, you have to carry me on your back, it only takes three steps..."
His voice was low and soft, as if dragging time back to an old track. Yu Chen froze in his arms, her knuckles hovering in mid-air, before finally gently landing on his head, like stroking the fur of a large, ruffled dog.
"Okay, I'll carry you." Her voice was low but with a smile. "Three steps, no more."
Sheng Shuo's lips curled slightly, but his hand around her waist tightened, as if afraid she would really only give him three steps. His breathing gradually became steady, the fever patch on his forehead was soaked with sweat, but he stopped babbling, only repeating one sentence:
"Don't go, even three steps will do..."
Outside the window, the evening breeze stirred the white gauze curtains, dispersing the bitter smell of the fever-reducing medicine. Yu Chen remained in a half-leaning position, her neck numb from his hot breath, yet she didn't move. She turned her head and saw the lemon gummy on the bedside table.
She reached out, quietly unwrapped the candy, popped one into her mouth, and squinted at the sourness. Then she unwrapped another candy and gently placed it near Sheng Shuo's lips.
"I'll give you the candy, and I'll give you the three steps too." Her voice was soft, but it carried the warmth of the sun. "But this is a one-time thing, and there won't be another."
At 22:40, the door was gently pushed open—Mother Sheng rushed back, but stopped at the doorway:
The son was burning with fever, yet slept soundly; the girl was half-lying down, held tightly in his arms, as if embracing a ball of fire, yet she dared not exert any force.
Yu Chen looked up, put her index finger to her lips, and gestured for quiet. Madam Sheng held her breath, quietly withdrew, and closed the door behind her.
Leave the space for fever reducers, lemon candies, and an unspoken childhood promise.
At 23:15, the mercury column in the thermometer dropped to 37.8.
Yu Chen slowly pried his fingers apart, tucked the blanket in, and stood up, her neck still tinged with his hot breath. She walked to the door, then turned back—
Sheng Shuo's brow finally relaxed, and he held the unmelted lemon candy in the corner of his lips, as if he were holding a small ball of sun.
She spoke softly, her voice carried away by the night breeze:
"I've already taken those three steps. As for the rest—wait until you're fully recovered, then you can catch up with me yourself."
The door closed gently, the smell of the fever reducer gradually dissipated, leaving only the sour and sweet scent of lemon, quietly fermenting in the darkness—like drawing a delayed coordinate on the axis of symmetry for the future.
Tuesday, 06:18 AM
When Sheng Shuo woke up, the bedroom curtains were only half drawn, and the morning light, like filtered lemon soda, shone right on the edge of his bed. The first second that his consciousness returned, he remembered last night—or more accurately, yesterday afternoon: the fever-reducing patch, the lemon candy, and the warmth of the person he held tightly in his arms.
Memory is like a freshly unpacked film reel, each frame possessing the unique soft focus of high heat—
He grabbed Yu Chen's wrist and buried his face in the crook of his neck;
He muttered "it only takes three steps," but he refused to let go.
The last lemon candy was so sour that his tongue still feels slightly numb.
Thinking of this, Sheng Shuo abruptly pulled the blanket over his head, his ear tips instantly burning red, even his breath felt hot. He covered his face in the darkness, rolling around silently: How embarrassing! How could he be so weak-willed, and...and still clinging to someone!
Just as he was wrapping himself up like a spring roll and savoring the moment, the door was suddenly pushed open with a bang—
"Dude—the sun's already high in the sky!"
Sheng Xin, 15 years old, a first-year high school student, had a sweet voice that seemed to have an amplification effect. She immediately noticed the suspicious bulge on the bed and the bright red ear tips peeking out from under the covers.
"Oh—" she drawled, skipping lightly to the edge of the bed, poking the center of the spring roll with her finger, "Someone was holding onto that pretty girl all day yesterday and now he's too ashamed to be seen?"
Sheng Shuo abruptly threw off the covers, sat up with his hair disheveled, and said in a hoarse but angry voice, "Sheng Xin! Knock on the door before entering the room!"
"I knocked, didn't you hear me?" Sheng Xin blinked innocently, then rested his chin on his hand, making an exaggerated gesture of clutching his heart. "Sigh, three steps will do~ Don't go~"
She imitated it perfectly, even copying yesterday's burnt version at the end. Sheng Shuo instantly turned red from his neck to his collarbone, grabbed a pillow and threw it at her: "Shut up!"
Sheng Xin nimbly dodged and grabbed the thermometer on the table, shaking it: "37.2, brother, your fever has gone down, but why is your face still so red? -- Oh, right, the fever hasn't dissipated, and the longing hasn't subsided."
"Sheng, Xin!" Sheng Shuo lunged to grab the thermometer, but his sister lifted him up high and continued to tease him:
"Don't worry, I only saw 'three steps,' I didn't see you steal a kiss—"
"I didn't steal a kiss!" Sheng Shuo's voice cracked, his earlobes practically bleeding.
"So you wanted a kiss but didn't get one?" Sheng Xin smiled like a cat that had just stolen some cream, shoved the thermometer back into his hand, and turned to run out the door. "Brother, hurry downstairs for breakfast, Mom specially made—" She paused, then turned back to add, "Lemon omelets."
Sheng Shuo: "..."
He buried his face in the pillow and wailed silently: "This is so embarrassing!"
But a smile subtly crept onto his lips—
The lemon-flavored memories were sour they made his ears burn, yet so sweet they made him want to relive them again.
Sheng Xin's voice drifted in from outside the door:
"Bro, remember to call me next time you have a fever—I also want to be carried by a pretty girl!"
Sheng Shuo grabbed another pillow and threw it at the door, but couldn't help laughing out loud:
"Go to hell with your three steps!"
In the darkness, he touched the corner of his lips with his fingertip—there, as if the sour and sweet taste of lemon candy still lingered.
And, an unfinished answer.
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