Qian Dailan didn’t understand what he was so worried about.
They had only had a little to drink, it wasn’t like they were drunk.
Besides, it’s not as if taxi drivers rob intoxicated passengers these days.
But since things had come to this, having a car ride was still better than walking.
Qian Dailan waved goodbye to Yin Shenyan and followed Ye Xiyan.
Initially, she wanted to sit in the front passenger seat to keep some distance from Ye Xiyan, but Yang Quan opened the back door first.
Left with no choice, Qian Dailan carefully got in and sat down.
Yin Shenyan watched them go, feeling uneasy.
Just before Ye Xiyan got into the car, Yin Shenyan noticed something—Ye Xiyan casually took out a tissue and meticulously wiped the fingers that had just shaken his hand, then folded the tissue neatly and handed it to Yang Quan.
Yin Shenyan’s smile faded slightly.
Slowly, he raised his own hand and sniffed his palm.
The scent of smoke and grilled meat lingered from the barbecue and cigarettes.
“Damn, I shouldn’t have let Honghong get into his car…” Yin Shenyan thought.
“People with this level of cleanliness obsession are the hardest to deal with. He’s definitely troublesome.”
In reality, before Ye Xiyan even got into the car, Qian Dailan had already fallen asleep.
She was utterly exhausted.
Today was a late shift.
She had been on her feet from 2:30 PM until 9:30 PM, and thanks to Lin Yi’s deliberate “torture,” she hadn’t been able to leave until after 10 PM.
Her legs had long since become swollen, red, and sore.
She hadn’t noticed while walking, but now that she was sitting comfortably in the leather seat, the ache surged over her like a tidal wave.
With the slight tipsiness from the alcohol and the lingering warm, woody scent in the air—
She fell asleep almost instantly.
Yang Quan chuckled when he saw her.
“She really is still just a kid. Young people sleep so easily.”
“Keep your voice down, don’t wake her,” Ye Xiyan said.
Poor thing.
A girl her age—who knows how much hardship she had endured to become the person she was now?
Even when she was upset, she never cried to her family.
Even when she was on the verge of tears, she still laughed and reassured her father that everything was fine.
Yang Quan lowered his voice, speaking in a gentle tone.
He was genuinely impressed with Ye Xiyan.
“Xiyan-ge, you’re really good to your brother,” Yang Quan said.
“And you take care of your future sister-in-law just as well.”
This was the first time Yang Quan had seen someone so proactively cut off his brother’s potential love interests and personally escort his drunk “sister-in-law” home.
Ye Xiyan said, “Focus on driving. Less talking.”
Yang Quan drove steadily, and it wasn’t until the car came to a complete stop that Qian Dailan woke up.
Realizing they had arrived at her rented apartment complex, she quickly thanked him, covered her face, and rushed to open the car door.
Qian Dailan was terrified she had said something in her sleep!!!
She must have lost her mind.
Maybe it was because of Ye Xiyan’s faintly bitter, slightly astringent cologne, but during that short nap—
She had dreamed about him.
Just like Ye Xiyan had said, she clearly had no such thoughts about him.
She had always respected him as an older brother.
Yet, in the car, she had a wildly inappropriate dream.
In the dream, things picked up where that unfinished moment from that night had left off.
In the dimly moonlit room, Ye Xiyan held the back of her neck, making her kneel and obey, forcing her to take what he gave.
In the dream, he was still calling her Lan Xiaomei (Little Sister Lan) as he tested her like he was picking the ripest watermelon, tapping gently until sweet juice spilled out.
Then things got even more chaotic—somehow, she ended up straddling his waist, pulling on his tie to kiss him.
It was awful.
By the time she woke up and saw Ye Xiyan’s calm, emotionless eyes, she was still flushed and warm.
Stumbling out of the car, she didn’t even catch what he said.
She just ran away in embarrassment.
She sprinted back into the apartment complex.
The fruit shop auntie had already gone to bed, her lights turned off, and the curtain drawn tightly shut.
The sensor lights on the first and second floors still weren’t fixed.
The one on the third floor was broken too.
Qian Dailan navigated the staircase by feeling along the handrail, familiar with the path.
Then, she heard a heavy breath behind her.
A man’s breath.
The memories of being followed by a man at her old factory job came flooding back, and her scalp went numb.
Immediately, she wedged her keys between her fingers, clenching her hand into a fist, ready to fight back if necessary.
Then, the man spoke: “Lan Xiaomei.”
It was Ye Xijing.
Relieved, Qian Dailan loosened her grip on the keys.
Surprised, she asked, “How do you know where I live?”
“Ge called me this afternoon, telling me to invite you to the farewell dinner. I was planning to come find you after work, but Mom suddenly asked me to drive her to pick up some clothes. I didn’t know Ke-jie was there too—it was purely a coincidence.”
Ye Xijing’s voice was soft.
“There are only a few days left. Stop avoiding me, okay?”
Qian Dailan said, “I wasn’t avoiding you. You were the one who stopped looking for me first.”
Not wanting to disturb her roommates, she chose to stay in the hallway to talk.
In the darkness, neither of them could see each other clearly.
But the sound of his heavy breathing was unmistakable.
“I never gave up,” Ye Xijing said weakly.
“I was just… afraid of causing trouble for you.”
“But I still ran into trouble today,” Qian Dailan said bluntly.
“You couldn’t stop it, could you?”
Ye Xijing fell silent.
After a long pause, his voice was hoarse.
“I’m not Ge. I can’t…”
“I know,” Qian Dailan said calmly.
“I know you’re in a difficult position. And I could try to understand and empathize with you, like I always have.”
In the darkness, she took a step closer.
She asked, “Because your mom would make things hard for me, and your dad probably would too—so you hid our relationship from them. You didn’t dare let them know we were dating. And now, you didn’t tell me about the farewell dinner, because you didn’t dare let us meet.
You were afraid they’d humiliate me, weren’t you?”
Of course, she could choose to see it that way.
But she didn’t want to anymore.
Ye Xijing said, “Lan Xiaomei.”
He reached out and grabbed Qian Dailan’s arm.
This time, she struggled with all her strength, but no matter how much she resisted, Ye Xijing refused to let go.
Even as she punched and kicked him, Ye Xijing remained motionless.
“Why?”
Qian Dailan’s voice was low but filled with anger as she questioned him.
“Why? Why do I have to be the one to compromise? Why do I have to be understanding? Why do I have to sacrifice my own wishes just to accommodate your love? Why do I have to give up so much and endure so much pain just to be with you?
Why is it that in this relationship, I’m the only one who has to suffer so much unfair treatment? Why do I have to accept it as if it’s normal, as if it’s reasonable—why? Did I commit a crime?
Did I kill someone? Just because you also have your struggles, does that mean I have to be hurt over and over again?”
Why should she always be the one to endure?
Why should she always be the one to accommodate?
Why did being in a relationship mean she had to constantly consider his feelings?
Why wasn’t she even allowed to attend her own boyfriend’s farewell banquet?
Was that fair?
She was just dating someone—it wasn’t like she was selling herself off like livestock.
Qian Dailan wasn’t sure if she was crying or not.
She only knew she was trembling.
And Ye Xijing was trembling too.
He didn’t apologize again.
He didn’t say anything.
Instead, he leaned in and pressed his cheek against hers, rubbing against her softly.
Qian Dailan’s eyes widened as she felt the warmth of his skin—streaked with cold, silent tears.
He had been crying the entire time.
Or rather, he had been sitting alone in this dark, crumbling stairwell, on these chipped concrete steps, silently shedding tears as he waited for her, not knowing how long he had been there.
“Lan Xiaomei, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Ye Xijing’s voice shook.
“I know. It’s all my fault. I’m useless. I’m weak… I was too naive, too immature. I thought I could handle everything… I—I was too full of myself. Please, just give me another chance, okay?
Lan Xiaomei… please… please don’t be like this. Look at me. Look at me, please?”
He choked on his words, unable to finish.
And then, forcefully, he pressed his lips against hers.
“Wait for me,” Ye Xijing mumbled against her lips, pleading.
“Just wait two more years. I promise, by then, I’ll make it right…”
Qian Dailan tried to push him away but couldn’t.
She dug her nails into his neck, but all it did was make him hold onto her even tighter.
Finally, she bit his lip.
He loosened his grip, stunned.
Before he could say anything, Qian Dailan fiercely grabbed the back of his head and kissed him back.
All the silent weakness, all the unspoken words and apologies, all the struggles and sorrows of young love—everything was swallowed up in that kiss, mixed with both of their tears.
Meanwhile, Ye Xiyan, who had come to return Qian Dailan’s forgotten cellphone, climbed the dimly lit stairs to the second floor and stopped in his tracks.
He clearly heard the sounds.
The indistinct murmurs, the gasps.
And he realized.
It was the sound of his younger brother kissing Qian Dailan.
The troubles of youth, which seemed so childish in the eyes of adults.
The powerlessness of young love, unable to shield each other from the world.
The clumsy way of handling close friendships with the opposite sex.
The inevitable long-distance separation looming ahead.
The resentment of two strong-willed individuals who refused to compromise.
They were like unripe sour oranges on a branch—if you took a bite, it would be tart and sweet, with a lingering bitterness, but still so full of youthful vibrance, bursting with intensity.
This was that sticky, awkward, naive, and bittersweet first love that only teenagers could experience.
And the older brother, in the end, was nothing more than an outsider who had accidentally intruded.
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