Zihan watched silently.
Then, after a while, he stepped forward.
"I'll take over."
Tang Yuze glanced at him.
Zihan's expression was calm, resolute.
Tang Yuze nodded and helped Meilin onto Zihan's back.
Zihan adjusted his stance, bending slightly so Meilin could settle more comfortably on his back.
Her arms slipped around his shoulders.
At first, it was only a light hold—polite, careful—but as he straightened and took the first step downhill, the uneven stones forced her closer. Her fingers tightened instinctively, resting at the edge of his collarbone, her palm brushing the fabric of his white T-shirt.
Zihan felt it immediately.
Her weight wasn't heavy, but the contact was.
Every step he took was measured, slow, his feet finding the safest stones, his back kept straight so she wouldn't feel the jolts of the descent. One hand hooked firmly under her knee, the other steadying her leg, his grip protective without being possessive.
Behind him, Meilin leaned in.
Her breath—warm, soft—brushed against the side of his neck.
Zihan's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly.
He tried to ignore it.
Failed.
Each time she inhaled, her breath skimmed his skin, light as a feather, yet enough to send a strange heat crawling upward. When she exhaled, it lingered there, teasing, intimate, completely unintentional.
His ears burned.
Red, unmistakably so.
Meilin noticed.
At first, it was the way his breathing changed—slightly faster, less even. Then the faint tension in his shoulders, the subtle way his neck muscles tightened. Finally, she caught sight of it: the tips of his ears, glowing a soft crimson against his dark hair.
Her lips curved faintly.
So… it affects you this much?
She adjusted her hold—not deliberately seductive, just a small shift for balance—but her chest brushed closer to his back, her chin hovering near his shoulder.
His breathing hitched.
Meilin bit back a laugh.
Inside, she was amused—but not mockingly so. It was a quiet, private happiness, the kind that warmed her chest rather than burst out loud.
So innocent, she thought. Still the same.
Her ankle throbbed dully, a reminder of the slip, of Shen Rui's hidden malice—but the pain felt distant now. Compared to this moment, it hardly mattered.
Being carried like this…
Being protected like this…
In the end, the outcome was good.
More than good.
If slipping meant this—meant feeling his careful steps, his steady strength, the way he subconsciously leaned forward when the path dipped so she wouldn't slide—then she could forgive it.
Even forgive Shen Rui.
For now.
Zihan didn't dare turn his head.
Didn't dare speak.
He focused entirely on the path, on the stones, on not letting her feel even a fraction of discomfort. Yet every few steps, her breath would ghost his neck again, and his heart would pound harder, his grip unconsciously tightening just a little.
Meilin noticed everything.
How he slowed whenever the ground was wet.
How he shifted his hold when she leaned.
How he endured his own embarrassment in silence.
She rested her cheek lightly against his shoulder for just a second.
His whole back went rigid.
Her smile deepened, hidden from his view.
Zihan, she thought softly, you are really cute I haven't seen this side of you ,still there is a long way for it.I just want to hide you in my bag "-".
The mountain path stretched on, quiet and green, and to the world, it was just a young man carrying an injured friend.
But between them, with every careful step and every stolen breath, something gentle and undeniable was unfolding—slowly, naturally, as if it had always been meant to be this way.
Tang Yuze walked beside them, observing everything—the way Zihan adjusted his pace to hers, the way Meilin leaned in without realizing it.
Something clicked.
So that's it, he thought. Something really is going on.
When they reached the fork near the residences, the group split.
Xu Feng, Shen Rui, and Jiang Ran headed toward their hotel, exhaustion written on their faces.
Zihan carried Meilin all the way to Old Liu's residence.
Tang Yuze followed, silent, thoughtful.
The mountain behind them stood tall and unmoving—but beneath its calm, currents had already begun to shift.
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