The morning streets had yet to stir. Outside the breakfast shop near the hotel, last night's rain still lingered in shallow puddles, catching the soft glimmer of dawn—like the city's first quiet breath before it fully awoke.
Jie and Di entered the shop one after the other. Neither spoke, but their footsteps moved in quiet sync. They walked as if still carrying the silence from the night before, or as if both were avoiding something too fragile to name.
Di chose the seat by the window, and Jie sat across from him. A small round table stood between them, but it felt like an expanse of unspoken words stretched across the gap.
Di stared out the window, his gaze vacant and drifting. The memory of last night's sudden embrace lingered in his mind—the warmth of breath by his ear, the heat of their bodies pressed together, and that soft whisper: "Don't go." For a moment, he had believed it was real. Until that wrong name was whispered—and reality struck, cruel and clear.
He lowered his eyes. He didn't want to think about it anymore. Didn't want to face the boy in front of him who seemed to have forgotten it all.
Jie sat stiffly, uneasy. He could sense Di's coldness, but had no idea why. He only remembered tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep from the heat—maybe he had touched someone, said something—but it was all a blur now. The silence between them made him restless, like he'd made a mistake he couldn't even identify.
Trying to ease the tension, Jie said casually, "Let's order something. Soy milk and fried dough, or egg pancake?"
His tone sounded relaxed, but it came off a little forced.
Di looked up briefly, then lowered his gaze again and replied softly, "Egg pancake. No cilantro."
He wasn't angry—just not ready. Not ready to sort through the storm of emotions from last night, and not ready to deal with Jie acting like nothing had happened.
After ordering, silence returned. Then the bell over the door chimed—ding-dong—as Lan rushed in.
She was still wearing her pajama jacket, hair tousled, cheeks flushed pink like she'd just run out from a dream.
"Sorry, sorry! I overslept!" she said while hurrying over, fumbling to set down her bag.
"It's okay," Jie and Di said at the same time.
Lan settled into her seat and stole a glance at Jie. He was looking down at his phone, his expression calm—but her heart suddenly skipped a beat.
She glanced at Di, sensing that some strange tension still lingered in the air, like the atmosphere had just barely begun to thaw.
She held back her questions and asked gently, "You guys just got here?"
"Yeah," Jie replied with a soft smile. "Just sat down."
"Oh—" she responded lightly, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
Her mind flashed with images from the day before—the three of them running down the beach—and in her dream last night, the way he had smiled at her. That feeling… it wasn't just trust between friends anymore. It was something that tugged a little closer to her heart.
She tried to act natural, but her gaze kept drifting to him. Even the little thing he said last night—"Dinner was too greasy"—still echoed in her head.
She smiled and teased, "You're getting fried dough again? Didn't you say last night was already too oily?"
Jie blinked, then smiled. "You remembered that?"
"Of course I did. You even said something dramatic like, 'My whole mouth is swimming in oil,' remember?" she said with a playful grin, her voice light, eyes sparkling.
Jie chuckled along, and at last, the tension began to ease.
Just then, the waiter arrived with their breakfast.
Lan's soy milk steamed in the morning light. Di's egg pancake was neatly sliced. Jie picked up his fried dough stick and took a bite.
The three of them lowered their heads and began to eat. Their mouths were busy, but their minds far from calm. Now and then, their gazes brushed past one another, soft and subtle, like steam rising between them.
What rose from the table wasn't just warmth and vapor—but also the quiet stirrings of emotions, unnamed and unspoken, hidden deep in their hearts.