The afternoon sun had softened by the time they finished the laddus. Crumbs dotted the paper between them, and the golden light slipped gently through the trees. The air smelled faintly of wet grass and distant rain, though the sky remained a bright watercolor of orange and blue.
"Let's go back," Lin Yue said, brushing sugar off her fingers. "If Auntie finds out we wandered this far, I'll be banned from laddus forever."
Li Wei grinned. "Then it's worth it. A historic sacrifice for sweets."
She rolled her eyes. "Says the city boy who couldn't even tell a mango tree from a neem one."
"Hey! That's not fair. They both have… leaves," he replied, pretending to inspect one dramatically.
Lin Yue laughed — a clear, bell-like sound that bounced through the quiet village path. "You're hopeless. Totally hopeless."
They walked side by side along the narrow mud road, where wildflowers brushed against their legs and dragonflies flitted lazily above the canal. The water sparkled like scattered glass, and every now and then, a soft breeze carried the distant sound of a cowbell or someone calling from a field.
Li Wei bent slightly, picking up a feather that had fallen from a nearby tree. "Look! A village souvenir."
"You're acting like you're on a field trip," she said, snatching the feather from him.
"Well, it is kind of like one," he admitted, smiling. "Except the tour guide keeps yelling at me."
Lin Yue's lips curved into a small smile. "That's because this tourist keeps stepping on the crops."
"I was admiring the view!"
"The crops aren't the view, Li Wei."
"Then what is?" he asked with mock seriousness.
She blinked, caught off guard. He smirked and added casually, "Maybe it's the guide."
Her cheeks turned a faint pink, and she quickly turned away. "You talk too much."
"And you blush too easily."
"I'm not blushing!" she said, glaring at him — though her voice cracked just enough to betray her.
He chuckled under his breath. The road curved ahead, framed by towering gulmohar trees whose red petals carpeted the ground. The breeze grew cooler as evening began to whisper through the fields. For a moment, neither of them spoke — just the sound of footsteps and the rustle of flowers brushing their ankles.
Suddenly, Lin Yue tripped on a hidden stone.
"Hey— careful!" Li Wei shouted, reaching out, but too late — she stumbled forward, landing on her knee. Her face twisted in pain as she tried to get up.
"Don't move!" He knelt beside her immediately. Her ankle was already swelling, a faint red mark visible beneath the dust.
"I'm fine," she said stubbornly, trying to stand. "It's nothing—"
"Yeah, sure," he interrupted. "Next, you'll tell me it's part of your village tour — 'Experience rural pain!'"
"Stop joking!" she snapped — but her voice wavered as she winced.
Li Wei sighed, crouching with his back toward her. "Alright, hop on."
"What?"
"Hop. On." He turned slightly. "You can't walk. And if I let you crawl home, your mom will bury me alive."
She hesitated, her cheeks red again. "You don't have to—"
"I insist," he said dramatically. "Heroic city boy carries local girl — sounds like a legend already."
"More like a tragedy," she muttered but finally climbed onto his back. Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, and Li Wei froze for a second. Her breath tickled his neck — soft, uneven — and something warm fluttered in his chest.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
She nodded, voice small. "Yeah… You smell like laddus."
He laughed. "You're one to talk. I think you've turned into one."
"Then you're carrying dessert," she shot back, trying to sound annoyed, but her tone had softened.
They walked like that through the dusky road — petals drifting around them, fireflies beginning to glow along the edges of the canal. The world felt slower, softer, as if the evening itself had leaned closer to watch.
When they finally reached home, Lin Yue's mother rushed out in alarm."What happened?! Yue'er!"
"She fell," Li Wei said quickly, setting her down gently. "I—I wanted to see the fields, so she showed me around. It's my fault."
Her mother sighed with relief, though her brows furrowed in concern. "You two… always finding trouble."
Li Wei's mom shook her head too, half scolding, half smiling. "Honestly, I should've known better than to let you two out alone."
Lin Yue tried to protest. "It's not his—"
"Hush," her mother said. "You're hurt. Come inside."
After a few moments of worried fussing, cold cloths, and herbal ointment, the house finally quieted. The air smelled of warm rice and curry as the lamps flickered on, washing everything in gold.
At dinner, the laughter returned — soft, forgiving. Li Na teased Li Wei for being "a knight in shining laddus," and even Lin Yue smiled shyly when everyone thanked her for taking care of him.
As the night deepened, the crickets began their steady rhythm outside. Lin Yue's mother looked at Li Wei's parents and said, "It's late, and Yue isn't well. Please, stay the night. Tomorrow will be brighter."
Li Wei's mother nodded. "Thank you. We'll go back in the morning."
From the couch, Li Wei glanced toward Lin Yue's room. He could see her through the half-open door, sitting on her bed, her foot wrapped, her gaze fixed on the moonlight spilling through the window.
He smiled faintly. The fields, the laughter, the petals — everything still lingered in his mind.
And though they were supposed to leave tomorrow, Li Wei somehow wished the night would last just a little longer.