Lu Fan's chin rested on the crown of Jiang Yixia's head. His warm breath ghosted over her hair.
"Yixia."
"Mm."
"It's been a long time since you've let me hold you."
Jiang Yixia didn't speak. She buried her face in his chest and closed her eyes.
She remembered eighteen years ago, how they had held each other just like this—on the small bed of their rented room, on the hillside behind the factory, and at the train station when they said goodbye.
Back then, his embrace had been just as warm, just as reassuring.
After Jiang Yixia left, no one had ever held her like this again.
Her fingers twitched at his side. Through his sweater, she could feel the hard, taut muscles of his waist.
Lu Fan's hand slid down her back and settled on her waist, pulling her gently closer.
His hand was so large it nearly spanned her entire waist.
Jiang Yixia's waist was very slender. His hand fit perfectly there, and he could feel the soft flesh at her side.
She was wearing a thin sweater and jeans.
