Kai Ying was heavier than she looked.
Not physically—though that too—but in presence. Even drunk, she carried herself like gravity followed her around.
Chen Le Xin struggled only once before Kai Ying steadied herself, one arm slung loosely over Le Xin's shoulder.
"I can walk," Kai Ying muttered.
"You almost walked into a lamp post," Le Xin replied flatly.
"…It moved."
Le Xin snorted despite herself.
Kai Ying's apartment was quiet when they arrived. Too quiet. The kind of silence that made everything feel louder—breathing, footsteps, the soft thud of shoes coming off.
Le Xin guided her to the sofa.
"Sit," Le Xin said.
Kai Ying complied immediately.
That alone made Le Xin pause.
She went to the kitchen, poured water, dissolved electrolyte powder the way Xiao Lan had shown her once, and returned.
"Drink."
Kai Ying frowned at the glass. "You sound like me."
"Good," Le Xin said. "Now drink."
Kai Ying did.
She coughed slightly, then leaned back, eyes closed, glasses slipping down her nose.
Le Xin reached out without thinking and removed them, placing them carefully on the table.
The moment stretched.
Kai Ying opened her eyes.
"You're very quiet," she said.
"You're very drunk."
Kai Ying smiled faintly. "I don't drink often."
"I noticed."
Silence again.
This one felt… fragile.
"I don't like bars," Kai Ying said suddenly.
Le Xin looked up. "You went anyway."
Kai Ying's jaw tightened. "I don't like seeing people look at you like you're something they can take."
Le Xin's heart stuttered.
"Kai Ying—"
"I know," Kai Ying cut in, voice low. "I don't have the right."
She sat forward slightly, elbows on knees, hands clasped together as if holding herself in place.
"That's the problem," she continued. "I never want things I can't control."
Le Xin stayed still.
"When I want something," Kai Ying said, "I either win it—or I walk away before it matters."
Le Xin swallowed. "And me?"
Kai Ying laughed quietly. Bitter. "You don't fit either option."
She looked up then, eyes glassy but clear in the way honesty sometimes is when sobriety isn't.
"You don't bend," Kai Ying said. "You don't retreat. You don't let people decide things for you."
Le Xin's chest tightened.
"And when you fainted," Kai Ying continued, voice rough, "I realized I had already crossed the line."
Le Xin stepped closer.
"Kai Ying," she said softly, "look at me."
Kai Ying did.
"I'm not something you're stealing from anyone," Le Xin said. "And I'm not fragile."
"I know," Kai Ying whispered. "That's why it's worse."
Le Xin exhaled slowly. "You're scared."
Kai Ying didn't deny it.
"I'm scared of wanting you," Kai Ying said. "Because wanting you means I can't stay distant. And distance is the only way I know how to keep people safe."
"Safe from you?" Le Xin asked gently.
Kai Ying shook her head. "Safe from how much I care."
That broke something open.
Le Xin sat down beside her.
Not touching. Just close.
"You don't get to protect me by hurting yourself," Le Xin said. "And you don't get to decide alone."
Kai Ying closed her eyes. "Then tell me to stop."
Le Xin didn't.
Instead, she said quietly, "I don't want you to."
Kai Ying inhaled sharply.
"You're sober enough to remember this tomorrow," Le Xin added. "So don't say anything you'll regret."
Kai Ying opened her eyes again.
"I won't," she said. "This is the clearest I've been in years."
She hesitated.
Then, carefully, deliberately, she said:
"I want you."
Not possession.
Not demand.
Just truth.
Le Xin felt it settle deep in her chest.
"I want you too," she replied.
They didn't kiss.
They didn't need to.
Kai Ying leaned her head back against the sofa, eyes closing again, tension finally easing.
Le Xin stayed.
She fetched a blanket. Tucked it around Kai Ying's shoulders.
Kai Ying murmured softly, half-asleep, "Don't leave."
"I'm not," Le Xin said.
And for once—
She meant it without fear.
---
Thank you for reading my novel