After the breakup, I was taken in by a group of trendy young women.

Before Lin Ye could speak, Shen Qing made her move first.

Her fingers, which were gripping the hem of her T-shirt, loosened.

Then she took the oversized white T-shirt off her head.

The movements are very slow.

When the T-shirt was pushed up from the waist, a section of snow-white abdomen was exposed. The light from the streetlamp fell on that skin, revealing a faint, vertical line below the navel.

The fabric continued upwards, brushing against the outline of her ribs, along the edge of her bra, and finally slipped off her head, her hair coming loose. Her long black hair cascaded down like a waterfall, covering her shoulders, her collarbone, and the bra straps.

The white T-shirt slipped from her hands and piled up at her feet.

Shen Qing stood in the light of the street lamp.

Her long, black hair cascaded over her shoulders, the ends curling slightly, with a few stray strands clinging to the side of her neck.

She was wearing a light pink cotton bra that had faded slightly from washing, and the lace trim around the edges was pilling.

But Lin Ye's gaze lingered on her, which was covered by that bra.

It's not stopped, it's frozen.

He knew Shen Qing had a good figure when he first met her at the barbecue stand.

The faded black T-shirt stretched out of shape on her, far exceeding the designer's expectations, and the tight jeans made her curves even more obvious.

But it wasn't until this moment, until that loose white T-shirt was taken off, until the streetlights shone down on her without any obstruction, that he truly realized it.

What we saw before was just the tip of the iceberg.

The light pink bra was stretched taut across her body, the lace at the edges flattened and losing its original pattern.

The bra straps dug into the skin of her shoulders, leaving two shallow marks on the outside of her collarbone. One could imagine how much pressure this bra had endured; its size was probably more than two sizes smaller than what Shen Qing actually needed.

It's not that she can't afford a bra that fits.

This is probably the largest size available in the store.

Lin Ye's gaze followed the edge of the lace stretched to its limit, down to the curve covered by cotton fabric.

The streetlights shone from the side, illuminating the contours of that curve in every detail—full, rounded, rising from below the collarbone and extending all the way to the waist before stopping.

It wasn't exaggeratedly big; it was just the right size, perfectly matching the proportions of her frame.

Her petite frame accentuated her small stature, her waist was so slender it looked like it could be encircled by a single hand, and the width of her hips perfectly supported her weight.

The proportions of his entire body look as if they were measured with the most precise calipers; adding or subtracting even a fraction would be too much or too little.

Adding too much would make it look bulky, while subtracting too little would lose its captivating visual impact.

Lin Ye made a mental estimate.

More than that, this isn't something you can control with one hand; it's something that would require two hands to hold up.

Like a basketball.

Not the kind of basketball that's overinflated and hard, but the kind that's just right, soft, and full, like a young girl's body heat.

His breathing became heavy.

Shen Qing stood there, the light from the streetlights shining from behind her, gilding her silhouette with a layer of gold.

She lowered her head, her long black hair hanging down her side, obscuring her expression, but her ears were visible—from her earlobes to her auricles, they were so red they looked like they were about to bleed, and even the thin vein on the side of her neck was tinged with pink.

Her fingers were still in the same position they were in after she took off her T-shirt, hanging at her sides, the fingertips slightly curled and trembling slightly.

She looked like a flower that had been soaked by the rain, with water droplets all over its petals, but its stamens were dry.

Then she raised her head.

Long black hair slid down her cheeks, revealing her entire face. The light from the streetlamp fell on her face, illuminating her slightly reddened eyes, her bitten lower lip, and her eyes as clear as mountain streams.

She looked at Lin Ye for a few seconds.

Then she took a step forward.

The canvas shoes made a soft sound as they stepped on the floor.

Then comes the second step, and the third step.

She walked very slowly, each step feeling like she was stepping on cotton, her steps unsteady, but her direction was straight.

She walked up to Lin Ye and stopped. The distance between them was so close that he could smell her scent. It wasn't strawberry or floral water; it was the most ordinary, cheapest shampoo from the supermarket, mixed with a hint of the spicy smell from the hot pot restaurant and the warm, cozy scent emanating from her body.

She looked up at him, her face tilted upwards.

The light from the streetlamp shone from behind her, condensing into two tiny points of light in her eyes.

Her lips moved, and a sound escaped from her throat, as light as the wind.

"elder brother."

she says.

"This is my first time."

Lin Ye's heart pounded heavily in his chest.

Shen Qing looked at him, her eyes filled with nervousness, fear, and shyness, but even more so with the purest trust she had ever seen.

That kind of trust, like "I'm giving you my most precious thing because I know you won't break it."

She stood on tiptoe.

The soles of her canvas shoes lifted off the ground, her body leaned slightly forward, and her long black hair slid down from her shoulders, swaying in the air.

She tiptoed only slightly, just enough to reach his lips.

She kissed him.

The instant her lips touched mine.

The taste of beer mixed with the sweetness of the lip balm that had somehow gotten on her lips, flooding his senses.

Her kiss was awkward.

Clumsy.

After our lips met, I didn't know what to do next, so I just stayed there for a few seconds, then slightly separated them, breathed heavily on his lips, and pressed them together again.

This kiss lacked skill, routine, and even aesthetic appeal.

But it made Lin Ye's heart ache.

Because she kissed him very earnestly.

She was so serious, as if she had been preparing for something for a very long time. From saying "Can I stay with you for a few days?" with red eyes in front of the barbecue stand, to subconsciously looking in his direction when the scarred man grabbed her arm in the shopping street, to holding the hem of his T-shirt with her fingers when she sat on his lap and buried her face in his shoulder, to the trembling when she stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips.

She was preparing for every step.

Every step she took was like pulling herself out of the shell that the world had wounded her from, walking up to him, and handing herself over to him.

Lin Ye reached out and pressed down on the back of her head.

He ran his fingers through her long, black hair. Her hair was very soft, and it felt like a piece of silk that had been washed too many times. It was no longer smooth and new, but it was still warm and soft.

He lifted her head slightly, adjusted the angle, and then returned the kiss.

It's no longer a lip-to-lip touch.

It was a real kiss.

His lips enveloped her lower lip, and he gently sucked on it.

Shen Qing's breathing suddenly quickened, and a very soft hum, like a kitten being stroked, escaped from her nose. Her fingers climbed up his shoulder, gripped the collar of his T-shirt, and her nails dug into the fabric, stretching and deforming the loose ribbing around the collar.