The autumn sunshine was always harsh, wrapping the fragile branches and yellow-green leaves in wind.
Xu Si soothingly cradled his hand and blew on it. Then, she took two flesh-colored band-aids from her bag, carefully tearing them open and applying them to his skin.
Perhaps it's because his skin is too pale, making the band-aids look dirty by contrast.
She couldn't help but admonish softly, "Next time, you can pull me. Don't put your hand behind me to block things."
Like comforting a child, she blew gently on it twice, then looked up at him. "Does it hurt?"
Her eyes, along with the bright, scorching sun, seemed to melt into the dry noon wind.
Pei Zhen held a black umbrella, his soft silver hair only half-tied up. He raised his injured hand and studied it for a moment.
The wound doesn't hurt. It's the burn from her hand's warmth that stings a little.
He tilted the umbrella completely over Xu Si, his own shoulders already scorched by the sunlight, yet he remained oblivious.
