The following Saturday, the sun had barely peeked over the horizon when the cicadas began their raucous chirping. Summer had arrived exceptionally early that year, catching everyone off guard.
Yu Mo rose early, dressing in a cotton tank top and shorts suitable for manual labor. She twisted her thick hair into a messy bun atop her head and set off toward the new apartment under the morning sun to begin cleaning.
She held a red bean bun she had bought the day before, taking a few bites as she walked, though she had little appetite so early in the morning.
Lianhua had already stirred to life. Trash-collecting tricycles, electric bikes delivering milk, and pushcarts selling breakfast brushed past her on the neighborhood roads.
Reaching the fourth floor, she pulled out her keys. The old-fashioned security door was temperamental; Qi Lian had told her to turn the key once to the left and then twice to the right, but the door wouldn't budge. Unsure if she had remembered correctly, she bit down on the rest of her bun to free both hands to wrestle with the lock.
Just then, with a *clack*, the door opened from the inside, startling her.
She stood there like an idiot, the bun still hanging from her mouth.
Qi Lian stood in the doorway looking at her, a hint of a smile in his eyes. "Come in," he urged.
Yu Mo took the bun out of her mouth and followed him inside. "Why are you here so early? I thought you were finished with your work."
Qi Lian was currently pressing a loose piece of baseboard back against the wall. He picked up a nail gun from the floor, the machine letting out a series of sharp *thwips* as he fired nails into the wall. He found a moment to answer her: "Just a few finishing touches left."
Yu Mo didn't say much more. She finished the bun in a few quick bites and took her bucket and rags into the bathroom.
The weather was stifling. By the time she finished scrubbing the bathroom, even someone like Yu Mo, who rarely sweated, had fine beads of perspiration clinging to her forehead. Her white tank top felt sticky against her skin, so she pinched the fabric with two fingers and fanned herself.
Qi Lian appeared at the bathroom door holding a hammer. The pungent smell of cleaning chemicals hit his nose. He glanced inside and instructed, "Don't mix disinfectant with toilet cleaner, you hear?"
Yu Mo looked back at her, her face flushed red from the heat.
She didn't have a clue, and his question was purely rhetorical. At least she had the sense to wear gloves, he noted, before sauntering away.
After finishing the bathroom, Yu Mo carried her bucket to the kitchen, where she found Qi Lian using his hammer on the sliding kitchen door.
She squeezed past him into the kitchen, smelling strongly of disinfectant.
Qi Lian looked up. "How much Walch did you use? Is it free or something?"
Yu Mo pulled out a bottle of degreaser and began spraying the stove with a series of *pssh-pssh* sounds. "Not that much," she replied.
The kitchen had a window directly facing the balcony of his room. At that moment, the scorching summer sun poured through the glass, silhouetting her slender figure. Her white tank top was blindingly bright in the light, making the straps of her bra clearly visible.
Qi Lian squinted at her for a moment before dropping his gaze back to his work. His hands felt restless, and a sudden, violent impulse to tear everything apart surged through his body. Gritting his teeth, he channeled his strength into the hammer, the *bang-bang-bang* of the tool becoming deafening.
Yu Mo looked at him in confusion. "Qi Lian, you're going to smash that door to pieces!" she warned.
Without looking up, Qi Lian gave her a blunt instruction: "Yu Mo, go work somewhere else for now. I'll deal with this later."
Yu Mo didn't argue. she tossed her rag into the sink and turned to leave the kitchen.
As she knelt on the living room floor to scrape off bits of wall paint from the tiles, the sound of Qi Lian’s hammering finally softened.
After crouching for a while, she shifted to her knees to continue wiping the floor.
Qi Lian walked over. "Get up! Stop wiping. Why didn't you tell me your back is bad?"
Yu Mo used her hand for support as she slowly stood up, looking at him in silence.
She had sustained an injury while dancing ballet as a child, and her lower back had been troublesome ever since. She couldn't bend over or crouch for long periods. She hadn't shown any sign of it, yet he somehow knew.
The feeling was strange—something flickered in her heart, something she wanted to grasp but which vanished in an instant. Standing in the cramped, sweltering living room, her mind felt chaotic and muddled. Perhaps summer was simply a season of frantic, racing heartbeats.
Qi Lian snatched the rag from her hand and pointed toward the south bedroom. "Go stay in that room and turn on the air conditioner. You don't need to do this work; it'll only take me an extra hour or so."
As he spoke, Yu Mo saw a tiny reflection of herself in his eyes. Sweat rolled down his smooth forehead to his chin, dripping onto the chest of his gray T-shirt. Looking closer, she saw that half the shirt was already soaked through.
"Why?" she blurted out.
Qi Lian turned away, wiping the sweat from his eyes with his sleeve, and knelt down to continue the task Yu Mo had left unfinished.
His broad back tensed and relaxed with the rhythm of his scrubbing.
"Because I have the strength," he replied. "This little bit of work is nothing to me."
Yu Mo watched him for a moment before quietly walking away.
Qi Lian finished wiping the floor and checked it several times to ensure every speck of paint was gone. If he didn't get it all, Yu Mo would just get back on her knees to scrub it, and he absolutely hated that image.
It was then that he heard a short, pained cry from the bedroom. It was Yu Mo. The sound made the hair on his arms stand up. He bolted toward the bedroom, but the floor was still wet; his foot slipped, and he nearly wiped out. Ignoring the danger, he rushed forward and burst through the bedroom door.
Yu Mo was standing on the small balcony, her right hand held up before her eyes. She was staring blankly at her finger. Upon closer inspection, blood was snaking down her fair skin, pitter-pattering onto the floor.
Qi Lian’s heart hammered against his ribs. Forgetting everything else, he charged over and scolded her, "How did you do that?"
"I wanted to wipe the balcony glass... I don't know what I hit, but the blood just started coming out," Yu Mo murmured.
Qi Lian grabbed her hand and held it high, pinching both sides of the bleeding finger with his own to apply pressure.
His voice rose unconsciously. "I told you to stay put..." Seeing her dazed expression, his heart softened, and he swallowed his frustration. He lowered his voice and asked, "Does it hurt?"
Yu Mo nodded.
Qi Lian examined the wound and comforted her. "Don't be scared. It's just a surface cut. It'll be fine once the bleeding stops. We'll go to the hospital to get it bandaged in a bit."
Yu Mo tried to pull her numbing finger back. "No need for the hospital. I'll just buy some iodine to disinfect it and wrap it in gauze."
Qi Lian stopped her. "Don't move. The bleeding hasn't stopped yet. Behave. I have all that stuff at my place; I'll go grab it in a minute."
Qi Lian was much taller than Yu Mo. Usually, she didn't notice, but standing this close, he exerted a suffocating sense of pressure. The heat radiating from him, mixed with the distinct hormonal scent of sweat, washed over her. Her head felt heavy and dizzy, and she tried to quietly step back.
Qi Lian tightened his grip on her hand, stopping her. "Stay still. It'll be over in a second."
Seeing the beads of sweat on her forehead—unsure if they were from the heat or the pain—he reached out with his other hand and wiped them away with his broad palm.
"Why didn't you turn on the AC? I told you to stay in this room so you wouldn't get hot. Just stay put and don't touch anything. If there's work to be done, let me do it. It's only a couple of hours. I'm not afraid of work, no matter how hard it is."
"Then what are you afraid of?" Yu Mo asked casually.
"I'm afraid of plenty of things," Qi Lian said, looking at her as he held her finger.
Yu Mo was about to press him further, but he clearly didn't intend to say more. He checked her finger again. "The bleeding has stopped. I'm going back to get the iodine and gauze now. Don't let your arm hang down. Wait for me."
He moved a chair over and settled Yu Mo into it, then found the remote and turned on the air conditioner. Before heading out, he turned back once more. "I'll be back soon."
Yu Mo looked at her finger. The blood had clotted, and because Qi Lian had been squeezing it so tightly, the finger was paler than the others. The warmth of his skin still seemed to burn on her forehead and her hand.
She heard the door close and could imagine him running down the stairs with his powerful strides. His presence seemed to linger in the room—a masculine energy so potent it felt ready to ignite.
Outside, the cicadas chirped incessantly, their noise filling the air. The harsh sunlight pierced through the glass, casting a glare in the corner of the room that made it hard to keep her eyes open.
Everything felt so vivid, like the restless, pulsing youth of an eighteen-year-old.
***
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