Secretly holding hands

The bar felt timeless, no matter how long between visits. Dim lights blended with raucous noise, the air tinged with alcohol.

To watch the performance, they gathered in an upstairs booth, the most secluded spot Chu Cheng reserved. Still, curious glances darted their way.

The Burning Meteor trio handled it fine, but Liu Tingsong had it worst, stuck wearing her hat, mask, and black-framed glasses, clashing with the vibe but necessary.

Despite any inner grumbling, Chu Cheng stayed polite, apologizing repeatedly to Liu, promising they’d move to the second floor after the Shark band’s set.

Liu wanted to protest, finding it too much trouble, but unable to speak, her double head shake was ignored. She tugged Xu Fengluan’s sleeve for help.

Xu refused to intervene, only patting her hand for comfort.

Frustrated, Liu reached for her phone to type, but Xu pressed it down first.

“Drink your milk,” Xu said, placing a glass before her.

Though Liu’s loss of voice wasn’t physical, it sparked subconscious worry for her throat. Spicy foods were avoided, alcohol unthinkable. Before Liu could object, Xu ordered milk for her.

The others followed suit, speaking softly, cautious, as if she were fragile.

Liu wasn’t new to this. It happened abroad often, familiar yet hard to refute. She took the milk.

Xu picked up a drink.

The scene was amusing. Last time here, Xu was the teetotaler, coaxed by Liu to break her no-alcohol rule. Now, roles reversed, Xu indulged in drinks while Liu clutched her milk…

Liu sipped, tasting warmth and a hint of honey.

Her emotions swirled, unplaceable. She reached for her phone again, wanting to say something, but her cool fingers brushed Xu’s hand, interrupted by Chu Cheng’s excited shout: “They’re here!”

“There, the one on the far left,” she whispered, pointing.

All eyes turned.

Four young women stepped onto the stage. Before scanning the others, gazes locked on the last one.

Everyone froze.

Ji Lunan grimaced, “This is your type?”

Kuang Ye stammered, “You… this, you…”

Xu frowned, “Weren’t your last two exes more… mature?”

Only Chu Cheng buzzed with excitement, whispering, “Cute, right? First time I saw her, she was like a sticky rice dumpling.”

She added, “A bouncy one, too short to reach my head.”

The trio: …

The girl was undeniably cute—almost excessively so. About 1.6 meters, with a round bun hairstyle, almond eyes, and lingering baby fat. Her shirt, white sweater vest, and plaid skirt swayed as she moved, out of place in the chaotic bar, more like a studious schoolgirl.

Xu’s frown deepened. “That’s the Shark?”

More like a chubby goldfish.

Liu, equally shocked, glanced at the towering Chu Cheng, then the stage girl, her expression complex.

It didn’t add up. As Xu noted, Chu Cheng’s past partners were commanding, mature women, never outshone despite shorter statures.

But this drummer…

No body-shaming intended, but drumming demanded strength. Kuang Ye, lean as she was, could flex muscle and flip tires. This delicate girl, with thin limbs…

Xu’s concern grew, her brows tightening.

The others clearly shared her thoughts, faces mirroring hers.

Yet the crowd showed anticipation, with fewer doubts than Xu expected. Their first performance must’ve impressed.

It couldn’t be Chu Cheng hiring actors; faking such genuine enthusiasm would cost too much, even for her.

Plus, this bar leaned rock, its patrons—bands and fans—picky. Earning their approval was tough.

Xu’s curiosity piqued, her eyes fixed on the drummer, never straying.

Light hit her green eyes, mingling brightness and shadow, like jade dusted with gray, rippling softly.

She watched the stage; Liu watched her.

In this moment, their secret stayed hidden, the crowd’s focus elsewhere, letting Liu, whose identity required concealment, openly steal glances at Xu.

Her untouched hand rested on the sofa’s edge, a centimeter apart.

Liu inched closer, closing the gap, fingertips brushing, but dared not go further.

The touch, unnoticed by others, was swallowed and buried.

At some point,

they watched closely.

Chu Cheng, busy, chided, “Focus on the show.”

“I told you they’re good. Don’t judge by looks.”

“Look at her—steady hands, not far off Xiao Ye.”

Kuang Ye, name-dropped, glanced over but didn’t argue. Not for Chu Cheng’s sake—her blunt nature wouldn’t allow it—but the drumming, brief as it was, earned her tentative approval. Full praise would wait; a drummer’s true skill showed later.

On stage, the girl wielded her sticks, hair flying. Unlike Burning Meteor’s gritty struggle, they exuded ease and joy.

The guitarist and bassist synced seamlessly, exchanging glances. The lead singer’s clear voice held steady despite limited stage experience. The keyboardist’s fingers danced, even twirling playfully. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

A spark of surprise lit Xu’s eyes, her irritation at Chu Cheng’s last-minute invite fading.

The others felt it too. Their own struggles made them value talent. In past bar gigs, they’d connected promising bands with opportunities.

Now, they watched intently, ignoring Chu Cheng’s chatter. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Their touching fingertips crept upward, aiming to hook Xu’s pinky, but she noticed, lifting her hand and resting it on Liu’s cool one, instinctively holding it.

Xu turned, mouthing a question.

[What’s wrong?]

Liu froze, shaking her head.

Xu didn’t press, handing her the milk again. “We’ll head back soon. Play with the phone if you’re bored.”

She added, “Drink more milk.”

Like minding a child, Xu, worried Liu might not find it, offered her own phone.

Xu’s phone password never changed, shared with Liu five years ago, still the same.

Old-fashioned, sure.

Her birthday plus Liu’s—a musician with no romantic flair but a knack for steady sweetness.

Liu’s mood softened. Opening the phone, she didn’t know what to do, staring at the shared sunset wallpaper.

Last time, rushed, they’d barely explored, mostly tangled in bed. Later, it felt like a missed chance. They’d planned a weekend beach trip, but now, who knew if it still held.

Liu’s lips tightened, her insecurity lingering, never fully gone.

Xu, unaware of her daze, shifted back to the stage.

“Orange, call them over later,” she said.

Her interest was genuine now, no longer just humoring Chu Cheng.

Chu Cheng straightened, her suppressed nature surfacing, dodging Xu’s comment with a smug, “Told you my taste is solid. You all didn’t want to come—regret it now?”

“I’m not some lust-blind fool. They’ve got real skill.”

“Yep, they’re legit,” even Kuang Ye agreed.

Chu Cheng grinned, proud before even winning her crush.

“My taste never misses.”

“Okay, okay, tone down the bragging,” Ji Lunan teased.

“Just say if it’s good!” Chu Cheng pressed, demanding agreement.

Liu stayed out of it, silent to avoid attention, content sitting by Xu, their clasped hands tightening, fingers interlocking.

She sank into this brief contact. Despite countless intense moments—frenzied, obsessive, on sofas and in cars, pressing each other into their very bones—this fleeting touch still captivated her.

The calluses on Xu’s fingers grazed her skin, hyper-sensitive, catching every detail. It tickled, yet she didn’t stop it, enduring the mix of joy and torment.

Like their relationship now.

But Liu savored it.

She paid little attention after, though the band cast curious glances. Xu’s rumored breakup and reconciliation had blown up on Weibo, sparking intrigue.

Liu ignored them, only glancing when they spoke to Xu, then lowering her head.

The booth buzzed with chatter, forgetting the second floor, lingering here, eventually exchanging contacts.

For some reason, Chu Cheng’s crush kept dodging her, foiling Ji Lunan’s matchmaking attempts, leaving them at a loss.

As the night deepened, the party ended. Drunk patrons were helped out, loaded into waiting cars, driving off.

Xu had drunk heavily, her steps unsteady, leaning on Liu.

As one of the few sober ones, Chu Cheng, busy with others, only waved goodbye.

Liu understood, leading the drunken Xu away.

The car sat in a roadside spot. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Unsteady footsteps echoed. Xu, struggling to focus, peered blearily ahead, trying to orient herself, but a sudden flash of headlights blinded her.

Chu Cheng, glancing over, saw clearly: a beat-up van, out of control, speeding toward them.

*—Bang!*

A massive crash rang out, followed by tires screeching on pavement. A nearby scooter’s alarm blared, then a “boom” as an explosion erupted, flames shooting skyward.

“Feng!”

“Xu Fengluan!”

The crowd shouted in panic.