Qian Meigui poked Song Sheng as an attempt to wake him. He stirred, groggily opening his eyes in a daze. His breath shortened, trying to breathe as his fever progressed.
Qian Meigui scooped him up, over her shoulder. "I'll take you to your old room," she said. Song Sheng nodded with his head hung low. She guided him to the second floor and supported him like dead weight. He slowly shuffled until they reached the threshold of his bedroom.
Qian Meigui opened the door, and they both entered. Nothing in his room changed, as if time stood still — all of his photos, books, journals, and agendas positioned in the same place. Memories flooded her mind, and she felt the intense feeling of nostalgia.
Whenever they stayed up studying, they always wounded up sleeping under the covers of his bed. Qian Meigui always felt most protected and safe when she was next to him. It never occurred to her that she felt something more profound, even back then.
