"Stay away from me," Fu Han said, pressing her hands against He Xing's chest, her face as red as a ripe apple, and her words were as soft as a mosquito's hum.
He Xing's forehead was against Fu Han's, and he whispered, "Xiaohan, do you know how much I love you?"
Fu Han visibly shuddered; this was the first time He Xing had spoken the word "love." To say she wasn't moved would be a lie; in fact, she was deeply touched.
They had grown up together since they were young, as if everything had naturally fallen into place: the second button from a school uniform, the additional seat on the mountain bike, a shoulder to carry another's backpack...
They had been through all the experiences of adolescence together, each witnessing the other grow up; He Xing, from a naughty boy into a graceful young man, and Fu Han, from a snotty-nosed tag-along into a stunning beauty.
