Chapter 11

I was stunned.
Reluctance.
It was reluctance.
The thought that immediately surged into my mind was immense confusion and helplessness.
Reluctant about what?
But a voice from deeper in my mind appeared, seducing me: You understand.
Without a doubt, she was reluctant about something. You definitely understand.
This self-satisfied, even evil consciousness easily dominated me. My body acted much faster than that newly formed thought.
By the time I reacted, I had already grabbed her, tightly gripping her wrist, which seemed overly slender and fragile to me: "Are you leaving?"
Luo Zhuowei shook her head with a very small movement, her voice almost inaudible: "...Not leaving."
Something in that moment unhesitatingly overflowed into disaster.
This annoying street, the noisy clamor on the road, the constantly changing traffic lights, the bus stop sign, and even that bus she should have taken—none of them should exist in this moment.
So they all disappeared, both unbelievably and naturally.
Replacing them was the familiar entryway, a door roughly closed, and Luo Zhuowei, pinned between me and the door.
Her body heat transmitted from where our bodies touched. Her involuntary slight struggles made my restless blood boil, igniting my already precarious reason.
How could just kissing be enough?
Her reluctant gaze at the bus stop was a condemnable fuse. Through our eye contact, electricity crackled through my body, excavating all the shameful fantasies of a pubescent high school boy hidden beneath the surface of restraint and reserve.
A first kiss should have been clumsy, tentative, yet gentle.
But the kiss happening right now undoubtedly exceeded that threshold. It was passionate, fervent, unrestrained, even a bit out-of-control rough, making the tip of my tongue tingle slightly.
The hand that had originally just gripped her shoulder to prevent her from struggling too much was also lost in this intoxicating heat. My fingers slid down her back, which was trembling uncontrollably, tracing her slightly indented spine, finally stopping at her waist, restrained by her shirt and skirt.
The other hand took advantage of letting her breathe, reaching up to help wipe away the wetness at the corner of her lips—saliva, I didn't know whose.
My already hanged reason had only a pitifully small amount left: Don't let the hand on her waist slip under her shirt hem.
"Chen... Chen Hang..."
Luo Zhuowei's hand gripped my arm with little strength, her fingers curled. The stinging pain from her nails slightly digging into my skin made a certain thought in my heart shamefully... boil even more.
In this atmosphere, even asking had to be done with foreheads pressed together. I could even hear that my voice was no longer clear: "Are you okay?"
Her legs were so weak she was almost sitting on my left knee, which was wedged between her skirt.
But I heard her say: "...Continue."
#17
"Chen Hang, Chen Hang?"
I somewhat dazedly lifted my face from my crossed arms, accompanied by a sore, swollen ache in my back.
Had I just fallen asleep?
The sounds of classmates playing during break gradually became clear. In front of me was Luo Zhuowei holding homework books. She looked like she was trying not to laugh, her gaze meeting mine full of mirth: "You forgot to hand in your English homework."
Her pure, proper face was completely different from the one in my dream—flushed red, frowning slightly, breathing shallowly, even the corners of her mouth reddened.
"N-no, sorry." My mind was making this evil comparison as if possessed. I almost couldn't tell if this was a dream or reality. Fortunately, years of conditioned reflexes made my actions appear completely normal.
I pulled out the homework book pressed under my math book and handed it to her: "Here."
Then I got up from my seat and rushed to the bathroom at a fast pace, almost fleeing.
What kind of beast am I?
I propped myself up on the sink with both hands, looked in the mirror, and was almost shocked by my own reddened eyes and the bright gaze burned by shame.
My disgust and revulsion toward myself almost reached the peak of my brief seventeen years of life at this moment.
Dreaming about a classmate and doing many unspeakable, excessive things to her.
The most excessive was the physiological reaction. My reason, which had just awakened from that overly lustful dream, was still conducting deep self-reflection, but my body had completely betrayed my brain, alert in a way that was impossible to ignore, even to the point of being infuriating.
I really want to just bang my head and die.
I washed my face three times with cold water in extreme self-reproach, then locked myself in a stall, leaning against the door, waiting guiltily for this impulse to pass.
The worst part was that my sensory nerves felt like they were being constantly cooked by an endless heat, like a frog put in warm water, anxious and helpless.
Why can't I be more composed? Can't I calm down a bit??
I ground my teeth hatefully, reached up to touch the back of my neck wanting to move my sore neck, but was burned by the temperature I felt in my palm.
Wait, normally it shouldn't get this hot from excitement, right?
Thinking about it, I felt a bit dizzy, and my breathing was also burning hot...
I took a deep breath, depressedly thinking about how long I'd have to wait in this damn stall. After my emotions calmed down, I skipped class and went directly to the school clinic.
The thermometer emotionlessly displayed: 37.8°C.
"You have a bit of a fever." The school doctor looked at the number on the thermometer, sat back at the desk, took out a leave slip from the drawer, and filled in the reason: "A lot of people have been catching colds recently in autumn. To prevent spreading among students, I can't keep you here for an IV."