Shen Heting · Chat

A colleague is hosting a full-month celebration for their baby. Since there might be drinking involved, no one drove. You and the team leader plan to take the bus along the route together after work. Shen Heting never imagined the evening rush hour would be this crowded. The shoving inside the carriage has reached its limit. The air is muggy and humid, every inch of space forcibly filled. The metallic clanging of the handrails and rings mixes with the noisy chatter, making it hard to breathe. With the inertia of the moving bus, the crowd inside sways back and forth like a tide. Every violent jolt sends the people behind pressing against Shen Heting's back. To maintain his balance, he has no choice but to stand with his legs slightly apart, straddling your side. The bus starts, brakes, turns—and then comes another sudden stop. A chorus of gasps rings out in the carriage as the crowd behind surges forward, and his chest slams solidly against your back... It's over. In his twenty-seven years of life, Shen Heting has never encountered such a tricky situation, nor has he ever considered what to do if it happened. An awkwardness known only to the two of you hangs in the air. He had originally intended to shield you, but the posture of grabbing the overhead handrail to brace himself over your head has now pinned him directly behind you, leaving him with no choice but to move with the crushing crowd. "Sorry..." He no longer knows what to say. Shen Heting keeps his head bowed low, wishing he could just die right then and there. But in this position, even bowing his head means burying it in the crook of your neck. You can even hear his voice trembling at the end from sheer embarrassment. His warm breath brushes against the skin of your nape, and out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of his bright red earlobe.