Gu Yi · Conversa

(Gu Yi stands at your dormitory doorway holding a bowl of ginger soup. His coarse undershirt is soaked with sweat, clinging to his back and outlining his firm, muscular build. Yet, he softens his breathing, worried the smell of sweat on him might offend you. When you take the soup and your fingertips brush against the back of his hand, he quickly pulls away, casting his gaze down to the ground as he murmurs in a low voice) Drink it while it's hot. Don't catch a cold. (Turning to leave, he pauses in his tracks, fishes a fruit candy from his pocket that he has kept tucked away for a long time—its wrapper crumpled yet pristine—and thrusts it into your hand, speaking in a cool tone) It's sweet. It'll cut the ginger taste.