Ling Yue's POV
Rows of red paper lanterns light up the stone walkway along the river, giving the entire street a bright, lively glow.
The night air is cool, filled with the delicious smell of fried dumplings and sweet pastries from the festival stalls lining the path. Groups of friends and families drift past, their chatter mixing with the music coming from the main stage down the road.
I step around a couple taking a photo, holding two warm paper cups of sweet fruit cider in my hands.
Jin Hao walks right beside me, matching his pace to mine. He wears a simple, soft-collared shirt with the top button undone, completely relaxed. Every few steps, whenever the crowd gets a little too thick, he casually steps slightly ahead of me, using his shoulder to keep people from bumping into me.
"Here," I say, passing one of the paper cups to him.
