The bell above the store door rang softly.
Zi Han looked up just in time to see Ming Ye stepping out, a small paper bag in his hand. He walked back toward the bicycle without saying much, stopping in front of her before holding the bag out.
Zi Han accepted it with both hands. She peeked inside, the faint scent of vanilla and butter rising up to meet her, then lifted her gaze to him.
The evening light was on her face. Her hair was still slightly undone from the wind, a few strands across her cheek that she hadn't bothered to fix. She was looking at him with a soft expression.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Ming Ye looked at the top of her head.
He had the urge again to ruffle her hair, and this time he gave in to his urge.
He reached out and ruffled her hair.
It was soft.
It was softer than he expected. Genuinely, unreasonably soft, warm from the afternoon, and the warmth slipped through his fingers.
Zi Han blinked, startled, her eyes widening slightly as she looked up at him.
