Sweet Oxygen - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – Rain

This is way too explicit!

——

Imperial Capital City, June, the third day after the college entrance examination.

The calendar said,

Auspicious for chance encounters, heartfelt conversations, and unforgettable memories

Qin Han didn’t bother to look at the words on the calendar. She was holding a stack of books, struggling to move from the living room to the hallway.

In her earphones, Hu Keyuan’s voice came through, “So you went to Japan and didn’t see the blue flower sea?”

“Didn’t see it. I found out after arriving in Japan that the blue nemophila blooms in May, so it was already past the season. I just had some sushi and came back.”

“Did you meet any handsome guys?”

“The chef who made the nigiri sushi was quite handsome. He had long hair, a stubbly beard, and wore a kimono—handsome in that mature, uncle kind of way.”

Hu Keyuan let out a laugh that was uniquely shared between close friends—affectionate and gossipy. She continued, “How does he compare to that boy you had a crush on at first sight back then? Who’s more handsome?”

Even though many years had passed and she could barely remember what that boy looked like, Qin Han didn’t hesitate for even a second, “Of course, that boy was more handsome. No one can compare to him.”

In a building with one apartment per floor, a stack of books had already piled up half as tall as a person on the solid wood flooring by the door. Qin Han put down the books she was carrying and saw the elevator reach her floor. She said to Hu Keyuan, “Keyuan, wait for me a moment.”

An elderly man stepped out of the elevator. “Are you selling these as scrap?” he asked.

Qin Han shook her head. “Grandpa, they’re all yours. I’ll help you take them downstairs. They’re all old books and worksheets I don’t need anymore.”

A thick layer of dark clouds loomed overhead, and the air felt heavy, as if a storm was about to break.

She helped carry several stacks of books into the elevator and then moved them onto the elderly man’s tricycle. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Qin Han jogged back to the elevator lobby.

Hu Keyuan teased her with a smile, “Sold them all? Not even keeping the textbooks?”

“Nope. Not a single one.”

The air conditioning dispersed the summer heat, and Qin Han spoke with lingering anxiety, “I even dreamed on the plane that I didn’t have enough time to finish the exam. I woke up in shock this morning.”

The aftereffects of three years of high school were hard to shake off.

Even for someone like Qin Han, who never felt much academic pressure, the first thing she wanted to do after graduation was to clear out all her “53” practice books and textbooks from her study room.

——“53” (《五三》) refers to a very popular series of educational workbooks in China called “Five-Year Gaokao, Three-Year Simulation” (五年高考，三年模拟). These books are widely used by high school students preparing for the Gaokao (China’s national college entrance exam). The nickname “53” comes from the abbreviation of its Chinese title.

“You didn’t even check your answers. Right after the exam, you flew off to Japan with your mom. You couldn’t be more relaxed than that,” Hu Keyuan sighed comfortably, then added enviously, “Not like me. My mom just walked in looking like she was about to nag me to study again.”

Qin Han’s parents had always felt that it was good enough if she could get into an undergraduate program; whether it was a top-tier school or not didn’t matter to them.

She felt almost no pressure from her family.

“I’m heading to the library to borrow some books. Want to come along?” Qin Han invited.

On the other end of the line, Hu Keyuan responded wistfully, “The library? We just finished the college entrance exam, and you already want to study again?”

Qin Han lay on her bed, laughing so hard she curled up into a ball. “What study? Of course, I’m going to borrow some novels to read.”

She had made plans to meet Hu Keyuan at the city library an hour later. While rummaging through her wardrobe for a denim skirt, Qin Han was interrupted by another call from Hu Keyuan, who said, “Xu Weiran just told me he wants to come along with us.”

Hu Keyuan was Qin Han’s closest friend throughout high school.

Xu Weiran was Hu Keyuan’s deskmate.

Qin Han was a little confused. “Isn’t he going to play basketball with the other guys? Why is he always following you around?”

Hu Keyuan didn’t answer directly. Xu Weiran’s exact words were: “Keyuan, if you help set me up with Qin Han, I’ll treat you to a meal.”

Hu Keyuan didn’t mention that part, but it was clear she was just looking for a free meal.

After a brief pause, Hu Keyuan chuckled casually over the phone, “Who knows what’s up with him.”

What was supposed to be a trip to the library turned into a trio outing. Qin Han lived in a community further away, so before leaving, she called her mom to let her know. Her mother reminded her specifically that the family driver wasn’t available, so taking the bus would be safer than taking a cab.

After walking out of the neighborhood’s cluster of red-roofed houses, Qin Han waited in the shade of a tree at the bus stop near the entrance before hopping on the bus.

The bus wasn’t crowded, so she pulled out her phone to browse through the chat history in her high school group.

She hadn’t checked it since the morning, and there were over 600 new messages.

Graduation was a strange thing. Over the three years of high school, everyone in the class had formed their own groups, and they weren’t exactly known for their unity.

Yet after graduation, it was as if they all suddenly became one big family, talking about everything and anything without reservation.

A few of the boys in the group were the most active.

Qin Han wasn’t very familiar with them. They were the boys who sat in the last row of the class, always skipping class. After being caught, they had to read self-criticisms during class meetings or flag-raising ceremonies on Mondays, only to skip class again the next chance they got.

One of the boys shared a link in the group, apparently to a movie or something. The rest of the group responded almost unanimously.

“You’re so shameless.jpg”

“You’re so shameless.jpg”

“You’re so shameless.jpg”

“You’re so shameless.jpg”

….

The boy in the group chat didn’t seem to care and casually sent another message.

“Just skip to the 40-minute mark.”

“You’re so shameless.jpg”

“You’re so shameless.jpg”

“You’re so shameless.jpg”

….

The same meme kept popping up one after another, buzzing her phone so much that Qin Han’s hand felt numb.

The dark clouds above were growing heavier, pressing down on the sky as if lowering the horizon.

The bus’s automated announcement played:

“Next stop: Yaonan Alley.“

Her eyes were still glued to the chat, so she didn’t listen carefully to the announcement. She mistook it for “Yaobei Street” where the library was and hopped off the bus cheerfully.

The moment she looked up, she realized that the scene before her was completely unfamiliar.

The street had an older, slightly worn-down feel. At the corner, a small black stray dog was wagging its tail, chasing after a low-flying dragonfly.

The first shop on the street was a hair salon. In the window, a poster of a woman with a curly “ramen noodle perm” was plastered on the glass. A red-and-blue cylindrical barber pole was spinning energetically beside it.

There was a stone tablet standing at the entrance of the street, with words carved into it:

Yaonan Alley.

This street was worlds apart from the neighborhood Qin Han was used to.

The sky, heavy with dark clouds, seemed to merge with the low rooftops. It felt as if she had stumbled into another world.

It was gloomy, and a raindrop landed on the tip of Qin Han’s nose.

After being stifled for so long, the clouds finally gave in, releasing a shower of rain.

Qin Han didn’t have time to think. She ducked her head and ran into the street, passing by several shops until she found one with a wide overhang, the only one with its doors shut.

She took shelter under the eaves as the rain poured down in dense sheets. The air quickly filled with the earthy scent of soil mixed with freshly wet grass.

Just then, Hu Keyuan called to ask where she was.

Qin Han explained, “I got off at the wrong stop. I’m on Yaonan Alley right now.”

“Yaonan Alley? Where’s that?” Hu Keyuan sounded puzzled.

“I’ll wait for the rain to lighten up a bit, then I’ll catch a taxi,” Qin Han said.

There was a peculiar note of relief in Hu Keyuan’s voice as she responded softly, “No rush. We’re waiting for you at the milk tea shop.”

We?

Oh, right. Xu Weiran was there too.

After hanging up the phone, Qin Han stood there for a moment, gradually realizing that Hu Keyuan’s attitude toward Xu Weiran seemed… different.

A misty curtain of rain enveloped the street, blurring everything in sight. It felt almost eerie, as if a monster might emerge from the fog at any moment.

The rain showed no sign of letting up, and no taxis passed by.

Bored, Qin Han pulled out her phone and found the link to the movie that had been shared in the class group chat. She skipped straight to the 40-minute mark.

The movie’s title seemed pretty artsy.

She wondered what could be at the 40-minute mark that got all the boys in the group chat so riled up.

The internet connection wasn’t great. The screen remained dark, with a tiny spinning circle occasionally flickering in the center.

The movie wouldn’t load.

Behind her was a glass window.

Whatever was on the other side was obscured, as if the glass had been tinted or covered. All she could see was her own reflection.

A sleek ponytail and bright eyes.

But after a few late nights following the college entrance exams, her lower eyelids—shaded by her long lashes—had a faint pinkish hue, giving her a somewhat innocent look.

Qin Han smoothed the damp strands of hair that the rain had plastered to her forehead, revealing a smooth forehead and naturally arched brows.

She stared at her reflection, then pinched three strands of wet hair between her thumb and index finger, arranging them across her forehead.

They looked like Sanmao’s three signature strands.

——Sanmao, a famous Chinese comic character, is a little boy known for having only three strands of hair on his head, hence the name “Sanmao,” which literally means “Three Hairs.” Created by Zhang Leping (張樂平) in the 1930s, this character became an iconic figure in Chinese popular culture, representing the struggles of orphans and the poor in old Shanghai.

Qin Han seemed to have found a way to pass the time, playfully making silly faces at the window.

As she pressed her index finger to her nose and quietly sang, “Let’s learn to oink like pigs, oink oink oink oink oink,” a faint sound came from behind the window. It was drowned out by the rain, so she didn’t notice.

Her playful “pig oinks” were still echoing in the rainy air when the window in front of her suddenly slid open from the inside.

The first thing she noticed was a hand—clean, slender, with well-defined joints, the kind of hand perfectly suited for playing the piano.

In that hand was a device she didn’t recognize. It looked like a mini gun, a luxury compass, or maybe some kind of construction tool.

Qin Han pulled her gaze away from the strange gadget, fluttered her lashes, and her eyes locked with a pair of deep, dark eyes.

Standing behind the window was a man.

Short, neat black hair and a simple black T-shirt.

He was wearing a black face mask, and with the dim, overcast light filtering into the room, she couldn’t make out his face.

Black T-shirt and black mask—it was a pretty common look.

Plenty of boys at her high school dressed like that, slipping off their uniforms during lunch break to play basketball in black tees. They would come back drenched in sweat and still put on their black masks.

With a smug expression, trying to look cool.

But the man in front of her was different. When his eyes swept over her, it felt as if time itself had stretched out leisurely.

The constant rustling of the rain seemed to slow down.

He looked at Qin Han, his eyes carrying a hint of playful amusement.

Qin Han suddenly realized—there was someone behind the window just now!

Then all those silly things she did…

Did he see everything?

Even the… even the pig oink…

Her face instantly burned with embarrassment. She instinctively leaned back, trying to escape the awkwardness.

The coldness of rain-drenched hair at the back of her head made her shrink back under the eaves.

Right at that moment, her phone suddenly made a noise, breaking the century-long lag.

It was a faint sound, like fabric brushing together.

Qin Han desperately needed a distraction. She hurriedly looked down at her phone.

…She should’ve just ignored it.

On the screen, the male lead was crouching in front of the female lead, taking off her jeans.

Then the two of them started frantically taking off clothes, kissing wildly, hands wandering everywhere. They tangled together like twisted dough and rolled onto the bed.

Qin Han was stunned.

What… what is this?!

This is… this is way too explicit!

The man by the window laughed. His muffled chuckle was hidden behind his mask and mixed with the sound of the rain, making it hard to hear clearly.

But to Qin Han, a girl who had just graduated from high school, his laughter was so humiliating that she wanted to find a hole to crawl into.

The scene on the phone grew even more indescribable.

A faint, refreshing scent drifted out from the open window, like the smell of bamboo.

Qin Han was more flustered than she had ever been, so panicked that she didn’t know what to do.

In front of her was an embarrassment she didn’t want to face, and behind her was the pouring rain—she was completely trapped.

The man lifted his hand from the window sill and turned her phone screen face down. Then he curled his index finger and gently tapped the wooden window sill twice.

With a considerate tone, he asked, “Need me to turn it off for you?”