The First Bloom 47

"Just—just shut up and walk," Jianyu bit out. His voice wavered at the end, uneven, and Zhenfeng caught it.

His frown deepened.

Something was wrong.

Jianyu was walking too fast, his steps too sharp, his shoulders wound too tight, his other hand clenched into a shaking fist at his side. The dim glow of the hallway lights flickered against his face, illuminating the slight sheen in his eyes—too bright, too glassy.

Zhenfeng's stomach twisted.

"Jianyu," he tried again, firmer this time. "What happened?"

Jianyu didn't answer.

He just tightened his grip.

Zhenfeng could've pulled away. Could've forced Jianyu to stop. But something about the way he was acting—the sheer urgency in every step, the way his hand trembled slightly even as he clung to Zhenfeng's wrist—made him pause.

So he followed.

Even as confusion gnawed at him, even as his instincts screamed that something wasn't right, he followed.