The aquarium was busy today. A long line stretched from the entrance. Most of the visitors were families, and children ran around excitedly.
The sun was a bit harsh. The May sunlight wasn’t scorching, but standing in it too long made sweat bead on the forehead. Yan Yu raised her hand to shield her brow, squinting slightly.
Su Qinghan noticed the movement. Without a word, she pulled a folding umbrella from her bag, opened it, and held it over Yan Yu’s head. The umbrella cast a small circle of shade above Yan Yu.
Yan Yu looked up at the umbrella, then at Su Qinghan. Su Qinghan was staring down at her phone, expression indifferent. But the umbrella stayed steady, held firmly over Yan Yu.
The line crept forward slowly. After about 20 minutes, it was finally their turn. Su Qinghan took two tickets from her bag and scanned them at the gate.
“Beep—Welcome.”
The gate opened, and they went in.
The moment they entered the aquarium, the whole world changed. The light dimmed abruptly. The walls were designed to look like a deep-sea cave, and the floor was covered in dark non-slip tiles. The air turned cool and humid, carrying a faint salty scent.
On the other side of the glass was a huge tank filled with deep blue seawater. Light shone down from the surface, forming pillars of illumination through the water. Schools of small fish darted between those beams, and larger fish swam lazily through them. Yan Yu tilted her head up, following the movement of the fish with her eyes.
Su Qinghan pushed her wheelchair forward slowly, the wheels rolling over the tiles with a soft rumble. They passed exhibit after exhibit.
“What kind of fish is that?” Su Qinghan suddenly paused, her gaze landing on a group of colorful little fish behind the glass.
“Clownfish,” Yan Yu answered without hesitation.
“What about that one?”
“Blue tang,” Yan Yu said. After a brief pause, she added, “That one was in Finding Nemo too. The character named Dory.”
Su Qinghan turned her head to look at Yan Yu. “You know a lot about fish.”
Yan Yu shook her head slightly. “Just a few common ones. I used to like aquariums when I was little. I read some books.”
Little. Liked aquariums.
Su Qinghan silently noted those two pieces of information. She didn’t even realize she was doing it.
They continued forward, passing through a long corridor. The aquarium’s internal structure was cleverly designed: both sides of the passage were made of transparent glass, making it feel like walking through an underwater tunnel.
Su Qinghan pushed Yan Yu along this tunnel, one behind the other, without speaking. The corridor’s lighting was a deep blue, pouring down from above like deep-sea water. Yan Yu’s attention was entirely on the fish on the other side of the glass. A ray glided overhead, its belly pure white. Yan Yu tilted her head back slightly, following the ray with her eyes until it disappeared at the end of the tunnel.
Just then, the wheelchair suddenly stopped moving. Su Qinghan pushed it again. It didn’t budge. She frowned, added more force, and tried once more. Still no movement, as if the wheelchair was stuck on something.
“What’s wrong?” Yan Yu turned her head.
Su Qinghan didn’t answer. She walked around to the side of the wheelchair and bent down to look at the wheels. The rear right wheel was tilted. A screw on the axle had come loose and was wedged between the brake pad and the hub, locking the wheel completely. Su Qinghan reached out and tried to turn the screw. It didn’t move at all.
Yan Yu also looked down, silent for two seconds. “One of the wheels is broken.”
This wasn’t expected. She had checked the wheelchair before leaving today. It was fine. Nothing had felt off on the way. How could this happen here, of all places?
“Sorry,” Yan Yu lowered her eyelashes. “We’re blocking the path. Can you move me to the side?” She pressed her hands against the armrests and slowly pushed herself up from the wheelchair, her legs trembling slightly.
Then she saw the ground.
This section of the corridor had a slight downward slope. The incline wasn’t steep, but for someone whose legs lacked strength, even such a small slope was deadly.
Yan Yu’s pupils widened. The next moment, she tried to grab the armrest to steady herself, but her body’s inertia had already carried her forward.
“Yan Yu!” Su Qinghan’s voice turned urgent.
Yan Yu pitched forward. Right before she fell, Su Qinghan caught her, one arm around her waist, the other gripping her shoulder, locking her body in place and preventing her from hitting the ground.
Yan Yu’s face nearly ended up in the hollow of Su Qinghan’s shoulder. She instinctively grabbed the front of Su Qinghan’s shirt, her fingers clenching tight, her chest heaving violently. Her breaths came fast and ragged. The stray hairs on her forehead were damp with sweat, stuck to her skin.
“I’m sorry,” Yan Yu said, her voice breathy. “Sorry, I didn’t—” She took a deep breath, steadying herself.
Then she tried to release her grip on the shirt and push herself up using the glass wall beside her. She exerted force. Her body didn’t move. She tried again, pressing her palm against the glass, pushing with her arms, trying to lift herself out of Su Qinghan’s support. Still nothing.
Su Qinghan maintained the half-hold, not letting go. It didn’t feel like supporting someone who had almost fallen. More like… she couldn’t bear to let go.
Yan Yu frowned slightly. “Qinghan.”
Su Qinghan didn’t react. Her chin was near Yan Yu’s shoulder, her gaze fixed on the fish swimming behind the glass, but it also seemed like she wasn’t looking at anything at all. Her expression was calm. Too calm.
Only she knew how fast her heart was pounding. Su Qinghan didn’t understand why she felt this way. She had never felt this about anyone before, not even Jiang Muyun. The faint scent from Yan Yu’s body drifted into her breath, short-circuiting her mind.
“Qinghan,” Yan Yu called again, louder this time. “You should let me go.”
Su Qinghan finally snapped out of it. She lifted her head sharply and gently released her hold. Then she turned her face away.
Yan Yu leaned against the glass wall, panting slightly. She looked down at her own legs, then back up at Su Qinghan.
Silence hung between them for a few seconds.
“…I’ll help you sit over there, then go find a staff member to borrow tools and fix the wheelchair. Is that okay?” Su Qinghan spoke, her voice half a tone lower than usual.
“Yeah,” Yan Yu replied softly.
On the other side of the glass, a clownfish wriggled out from a patch of seaweed, its orange body vivid against the deep blue water.