The summer evening air still holds the day's heat as I sit beside Xiaopeng under the old locust tree. The villagers are starting to gather for their nightly chat, fans waving and voices rising in conversation. The scent of jasmine from Mrs. Li's garden mixes with the earthy smell of the fields beyond the village.

"Dalei's twenty-two now, isn't he?" someone asks, and I feel Xiaopeng tense slightly beside me.

I grunt noncommittally, fanning him more than myself, chasing away a mosquito that lands on his neck. The simple contact of my hand near his skin sends a familiar warmth through me.

"Time to find a wife!" Aunt Wang exclaims, clapping her hands together. "I've got a niece—twenty years old, pretty as a flower, good with her hands. Perfect match!"

My fan freezes mid-swish. I feel every eye in the circle turn to me. The thought of marrying anyone—of sharing my life with someone who isn't Xiaopeng—feels suddenly impossible, like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.

Xiaopeng laughs, breaking the tension. "Aunt Wang, starting your matchmaking business?"

"Someone has to!" she says, undeterred. "What do you say, Dalei? Shall I arrange a meeting?"

I look at Xiaopeng, searching his face. He's smiling, but there's something tight around his eyes I've never seen before. Something that looks almost like pain.

My chest feels constricted, like the air itself is pressing against me. I stand abruptly, the wooden bench scraping loudly against the dirt.

"I'm tired," I mutter, avoiding everyone's eyes. "Going home."

I walk away without looking back, the sound of my own footsteps loud in my ears, wondering if I've just destroyed something irreplaceable.