Her Eyes Say She Likes You - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Doorbell, Breakfast, and the Band-Aid

Wei Jia spent her first day as a neighbor unpacking and in a state of extreme excitement. She hung her favorite paintings on the wall directly facing Dong Yan’s apartment, calling it, with a rhetorical flourish, “absorbing the aura of the model student.”

Early the next morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, Dong Yan’s doorbell rang.

A light sleeper, she got up feeling a bit confused. Through the peephole, she saw the bright and energetic Wei Jia standing outside, holding an exquisite paper bag.

“Teacher! Good morning!” As soon as the door opened, Wei Jia’s smile was brighter than the morning sun. “The first batch of croissants from ‘Good Morning Bakery,’ and a soy milk latte! They say the flaky pastry from their croissants, when it falls off, can be pieced together into an abstract painting!”

Dong Yan wasn’t fully awake yet. Dressed in soft pajamas, her hair a bit disheveled, she looked at the warm, fragrant paper bag handed to her and was momentarily speechless.

“….That’s too much trouble for you.” Her voice held the slight hoarseness of just waking up.

“No trouble at all, no trouble!” Wei Jia quickly waved her hand, though her eyes involuntarily drifted toward Dong Yan’s face, which looked even softer due to her drowsiness. Her heart secretly raced. “It was on my way during my morning run! Teacher, please enjoy your meal, I won’t bother you!”

After speaking, as if afraid to cause Dong Yan the slightest bit of inconvenience, she quickly turned, “pitter-pattered” back to her own place, closed the door, and leaned against the door panel, clutching her chest, feeling like she was about to faint from happiness.

The teacher’s just-woken-up appearance… was so cute!

Dong Yan stood where she was, looking at the warm breakfast in her hand, then at the closed door across the hall. Finally, she smiled helplessly, but her heart felt as warm as the soy milk latte.

From then on, Wei Jia’s “on the way” breakfast became a routine. Sometimes it was a croissant, sometimes a rice ball, and occasionally, she would include a small, dewy flower.

Until this afternoon.

Dong Yan was finishing the inking for a new chapter when the doorbell rang again. This time, Wei Jia’s voice from outside was a bit deflated: “Teacher…”

Dong Yan opened the door and saw Wei Jia holding up her left index finger, looking at her pitifully. A tiny scratch was on her fingertip, oozing a tiny bead of bl00d.

“I got scratched by a splinter while taking apart a frame…” Her voice trailed off. “Teacher, do you have a Band-Aid?”

Dong Yan looked at her “seeking comfort” expression, then at the entirely negligible “wound,” finding it amusing but her heart softening nonetheless.

“Come in.” She stepped aside to let her into the apartment and went to the medicine cabinet for the Band-Aid.

Wei Jia followed closely, her eyes curiously scanning the studio she had long wished to see. It was neat and cozy, the air filled with the faint scent of paint and coffee. Drawings were neatly stacked—everything was infused with Dong Yan’s brand of order and gentleness.

Dong Yan turned back with the Band-Aid and alcohol swab, seeing Wei Jia watching everything with wide eyes and caution, like a small animal entering a new territory.

“Hand.” Dong Yan said softly.

Wei Jia obediently held out her hand.

Dong Yan lowered her head and gently dabbed the small scratch with the swab, her movements meticulous and tender. A few strands of hair fell forward with her movement, carrying the faint scent of shampoo.

Wei Jia looked at her focused profile, so close, and felt the cool, gentle sensation on her fingertip. She unconsciously softened her breathing. This tiny wound was nothing, but at this moment, she wished time would move slower, just a little slower.

“There.” Dong Yan finished applying the Band-Aid. It had a little cloud pattern printed on it.

Wei Jia looked at the little cloud on her finger, and her heart, too, was filled with happy clouds.

“Thank you, Teacher!” She wiggled her finger, her eyes crescent-shaped. “Is this Band-Aid… strawberry-flavored?”

Dong Yan finally couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. She looked up at Wei Jia, her gaze holding a clear, tender indulgence:

“Wei Jia,” she called her name, her voice like a feather brushing against a heartstring. “Next time you want to come over, you don’t need an excuse.”

“…”

Wei Jia froze.

Immediately, immense joy exploded in her mind like fireworks, and the tips of her ears visibly turned red at a rapid pace.

“I… I wasn’t looking for an excuse!” she tried to argue, but her flushed cheeks and flickering eyes betrayed her. “I just… I really did need a Band-Aid!”

(Oh↗↘, you really↘↗ needed↗↘ a Band-Aid↗↘)

Dong Yan didn’t expose her, but simply curved the corners of her lips, and gently placed the remaining strip of Band-Aids, printed with various cute designs, into Wei Jia’s palm.

“Take them,” she said. “Just in case.”

Wei Jia held the strip of Band-Aids that still carried the warmth of Dong Yan’s fingertips, feeling like the sound of her own heartbeat was about to shatter glass.

Dizzily, she walked out of Dong Yan’s apartment, returned to her own, slowly slid to the floor with her back against the door, held up the finger with the cloud Band-Aid, looked at it again and again, and then couldn’t help burying her face in her knees, letting out an irrepressible, silly laugh.

The teacher… saw right through me.

And, she seemed… not to mind.