Out of Reach

The man let Qin Feng carry him on his back, clutching Qin Feng's oversized backpack tightly. The tears he'd been holding back finally fell. But he didn't dare make a sound. He bit his lower lip, rubbed his cheek against his sleeve, then hesitantly rested his face against that broad, warm back.

Qin Feng, of course, didn't see the man's tears, much less the gratitude and faint affection in his eyes.

On a cold winter's night, the man was twenty-five and Qin Feng was eighteen when an accident brought them together for the first time.