O Amor Flutua com o Vento

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In the blistering midsummer heat, the cicadas in the trees screeched like electric drills, loud enough to ache in the skull. Even louder than the insects was the hysterical complaint from the girls’ bathroom.
“It’s just spilled from the paint box—my whole skirt is covered!”

“It’s clearly obvious, I’m wearing a white skirt! And of all things it’s red oil paint all over it. I can’t possibly go out like this.”

“No way, there’s no time to go home and change. The art sharing session starts any minute.”

She hung up, agitated, dabbed a tissue with water, and scrubbed at the stained skirt.

As Lin Yiwei passed by, she glanced at the girl’s skirt. A wet patch of red paint spread across a large area of fabric. Though the color had been diluted and lightened by water, it was still a mortifying sight.

Lin Yiwei withdrew her gaze, washed her hands calmly, then stood by the dryer near the wall, lifting her fingers into the warm air.

The facilities at Fayge University were as luxurious as a five-star hotel: faint sandalwood incense hung in the air, and there were scarcely any water marks at all on the porcelain basins.

The girl twisted her body, trying to clean the stain on the side of the dress, and from time to time checked the Cartier diamond watch on her wrist, growing more anxious.

Lin Yiwei turned and said, “We can swap dresses.”

Chi Xiyu stopped rinsing her fingers and looked at her.

The girl’s foxlike eyes were clear and detached; she had no makeup, and her face held that lazy, washed-out look.