Xu Chen became aware of the bracelet every time his wrist moved afterward.
Every single time.
The thin silver band remained mostly hidden beneath the sleeve of his dark jacket, cool against his skin whenever his hand shifted through the crowded festival streets of Old Dali.
Tiny object.
Massive psychological consequences.
The worst part was that Aum noticed immediately.
"You continue touching the bracelet unconsciously."
Xu Chen pulled his hand away from his sleeve at once.
"I am absolutely not doing that."
"You have adjusted your jacket cuff six times within approximately three minutes."
"That information feels deeply invasive."
Warm amusement softened Aum's expression again as they continued through the crowded market street beneath rows of hanging lanterns and embroidered festival banners shifting in the spring wind.
God.
Xu Chen genuinely had no remaining emotional defenses.
The festival crowds thickened farther ahead near the central square. Street performers in traditional Bai clothing moved through the roads while children chased floating paper streamers between flower stalls overflowing with jasmine and camellias.
The city pulsed with life around them.
And somehow Xu Chen remained absurdly aware of one specific thing only:
Aum walking beside him.
Not behind.
Not ahead.
Beside.
The realization settled warmly through his chest again.
A group of tourists squeezed suddenly through the narrow street intersection ahead, forcing the crowd tighter around them.
Without hesitation, Aum's hand settled lightly against Xu Chen's lower back once more to guide him through the surge of movement.
The contact lasted naturally this time.
Not accidental.
Not hidden.
Xu Chen's nervous system failed instantly anyway.
Aum leaned slightly closer near his ear to avoid raising his voice over the crowd noise.
"Your stress response elevated."
Xu Chen looked straight ahead into the moving festival street.
"That is because you keep touching me like we're already married."
The sentence escaped before he could stop it.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Even the surrounding festival noise seemed to blur briefly around Xu Chen's own catastrophic self-awareness.
God.
He wanted to physically throw himself into the nearest lake.
Beside him, however, Aum became very still.
Then carefully:
"Humans typically associate marriage with long-term emotional permanence."
Xu Chen closed his eyes briefly while continuing to walk.
"Yes. Thank you. I'm aware of the concept."
A faint pause.
"You appear distressed by the implication."
Xu Chen turned toward him helplessly.
"I'm distressed because my brain apparently stopped filtering thoughts before releasing them into society."
Warmth softened Aum's face immediately afterward.
Not teasing.
Something quieter.
Something deeper.
Then Aum asked softly:
"The comparison itself caused discomfort."
The question hit Xu Chen directly in the chest.
Because beneath the calm tone, Aum was asking something else entirely.
Does the idea upset you?
God.
Xu Chen looked away briefly toward the crowded square ahead where dancers in silver headdresses performed beneath strings of red festival lanterns.
Then answered honestly:
"No."
The silence afterward became impossibly gentle.
Aum's fingers tightened faintly once against Xu Chen's back before relaxing again.
Xu Chen felt the tiny movement like direct electrical damage.
Hopeless.
Absolutely hopeless.
They entered the central festival square slowly with the moving crowds.
The atmosphere exploded into sound and color immediately.
Traditional Bai musicians played near the western stage while long embroidered ribbons stretched overhead between wooden buildings covered in flowers. Vendors lined the edges of the square selling grilled rushan cheese rolled around rose jam, skewered mushrooms brushed with chili oil, fresh sugarcane juice, carved silver ornaments, and steaming bowls of erkuai rice cakes.
Smoke drifted warmly through the air.
Children ran laughing between lantern shadows.
Everything felt alive.
Aum slowed near the center of the square automatically, eyes tracking the movement of the dancers performing near the festival platform.
Silver ornaments sewn into their ceremonial clothing caught sunlight continuously as they moved.
"The synchronization level is extremely precise," Aum observed quietly.
"They've probably practiced since childhood," Xu Chen replied.
A faint pause.
"Human celebrations involve significant coordinated movement rituals."
Xu Chen laughed softly.
"You make dancing sound anthropological."
"It remains accurate."
Warm amusement flickered briefly between them again.
Then—
a young woman carrying a professional camera stopped directly in front of them.
"Sorry," she said quickly in Mandarin, slightly breathless. "Would you mind if I took a picture?"
Xu Chen blinked once.
Before he could answer, she looked directly at Aum again and added hurriedly:
"The lighting is incredible right now and you both look—"
She stopped herself abruptly.
Then smiled sheepishly.
"Very festival-coded."
Xu Chen had absolutely no idea what that meant.
But somehow it still destabilized him emotionally.
Aum looked toward him immediately instead of answering the photographer.
Again.
Always checking first.
The tiny instinct hit Xu Chen harder than expected.
Not the request itself.
The fact that Aum deferred to his comfort automatically now.
Xu Chen exhaled softly.
"It's okay," he said quietly.
The photographer brightened instantly.
"Thank you!"
She stepped backward near the flower stalls, adjusting camera settings quickly while the sunlight and festival ribbons shifted overhead in the spring wind.
Xu Chen suddenly became painfully aware of reality again.
Crowds.
Proximity.
The bracelet beneath his sleeve.
Aum standing close enough that their shoulders brushed naturally.
The photographer lifted the camera.
Then paused.
"Can you stand a little closer?"
Xu Chen's entire nervous system resigned.
Aum, meanwhile, simply stepped nearer automatically.
No hesitation.
Warmth spread instantly along Xu Chen's side where their arms touched lightly.
God.
The photographer visibly melted.
"Yes. Exactly like that."
Xu Chen genuinely considered walking directly into traffic.
The camera shutter clicked several times rapidly while festival music echoed through the crowded square around them.
Then the photographer lowered the camera slowly afterward.
And smiled.
Not politely.
Softly.
Like she had noticed something.
"You two really look at each other differently," she said absentmindedly.
The words entered Xu Chen directly beneath his ribs.
Because the terrifying thing was—
she was right.
And for the first time in his life—
Xu Chen realized he no longer wanted to hide it.