Xiaoke was dragged to the end of the hallway by his buddies during the study break.

The phone screen blazed brightly. The words in the chat pierced him like needles: Xiaoyun had checked into a cheap hotel near the school with another guy.

His knuckles whitened, his fingers clenched so tight they turned blue.

Xiaoyun was his girlfriend. She had two faint dimples when she smiled, would cling to his arm and act coquettish, slip warm milk into his hand. She was the one he cherished most.

His friends were furious.

“Ke, we have to go! If we don’t teach that punk a lesson, everyone will walk all over us!”

“Let’s go, we’ll back you up!”

Xiaoke said nothing. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard, and he turned and bolted off campus.

The night wind was cold, making his temples throb. His mind was a mess — rage, hurt, a suffocating feeling of being betrayed by the person he trusted most. He couldn’t understand why Xiaoyun would do this.

When he knocked on the hotel room door, there was no answer for a long time.

Finally, Xiaoke spoke low and steady: “Xiaoyun, open the door.”

The lock clicked. The door cracked open.

Xiaoyun stood behind it, her hair messy, eyes red. When she saw him, her face drained pale, and her whole body trembled.

Behind her, a guy poked his head out. One glance at Xiaoke’s overwhelming fury and his legs went weak. He was short, ordinary-looking, and showed zero backbone. Seeing the group behind Xiaoke, he paled, said not a word, and slipped out the other side in a panic — faster than a rabbit.

He didn’t look back once.

One of the guys cursed instantly: “What a coward!”

Xiaoke didn’t watch the runaway. His gaze locked hard on Xiaoyun.

She hunched her shoulders like a frightened bird, tears brimming in her eyes, terrified, barely daring to breathe.

His friends stood around, watching.

At their age, pride meant everything. Getting cheated on, cornered at a hotel, with the other guy running away — if he didn’t slap her, he’d never hold his head up again.

Xiaoke slowly raised his hand.

His slender, knuckly hand cast a shadow under the light, held high above her.

Xiaoyun squeezed her eyes shut tight, shoulders jolting. Tears burst out, but she didn’t flinch.

She thought the slap would land hard. It would hurt. It would humiliate. It would shatter whatever was left between them.

Time stretched endlessly.

Even the wind fell still.

Then —

Slap.

A soft sound, landing on her arm.

It didn’t hurt.

Not at all.

It was more like a gentle pat — restrained, heavy with frustration, with affection he couldn’t hold back.

Xiaoyun froze, opened her eyes, staring at him blankly.

Xiaoke’s hand still rested on her arm, his fingertips warm. The anger in his eyes hadn’t faded, but deeper down, he’d softened. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt her.

No matter how angry, how hurt — he just couldn’t.

He lowered his hand, his voice rough.

“Go on back,” he told his friends.

They exchanged looks, then nodded and left.

They were alone in the hallway.

Xiaoyun finally broke, throwing herself into his arms, sobbing violently.

“Xiaoke, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

He didn’t push her away. He stiffly raised his hand and gently patted her back, over and over.

They didn’t break up after that.

They argued. They went cold. They finally talked everything out. The recklessness and foolishness of youth couldn’t compare to the love they’d built over time, and the unwillingness to let go.

Later, they actually got married.

The wedding was simple, with only their old friends present.

One night, they curled up on the couch watching TV, wrapped in warm yellow light. Xiaoyun suddenly remembered that night in the hotel hallway. She looked up at him.

“Back then… did you really want to hit me?”

Xiaoke looked down at his wife, brushed his finger lightly over her nose, and smiled.

His voice was low, with the helplessness of that day, and the tenderness of now.

“All my friends were there. If I didn’t do something, I’d lose face. But hit you hard… I couldn’t do that.”

Xiaoyun’s throat tightened. She hugged his waist tightly, pressing her face into his chest.

In that moment, she knew for sure: this man loved her more than anything.

Even when he was furious, even when his pride was on the line — he still couldn’t bear to hurt her.

She nuzzled his shirt and mumbled softly:

“I knew you’d always be the softest for me.”

Xiaoke chuckled quietly, his breath brushing her hair, his tone teasing.

“There was another reason I didn’t hit you.”

“What?” Xiaoyun looked up, confused.

He leaned close to her ear and said slowly:

“If I didn’t pretend to be angry, you wouldn’t have gotten that little thrill of fear and excitement you wanted after messing around.”

Xiaoyun blushed bright red, tapped him lightly on the chest, flustered and annoyed, burying her face in his arms.

“Zhou Xiaoke! You’re the worst!”