The drive consumed no less than fifteen minutes, during which the two conversed with an ease befitting old companions, free of misunderstanding or discord.

“Five minutes more, and we shall arrive,” Tian announced with a quiet note of caution.

“Tian, tell me, are we not bound for a barbecue house? Why, then, do my eyes behold only grand and glittering edifices?” Kihyeon’s gaze roved restlessly over the opulent surroundings, his confusion scarcely concealed.

“Indeed, a barbecue it shall be,” Tian replied, but his tone was spare, withholding the fuller truth for reasons of his own.

The promised minutes elapsed, and the car drew up before a splendid and imposing establishment. With measured grace, it slipped into the underground car park. There, as Kihyeon had half suspected, a forest of gleaming motorcars met his sight, each vehicle an emblem of wealth, their polished surfaces dazzling his eyes.

The car was neatly lodged between several others, each no less immaculate than the last. Yet Kihyeon remained adrift in the sea of his own thoughts, still uncertain of where fortune had delivered them.

“Kihyeon, will you not step out?” Tian inquired, opening the door for him with a courtesy that brooked no refusal. His hand came gently upon Kihyeon’s shoulder, shaking it with patient insistence.

“Ah—yes, of course. Forgive me,” Kihyeon murmured, roused at last from his reverie by Tian’s aid.

Tian could only shake his head in mild disbelief, a faint smile upon his lips as though amused by his companion’s curious abstraction.

Tap, tap, the sound of shoes striking against the floor echoed faintly from beneath, reverberating through the underground chamber. A draught of night air, slipping unchallenged through the gates of the car park, set Kihyeon trembling. Tian, walking steadily at his side, did not fail to observe the slight shiver.

With quiet discretion, Kihyeon raised his hands to his lips, exhaling warmth upon them as though to summon some fragile comfort. His attire was ill-suited to the chill: a hospital uniform with only a thin jacket for protection, a garment so slight that one might question its very purpose.

Suddenly,,, swish!

“Here, wear this,” Tian offered, draping his own coat upon Kihyeon’s shoulders.

At once, a wave of warmth and gladness swept through Kihyeon, the very relief he had longed for at last enfolding him. Yet no sooner had comfort arrived than another sentiment stirred: concern. If Tian had relinquished his coat, would he himself not now be left to face the merciless cold?

“No need, Tian. Keep it for yourself—I already have a jacket.” With that, Kihyeon removed the coat and pressed it back into Tian’s hands. The act, however, was not without its comic element; for with their marked difference in stature, Kihyeon struggled in no small degree to settle the garment properly upon Tian’s shoulders.

“Good heavens, Kihyeon,” Tian exclaimed at last, half in exasperation, half in disbelief,

“what do you expect to gain from that flimsy, threadbare jacket of yours?” The words were not spoken in ridicule, but rather as a plain statement of fact—a truth so evident that it scarcely required embellishment.