Zhou Jin said, a little flatly, “I’ve heard of it… The films are supposed to be excellent…”
He gave a low hum of acknowledgment.
Zhou Jin added, “The roses — I got them. Thank you.”
Jiang Hansheng replied, his tone even and unhurried, “One of my students grew them for an experiment. As long as you liked them.”
“Oh. Then thank the student for me.”
Jiang Hansheng: “…”
Zhou Jin felt that this brief exchange was a necessary duty between a married couple. Having fulfilled her duty, she could now peacefully announce: “I’m going to sleep.”
Jiang Hansheng said nothing in return.
The soft, quiet rhythm of their breathing rose and fell in the room. Zhou Jin was dead tired, yet now that she was actually lying down, sleep refused to come.
Her thoughts drifted to her marriage with Jiang Hansheng.
They had known each other as children, but had gradually lost touch as they grew older. Their reunion now had come about because their respective parents had arranged the occasion.
When it came to the marriage, both the Jiang Family’s parents and the Zhou Family’s parents were far more eager than either of the two people actually involved. Jiang Hansheng and Zhou Jin had gone on a few dates together — they were nowhere near making any definite decisions — and yet the older generation was already happily scheming about how to become in-laws.
Jiang Hansheng was a man of few words and a cool temperament, which made it all the more astonishing when he turned around and did something so earth-shaking — proposing to her after just three months.
What was even funnier was that Zhou Jin, whose own approach to life was arguably even more reckless, had accepted on the spot.
But at the very least, Jiang Hansheng was faithful.
That was what Zhou Jin valued most about him.
“Zhou Jin.”
He called her name. Zhou Jin’s mind, which had been drifting in a drowsy haze, slowly sharpened back into clarity. She answered him like someone murmuring in their sleep — “I’m here.”
A palm, carrying a faint coolness, settled against Zhou Jin’s back.
She jolted, fully awake in an instant. She arched away, pulling back from Jiang Hansheng’s hand, and turned to face him. “What are you doing?”
Without any warning, a heat-laden breath drew close — intimate, overwhelming — and Jiang Hansheng kissed her.
Gentle at first, then deeper. The gentleness was a question; the depth was surrender.
Zhou Jin was stunned for two or three seconds. When she finally came back to her senses, she found she wasn’t nearly as resistant as she might have expected. He carried a clean, fresh scent that she couldn’t quite name, but breathing it in felt comfortable — and oddly settling.
His kiss wasn’t urgent. But it was tender, and there was something in it — some instinct he seemed born with — that knew how to fold a request into the press of lips.
Zhou Jin could at least feel that much.
She wasn’t one for pointless prudishness. She had agreed to marry someone — it made no sense to haughtily refuse this kind of thing. Besides, Jiang Hansheng was so strikingly handsome.
She caught hold of his collar, and gradually, with growing warmth, kissed him back.
Lips and breath entwined, and then he raised a hand to cup Zhou Jin’s face, drawing back just slightly. In the darkness, the only light came from the flame that burned in his eyes — like stars.
Zhou Jin exhaled softly a few times, then affected a composure she didn’t quite feel. “You smell really good.”
“Do I?” His voice had gone a little husky. Hearing it, Zhou Jin felt a ticklish warmth spread to the tips of her ears. Jiang Hansheng leaned in closer, and asked quietly, “Better than Jiang Cheng?”