The lake surface sparkled with shimmering light, somewhat dazzling to the eyes.
Cheng Wanyue leaned in the corner, rainwater from the eaves falling onto her shoulder without her noticing.
Whenever Qing Hang kissed her, it was as if he wanted to chew her up and swallow her whole. Only when she was breathless, her body sliding down weakly, no longer able to say those heart-racing words, would he relent. His lips and tongue would then trail along her chin and neck, licking away even that extra drop of rain.
The stuffiness in the air made her feel slightly oxygen-deprived, her breathing heavy.
He feared angering her, yet craved this intimacy. His face nestled against the skin of her neck, gently nuzzling. The hand that had been gripping her wrist slowly moved down, gradually opening her closed fingers, slipping between them to interlock their hands.
At this moment, if any external factor approached her, he would reveal sharp claws and fangs—either to hide her away or to tear apart the intruders.
Cheng Wanyue tilted her head back and softly asked, “Are you hard?”
Though Qing Hang didn’t speak, his ears turned bright red.
She knew full well.
Cheng Wanyue lowered her head, but Qing Hang wouldn’t let her look at him, covering her eyes with his hand.
She leaned her head back, almost hitting the wall. He was solely focused on protecting her, which exposed all his emotions to her.
Earlier, Qing Hang had pulled Cheng Wanyue away from the barbecue area because of Zhou Heng.
She had been interested in astrology for a while, studying all her friends. Though astrology was mystical with no scientific basis, it could reveal certain aspects of a person’s hidden character.
Qing Hang was born on the day of the Beginning of Winter, a Scorpio.
A Moon in Taurus indicates inner stability, while a Sun in Scorpio suggests resourcefulness. Among all the men she’d studied, his chart was the best, though prone to contradiction and hesitation.
Cheng Wanyue tickled his palm. “Qing Hang, what are you thinking about?”
Qing Hang snapped back to reality, his eyes still covered with a layer of uncertain mist. “I was thinking… if only you could become me, or enter my body, control my consciousness, touch my heart.”
It wouldn’t take long, just one second would do.
What he wanted to say was, “Wanyue, don’t like anyone else.”
She chuckled softly. “So I should like you?”
He wished for nothing more. “Mm, like me.”
This wasn’t the first time Qing Hang had said these words, but it was the first time Cheng Wanyue had heard them.
During high school breaks, she was always forced by Cheng Guo’an to stay home for tutoring. Qing Hang had to explain even the most basic concepts countless times before she could remember them.
At first, she would deliberately make things difficult for him, teasing him. Later, when it became routine, if he didn’t come to her house one day, she felt something was missing. Yet when he did come, she could hardly study for more than a few minutes, falling asleep at the desk before completing even half a test paper.
The pen in her hand would smudge her fair face, yet she slept soundly.
He would rest his head on his arm, quietly watching her for a long time.
“Cheng Wanyue, like me.”
The desk heard it, the textbooks and test papers knew, as did the watermelon slices on the plate, the sticky notes on the wall, the stuffed toys on her bed, and even the wind and sunset outside the window.
Only Cheng Wanyue didn’t know.
More than alternative solutions to math Olympiad problems, he wanted to know what dreams she was having.
She moved slightly, nearly falling off the chair, but still didn’t wake. He had quickly reached out to steady her, his arm around her waist now stiff. She had many new dresses, various materials, styles, and colors. Even the creases at the hem looked beautiful.
He began to imagine that he existed in her dreams.
So much so that whenever she fell asleep beside him, he wished to enter her dreams.
“Cheng Wanyue, like me.”
The second time Cheng Wanyue heard it was in a hotel room. After a heavy downpour, they had entered the hotel soaking wet, yet no one found it strange.
She was stripped bare by him, washed clean, while not even a button on his clothes had been undone.
Steam filled the bathroom as she braced one hand against the glass door, unable to grasp anything, leaving only streaks of water.
She was like a pot of boiling water, bubbling and gurgling. Qing Hang was like a glass thrown into that boiling water. Perhaps at some point, he would be unable to withstand the high temperature and shatter, but even if broken, glass shards would remain in the water, impossible to clean completely. When swallowed, they would cut the throat, causing blood and pain, unforgettable.
“Wanyue,” he couldn’t bear to hurt her, yet his movement entering her body contained not a trace of gentleness. “Trust me, whatever others can give you, I can give too. I won’t make you wait too long.”
“You’ve never even pursued me.”
“Then I’ll pursue you now.”
The mirror reflected Cheng Wanyue’s flushed face. His clothes concealed the evidence of Qing Hang’s arousal, and his expression was also unclear. She wanted to remove his clothes, but was pressed against the glass door instead.
His hot body pressed against her from behind, gripping her waist and pressing down slightly.
The dress Cheng Wanyue wore today didn’t have an open back.
Qing Hang understood human anatomy well, knowing she could accommodate him and which spots to stimulate for her pleasure. Re-entering the wet entrance, the hot, moist flesh enveloped him layer upon layer, tightening around him, sucking away his reason and indulging his desire.
Between her legs was soaking wet, long past being just water from the shower.
Her body was thrust forward, hitting her head several times. Her nipples, rubbed and pressed against the glass, turned red and pitiful. He reached around with one hand to hold them.
Soft kisses fell on her back—perhaps his only gentleness.
The air in the bathroom was humid, yet her throat felt parched. She could no longer stand, whimpering as she was carried out and thrown onto the bed. Before she could recover, her legs were spread apart.
Her consciousness scattered, then quickly regathered. Her body tensed, her slender waist arching up, then falling back weakly onto the bed. Her choked sobs rose and fell, finally trembling as she bit his shoulder.