The night was deep. After opening their hearts, it was the perfect time for matters of intimacy. Yan Cheng called it: “First courtesy, then force!”
In a tiny shower stall enclosed by frosted glass, only big enough for a single showerhead, muffled sounds of intimacy could be heard. The frosted glass door wasn’t completely shut, leaving a gap that allowed some water to splash outside. Over time, the small puddles accumulated, leaving the floorboards around the bathroom counter slick and damp.
The prolonged hot water created steam, forming a misty barrier in the enclosed space, further obscuring the intertwined figures inside. The frosted glass fogged up from the steam.
Not long after, Chen Jinyao, her legs trembling and unable to hold her weight, instinctively reached out for support. Her palm pressed against the nearest frosted glass pane. Then, due to Yan Cheng’s sudden, forceful movement behind her, she lost focus for a moment. As her teeth bit into her lower lip, her palm slid down the glass, leaving a faint, streaked handprint that eventually dropped lifelessly. She raised her arm and wrapped it around the man’s neck for support.
The frosted glass bore a distinct downward streak, and water droplets formed under the handprint. The droplets trickled down the glass like tiny winding paths.
This marked Yan Cheng’s complete release after reaching his limit of restraint. It was his way of telling Chen Jinyao with actions: “Don’t rush. What’s meant to come will come.”
For a long while after, Yan Cheng held Chen Jinyao in bed, too satisfied to fall asleep, his spirit brimming with energy. In the dim room, his dark eyes sparkled.
After moments of passion, Yan Cheng often craved a cigarette. He reached for the cigarette box on the nightstand, pulling one out. Pinching the cigarette between his fingers, he twirled the lighter absentmindedly for a few seconds. Then, after some thought, he put the cigarette back in the box and tossed it towards the trash can, where it joined the night’s earlier discarded items.
“Forget it, I’ll quit smoking first,” he muttered softly.
Without a cigarette to occupy him, Yan Cheng’s restless mouth couldn’t stay idle. Suddenly, he felt an intense urge to talk, as though someone had flipped a switch inside him. Words surged to the tip of his tongue. But then, as clarity returned, he realized he had nothing to say.
“Damn,” he thought. “Should’ve done all the talking before we started.” Yan Cheng glanced at his thigh, letting out a silent whistle.
While he remained inexplicably energetic, Chen Jinyao, exhausted, fell into a deep sleep. She seemed to skip the usual gradual process of dozing off, falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. She clung to Yan Cheng, her soft breaths warming his bare chest. But soon, finding it too warm, she muttered sleepily, “Hot,” and pushed him away without hesitation. Turning her back to him, she tugged at the quilt and resumed her slumber.
Caught off guard, Yan Cheng stared blankly. “????”
“She used to cling to me all night in winter,” he thought bitterly. “Now that I’m not useful, she throws me aside.” Yan Cheng squinted, letting out a displeased huff. After a while, he pouted, folded his arms behind his head, and stared at the dark ceiling, lost in thought.
How do you start a passionate romance like this?
Chen Jinyao slept deeply. Even when Yan Cheng stirred in the middle of the night, trying not to wake her, she remained undisturbed, as though even a bold thief could rob the place without her noticing.
Before dawn, Chen Jinyao had a dream.
The scene felt unnervingly real—so vivid that she could even feel pain after pinching herself. This heightened realism left her dazed and confused.
In her dream, a small child leaned against her leg. The child’s eyes were bright and clear, his long lashes fluttering like little fans. With a mischievous grin, he covered his mouth and whispered, “Great-grandma, I have a secret to tell you!”
Chen Jinyao froze, stunned by the word “great-grandma.”
The little boy leaned in conspiratorially. “Great-grandpa said…”
Before he could finish, a stern voice boomed from the doorway, accompanied by the rhythmic thudding of a cane hitting the floor. “Yan Jiahe, say one more word, and great-grandpa won’t hide snacks for you anymore!”
The boy immediately shut his mouth, his small face displaying a grave expression as though snacks were life itself. “Sorry, great-grandma,” he said solemnly. “Men’s promises can’t be shared. Unless you give me more snacks.”
With that, he smacked his lips, full of mischief.
Chen Jinyao’s dream took a chaotic turn. She watched in disbelief as a group of children emerged from behind an elderly version of Yan Cheng. They clamored, accusing the boy named Yan Jiahe of cheating, threatening to bury him alive for his betrayal.
Overwhelmed, Chen Jinyao woke up abruptly, gasping for air.
It was mid-May, and the early sunlight poured through the windows, illuminating the room. As her dazed eyes regained focus, her heart raced, and she felt a lingering unease. Though it wasn’t a nightmare, it left her unsettled.
Turning slightly, she gazed at Yan Cheng, who had fallen into a deep sleep after his earlier excitement. His serene face looked much more pleasant than his usual haughty demeanor. A faint shadow under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion. His lashes, long and thick, rested against his skin.
On impulse, Chen Jinyao extended her fingers, gently pinching a few of those lashes. She didn’t pull hard but still managed to rouse Yan Cheng unexpectedly.
“…”
Yan Cheng yawned lazily. “Try that again, and see what happens.”
His casual remark overlapped with a few phrases from her dream, jolting her memory. She quickly masked her shock with a neutral expression, narrowing her eyes before sighing.
Yan Cheng, ever observant, leaned on his arm. “No good morning kiss, and you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”
Chen Jinyao blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You look like you dreamt I married someone else and left you miserable.”
Chen Jinyao raised an eyebrow. “I did dream about you.”
Encouraged, Yan Cheng began lecturing her: “Dreams are the opposite of reality—”
“I dreamt we grew old together and had lots of great-grandchildren.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she teased, “Oh, but dreams are the opposite of reality, right?”
Yan Cheng paused, stunned. Damn.
After a long silence, he chuckled. “Exactly. Opposite.”
Chen Jinyao: “???”
“All girls. All in princess dresses,” he added with a smirk.
Chen Jinyao couldn’t find a retort.
The wardrobe was a mess. Wrapping herself in a blanket, Chen Jinyao hobbled over to find some clothes. She noticed that the wardrobe had been tampered with.
Before she could question him, Yan Cheng admitted lazily, “You slept naked last night.”
“I was afraid I’d lose control, so I wanted to find you something to wear.”
“But then I realized how dumb that idea was.”
Chen Jinyao twitched her lips. “…”
A moment later, Yan Cheng ruffled her hair into a matching mess, grinning as he whispered in her ear, “Good morning, girlfriend.”
The beautiful weekend began with a simple breakfast. Chen Jinyao busied herself preparing millet porridge, a habit to care for her stomach.
Meanwhile, Duni circled Yan Cheng’s feet, meowing.
“Hey, spring’s over, and Duni hasn’t gone into heat?” Yan Cheng wondered aloud.
“Neutered,” Chen Jinyao replied without looking up.
“…”
Yan Cheng sighed dramatically, looking down at the cat with pity. “Poor thing. You’re a little eunuch.”
Smirking, he turned to Chen Jinyao. “Want to add some red dates to the porridge?”
“No,” she replied curtly.
“Got it.”
Watching her work, Yan Cheng’s eyes gleamed.
“I said I’d pursue her,” he thought. “But how?”
After a long pause, he blurted, “Wife, you look amazing cooking breakfast.”
Chen Jinyao: “…”
Today’s side dish with millet porridge: stir-fried chicken skin.
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