Chapter 69

One hand braced behind her back, and for a moment—maybe only half a minute, maybe longer—Lin Baixin felt as if she’d been completely pinned in place. Yu Min’s breath seemed laced with some fast-acting drug, instantly numbing her nerves and spreading through her body with the rise and fall of her chest.

Yu Min didn’t press any closer, leaving that sliver of space intact.

That kind of approach, wavering between near and far, testing the last boundary without crossing it, was somehow more effective than outright touching. And the perfume on her had changed again; it was a faint woody cedar scent, one Lin Baixin had never smelled on her before. She liked that scent and, deep down, was drawn to it.

Her lashes trembled. She lowered her gaze, and since they were already so close that their faces nearly touched, Lin Baixin could make out the lines on Yu Min’s lips. They weren’t deep, and there weren’t many of them. Yu Min’s lips weren’t full, but up close they looked soft, with a beautiful shape. Lin Baixin had never noticed that before. On the left side of her lower lip was a tiny mole, much like the one behind Lin Baixin’s waist—placed just right, like a small ornament. Under the light, it added a little extra bewitching sensuality. But the mole was truly too inconspicuous, too faint; she had to be this close to see it clearly.

The fine down on Yu Min’s ear was faint too, visible only by borrowing the light from the television. Her face, her features, her deep-set eyes and high bridge of nose... Lin Baixin lifted her upper body slightly, tilting her chin up a little; only then could she face her.

Yu Min’s hand was still on Lin Baixin, and Lin Baixin could feel the heat in her palm. Her temperature was a little high; the warmth pressed against Lin Baixin’s skin, impossible to tell whether it was some kind of violation or something else.

Lin Baixin was wearing a camisole dress tonight, the hem reaching only partway down her thighs. Sitting made it ride up even higher, even shorter.

The straps were a standard V-neck style, a half-covered, half-exposed design, dark gray, made of smooth satin that felt snug and comfortable against her skin.

At some point—perhaps when she’d just been laid down, and the movement had accidentally caused it—one shoulder strap had slipped loose, hanging slack beneath the rounded slope of her shoulder and dragging part of the neckline down with it, exposing half of the rise and fall beneath.

Lin Baixin didn’t have a free hand to pull the strap back into place, and she wasn’t thinking about it at all. She simply hadn’t noticed; she was utterly unaware, not reacting to anything, frozen stiff like a decorative object not far away. She didn’t move. Only her eyes still shifted, and from time to time even her breathing grew more uneven and heavy as Yu Min drew closer.

Yu Min was slightly higher than her, taking in all of it; everything she did, even the tiniest changes in her expression.

Lin Baixin was very nervous. Her heartbeat had already sped up.

Thump.

Thump-thump.

The pounding couldn’t be suppressed. Her red lips parted slightly, and although her face still looked calm, the stiffness in her body had long since given away her true reaction. When Yu Min moved, Lin Baixin’s first instinct wasn’t to dodge; she still stayed rigid where she was.

Yu Min tilted her head and came closer again, pushing a little farther without restraint, not knowing how to stop at the right point.

The sofa back was behind her. By then it was completely too late to dodge; there was nowhere left to go. Yu Min was right in front of her, and Lin Baixin had nowhere to retreat. She could only keep up that wooden stillness and wait for the soft touch she expected to land.

She closed her eyes, unable to avoid what was about to happen, reflexively wanting to escape reality.

—Yet when the contact finally came, it did not land on her lips.

It was only a light brush at the tip of her nose; Yu Min’s nose had touched hers. Lin Baixin’s mind went blank for an instant, losing focus. Only after she understood what had happened did she open her eyes and face it in shock.

Yu Min hadn’t kissed her.

“You...” Lin Baixin was stunned for a long time, unable to say anything else. After holding it in for ages, she could only murmur that one word. She was at a loss for words; her throat was dry, as if a stone were lodged inside. When she spoke, the sharp edges of that stone seemed to scrape it raw. Her voice had gone low and hoarse, rough and scratchy, somehow changing without her noticing, so that her words sounded even stranger coming out—awkward and unnatural.

“Baixin-jie.”

Yu Min did not explain what she had just done. She only called her in a low voice, and her gaze crashed into Lin Baixin’s eyes. Night was deep, like a pool of ink that could not be dispersed. Lin Baixin couldn’t make out the expression on her face or the emotions hidden in her eyes; that lingering, blazing warmth was even hotter than the temperature in her palm, making Lin Baixin instinctively want to look away, too afraid to face it directly.

When she spoke, Yu Min’s breath deepened even more. Warm air brushed over her lips, faintly grazing them. It was probably an illusion, but Lin Baixin actually seemed to taste a hint of sweetness. Clearly there was only the smell of perfume; that couldn’t possibly be sweet. Yet somehow, inexplicably, Lin Baixin felt that it was sweet, and that what she tasted was not perfume, but something else.

She couldn’t say what it was, and there was no way to verify it. Lin Baixin knew perfectly well that her perception was mistaken, yet the body’s instincts didn’t follow reason. Soon, she didn’t just feel that Yu Min’s breath on her was sweet; as Yu Min drew closer and closer, that sticky sweetness only grew stronger.

That clinging sensation nearly wrapped around her, pressing against the fragile barrier of reality and beginning to break down her resistance, her revulsion. She had thought she would object to all of this, but the truth was that she wouldn’t. Not only had she failed to do the most rational thing, she had instead been led along by the other person, and what came next was no longer under her control; she was gradually moving toward the side of greater loss of control.

Yu Min’s other hand moved to her waist, inch by inch, then to her lower abdomen, her front, her collarbone, and then the slender whiteness of her neck, her chin, her face.

Then Yu Min’s hand rested over her eyes, covering them, stealing all the light from her gaze and, in another sense, cutting her off from present reality, as if pulling her into another world free of all restraint.

She clearly hadn’t drunk any alcohol; her mind was completely clear this time. But when Yu Min covered her eyes, perhaps because night blurred people’s thoughts, it wasn’t long before everything around them began to feel distorted. The voiceover from the television drifted far away; the noises outside the house also disappeared. Earlier, with the window open, she could still hear traffic and pedestrians, but now she couldn’t hear anything at all.

Only the two of them breathing, crossing and entwining with each other.

Yu Min brushed her nose against hers again, then her chin.

After a while, Yu Min’s face moved to her ear, leaning in, touching once, twice. Her fingertips found the other side, touched her earlobe, pinched and rubbed that sensitive soft flesh, then touched it twice more.

Lin Baixin leaned against the sofa, dazedly being led astray by her, sinking deeper and deeper.

The hand resting by her thigh never moved away, staying pressed against Lin Baixin; Lin Baixin let her guard down and tried her best to ignore it.

On the television, the program continued to play. It was a nature documentary, and Lin Baixin had changed long ago; now, from time to time, she would even watch this kind of documentary with Yu Min.

The narration spoke slowly, unhurriedly. Unexpectedly, this documentary was rather gentle; it was about wild giant pandas, unlike the usual films filled with savage killing and bloodshed. Giant pandas were cute and sturdy, round-headed and round-bodied, soft and plump. Even though they were also fierce beasts, just sitting there gnawing on bamboo was enough to make people like them.

The images kept changing, and the light and shadow in the living room shifted rapidly with them, bright or dim, never steady.

At last, a kiss fell—but not anywhere else, only on Lin Baixin’s hair.

Yu Min was very restrained; she kissed her only once, then stopped.

Lin Baixin froze completely, motionless for a long time. She didn’t know whether she was waiting for what came next, or whether she was simply relieved; she’d been too tense, so tense that she stayed rooted there without moving.

The house was utterly silent. Even though the television was still playing, the sound seemed cut off, unable to reach Lin Baixin’s ears.

The antique wall clock on the wall kept turning. Tick. Tick. Round after round.

A long time passed.

Just when she thought there would be another move and was about to rise, before she could even act, Yu Min leaned in again and blocked her.

Yu Min’s lips moved down to her throat, and she was forced to lift her head again, tilting up her chin.

Those long fingers rubbed against the thin fabric, teasing it open.

Lin Baixin’s world went blank with it; an endless white, without borders and without direction. She lost herself in that vast panic, frightened, dazed, unable to tell anything apart for an instant.

She could no longer even hear Yu Min’s breathing. With a sudden snap, some invisible string broke.

A moment later, Yu Min kissed her again, still not on the mouth. Bending over, her red lips touched the most vulnerable place on Lin Baixin’s throat, and warmth fell onto that patch of pale, tender skin.

The television image would not stop because of this; it still kept changing.

Only when her awareness finally returned, when the severed nerves were connected again, when the overwhelming panic surged all at once, did Lin Baixin finally make the most correct response—she shoved Yu Min away with all her strength, without caring about anything else, ignoring the coffee table right in front of them and the fact that Yu Min would be hurt badly if she hit it.

Bang.

The sound of her violently pounding heart overlapped with the crash of the coffee table. Lin Baixin’s body trembled. Yu Min hadn’t been on guard, but she didn’t seem surprised that Lin Baixin would do this.

There was a cup of plain water on the coffee table; it was knocked over, and the water splashed out at once.

Yu Min steadied the cup. Her fingertips were wet, damp with water.

When she turned back to Lin Baixin, Yu Min came closer again, as if she couldn’t feel any pain herself, and instead worried about Lin Baixin.

Smack. A slap landed. Yu Min’s face turned to the side with it.

Lin Baixin’s lips trembled, more panicked than before; even her voice shook, and her face went white as paper in an instant.

“What are you doing..."