Chapter 21

This was undoubtedly a night under a spell.

Wen Yan had always thought she didn’t know how to dance, but after hearing Jin Zijin’s words, she began to try.

The warmth of their palms pressed together; the steady guidance at her waist felt like someone had quietly connected an unfamiliar password to her clumsy neural pathways.

After the initial stiffness, her body, like a set of rusty gears, slowly found its awkward rhythm.

Jin Zijin’s tempo was steady, her steps simple.

Only the most basic one, two, three, four; yet it anchored Wen Yan’s precarious balance in a safe, soothing loop.

And then, miraculously, Wen Yan followed.

Her steps, from hesitant and clumsy, gradually blended into the flowing strings.

They circled the empty dance floor once, then again.

The giant crystal chandelier scattered countless prismatic flecks of light generously over the gilded decorations, and the air shimmered with a halo like diamond dust.

Wen Yan’s white skirt and Jin Zijin’s emerald satin intertwined and parted again in the spin.

The faintest rustle came from fabric brushing fabric; their skirts skimmed the polished waxed floor, leaving lovely curved trails.

Every moment, as light and shadow flickered in the folds of silk, felt like a tiny heartbeat, a silent exclamation.

Wen Yan held the woman in her arms; beneath her palm was the clear shape of the other’s shoulder blades.

Through the smooth cloth, she could feel the warmth and vitality of the skin underneath.

The spinning made her slightly dizzy, pleasantly light-headed.

She lowered her head and saw Jin Zijin’s face tilted up toward her.

Candlelight danced in her eyes, and the corners of her lips curved into a bright smile.

Wen Yan couldn’t help smiling too.

The smile spread through her eyes, endless and gentle.

Jin Zijin was clearly good at dancing.

She could use Wen Yan’s hand as an axis and turn lightly through a half circle, her green skirt blooming at once.

When a note dipped, she would lean back with elegant poise, her waist bending into a breathtaking line of flexibility, her long hair nearly brushing the floor before Wen Yan drew her back securely.

Sometimes she would suddenly lift one side of her skirt, revealing a slender ankle and the silver tip of her shoe, like an improviser slipping a spark of liveliness into the standard steps.

That green dress, on her, seemed given the soul of wind; it became spring sweeping freely across the wild.

Graceful, vivid, full of alluring life.

For one moment, Wen Yan was dazed.

She thought of Belle from Beauty and the Beast.

In a green dress, she ran across the barren winter wilderness, stubbornly breaking into the thorn-covered castle and into the lonely beast’s world.

Thinking of this, Wen Yan lowered her gaze to the woman in her arms and could not help asking herself in her heart: Will you be my Belle, Jin Zijin?

——————

No one knew how long they had spun before the music gradually slowed.

Jin Zijin leaned against her shoulder, breathing a little unevenly, the warm air brushing Wen Yan’s ear. “Ah, I’m a little tired.”

“Then shall we go back to the table?”

Wen Yan asked carefully. Jin Zijin nodded and said, “Okay.”

Wen Yan held her hand and slowly walked back to the table bathed in candlelight.

Jin Zijin sat down, reached for the red wine still left more than half a bottle’s worth in the ice bucket, and poured it into her glass.

She lifted the glass and drank it down in one go.

By the time she set it down, two clear flushes had risen on her cheeks.

The woman’s eyes, bright with both water and wine, gleamed even more vividly as she looked straight at Wen Yan. “How was it?”

Her voice was softer than usual, carrying a little childlike pride. “Wasn’t it fun?”

“Mm.” Wen Yan nodded and sat across from her, speaking sincerely. “It was fun.”

After a pause, she asked with curiosity, “You dance so beautifully. Did you study it specially?”

“Hm.” Jin Zijin smiled and answered very candidly, “When I’d just taken over the business on my own, I ran into a difficult European power broker.”

“She loved opera and Argentine tango, and thought anyone who didn’t understand them ‘lacked a soul.’”

Jin Zijin pressed her lips together in a smile, then went on, “There was nothing to be done. The project had to be won.”

“So I found the best teacher and did three months of emergency training. I could barely fake my way through tango steps and opera arias.”

As she spoke, she lifted her glass again and gently swirled the wine against the light. “When you do something, you have to aim for the target and give it everything you’ve got.”

Wen Yan looked at her, admiration deepening in her eyes, as if she were looking at a mountain that would never stop climbing.

She praised from the heart, “You’re amazing.”

Jin Zijin only smiled and shook her head; across the flickering candlelight, her gaze landed precisely on Wen Yan. “You’re amazing too, Dr. Wen.”

The curve of her lips held a teasing note. “A twenty-eight-year-old attending physician who can hold her own in a top hospital; that isn’t something you achieve through luck or hard work alone.”

“Your field, your scalpel; they’re peaks many people can’t even hope to reach.”

Jin Zijin seemed pleased by this mutual recognition; or perhaps the wine had stirred some purely simple joy.

She raised her glass again. “Come on, let’s have another. To…”

She thought about it, then her smile widened. “To us; young and successful.”

Wen Yan couldn’t help laughing, picking up her glass and touching it lightly to Jin Zijin’s.

Clink.

——————

Jin Zijin seemed to have fully relaxed, sinking into a kind of tipsy happiness.

She no longer sipped delicately; instead, she seemed to relish the lightheaded feeling the drink gave her.

After two more glasses in succession, Wen Yan keenly sensed that the situation had become somewhat troublesome.

The flush on Jin Zijin’s face had spread from her cheeks to the roots of her ears, and even the delicate line above her collarbone was tinted with a pale pink.

Her originally sharp and bright gaze now seemed veiled by Jiangnan mist and rain, hazy and unfocused.

When Wen Yan tried to take away yet another nearly empty glass of red wine from beside her hand, Jin Zijin even reacted half a beat too late; she just stared at Wen Yan with those dazed eyes, a little blankly.

“You’ve had about enough,” Wen Yan said softly, coaxing her. “Let’s go home, okay?”

She didn’t have work tomorrow, but the nonstop socializing and emotional highs and lows had her longing for a quiet holiday.

Best of all, one spent with Jin Zijin.

Jin Zijin blinked; her long lashes fluttered slowly like butterfly wings, then she nodded. “Oh… okay.”

As she spoke, she braced herself on the table and tried to stand.

The moment she rose, her body swayed slightly out of control, and one high heel twisted.

Wen Yan had expected it; almost at the same time Jin Zijin wobbled, her arm wrapped firmly around Jin Zijin’s waist to take most of her weight.

“Careful.”

Jin Zijin steadied herself with Wen Yan’s help and shook her head, trying to shake off the cotton-like dizziness.

She lifted a hand, cheeks red, and insisted to Wen Yan, “It’s fine. I’m not drunk.”

As if to prove it, she pushed Wen Yan away a little and tried to walk forward on her own.

Two steps later, her knee unceremoniously knocked into the chair beside her.

Thud.

Jin Zijin frowned, looked down at the innocent chair, then at her own knee, her expression bewildered and confused.

Like a child tripping over a toy.

Wen Yan thought she was adorable.

Adorable, and funny.

Unable to hold back a sigh, Wen Yan stepped forward, scooped one arm under Jin Zijin’s knees and the other around her back and shoulders, and with a slight exertion lifted her cleanly into her arms.

“Ah!”

Caught by the sudden loss of footing, Jin Zijin let out a short cry and instinctively tightened her arms around Wen Yan’s neck, pressing herself into her embrace.

She turned her head and looked up at Wen Yan’s sharp jawline, eyes hazy with astonishment.

“Huh?”

Jin Zijin made a questioning sound, then curiously poked Wen Yan’s chin. “You… how can you carry me?”

Her understanding seemed to have been seriously shaken. She looked Wen Yan up and down, then at her arms and shoulders, admiration written all over her face. “Wow, wife, you’re amazing…”

That word, wife, came out soft and sticky, carrying complete dependence and a bright, bragging kind of joy.

Something at Wen Yan’s heart was brushed by the softest feather; it itched and tingled.

She lowered her eyes to look at the drunkenly endearing Jin Zijin in her arms, both amused and softened.

“Hold on tight,” she said in a low voice, gentle in a way she herself did not even notice. “I’ll take your shoes off for you. That’ll make you more comfortable.”

“Oh.”

Jin Zijin answered obediently, but before Wen Yan could do anything, she simply used her left foot to kick off her right.

Those expensive, exquisitely designed silver high heels were thus flung off so easily.

Two soft taps later, they landed somewhat forlornly on the polished floor.

Wen Yan looked down and immediately saw her pair of snow-white, slender feet, curling slightly as if chilled.

Wen Yan: “…”

She looked at the abandoned shoes, then at Jin Zijin in her arms, who looked innocent and even a little smug, clearly waiting for praise, and for a moment had nothing to say.

This person…

Really could not be allowed to drink.

She subconsciously bent to pick them up, but doing that while holding someone was obviously difficult.

Just as she felt a little awkward, trained staff who had been hidden in the shadows hurried forward, swiftly and respectfully picked up the two shoes, holding them in hand as they bowed slightly. “Madam, shall I escort you to the garage?”

Wen Yan breathed out in relief and thanked them sincerely. “Thank you.”

She adjusted her grip, holding Jin Zijin more securely, and under the staff member’s guidance carried the woman through the quiet restaurant toward the elevator.

Along the way, Jin Zijin was far from obedient.

She seemed intensely curious about Wen Yan’s ability to carry her so steadily.

Now and then she poked Wen Yan’s cheek; now and then she pressed the back of her hand to Wen Yan’s forehead, her gaze full of drunken bewilderment and curiosity.

Suddenly, she stared at Wen Yan’s side profile, her brows knitting in confusion as if she had run into a huge problem. Her speech had grown a little thick. “Ah… y-you… who are you? I… don’t think I’ve seen you before?”

Wen Yan’s steps did not stop, but the completely unfamiliar words made a tiny trace of bitterness rise in her heart; it was quickly diluted by the innocence of drunken speech.

She lowered her head and looked at Jin Zijin’s beautiful, confused eyes, and patiently answered, “I’m Wen Yan.”

“Wen… Yan?” Jin Zijin repeated the name, her expression growing even more puzzled as she seemed to search through her memory with difficulty.

A few seconds later, her eyes suddenly lit up as if she had found the answer. “Oh, I know~”

She tightened her arms around Wen Yan’s neck, leaned close to her ear, and announced in the pleased tone of someone sharing a secret, “You’re my wife!”

Before Wen Yan could react, she went “boop” and planted a solid kiss on Wen Yan’s cheek.

One kiss didn’t seem enough; she followed it with several more, “boop, boop, boop,” like a little animal confirming its territory, stamping wet little marks one after another on Wen Yan’s face.

Wen Yan was kissed until her face was covered in marks.

It felt a little ticklish, so she could only smile at Jin Zijin, helpless and indulgent.

When they stepped out of the elevator, the night wind surged in from the underground garage corridor, carrying a chill.

Wen Yan turned her face slightly, trying to press Jin Zijin’s head into the hollow of her shoulder to protect the back of it. “Hide your face from the wind; otherwise you’ll have a headache tomorrow.”

But Jin Zijin struggled out of her hand, muttering, “No… don’t touch my head. My hair will get messed up…”

Wen Yan had no choice but to change her approach, softening her voice further. “But if the wind blows on you, your head will hurt badly. That’s worse than messy hair.”

Jin Zijin listened and thought for a few seconds, apparently weighing which was more terrible: messy hair or a headache.

In the end, she gave an unwilling “mm” and obediently buried her face in Wen Yan’s neck.

Her warm breath brushed against Wen Yan’s skin, ticklish.

Wen Yan kissed the top of her head to coax her. “Good girl.”

But before long, she started fidgeting again, making small restless movements, or lifting her head to launch another tiny “ambush” at Wen Yan’s neck or chin.

And so, through this whole game of wits, Wen Yan finally carried her to the discreet Audi A8 waiting outside.

When the driver saw their President Jin being carried out princess-style by Wen Yan, with the other woman’s face covered in lipstick marks, the professional composure on his face cracked visibly; shock was written all over his eyes.

Wen Yan, however, remained calm and simply said to the stunned driver, “Could you please open the door?”

Only then did the driver snap back to himself, almost jogging around to the other side to open the rear door with utmost deference.

Wen Yan carefully set Jin Zijin into the spacious back seat.

The moment Jin Zijin touched the soft leather seat, she seemed to go boneless, leaning languidly to one side.

Wen Yan then slid in beside her and closed the door.

Almost at once, the partition between the front and rear seats rose silently, sealing off the space completely.

The car started smoothly, gliding into a river of dazzling lights.

Jin Zijin shifted in her seat, apparently uncomfortable lying back like that.

She struggled up and changed into a kneeling sit, facing Wen Yan.

The streaking lights outside the window occasionally swept across her face, illuminating her hazy eyes and rosy lips.

Like a curious cat, she tilted her head slightly and kept her gaze locked on Wen Yan, studying her from head to toe with such concentration that it almost felt scorching.

Wen Yan grew a little uneasy under her stare, touched at the lipstick marks that had not yet dried on her face, and asked, “What is it?”

Jin Zijin did not answer right away.

She crawled closer on her knees until their breaths could be felt.

In her drunken haze, her pupils reflected only Wen Yan.

Jin Zijin tilted her head and asked, a little confused, “Aren’t you my wife?”

Wen Yan nodded. “I am.”

Jin Zijin’s brow furrowed again, as though she had hit a logic problem. “Then why aren’t you kissing me?”

Wen Yan: “……?”

Her mind couldn’t quite keep up with the drunk woman’s leaps of logic.

However, Jin Zijin did not give her time to sort it out.

Since the question went unanswered, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

Or rather, with her mouth.

The next second, she cupped Wen Yan’s face with both hands, and her soft lips, carrying the fragrance of red wine, pressed down with perfect accuracy.

This was not the childlike pecks from before; this was a real kiss.

Hot and reckless, almost domineering, she easily pried open Wen Yan’s slightly parted teeth; the tip of her tongue drove straight in, urgently sweeping across Wen Yan’s sensitive palate and tangling with the tip of her tongue.

“Mm…” Wen Yan was caught off guard and gave a short muffled sound.

That familiar yet unfamiliar aggression, mixed with the strong scent of wine and Jin Zijin’s own breath, was like a spark tossed into her panicked heart.

Her reason struggled only for the briefest instant.

A low, hoarse response vibrated in Wen Yan’s throat; she wrapped an arm around Jin Zijin’s waist and, with a sudden turn, gently pinned her against the cold car window.

She took back the lead; the kiss deepened and turned fiercer.

It carried the ruthless force of a counterattack after provocation, yet every detail where lips and teeth tangled hid the utmost tenderness.

“Mm…”

Jin Zijin let out a muffled breath as the abrupt counterassault kissed her breathless.

She did not resist; instead, as if finding some kind of pleasure in it, soft broken sounds spilled from her throat.

Her body twisted restlessly beneath Wen Yan, bare feet braced against the expensive leather seat, her slender calves unconsciously brushing Wen Yan’s waist and the roots of her thighs, trying to seek closer contact.

Those tiny frictions, through the thin fabric of the formal dress, felt like electricity.

Wen Yan only felt the places Jin Zijin brushed over instantly burst into flames; all the blood in her body seemed to rush toward her lower abdomen.

She had to pull back slightly, panting, her forehead pressed against Jin Zijin’s, her voice terribly hoarse. “Don’t move… Jin Zijin, don’t move around…”

But how could a drunk person possibly listen?

Jin Zijin only felt a strange heat surging through her body, empty and thirsty.

She gave an unsatisfied hum and even reached out to take one of Wen Yan’s hands, guiding it to bring her closer, toward herself.

“I feel awful…”

Her face tilted up, eyes wet and dark like obsidian veiled in water. Her lips, kissed a bright, moist red, parted slightly as she panted, every word hooked with temptation.

Looking at her like this, Wen Yan’s last thread of reason was on the verge of snapping.

Clenching her teeth, she used the last shred of clarity she had left to force herself to look into Jin Zijin’s hazy eyes, her voice taut as a drawn bow. “Jin Zijin, do you know who I am right now?”

Jin Zijin blinked, seeming to focus with great effort.

Then, the next second, she smiled. “I know; you’re my wife.”

Softly, she said it while her fingers brushed over Wen Yan’s scorching cheek, tracing her brows and eyes. “Wen Yan… my wife… my wife…”

She leaned in and rubbed the tip of her nose against Wen Yan’s, like a spoiled cat, her tone full of urging and longing. “Good person. Hurry and kiss me…”

The last line of defense collapsed with a roar.

Wen Yan looked at her, at the rippling, spring-water softness she presented, as if waiting to be picked.

Listening to those soft, tempting words, she only felt the blood in her whole body rush to her head in an instant, then surge violently back through her limbs and bones, bringing with it a near-destructive impulse.

She really was insane, she thought.

Wen Yan closed her eyes, and in the end, she still couldn’t hold back; she kissed her fiercely once more.

————————

If this book were a fairy tale, it would probably be Beauty and the Beast.

After all, Wen Yan’s build really does have a lot of presence.

Huff, huff; this is just how bone-deep attraction works, girls! [panda head]