Chapter 22
Jin Zijin woke to the aroma of mushroom chicken stew.
The scent drifted in thin, persistent threads, slipping past sleep and sinking all the way into her dreams.
She frowned and opened her eyes.
Her body was sore; every muscle felt as if it had been rolled over.
Especially the insides of her thighs, her core, and her waist. The ache there was intense, as though she had overdone it last night.
Jin Zijin propped herself up. The silk quilt slid off her shoulders, bringing a sliver of cool air with it.
Her vision slowly focused.
A mist-gray ceiling. Clean, recessed light strips.
The curtains were made of thick blackout fabric, drawn tight; only a strip of the city’s calm daylight leaked in around the edges.
The room was large, but sparsely furnished: a bed, two nightstands, a set of built-in wardrobes, nothing else.
It was clean enough to look like a model room, cold and neat.
Her mind, like a precision instrument running with too much friction, slowly began checking and comparing.
This was not her bedroom, not the old family house, and not any apartment under her name.
This was the master bedroom in Wen Yan’s place.
Almost reflexively, she reached toward the space beside her.
Her palm met only flat, cool bedsheets, faintly scented with the barest trace of wax apple.
It was Wen Yan’s scent.
But Wen Yan was not here.
Jin Zijin threw back the covers and got out of bed, barefoot on the cool wooden floor, and found the oversized plush slippers by the bed.
She shuffled toward the door; the slippers made soft, awkward slapping sounds, absurdly ill-fitting.
The dark wood stairs gave a slight creak under her feet.
When she went downstairs, the full open kitchen came into view.
A large island sat there like a calm white landmass, dividing the space in two.
Outside the window, the city skyline looked compressed into toy blocks; the tip of the Oriental Pearl Tower glinted with a cold metallic sheen in the thin winter sunlight.
Wen Yan stood with her back to her at the stove, upright and slender as a green bamboo stalk, gently stirring the soup in a clay pot with a wooden ladle.
She was wearing simple gray loungewear, the cotton pants tracing the straight lines of her long legs.
Her long hair was loosely tied back, revealing a clean jawline and a stretch of pale nape.
Steam drifted up from the pot, softening the crisp line of her shoulders and making the whole scene look inexplicably tender.
Jin Zijin stopped and watched her for a while.
Mm. Her wife was really beautiful.
Wen Yan heard her footsteps and turned. Smiling, she asked, “Up already?”
“You should sit for a bit. Breakfast’ll be ready soon.”
Jin Zijin walked over. “You’re really capable,” she praised, then stretched out her arms and loosely wrapped them around Wen Yan’s waist from behind, resting her chin lightly on Wen Yan’s shoulder and leaning against her.
Through the cotton fabric under her palm, she could clearly feel the firm, warm lines of Wen Yan’s waist; the result of years of core training.
Jin Zijin could almost imagine the sharply defined abs beneath those clothes.
“So nice,” Jin Zijin let out a contented sigh; her voice was rough with sleep, carrying a faintly dependent nasal note. “I really found myself a great wife.”
At the word wife, Wen Yan’s stirring hand paused almost imperceptibly.
Memories from last night surged into her mind, and her ears turned red.
“Last night...” Jin Zijin continued, pressing her forehead against Wen Yan’s shoulder blade in curious confusion, “how did you get me back here? I don’t remember anything.”
Wen Yan turned her face slightly.
Morning light poured in from the large window behind her, gilding the edge of her profile with a fuzzy halo.
Her eyelashes were long; when lowered, they cast fan-shaped shadows over her lids.
Wen Yan’s gaze fell on Jin Zijin’s still-sleepy face as she carefully tried to read the blankness there.
After a moment, she spoke, choosing her words with care. “You don’t remember anything from last night?”
Jin Zijin tilted her head and tried to think back.
The clearest image in her mind froze in the candlelight of the restaurant: the dark red wine in a stemmed glass, rippling with a seductive sheen as her wrist turned.
She had raised the glass and drained it in one go.
And after that?
A large blank space.
“Mm...” she answered vaguely, frowning a little. “The last thing I remember is drinking a glass of wine. After that... nothing.”
Seeing her open confusion, Wen Yan froze, then gave a helpless laugh.
Turning back, she continued stirring the soup, the corners of her mouth lifting. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”
Anyway, last night she had gone too far. Jin Zijin had cried her eyes out, and Wen Yan still hadn’t stopped.
Not only had she not stopped; she had gotten even more excessive, leaving the whole pot in a mess.
It was probably better that Jin Zijin didn’t remember.
Otherwise, if she did, she’d just remember to cry and call her a bastard, a beast, a huge asshole, not human.
Wen Yan turned off the heat, used a trivet to lift the clay pot, and carried it toward the island. “Let’s eat.”
——————
By the time breakfast was set on the island, Jin Zijin was already seated on a barstool.
The ginger mushroom chicken soup steamed in a white porcelain bowl, its broth clear, with tiny golden beads of oil floating on the surface.
The braised beef had been cut into neat cubes; the meat was tender and falling apart, with a small dish of salt and pepper on the side.
The fried egg was a perfect sunny-side up, the edges crisp, the yolk trembling in a soft, runny center.
The vegetable salad was colorful and drizzled with a pale golden vinaigrette.
“A nutritionist would have to praise this as balanced,” Jin Zijin said, picking up her spoon and taking the first sip of soup.
The temperature was just right. The soup tasted richly of chicken, and the warmth of ginger spread from her throat all the way down into her stomach, effectively easing the fogginess of last night’s drinking.
She narrowed her eyes in satisfaction. “Delicious.”
Wen Yan sat opposite her, eating her salad in small bites, but her eyes kept drifting toward Jin Zijin from time to time.
“Do you have work today?” she asked, unconsciously toying with the kale in her bowl with her fork.
Jin Zijin swallowed the beef in her mouth and dabbed the corner of her lips with a tissue. “Mm. A flight at five this afternoon; I’m going to Nancheng.”
“Another business trip?” Wen Yan’s voice held a trace of tightness she herself hadn’t noticed.
“There’s an international medical device expo. I have to show my face there,” Jin Zijin explained. Noticing Wen Yan’s fingers tightening around her fork, she added, “Three days; I’ll be back Thursday night.”
A brief silence followed.
The pendant light above the island cast a warm yellow glow, leaving a small pool of light on the countertop between them.
Wen Yan lowered her eyes; her long lashes cast faint shadows under them.
She chewed very slowly and carefully, as if savoring the texture of each leaf.
“Can’t bear to part with me?” Jin Zijin suddenly asked, her tone teasing, but her eyes were serious.
Wen Yan lifted her gaze.
Their eyes met.
“A little,” she admitted frankly; then, as if the words were too blunt, she clumsily added, “These past few days... we’ve been together all the time. Suddenly being apart will feel strange.”
Her ears were slightly red when she said it, but she didn’t look away.
Something in Jin Zijin’s heart seemed to be gently pinched, going both sour and soft.
She reached out and hooked her fingers around Wen Yan’s hand on the tabletop, lightly rubbing the knuckles.
“It’s fine,” she said in a lower voice, her tone seductive. “From now until five this afternoon, we still have six hours.”
Wen Yan paused, then understood the implication.
Fragments of last night’s heated abandon suddenly became vivid again.
The blush on her ears spread to her cheeks.
“Let’s forget it,” Wen Yan coughed lightly, trying to keep her voice calm. “Save your energy. Long-haul flights are exhausting.”
Jin Zijin lifted a brow. “You look down on my stamina?”
“Of course not.” Wen Yan denied it immediately, her fingers curling unconsciously. “I’m just worried you’ll have a hard time.”
“All right.” She gave in as if humoring her, though her fingertips were still drawing little circles on the back of Wen Yan’s hand. “Then what does Dr. Wen plan to arrange for me in these six hours?”
Wen Yan thought for a moment, then said, “There’s something I’d like you to do with me.”
Her voice was gentle, almost consulting.
“Mm?”
“I told my department that I got married.” Wen Yan paused. “Everyone’s been asking me for wedding candy.”
Jin Zijin’s eyes brightened.
“But I think,” Wen Yan said carefully, “wedding candy is something we should pick out ourselves. If you have time, will you come with me?”
As she said this, her gaze fell to their intertwined hands, not quite meeting Jin Zijin’s eyes.
That cautious attempt at testing the waters made the soft, aching place in Jin Zijin’s chest expand again.
“Of course,” she answered without hesitation, even with a childlike burst of delight. “That sounds a lot more interesting than a meeting. I’m absolutely coming with you.”
——————
After breakfast, they went upstairs to change.
Jin Zijin didn’t have her assistant send clothes over; she went straight into Wen Yan’s walk-in closet.
The room was large, but not especially well organized.
White shirts, sportswear, and a small amount of casual clothing hung in separate sections, but the lines between them were blurred.
She picked the simplest pure white cotton shirt from the shirt section, then found a pair of dark straight-leg jeans.
Wen Yan’s size was obviously large on her. The shirt’s shoulders sagged down her arms, and the hem almost covered her thighs.
She then pulled out a charcoal-gray wool coat from the outerwear area; it was still big, but the oversized style gave it a relaxed, fashionable feel.
Jin Zijin was adjusting her cuffs in the mirror when Wen Yan happened to come out from the room next door, already changed.
She was wearing a black turtleneck sweater with matching trousers, layered with a camel cashmere cardigan.
Simple, but it made her skin look even fairer and her figure even more upright.
The first time Wen Yan saw Jin Zijin like that, she froze.
The white shirt’s collar hung open loosely, revealing delicate collarbones and a small patch of skin over her chest.
Her sleeves were rolled to the elbows, showing a pale forearm.
The jeans were clearly loose at the waist; she had fastened them with a thin belt, making her waist look slender enough to encircle with one hand.
The coat draped casually over her, swallowing her in oversized clothing and giving her a fragile, almost breakable beauty.
Wen Yan and Wen Chen had both inherited their mother’s family’s tall genes.
Wen Chen was 192 centimeters; she was 181. On top of years of standing through surgeries and physical training, her frame and muscle mass were both considered startling among women.
But Jin Zijin was different.
She was also tall, at least 172 by sight, but her frame was slender, her shoulders straight and narrow, her waist fine and small; the kind of model-like build that looked slim no matter what she wore.
Now, dressed in Wen Yan’s oversized clothes, that contrast became even more obvious.
Wen Yan suddenly realized that her wife was actually so small.
Not short, but small in overall size.
Small enough to be gathered into her arms, easily lifted, completely covered by her shadow in moments of passion.
That realization made her heartbeat skip.
“What is it?” Jin Zijin noticed her dazed expression in the mirror and turned around. “Do I look weird?”
“No.” Wen Yan quickly shook her head, her voice a little dry. “It’s just that... my clothes are a bit too big on you.”
Jin Zijin looked herself over and shrugged casually. “They’re fine. Boyfriend style is trendy now.”
She walked up to Wen Yan and naturally took her hand, interlacing their fingers.
“But,” Jin Zijin said, glancing around the closet with a slight frown, “this place really should be organized. Otherwise, when I have my assistant send my clothes over later, I won’t even know where to put them.”
Wen Yan followed her gaze.
The closet was indeed not very tidy.
It wasn’t messy, exactly, but it clearly lacked any systematic storage.
Her clothes were already few in number and mostly focused on comfort and practicality, so she had never bothered to put much thought into the space.
“Wen Yan,” Jin Zijin said, tipping her head up at her in earnest consultation, “can I have Zhou Ayi come over and organize it?”
Wen Yan nodded. “Ah, yes.”
Then she added, “You can also have Zhou Ayi send some of your clothes here and keep them with me. I keep some clothes at the old house too, so you can put clothes here as well.”
As she said this, her gaze drifted elsewhere, and that familiar redness returned to her ears.
Jin Zijin stared at her for a few seconds, then smiled.
“You saying that,” she said softly, “makes me very happy.”
She leaned in and quickly pressed a kiss to the corner of Wen Yan’s mouth; it was gone in an instant.
“Then I’ll have Zhou Ayi come over on Monday?”
“Okay.”
“If you’re busy at work later, stay here. When you’re free, we’ll go back to the old house together.” Jin Zijin kept planning, her fingers unconsciously brushing the back of Wen Yan’s hand. “All right?”
Wen Yan looked into the eyes right in front of her and nodded. “All right.”
——————
After leaving the apartment, they walked to the supermarket.
The winter morning sunlight was pale and thin; the air was cold, crisp, and clean.
Hand in hand, they walked along the sidewalk. Jin Zijin’s coat hem swayed lightly with each step, and Wen Yan’s cashmere cardigan lifted in a soft curve in the wind.
They looked like any ordinary couple as they passed through the automatic doors and pushed a shopping cart into the warm interior.
The candy section was at the very back of the supermarket.
The shelves were packed with everything imaginable, from traditional White Rabbit milk candy and Xu Fuji crispy sweets to imported Lindt chocolates, Japanese nama chocolate, and all kinds of viral trendy treats and novelty candies. The colorful packaging glowed enticingly under the lights.
“Shall we buy a little of everything?” Jin Zijin suggested, eyes bright. “We can take them back, taste-test them, and pick the best few.”
“Then I’ll tell my assistant the list and the quantities; she’ll handle the purchase and the packaging, and have it sent straight to your department.”
Wen Yan thought the plan was both efficient and thoughtful. “Okay.”
So the shopping cart was filled at an astonishing speed.
Jin Zijin showed extraordinary enthusiasm for the task.
She practically took a pack of almost every kind of candy, and sometimes she grabbed extras just because the packaging was cute.
Lindt soft-centered chocolate balls, Godiva dark chocolate bars, Meiji Snow Kiss chocolate, Fujiya milk candy, UHA fruit gummies, and a recently popular domestic brand of tea-flavored hard candy...
Wen Yan pushed the cart behind her, watching her weave through the aisles like a child discovering treasure, every so often picking up a pack of candy and turning to ask, “What do you think of this?”
Her eyes were sparkling; she looked very happy.
The kind of happy that only a child raised in love could have.
Watching the smile on her face, Wen Yan felt deeply moved.
So this was what it meant to grow up wrapped in love. No wonder she was so decisive and so straightforward whenever she wanted something.
Even her responses were always hot and wholehearted.
Wen Yan looked at her, and somewhere deep inside her, a place quietly caved in and turned impossibly soft.
“Isn’t that enough?” she asked, glancing at the cart that was practically overflowing, unable to stop herself from laughing. “How long would it take the two of us to taste all this?”
“Don’t worry.” Jin Zijin tossed in another box of matcha nama chocolate and blinked. “If we can’t finish it, I’ll take it to the company and share it with the employees. I have to hand out wedding candy too.”
When they checked out, the cashier looked at the small mountain of candy, then at the two women in front of her; their beauty was striking, their temperaments distinct yet somehow harmonious, and she smiled in understanding.
“Wishing you both a long and happy marriage,” the cashier said softly.
Wen Yan froze for a moment, her ears warming, and thanked her in a low voice.
Jin Zijin, on the other hand, was much more at ease; she smiled and said, “Thank you.”
——————
Back at the apartment, they spread the candy all over the coffee table in the living room.
The multicolored wrappers were laid out across the table like a small candy exhibition.
Winter sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding each piece with a warm sheen.
They sat cross-legged on the rug and began unwrapping them.
At first, it was a proper taste test.
Jin Zijin opened a pack of white peach hard candies and handed one to Wen Yan, then took one for herself.
They faced each other, tasted carefully, and exchanged opinions:
“Too sweet.”
“The flavoring is a bit too heavy.”
“This one’s good; the tea flavor is very authentic.”
“The chocolate texture is very smooth.”
But soon, Jin Zijin started to look bored.
“This is boring,” she said, propping her chin on her hand, her fingertip idly tapping the rug’s fibers.
“Then how should we do it?” Wen Yan had just unwrapped a pack of strawberry-filled chocolates; hearing that, she looked up.
Jin Zijin rolled her eyes, as if remembering something.
“I... saw my assistant watching a short video before,” she said, her tone turning a little subtle, carrying a hint of slyness.
“What short video?”
“It seemed to be called... the candy game.” As she spoke, Jin Zijin was already pulling out her phone to search for it.
Wen Yan watched as she skillfully opened a social platform, typed in the keyword, and quickly found a video. Jin Zijin turned the screen toward her.
On the screen, two young women sat facing each other.
One closed her eyes while the other held a candy in her mouth, then leaned forward and passed it into the other’s mouth with her lips.
The two of them shared the same piece of candy, letting it melt between entwined lips and teeth.
The background music was light and teasing; the color palette was warm and hazy.
Wen Yan’s face flushed red at once.
The redness spread rapidly from her cheeks to her ears and down to her neck.
She could even feel the heat of the blood surging beneath her skin.
“We’re doing this,” Jin Zijin declared, her tone matter-of-fact, but her eyes were fixed tightly on Wen Yan’s changing expression.
Wen Yan opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but her throat was dry.
Looking at Jin Zijin, whose usually calm and composed eyes were now filled with anticipation, whose lips had curved with a hint of mischief, whose whole body gave off the confident air of someone sure she’d agree, Wen Yan...
...heard herself answer, “...Okay.”
Her voice was light as a sigh.
Jin Zijin’s smile widened.
“The rules are simple,” she said, setting the phone aside and picking out a gold-wrapped chocolate ball from the pile. “Rock-paper-scissors. Whoever loses closes their eyes and guesses the candy.”
Wen Yan nodded, her palms slightly damp.
They both held out their hands at the same time.
Wen Yan chose a fist; her fingers were tight and defined, a solid rock.
Jin Zijin chose an open palm; her five fingers were spread, a complete paper.
Paper wrapped rock.
“Wow,” Jin Zijin drawled, her smile almost spilling over from her eyes. “I’ve wrapped you up.”
Wen Yan’s ears went red enough to drip blood.
She lowered her eyes and didn’t dare look at Jin Zijin’s face.
It had to be smug and dangerous.
“Then...” Wen Yan’s voice trembled slightly, “I’ll close my eyes.”
“Mm.”
Wen Yan took a deep breath, then slowly closed her eyes.
The moment sight was taken away, the other senses sharpened beyond measure.
She heard the faint rustle of the foil being unwrapped; crisp, enticing little sounds.
Then the soft sound of the candy being placed into a mouth.
Next came Jin Zijin’s approach.
First the lingering citrus scent of body wash; then the warm fragrance that belonged to her alone.
Finally, breath—warm breath with the sugary sweetness of candy at its front—brushed over Wen Yan’s face.
Wen Yan unconsciously held her breath.
Soft lips touched hers.
At first it was tentative, like a feather brushing past.
Then they pressed more firmly, rubbing and lingering.
Wen Yan could feel the fine texture of those lips, their warmth and moisture, and the powerful sense of intrusion.
She obediently parted her mouth a little.
The next moment, the candy was passed across.
Jin Zijin’s tongue pushed the rounded chocolate ball into her mouth, slipping past her teeth, sweeping over her palate, tangling with the tip of her tongue.
Their tongues intertwined, grinding the candy against the inside of her mouth; in the narrow space, they chased one another, like two dragons playing with a pearl.
Wen Yan’s body softened bit by bit.
Last night’s scenes rose like water, and her tongue seemed to taste the same sour-sweet flavor again.
The chocolate shell softened quickly under body heat; the filling inside began to flow out.
It was rich dark chocolate ganache, slightly bitter at first, then softened by the sweet creaminess of milk.
Wen Yan tasted it.
It was sweet.
Bittersweet.
The moment the chocolate fully melted, Jin Zijin pulled back slightly.
A glistening strand of sugar stretched between their lips, shimmering in the sunlight with an ambiguous glow.
Wen Yan slowly opened her eyes.
Her vision blurred for a moment before it focused.
Jin Zijin was right there in front of her, close enough that she could count her eyelashes.
Her lips had been kissed into a bright, moist red; a little chocolate stained the corner of her mouth, and her gaze was dazed with unsatisfied longing.
“Did you guess it?” she asked, her voice husky.
Wen Yan looked at her and licked her own similarly damp lips with the tip of her tongue.
“Dark chocolate ganache,” she said softly. “Slightly bitter, with a sweet aftertaste.”
Jin Zijin laughed. “Correct.”
Then she kissed her again.
————————
Didn’t see that coming, did you [smirking] I’m updated again.