Chapter 23
When they finally pulled apart again, Jin Zijin had gone weak all over; she had to loop her arms around Wen Yan’s neck just to steady herself.
She tipped up her face, eyes damp and glossy like rain-washed black obsidian, something deep in their depths churning restlessly.
Wen Yan wasn’t doing much better.
Her chest rose and fell lightly; a fine sheen of sweat had gathered at her temples. A thin layer of moisture had clouded the clear calm in her eyes, softening those always composed, self-possessed eyes until they looked hazy and tender, even a little lost in desire.
They looked at each other, and something in the air crackled.
“Keep going?” Jin Zijin asked, her voice so hoarse it was nearly rough enough to snag.
Wen Yan nodded, swallowed, and pressed her lips together.
Her gaze fell to Jin Zijin’s lips, kissed bright red and wet; then it slowly lifted to meet those inviting eyes.
“This time,” Wen Yan heard herself say, her voice lower than usual, taut as a drawn string, “it’s your turn.”
Jin Zijin laughed, smug and delighted.
She didn’t say anything, only obediently closed her eyes.
Her long, thick lashes cast fan-shaped shadows beneath them, trembling faintly like a butterfly testing the wind.
With her vision willingly surrendered, her other senses sharpened endlessly in the dark.
Wen Yan chose a candy from the pile.
Its wrapper was bright purple foil; when she peeled it open, it gave off a crisp rustle that sounded shockingly clear in the overly quiet living room.
She put the hard candy into her own mouth.
It was a rich blackcurrant flavor; after the sour, astringent top note came the thick sweetness unique to berries.
She bent down and kissed her.
The instant their lips met, Jin Zijin’s body gave a barely perceptible shiver.
This was no longer a game.
Or rather, the game had long since changed its nature.
When Wen Yan’s lips covered hers, when the candy—carrying Wen Yan’s body heat and saliva—was pushed by her tongue straight into Jin Zijin’s mouth without room for refusal, everything about the so-called candy-guessing rules crumbled.
Jin Zijin’s tongue rose to meet it, urgently twining and demanding.
The candy rolled between their tangled tongues, rubbed, and sweet syrup was squeezed out, coating every corner of their mouths.
The sour blackcurrant flavor burst open, mixing with the sticky wet sounds of exchanged saliva; in the still living room, it sounded unbearably clear, unbearably obscene.
When they separated, both of them were gasping.
Jin Zijin’s legs had gone completely weak; she hung on Wen Yan’s body, arms locked tightly around her neck.
She opened her eyes. The moisture in them was even heavier now, veiled in a fog of arousal as she stared straight at Wen Yan.
She said nothing, yet seemed to say everything.
Wen Yan understood that look.
“Still want to keep going?” she asked, her voice rough beyond recognition, fingers unconsciously stroking the delicate skin at the back of Jin Zijin’s neck.
Jin Zijin shook her head.
She leaned close to Wen Yan’s ear, her breath hot, carrying the sweet, syrupy scent of blackcurrant, all of it spilling onto Wen Yan’s sensitive ear.
When she spoke, her voice was full of soft, honeyed seduction:
“It’s wet.”
Those two words landed in Wen Yan’s ear like two lumps of red-hot charcoal.
Her cheeks flared up instantly, the heat spreading from the roots of her ears to the back of her neck; even the skin above her collarbones flushed a light red.
Her mind blanked for a moment. Her usually orderly thoughts scattered at the mere sound of those two words.
“Then...” Wen Yan heard her own stammering voice, trembling as she asked, “What do we do?”
Jin Zijin lifted her face and looked at Wen Yan’s flustered but still composed expression; a flash of triumphant mischief crossed her eyes.
She licked the wet corner of her lips, her voice even softer, even more beguiling: “We go upstairs.”
——————
The stairs seemed longer than usual.
Wen Yan carried Jin Zijin up them, one step at a time, steady and careful.
Jin Zijin’s arms were wrapped around her neck; her face was buried in Wen Yan’s shoulder.
Warm breaths brushed Wen Yan’s neck over and over, carrying the sweet scent of candy and her own soft warmth.
With every step, Wen Yan could feel the softness and heat of the body in her arms, along with the faint shudder passing through her through the thin fabric.
Wen Yan nudged the master bedroom door open with her foot.
Sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains and cut several sharp beams across the dark wooden floor.
The air still held a lingering citrus fragrance, hazy and ambiguous.
Wen Yan set Jin Zijin down in the center of the bed.
The mattress gave under her weight, soft enough to cradle the body into a slight sink.
Jin Zijin was swallowed by the dark gray sheets; her white shirt lay open and disordered, revealing a slender waist and elegant collarbones.
She tipped her face up to look at Wen Yan, eyes wet and shining, like a ripe fruit waiting to be picked, on the verge of bursting open.
Wen Yan knelt on the bed, braced her hands on either side of Jin Zijin, and bent down to kiss her.
This kiss was fiercer and more urgent than any of the ones downstairs.
It was no longer the teasing playfulness of a candy game; it was a long-suppressed, unmistakably targeted invasion.
Wen Yan’s tongue drove straight in, swept across Jin Zijin’s sensitive palate, tangled with her tongue, sucked, nipped, as if she meant to devour her whole.
Broken little sounds spilled from Jin Zijin’s throat. She threaded her fingers into Wen Yan’s hair and pressed her head down toward herself, meeting her halfway.
The kiss was almost suffocating.
Midway through, Wen Yan freed one hand and reached for the bedside table.
The drawer slid open with a faint sound.
In the gaps between kisses, Jin Zijin turned her head slightly and vaguely glanced inside.
There were more than a dozen brightly colored small boxes lying there, all already opened, with only a few still sealed.
She froze for a second; some blurry fragment of memory flashed across her mind.
“That night we...” she gasped, her voice broken, “opened this many?”
Wen Yan’s movement paused almost imperceptibly.
Her kiss shifted to Jin Zijin’s neck, leaving a damp mark there, and she answered in a muffled voice with a hint of deliberate evasion: “Mm... probably.”
As she spoke, she had already quickly torn open what she needed.
She was a little rushed; even her fingertips trembled faintly.
The sound of plastic packaging being torn apart rang especially clearly in the quiet bedroom.
Wen Yan lowered her head and glanced at the thing in her hand; her brow knit almost imperceptibly.
Too tight.
Her fingers had gone a little white from the force she was using; the knuckles stood out sharply.
The thin rubber material stretched taut at her fingertips, its texture nearly transparent.
She could clearly feel the shape of her fingers beneath it, along with the odd sensation of the barrier between them.
“Mm...” Jin Zijin suddenly let out a short, muffled sound.
Her scalp tingled.
It was like tiny currents had shot up from the base of her spine, crackling all the way to the top of her head.
Unconsciously, she tightened her abdomen; her fingers clutched the bedsheets beneath her until her fingertips went white.
Wen Yan’s kiss fell again, moving from her neck to the edge of her ear.
She took Jin Zijin’s earlobe in her mouth and gently licked it with the tip of her tongue. “Uncomfortable?” she asked, her voice so low and rough it was almost unrecognizable.
Jin Zijin’s breathing was completely thrown into disarray.
She shook her head; it wasn’t a refusal, but a kind of unbearable wavering.
Her voice trembled as broken syllables squeezed out of her throat: “No...”
Wen Yan thought she was refusing, and hesitated for a moment.
The next second, Jin Zijin suddenly grabbed her arm.
Her grip was strong; her nails even dug into her flesh.
Jin Zijin lifted her face, eyes red at the rims, but the look in them was startlingly bright, burning with something almost savage in its hunger.
She leaned close to Wen Yan’s ear; her hot breath and tear-softened coaxing struck like an order: “Keep going... ”
After a beat, she added, her voice even softer and clingier, like melted honey: “It feels good.”
Wen Yan’s head went numb.
She closed her eyes; when she opened them again, the last trace of hesitation had been burned away completely.
Her wrist turned.
Sunlight moved slowly across the floor.
From the foot of the bed to the head, then from the head to the wall.
Light and shadow cut time into pieces, sealing this patch of damp heat off entirely from the outside world.
——————
The bathroom was thick with steam.
Wen Yan carried Jin Zijin into the bathtub. Warm water flowed over their bodies, bringing soothing relief.
Jin Zijin was so tired she could barely lift a finger; she leaned soft and loose against Wen Yan’s chest, letting her wash her.
In the hazy steam, Jin Zijin lowered her eyes to look at her body submerged in the water.
The current was gentle, outlining the smooth curve of her waist and abdomen.
She reached down, pinched the nearly nonexistent softness on her lower belly, and suddenly looked up at Wen Yan. “Should I go work out?”
Wen Yan was pouring water over her shoulders; at that, she paused. “Hm? You don’t exercise regularly?”
“Not at all.” Jin Zijin leaned lazily against her chest, her voice still hoarse from earlier. “If I have time, I walk on the treadmill in my office for forty-five minutes. Sometimes I do yoga too.”
Wen Yan nodded, her fingers unconsciously combing through Jin Zijin’s damp long hair. “That’s pretty good. No wonder you keep such a great figure.”
Jin Zijin snorted through her nose, the pride in her tone completely undisguised. “Of course. I was born beautiful.”
What a proud woman.
Wen Yan couldn’t help laughing out loud.
Water splashed softly; Jin Zijin turned around in her arms and looked at her with wet eyes. “What are you laughing at?”
Wen Yan looked at her face so close to her own. Her skin, softened by steam, was fair and luminous; her features were exquisite, her lips rosy red.
It was the kind of beauty that needed no adornment to be captivating.
What was even more captivating was the almost childlike frankness and confidence in her eyes.
“I just think,” Wen Yan said softly, brushing away a droplet of water sliding down her cheek, “you’re very cute.”
“Cute how?” Jin Zijin pressed, eyes bright.
Wen Yan thought for a moment, then answered very seriously, “You’re extremely confident. No matter what people praise you for, you accept it all; you don’t pretend to be modest, and you don’t doubt whether they mean it. That’s very good.”
She paused, then added, “I really admire that.”
She spoke sincerely; every word came from the heart.
Jin Zijin could tell.
In the steam, Jin Zijin blinked; tiny water droplets clung to her long lashes.
“It’s because there really isn’t anything I’m not confident about,” she said matter-of-factly, as calmly as if she were saying the weather was nice today.
“Just like I said before,” she went on, her fingers tracing idle circles against Wen Yan’s chest, “there’s nothing that can’t be learned.”
“If you approach it with the attitude of learning, stay humble, ask for guidance, and give it your all, it’s hard not to be confident.”
Wen Yan nodded, a warm smile in her eyes. “President Jin makes a lot of sense.”
“Of course.” Jin Zijin puffed up again, but then she seemed to think of something; her eyes suddenly lit. “Hey, how about this?”
“Mm?”
“When we get back from the business trip, teach me how to box,” Jin Zijin said eagerly. “I saw the punching bag in your gym; you must be good at it. Teach me, okay?”
Wen Yan was startled, then looked troubled. “If I teach you, I probably won’t be professional enough.”
“Boxing needs systematic training. It’s better to find a professional coach.”
“Did I ask for a coach?” Jin Zijin cut in, leaning closer; her warm breath brushed Wen Yan’s face. “I want you to keep me company.”
Her voice softened, turning coaxing. “It feels like we don’t really have any similar hobbies. We can’t just lie in bed every time we’re home, right?”
Wen Yan: “...”
She was momentarily speechless; the tips of her ears quietly reddened again.
Jin Zijin seized the opening and took her hand, interlacing their fingers, her voice even gentler, like melted cotton candy. “Grandma said you’re a very good person; she wants me to spend more time building a relationship with you, and not always think about work.”
She shook their joined hands and looked at Wen Yan with soft eyes. “So after this, you teach me the things you know, and I’ll share my hobbies with you too. How about it?”
Wen Yan looked into her expectant eyes; that soft spot in her heart was lightly poked again.
“Okay.” She nodded, her voice very quiet but firm.
“Then what hobbies do you have?” Wen Yan asked back, looking at her earnestly. “Tell me. I’m listening.”
Jin Zijin tilted her head and thought for a while, her brow faintly furrowing. “The things I like... there are too many.”
“Skiing, diving, horseback riding, collecting vintage watches, going to art exhibitions, listening to classical music... and wine tasting, though I’m not very good with alcohol.”
She counted them off and laughed at herself. “They all seem pretty expensive.”
Wen Yan also laughed. “They do.”
“How about this,” Jin Zijin suddenly had a flash of inspiration, her eyes brightening again, “let’s find a template. I’ll fill it out on the plane in a bit; you fill one out at home.”
“After that, we can exchange them. Is that okay?”
Wen Yan considered it; the idea was childish, yet somehow irresistibly moving.
Like two elementary school kids swapping class yearbooks, wanting to know everything about each other.
Clumsy, but earnest.
“Okay.” She nodded.
Jin Zijin immediately reached for the phone resting on the edge of the bathtub.
The screen was misted with water vapor; she wiped it with a towel, unlocked it, and opened some AI assistant. Using voice input, she said, “Give me a ‘partner likes and dislikes list’ template; make it detailed.”
The AI responded quickly, generating a neatly formatted, carefully categorized document: basic information, food preferences, entertainment preferences, lifestyle habits, taboo topics...
There were even sections for “things I hope the other person will do for me” and “things I am willing to do for the other person.”
Jin Zijin saved it with satisfaction, then forwarded Wen Yan a copy.
Wen Yan looked at her profile as she worked seriously on the phone; her lowered lashes cast a gentle shadow under her eyes, and there was still an un-wiped droplet of water hanging from the tip of her nose.
At this moment, all the brilliance and armor had been peeled from Jin Zijin; she looked like a child who had just gotten a new toy, excited and absorbed.
Wen Yan’s heart seemed to soak in warm water, soft beyond belief.
She leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Jin Zijin’s cheek.
Jin Zijin looked up, her eyes curving into crescents. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Wen Yan looked at her, her gaze so gentle it seemed ready to spill over. “I just think this is kind of amazing.”
“What’s amazing?”
“Fate.” Wen Yan said softly, her fingers stroking the wet ends of Jin Zijin’s hair. “It’s really too amazing.”
Who would have thought?
A marriage that began with a contract and a mistake; a person she had once thought impossibly out of reach was now soaking in her bathtub, discussing swapping partner lists and planning to box together, to share hobbies.
Like two awkward schoolchildren quietly building a paradise of their own in the cracks of the adult world’s rules.
——————
By the time Jin Zijin left, it was already afternoon.
She had changed clothes.
An outfit Xu Ming had sent over in advance: a sharply tailored dark gray suit over a white silk shirt. Her hair had been blow-dried and styled again, restored to her usual refined, capable look.
Only the lingering softness at the corners of her eyes and brows, along with several faint red marks half-hidden at the nape of her neck, betrayed the morning’s absurdity.
Wen Yan saw her off to the underground garage.
Xu Ming and two assistants were already waiting by the car. When they saw the two of them come down, they bowed respectfully in greeting, then tactfully withdrew to a slightly farther distance.
The empty garage was lit in cold white. The air carried a faint smell of gasoline and dust.
The two of them stood beside the Cullinan, their hands still linked.
Wen Yan looked into her eyes, her fingers absently rubbing over Jin Zijin’s knuckles as she said softly, “Call me when you arrive.”
“Okay.” Jin Zijin nodded, using her other hand to adjust Wen Yan’s collar, which honestly wasn’t even messy.
“Contact me every day,” Jin Zijin added, her tone command-like, but her eyes soft. “Morning, noon, and night; text me whenever you have time.”
“Mhm.”
“Remember to fill out the list.”
“Okay.”
“And think of me.”
Wen Yan smiled, her eyes curving. “Mm.”
Jin Zijin looked at her smile, and the sourness of parting in her heart was suddenly replaced by something fuller.
She leaned in and lightly pressed a kiss to Wen Yan’s lips; it was a brief touch and then gone.
“Then I’m leaving.”
“Have a safe trip.”
Jin Zijin turned and got into the car.
The door shut, separating two worlds.
Wen Yan stood in place, watching the window slowly rise; Jin Zijin’s profile gradually blurred behind the dark glass until only a hazy outline remained.
The car started smoothly, pulled out of the parking space, and its taillights drew two red arcs through the dim garage before turning the corner and disappearing down the passage.
Something in Wen Yan’s heart suddenly felt empty.
She stood there for a long time, until the motion-sensing lights in the garage, deprived of activity too long, began to go out one by one, enveloping her in silence and darkness.
——————
The car merged onto the viaduct; outside the window, the city scenery receded at speed.
Jin Zijin reclined in the back seat, eyes closed, resting.
Her body still retained the soreness and satiation of the morning’s intense lovemaking, but her mind was gradually clearing as separation and the work ahead drew near.
Xu Ming sat in the passenger seat and quietly reported the upcoming schedule: the VIP lounge at the airport, flight information, the Nancheng pickup team, hotel check-in, the exhibition process, several dinners and meetings that could not be missed...
Jin Zijin listened, occasionally answering with a soft “Mm” to show she understood.
Halfway through the report, she suddenly cut Xu Ming off: “Help me cancel tomorrow night’s business dinner. Change it to an internal dinner with the technical team from the Nancheng branch.”
Xu Ming froze for a moment, but her professionalism made her respond quickly. “Understood, President Jin. Do you need me to prepare a reason?”
“No need; just say I have a prior engagement.” Jin Zijin said lightly, her eyes still closed.
Xu Ming agreed and continued with the other items.
Jin Zijin listened, but her thoughts had drifted a little.
The light and shadows outside the window flowed and shifted; the guardrails of the overpass became blurred lines.
At some point, a scene abruptly flashed through her mind:
A cramped car interior.
Bumps and swaying.
Wen Yan holding her, her face buried in the crook of Wen Yan’s neck, breathing in nothing but the other woman’s clean scent.
Then she lifted her head, leaned toward Wen Yan, said something...
Wen Yan hugged her back, one arm strong around her, drawing her entirely into her embrace.
A seam opened in the gate of memory, and more images surged out.
Wen Yan held the back of her head with one hand, pressing her against the cold car window and kissing her fiercely, urgently.
The compartment was too narrow; it was even more inescapable than the sofa in the living room.
She always wanted to hide, wanted to escape, but Wen Yan’s other hand held her waist firmly, fixing her in place so she couldn’t move.
Then...
Jin Zijin’s body tightened almost imperceptibly.
She remembered.
Last night in the car, how Wen Yan had coaxed her to “cry it out” in a low, hoarse voice; how she had said in her ear, “Good wife, cry it out, okay?”
How she had lost control, biting Wen Yan’s neck and pounding her shoulder, crying as she cursed her for being “so terrible.”
Wen Yan had answered with a smile, “Oh? Then I can be even worse,” and then...
Jin Zijin suddenly opened her eyes.
Her ears were burning; her face was hot.
She could even clearly recall the extreme tension in her body at that moment, and the overwhelming sense of falling apart that followed.
She remembered Wen Yan wiping the corner of her mouth with her finger and saying with a grin, “Baby, taste it. You’re really so sweet.”
Heavens.
What kind of memory was that?
They had been in the car last night?
No wonder her waist hurt so badly today; no wonder her inner thighs were so sore; no wonder she’d felt as if her whole body had been taken apart when she woke up this morning!
Could that car still be used?
Jin Zijin’s face turned so red it looked nearly ready to drip blood.
She stole a guilty glance at the assistants across from her.
They were all seriously checking the schedule, as if they were utterly unaware of their boss’s inner storm.
Jin Zijin quickly took out her phone, unlocked it, and found Wen Yan’s chat window.
Her fingers flew across the screen with a mix of shame and indignation: “Wen Yan, you big pervert!”
The moment the message went through, Jin Zijin thought it sounded too much like a sulky flirt and carried no menace at all, so she added fiercely: “You’re not allowed to take advantage of people like that next time!”
Back in her apartment and standing idly in the empty living room, Wen Yan heard her phone ping. She took it out and looked.
Then she froze.
The next second, her lips curved and she let out a low, delighted laugh.
She could almost picture Jin Zijin in the car, red-eared and flustered, typing those two lines in a mix of embarrassment and outrage.
Too cute.
Wen Yan leaned against the island counter and tapped out a reply: “But you really are so sweet.”
Send.
Then she set the phone down and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.
Outside, the city skyline gleamed coldly in the afternoon sun; the spire of Pearl Tower pointed toward the pale sky.
Wen Yan thought of Jin Zijin’s wet eyes; of the way she had said with pride in the bathroom, “I was born beautiful”; of how earnestly she had planned, “we’ll cultivate hobbies together.”
And... last night in the car, when she cried and bit her neck, that pale, fragile curve of her body.
Wen Yan lifted a hand and, unconsciously, touched the corner of her mouth.
There still seemed to be a lingering sourness from the blackcurrant candy there, and sweetness that belonged to Jin Zijin.
In the car, when Jin Zijin saw Wen Yan’s reply, her face instantly went even redder.
This... this person!
She bit her lower lip, wanting to send another warning, but with her finger hovering above the screen for a long moment, she could only type one line:
[You just wait; when I get back, I’ll deal with you.]
Send.
Then she locked the screen, tossed the phone aside, and turned to look out the window.
The overpass was nearly at its end; the outline of the airport grew clearer in the distance.
Sunlight streamed through the car window, casting alternating bands of light and shadow across her face.
Her heartbeat was a little fast; the tips of her ears were still hot.
But the corners of her mouth, against her will, were inching upward little by little.
Jin Zijin gradually realized that the one sinking into this relationship was never only her.
Wen Yan liked it.
She liked it too.
That realization was like a stone dropped into a still lake; ripples spread out in delicate circles.
Jin Zijin rested her forehead against the cold window and closed her eyes, unable to stop the corners of her lips from lifting.
————————
It’s fine; even if you don’t like it, I’ll still make you like it.
Jin Zijin will forever be proud; forever confident.
Still twelve at night, by the way.
What kind of candy game is this, where they’re snapping photos and suddenly changing clothes halfway through? I’m not saying anything [eating melon]