Chapter 37

In the second half of the night, the snow grew heavier, pattering softly against the window lattices.

By the time they returned to the old residence, a warm stream of water had washed away the stickiness of sweat and the scent of wind and snow from their bodies.

When they finally sank into the soft, dry bedding, Jin Zijin was so exhausted she could hardly lift a fingertip.

The redness at the corners of her eyes had not yet faded; her gaze still glistened with moisture, full of post-sated languor and a hint of pitiful overindulgence.

She curled into Wen Yan’s arms of her own accord, found the most comfortable position, and pressed her burning cheek against the other woman’s cool collarbone.

Her voice was hoarse from overuse, and a little spoiled as she complained, “Dr. Wen... your stamina is really unreasonable.”

Wen Yan’s arm looped around her smooth back, her palm settling against that slender waist.

Wen Yan thought for a moment before speaking calmly, as if stating a fact: “Perhaps the sample size you’ve encountered is too small, and you don’t have enough basis for comparison, which has led to a biased perception that ‘I’m very good.’”

Jin Zijin shifted in her embrace and looked up, even tilting her head seriously to think it over.

Only a dim yellow night light remained in the bedroom, casting soft shadows along her delicate profile.

After a moment, she nodded honestly. “Mm... that makes sense.”

Wen Yan’s arm around her tightened almost imperceptibly.

Jin Zijin caught that tiny change in pressure at once.

She let out a low laugh, her breath brushing Wen Yan’s skin. “What’s wrong? Are you afraid that if I really listen to you and go find a few other ‘samples’ to compare, I’ll do a horizontal comparison?”

Wen Yan was silent for a few seconds.

In the private space of the dead of night, in the vulnerable gap after intense pleasure, the unease she had suppressed all day with reason seemed to find a crack and quietly seep out.

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice especially clear in the silence. “A little.”

She paused, then continued with blunt honesty and a kind of cruel candor: “When you’ve had enough experiences and decide I’m just so-so, you’ll probably get bored of me.”

Jin Zijin lifted a hand and traced her fingertips lightly over Wen Yan’s sharp brow bone, the high bridge of her nose, and finally rested them on the lips that always seemed far too calm.

She looked into Wen Yan’s eyes, which were especially deep in the dim light; in the darkness, she could clearly see her own reflection there.

“Dr. Wen,” she said softly, with a knowing smile, “so you’re this insecure.”

Wen Yan did not avoid her gaze. Instead, she looked back even more directly.

Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour that loosened her defenses; perhaps it was the intimacy of the moment that gave her the courage to speak plainly. The words that had been circling in her heart finally found an opening.

“Your interest in me started out a little... inexplicably.”

She chose her words carefully, a rare note of confusion in her tone. “Sometimes I wonder whether something so intense, just like the way it came, could also disappear one day for no reason.”

“That makes it very hard, very hard, for me to naively imagine or confidently believe that we can be together for a long time.”

Her voice lowered little by little, until it almost became a sigh melting into the warm air. “Besides, in this world... there’s nothing that lasts forever to begin with.”

The room fell quiet, with only the faint sound of snow falling outside the window.

Jin Zijin, held in her arms, clearly caught the note in her breathing that was different from before.

Not the cool decisiveness she showed in the operating room, nor the scorching dominance she wore in moments of desire, but a softness and unease buried deep inside her heart.

That discovery made the softest part of Jin Zijin’s own heart twitch as if brushed by a feather; it was itchy, and sore.

She smiled without a sound and did not immediately soothe her with grand promises. Instead, she took Wen Yan’s hand, the one that had once again been ringed, and brought it between them.

The ring gave off a quiet glimmer in the dark.

“But Dr. Wen,” she said, pinching Wen Yan’s fingers with a tone that was almost playfully righteous, “we’re already married.”

“Even if... I mean, just in case, if we really do separate someday,” she mimicked Wen Yan’s earlier reasoning about the complexities of marriage, her eyes flashing with mischief, “the paperwork for divorce is much more troublesome than a breakup, and it involves more things too.”

“Wasn’t that your analysis?”

“Divorce is very difficult.”

Wen Yan watched her quietly, her eyes even deeper in the night, impossible to read.

After a long while, she finally spoke, her voice so flat it gave away no ripple of emotion. “So what you mean is, you’ve already started thinking about the possibility of divorcing me in the future, is that right?”

Jin Zijin was caught off guard by the sheer, almost absurd logic of it.

Her eyes widened slightly as she raised her voice. “Wen Yan, that’s twisting my meaning and putting labels on me. When did I ever mean that?”

Wen Yan herself seemed to freeze for a moment.

She had never expected herself to become so unreasonable.

But once the words were out, the unease hidden beneath her calm seemed to find an outlet through this ridiculous pretext.

She pressed her lips together and, with a touch of grievance she herself did not notice, insisted stubbornly, “But that’s what your words sounded like.”

Jin Zijin looked up at her rare, childish expression; the half-amused indignation at being wrongly accused was instantly overwhelmed by a stronger wave of tenderness and softness.

She could not help but burst out laughing, then reached up to cup Wen Yan’s face and knead it hard. “All right, all right, no divorce, no divorce.”

“I’ll never divorce you in this lifetime; I’ll just cling to you, okay?”

“Oh my goodness, how can my Dr. Wen be so cute...”

As she spoke, she leaned in and planted several loud smacking kisses on Wen Yan’s lips and cheeks, like stamping a seal.

The intimate touch, along with the unique fragrance on her body, instantly scattered the little pocket of heaviness from before.

As the kisses deepened, Wen Yan’s arms tightened again, and her breathing gradually grew heavier.

Jin Zijin keenly sensed the first signs of danger and immediately pressed a hand against her shoulder, firmly pushing her away a little. Her voice was laced with alarm and a hint of coquettish reproach: “No, really, no more.”

“Wen Yan, are you a beast? My legs are still weak, my waist is sore, and if you do it again I’ll... I’ll throw a tantrum!”

She stared with widened eyes, trying hard to look fierce; unfortunately, the lingering spring in the corners of her eyes and brows gave her away completely, stripping her of any threat and making her look even more pitiful.

Wen Yan looked at her fierce-looking but weak-hearted expression, and her heart melted into a puddle.

She obediently nodded, her tone gentle as if coaxing a child. “Mm. I’m a beast. I’m a brute.”

Saying that, she lowered her head and precisely captured Jin Zijin’s still-protesting lips, swallowing the rest of her words whole.

Between the friction of their mouths, she murmured in a muffled, soothing voice, “It’s fine. It’s fine...”

“One last time.”

——————

The wind and snow raged all night, only gradually dying down at dawn.

When Wen Yan woke, the person beside her was still sunk in deep sleep, her breathing even and long.

Wen Yan got up quietly, walked to the window, and gently pulled aside a corner of the curtain.

What met her eyes was a silver-white world completely buried under thick snow.

The trees, stone lanterns, and paths in the courtyard had all lost their original outlines, wrapped in a layer of fluffy, soft whiteness that reflected a quiet, dazzling light in the morning sun.

The sky was gray and hazy, as if shrouded in mist, carrying a different sort of romance.

A childlike, pure joy struck Wen Yan’s heart without warning.

She got dressed and went downstairs quietly, found the butler, and borrowed a shovel.

So, on this tranquil winter morning, a steady, powerful sound of shoveling rang out in the spacious courtyard of the old residence.

Wen Yan rolled up her sleeves, revealing the smooth lines of her forearms, and began piling the thick snow into a taller mound.

Her movements were brisk, yet carried a strange patience, as though she were not doing labor but performing a meticulous sculpture.

Before long, a huge snowman, round and plump in its rough outline, stood endearingly in the center of the courtyard.

Wen Yan studied it for a moment and seemed to think it still wasn’t enough, so she turned and went to the kitchen.

When she came back out, she was holding a bright carrot, two round purple onions, and a few suitably thick dry branches.

Carefully, she stuck the carrot into the center of the snowman’s face as a nose.

Then she set the two onions symmetrically above it as eyes.

Finally, she inserted the dry branches into both sides of the snowman’s body like outstretched arms.

After finishing all this, she stepped back and examined her work closely.

A fat little giant with a carrot nose, onion eyes, and branch arms stood there stupidly facing the master bedroom window.

Wen Yan could not help but curve her lips. She took her phone from her pocket and dialed the number she knew by heart.

The call rang for a long time before it was answered. From the receiver came Jin Zijin’s muddled voice, thick with sleep, like cotton candy wrapped in honey: “...Hello?”

“Zijin,” Wen Yan’s voice carried over the line, bringing with it the crisp morning air and a trace of unmistakable brightness. “Are you awake? Get out of bed and pull back the curtains.”

“...Oh.” Jin Zijin answered groggily, and as instructed, struggled up and yanked open the heavy curtains with a swish.

Instantly, the cool light of snow and the misty grayness of the sky flooded her eyes.

And in that soft winter haze, in the center of the courtyard, Wen Yan was standing there.

She wore a black down jacket, its collar open; the tip of her nose and her cheeks were a little red from the cold, but the eyes looking up at her were bright as if they had fallen into a sky full of stars.

Beside Wen Yan stood a plump snowman with its branch arms spread wide.

It looked as though it were awkwardly embracing the world, or perhaps enthusiastically greeting her from upstairs.

Jin Zijin froze, and the last traces of sleep vanished at once.

Just then, Wen Yan’s cheerful voice came clearly through the phone speaker and faintly from the courtyard below.

The two overlapped in a strange, beautiful way, striking her eardrum and the tip of her heart: “The first heavy snow after winter began!”

“Happy first snow, Jin Zijin!”

Jin Zijin held the phone and looked at Wen Yan downstairs, breathing white mist into the snow, her eyes shining...

She looked at her as if she were a child who had finished a masterpiece and couldn’t wait to show it to a parent...

Then she tilted her head to glance at that silly, warm snowman...

A surge of warmth, unguarded and sudden, crashed through her defenses and filled her chest in an instant.

Her brows and eyes curved, and she smiled softly at the phone, her tone especially gentle. “Mm, happy first snow.”

Silly child.

————————

Wen Yan is gradually becoming more lively.

[Eat Melon] Jin Zijin always catches her; every single time.

Ah, what a perfect match! [cry-laugh]

TL Note:

horizontal comparison (横向对比) means comparing different people or options side by side.