Chapter 41

The long silence in the private room was made nearly deafening by the hot pot’s relentless bubbling.

That gurgling seemed to rise from Jin Zijin’s own chest; each churn of the broth struck her heart with a scorching echo.

She looked at Wen Yan; looked at those eyes that had just laid bare such a shocking truth, yet had now returned to their usual calm, even carrying a hint of bashfulness and awkwardness. For a moment, she lost all ability to speak.

So that was it...

Those first-meeting scenes she had buried deep in her heart and repeatedly traced over, those feelings and plans she had thought were one-sided aftershocks and schemes; on the other side of the glass, there had actually been a perfectly matching path all along.

She remembered that banquet day, how she had been unable to stop herself from keeping her gaze on the youngest daughter of the Wen family, the quiet, tall one.

Most of the time, the other woman looked out the window, her profile serene, utterly out of place amid the clinking glasses and chatter around her, like a fir tree growing in the cracks of the noise.

So that silent gaze had never been indifference; it had been concealment.

That clean pane of glass had not only reflected the city lights, but also the tacitly understood act of peeking between them.

A great sweetness and a great bitterness crashed together into a surging tide and drowned her in an instant.

Her heart beat so fast and so hard that even her fingertips went a little numb.

Jin Zijin wasn’t the only one stunned. Zhang Qingchi, who had been provoking them all along, was also left staring blankly at Wen Yan’s blunt, unusually warm words.

After a long while, Zhang Qingchi finally found her voice. “Ahem..."

She cleared her throat and looked back and forth between Jin Zijin and Wen Yan.

When her eyes fell on the glimmer of their rings, the usual arrogance and hostility on her face was replaced by something more complicated.

Surprise, dawning realization, and a trace of almost imperceptible shock.

She picked up the slice of meat that had fallen back into her bowl and muttered, for once without any bite, “Fine. You’re impressive.”

That near-defeated grumble broke the stagnant air.

Jin Zijin seemed to wake, her lashes trembling violently.

She drew a deep breath, trying to steady her too-fast heartbeat, only to realize it was futile.

All her composure, all her calculations, all the emotional restraint she had honed in the business world—before Wen Yan’s direct dissection, they had been routed completely.

She said nothing. Instead, she reached out beneath the tablecloth and gently covered the back of Wen Yan’s hand resting on her leg.

Wen Yan’s hand moved slightly but did not pull away.

Her fingers were long and well-defined, with the slight calluses left by years of handling instruments; at that moment, they were a little cold.

Jin Zijin’s palm was hot. She closed her fingers, taking that cool hand fully into her own.

Her grip was tight, as if she needed to confirm that it was real; as if she needed to confirm that everything Wen Yan had just said was true.

Wen Yan turned her head to look at her.

Jin Zijin was looking at her too.

The corner of the woman’s eyes seemed faintly red.

Those eyes, which usually held either shrewdness or languor, were now misted over by the steam from the hot pot, churning with emotions Wen Yan had never seen before.

Like honey melting; like deep water with currents moving beneath the surface.

“Wen Yan.” Jin Zijin’s voice was lower and rougher than usual. She only called her name, then stopped.

It seemed there were countless things blocked in her throat, but she couldn’t find the right words to pour them out.

In the end, she only tightened her hold on Wen Yan’s hand a little more.

A moment later, she let go, picked up the serving chopsticks, and placed a perfectly cooked slice of marbled beef into Wen Yan’s dipping sauce.

“Too much tripe is hard on the stomach,” she said, her voice still a little hoarse, though it had returned to its usual ease. “Eat some meat.”

She blinked, using her customary way of smoothing over Wen Yan’s earnest, weighty confession and restoring the atmosphere to something natural.

Wen Yan accepted it readily, picked up the beef slice, dipped it in the sauce, and ate in silence.

The beef was tender; the spice of the broth, mixed with sesame oil and garlic, burst across her tongue.

She chewed slowly, as if the one who had just thrown down an emotional bomb was not herself.

Watching the unspoken understanding and warmth flowing between them, the last bit of Zhang Qingchi’s unwillingness also faded away like the foam in the pot.

She wasn’t stupid. On the contrary, after being immersed in the art world for so long, she had an almost obsessive instinct for emotional authenticity.

Wen Yan’s words just now had contained no tricks, no embellishment, and even the logic was a little off.

There was “moved to like,” there was “my brother doesn’t deserve her,” there was “I’m the one suited to her.”

And yet it was precisely that clumsy self-analysis that had a force capable of crushing everything in its path.

Every sentence peeled herself open layer by layer, like stripping an onion, exposing the truest heart beneath.

She suddenly began to understand her cousin.

Used to seeing exquisite calculation and gorgeous performances, encountering such a piece of uncarved jade, within which molten lava burned hot, really was fatally attractive.

The latter half of the meal relaxed in a strangely natural way.

Zhang Qingchi stopped deliberately picking fights and instead chattered about interesting things from her touring performances.

She complained about foreign food, then curiously asked about Mi Tang.

Jin Zijin listened patiently and occasionally responded, but her gaze kept drifting, unable to help itself, toward the quietly eating Wen Yan beside her.

Wen Yan still didn’t talk much, but whenever Jin Zijin looked over, she would return a faint glance.

That expression remained calm, yet Jin Zijin felt she could read something different in it.

A softness that came after some of the wariness had been laid down; a closeness born from secrets shared.

Jin Zijin felt she was just like one of those little animals that recognized its owner; it made people’s hearts melt.

If Zhang Qingchi hadn’t still been there, Jin Zijin would have already reached out to rub her head.

So cute.

Her wife.

How could she be this cute?

————————

After dinner, the driver first sent Zhang Qingchi back to the Zhang residence.

Before getting out, Zhang Qingchi leaned on the car window and looked at Jin Zijin, then at Wen Yan.

In the end, she clicked her tongue and said to Wen Yan, “Hey, um... what I said today, I’m taking some of it back.”

She didn’t specify which part she was taking back, but the hostility in her eyes had clearly softened a lot, leaving behind more awkwardness and curiosity.

“Be good to my sister.” She tossed out that sentence, got out of the car, and ran back toward her family’s villa.

Only the two of them remained in the car again.

Cut off from the bustle outside, the surging emotions that had been deliberately suppressed in the private room seemed only now to truly rise up.

No one spoke. The car was quiet. A sea of neon lights flowed in through the windows and spilled across the interior, shifting restlessly.

The pet carrier had been safely secured on the thickened floor mat, placed on Wen Yan’s side.

Mi Tang seemed unsettled by the cramped space and the bumps of the ride, letting out tiny, pitiful mews as she stretched out a paw to scratch at the barred door.

Wen Yan instinctively leaned forward and extended her finger, gently teasing the kitten’s pink paw pad through the gap in the carrier door, trying to comfort it.

“Careful.”

A warm hand landed in time on her forehead, gently drawing her slightly forward-leaning body back an inch to avoid the sway from the car’s turn.

Jin Zijin’s voice was right by her ear, carrying its usual composure and a trace of barely perceptible concern. “We’re in the car. Sit steady.”

Wen Yan seemed to burn at the touch of those fingers and quickly pulled her hand back from the cat, straightening up. Her ears warmed slightly. “...Thanks.”

She placed her hand properly back on her knee and looked at the lights racing backward outside the window, but she still couldn’t resist glancing at the person beside her from the corner of her eye.

The air was filled with an odd tension.

It was the subtle embarrassment and uncertainty that came after shedding heavy armor and exposing the soft inside, then facing the person one wanted most to be close to.

As though two people who had just exchanged their deepest secrets needed a little time to readjust to each other’s familiar outlines, now newly infused with searing warmth.

The silence didn’t last long.

Jin Zijin turned her head and, through the shifting light and shadow passing in and out from the window, studied Wen Yan’s deliberately calm side profile and reddened ear.

Then she suddenly let out a low laugh.

The sound was especially clear in the enclosed car, carrying unmistakable teasing. “You were pretty talkative at the table just now, weren’t you?”

Her tone was lazy, the end of each sentence drawn out on purpose, like a feather tickling the quiet. “Citing this and that, reasoning it all out neatly, laying bare your heart..."

“Now that it’s just the two of us, why are you suddenly so reserved?”

Wen Yan’s ears burned hotter at that, and her fingers unconsciously curled on her knee.

She turned back, trying to stay composed, but her voice still betrayed a trace of rare awkwardness. “That was...”

“What was that?” Jin Zijin pressed, leaning slightly toward her.

The woman’s eyes reflected the passing light from outside, bright and piercing, insisting on hearing it from her own lips.

Wen Yan met her gaze for two seconds before finally losing.

She sighed helplessly, her shoulders imperceptibly sagging.

The composure she had been forcing slipped away like a receding tide, revealing the shy softness beneath.

“Fine,” she admitted in surrender, her voice dropping low with an honesty that felt like self-exposure. “I really was... a little shy.”

She paused, lowered her eyes, and looked at her clasped hands. Her long lashes cast a small shadow beneath her eyes. “I don’t often... almost never, actually, say that kind of... deeply self-examining thing in front of other people.”

“Every time I do, afterward I always feel...”

“Regretful?” Jin Zijin picked up her words, testing the waters as she softened her tone, though her gaze remained locked on Wen Yan. “Regretful that you told me all that? Or regretful that you admitted... it was love at first sight for me?”

She spoke the last few words slowly, with a trace of barely concealed nervousness.

“Neither.” Wen Yan shook her head at once and looked up at Jin Zijin, her eyes clear and sincere, without the slightest evasion or retreat. “I don’t regret telling you any of that.”

She pressed her lips together, seeming to search for a more precise way to say it. “I just regret... saying it in that kind of setting, in that kind of way.”

Her voice grew even softer, yet every word was clear, her tone solemn. “My little cousin was there, and it was noisy. It wasn’t appropriate.”

Wen Yan paused, choosing her next words carefully. “To me, those words should belong to a more private, quieter moment.”

“They should be said at just the right time, to you alone; that would make them more sincere, and more solemn.”

Jin Zijin listened quietly. As Wen Yan spoke, the light in her eyes gradually softened, finally rippling into a warm, gentle sheen.

She let out an “oh,” drawn out in realization, but the corners of her mouth were already lifting uncontrollably, her eyes full of sweet satisfaction and indulgence.

“I get it,” she said, leaning closer still; her breath almost brushed Wen Yan’s face, her voice lowered with a smile. “Dr. Wen thinks that declaring yourself to me in front of an outsider is because you’re thin-skinned and shy.”

Wen Yan: “..."

That blunt interpretation left her speechless, and the heat on her face only threatened to spread.

After two seconds of silence, she gave an almost inaudible “mm,” which counted as agreement. The look on her face was so awkward that it was almost endearingly clumsy.

Jin Zijin’s heart was brushed by the softest feathers; it itched and warmed at once.

She stopped teasing her, instead reaching out with both hands to gently cradle Wen Yan’s slightly warm face and force her to meet her eyes.

“But,” Jin Zijin looked into her eyes, her voice carrying an unprecedented tenderness and seriousness, every word seemingly soaked in honey, “I really like it.”

“I like hearing you tell me your thoughts, your feelings, those tiny ripples hidden under your calm exterior.”

Her thumb lightly stroked the soft skin beneath Wen Yan’s cheekbone, her gaze focused as if she were looking at a treasure unmatched in the world. “Everything you feel about me, everything you know and touch in this world, I want to know it too. I want to be part of it.”

She thought of the promise she had made earlier, her tone growing even firmer. “Didn’t I say it before? I want to know your life; I want to take part in all of it.”

“This isn’t politeness. It’s the truth.”

The car fell quiet, only her voice flowing slowly through the space with a kind of hypnotic magic.

Wen Yan was held in her hands, gazing into that depth of warmth and longing, her heart soaking in warm water until it went soft and numb.

Maybe it was because of the extreme honesty they had just shared; maybe it was because this enclosed space had given her courage.

A question that had long been circling in her mind rose up at just the right moment.

Wen Yan didn’t look away. Keeping this intimate posture, she asked softly, “Why?”

“Why do you want to be so involved in my life?”

Jin Zijin didn’t seem surprised that she would ask that.

Her smile deepened, and a look of understanding and pleasure flashed in her eyes; she had clearly been waiting for this question.

She didn’t immediately try to explain it in complicated language. Instead, she let go of Wen Yan’s cheeks and lifted her arms to loosely hook them around Wen Yan’s neck, drawing their bodies closer.

Their noses touched; their breaths mingled completely.

“It’s simple,” she said, her breath warm, her tone light as if she were sharing a secret she had treasured for a long time. “Because that night...”

Her voice dropped even lower, like a lover’s whisper. “I was also using the corner of my eye to secretly look at you.”

Wen Yan’s eyes widened suddenly.

Jin Zijin gave a low laugh, her lips close to Wen Yan’s as she murmured softly, “My feelings for you were the same; I fell for your looks at first sight.”

Boom.

Wen Yan felt as though something in her brain had exploded, and then a clarity she had never known before swept through her all at once.

The doubt that had lingered deep in her heart like an unshakable mist was instantly dispersed.

Whether she had merely been a fallback choice, whether the beginning of this marriage had ever been pure...

At this moment, all of it was shattered by Jin Zijin’s direct, fervent, even slightly overbearing declaration.

So that was how it was.

So she wasn’t Plan B. She wasn’t the result of a compromise after weighing the pros and cons.

From the very start, Jin Zijin’s gaze had also remained on her.

No wonder... on their wedding night, she had said those things, and shown that kind of urgency and certainty.

Everything had an explanation now.

At this moment, she felt an incomparable joy, and a buoyant lightness like the happiest of celebrations.

Wen Yan looked at the woman’s smiling eyes so close to her, clearly seeing her own reflection inside them.

She said nothing, only followed the most overwhelming impulse in her heart.

She tilted her chin up slightly, closed her eyes, and kissed Jin Zijin’s lips.

Gentle, but certain.

A kiss of confirmation; a kiss of claiming a seal.

When they parted, both of their breathing was a little ragged.

Wen Yan rested her forehead lightly against Jin Zijin’s and did not immediately pull away.

Since childhood, she had been surrounded by the hypocrisy and schemes of the adult world; she had heard enough exaggeration and concealment to last a lifetime.

Logically, she understood that even Jin Zijin’s words might contain emotional coloring, or the heat born from the present moment.

But human ailments are complex things formed by countless tiny changes; how much more so the human heart.

So she chose not to analyze it.

She chose to believe.

Believe in the warmth passing through her palm right now.

Believe in the lingering touch on her lips.

Believe in the sincerity glowing for her alone in those eyes filled with starlight before her.

Even if this was an exceptionally beautiful dream, she was willing to sink into it.

Before the dream woke, she would believe with all her heart that, to Jin Zijin, she was the most special one among a million.

————————

It was obvious from the start, wasn’t it? If it wasn’t mutual, what kind of decent person could sleep with someone on the third date?[laugh-cry]

The two of them together really do become oblivious to everything under heaven. [gobbling melons]