Chapter 74
The Phoenix’s propellers whipped up a fierce wind. Wen Yan gripped the controls and, following the preset route, lifted off smoothly.
The fuselage gave a slight shudder as it left the ground, then slowly rose into the winter night sky above the capital.
Cold air slipped through the gap in the window, thin and cool, lifting the stray hairs at their temples.
Jin Zijin pressed close to the porthole, her nose almost touching the icy glass. In her eyes, the dazzling lights spread out below them were reflected back.
High-rises rose like mountain ranges of light; streams of traffic became rivers of brilliance. The whole city looked like a star map carefully drawn by someone’s hand, quietly burning on the black earth.
Her eyes shone with starlight, her fingertips gripping the window frame, the corners of her mouth curving into an impossible-to-hide smile.
She turned to look at Wen Yan, who was focused on flying the helicopter, and asked with the bright eagerness of a child on her first merry-go-round ride, “Yan Yan, when did you get your helicopter license?”
“I can’t believe I didn’t know at all.”
That was a lie; she had looked into Wen Yan before, and she knew her interests, hobbies, and what she was good at inside and out.
Wen Yan turned her head toward her.
The city lights outside the window flickered in her eyes, bright and dim in turn, but all she could see was the sparkling gaze of the person beside her.
She curved her lips, her voice soft. “When I was in grad school.”
She paused, one hand steady on the controls, her tone light. “The summer after college graduation, I didn’t have much to do, and my senior just happened to sign up for a class too, so she dragged me along to learn. I studied on and off for more than half a year and passed the exam without any trouble.”
The smile on Jin Zijin’s lips faded a little.
She said nothing, only turned back to the window, though her cheeks puffed up slightly. “Then your senior really taught you a lot.”
“She was way too good to you.”
Her voice drifted over from the window side, sour and dripping with obvious jealousy. “Feels like half your personality and half your abilities were shaped by your senior bit by bit.”
Wen Yan blinked.
Looking at the back of her head and those faintly puffed cheeks, Wen Yan instantly understood her mood: I’m not happy; come coax me.
She couldn’t help but laugh softly.
She was actually jealous of that?
Wen Yan freed one hand and reached over, firmly taking Jin Zijin’s hand.
Jin Zijin curled her fingers and huffed, but she still let Wen Yan hold on.
Wen Yan sounded a little helpless. “If you put it that way, then I’m going to have to talk about Chunxin and Jianlan.”
She smiled, her voice bright. “Your Lego sets and Gundam figures—Chunxin was the one who got you into those. The art books and science-fiction novels on your shelf were all recommended by her too.”
She paused, her thumb rubbing gently over the back of Jin Zijin’s hand, her smile deepening. “As for Jianlan, there’s even less need to say anything. She’s been with you through so many occasions since you were little, and blocked so much trouble for you.”
“Even your AI medical focus came from a concept the two of you came up with when you were kids, after watching science-fiction movies together.”
“Wow. If we’re really going to count old feelings, then I’m afraid even the entire Pacific Ocean turning into vinegar wouldn’t be enough for me to drink.”
She used humor to smooth over the little knot in Jin Zijin’s heart.
Jin Zijin jerked her head around to look at her, eyes wide. “How do you know all this? I never really told you any of it!”
Wen Yan glanced at her, her expression behind the flight goggles carrying a bit of slyness. “From the last truth-or-dare. I listened to you all talking and figured it out.”
She tightened her grip on Jin Zijin’s hand slightly, her voice softening and turning a little pleased. “I’m very good at getting people to talk.”
Jin Zijin froze for a beat.
Then she burst out laughing and reached out to lightly poke Wen Yan’s cheek. “So many little schemes. You’re curious about my past, huh?”
Her smile deepened into her eyes. “What do you call that? A shady little ghost?”
Ha, Chi Chunxin said she was an all-possessive domineering CEO, but in her eyes Wen Yan was no worse.
Wen Yan curled her lips in a smile and tightened her hold on Jin Zijin’s hand.
The city lights outside the porthole slowly flowed backward, like a luminous river.
Wen Yan glanced at that drifting brilliance, then looked ahead again, focusing on the flight. “Call it whatever you want. But I think people are all the same.”
She paused, as if arranging her thoughts, then said after a moment, “Along the journey of life, we meet all kinds of people. When their souls pass by ours, they always leave traces in our hearts.”
“It’s only when those traces are pieced together that we become the one and only us.”
She turned to look at Jin Zijin.
The flowing lights outside the window flickered in her eyes, as if stars had fallen inside. “Everyone has unforgettable old experiences.”
“But now, I’m the one making new experiences with you.”
Jin Zijin lifted her gaze to her. Night fell across Wen Yan’s lenses, making her look dazzlingly bright.
Wen Yan continued, earnest and sincere. “Just like your photo albums; there are so, so many people who occupied your life before.”
“But as long as we work hard to create memories that belong to us and fill the albums to the brim…”
She paused, the corners of her mouth lifting, her voice turning pleasantly warm. “Then the bond between us will outweigh anyone else’s.”
Wen Yan looked up and gave Jin Zijin a sidelong glance. “What you’ve experienced before is important to both of us. But only the present, only the future, only by building everything that belongs to us…”
“Will we have more things that belong to us.”
“I think that’s the most important thing for us.”
Yes, she didn’t deny the importance of the people in her past. But she also knew that if she wanted a future with Jin Zijin, then all she could do was cherish the present.
She was clearly a gentle, easygoing person, but whenever she expressed her feelings, she was always so frank, so sincere.
And she still said she didn’t know how to date.
If she really dated someone else… heavens…
Jin Zijin didn’t dare imagine how many ex-girlfriends would still be thinking about her!
Good thing she’d made her move first.
After hearing Wen Yan’s analysis, Jin Zijin only felt both touched and relieved.
She curved her eyes, lightly brushing the center of Wen Yan’s palm with her fingertips, her voice sweet and teasing. “So…”
She dragged out the ending. “You went to such lengths to ask me out for New Year’s Eve, painstakingly prepared all this, just to surpass them and take the most important place in my heart?”
Wen Yan’s ears turned red in an instant; the blush spread from her earlobes to the edges of her face.
She lowered her lashes, the feathers of them trembling like wings blown by the wind, and nodded lightly. “Mm.”
She paused, then lifted her eyes and turned to look at Jin Zijin.
Through the lenses, she looked straight at her face. “Every New Year’s Eve from now on.”
“Whether we’re in a helicopter or doing something else, I want you to have even one moment when you remember this night.”
“Just like that birthday you gave me…” She looked at Jin Zijin, little glints of light shaking in her eyes. “It’s the most unforgettable day of my life.”
Jin Zijin looked at her reflection in Wen Yan’s glasses and only felt her heart swelling and swelling.
She drew in a breath, pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and held it up high, aiming it at the two of them. “Come on, let’s take a photo!”
“One, two, three… cheese!”
——————
Wen Yan controlled the helicopter and, along the preset route, slowly circled the capital.
One round, two rounds, three rounds.
The night outside the porthole flowed slowly by; lights layered over lights like a reel of film stretched out very, very long.
Before they knew it, the hands of the clock quietly stepped into the early hours of the morning. Wen Yan gently squeezed Jin Zijin’s hand and reminded her, “It’s almost New Year. Come on, let’s do the countdown.”
As she said that, Wen Yan let her phone AI start counting down:
“10… 9… 8…”
Jin Zijin sat up straight and pressed her face to the window. The helicopter slowly turned toward the city east.
“3… 2… 1…”
“Happy New Year!”
The moment the words fell, the horizon suddenly exploded into a sky full of brilliant light.
Countless fireworks rose from the ground, shooting into the black sky with sharp whistles before bursting open at the peak.
Gold and red, silver and blue, emerald green, amber yellow…
Layer upon layer of radiant color, as if someone had overturned a divine palette and painted the entire sky into a boiling sea of light.
Before one firework had finished falling, another was already blooming.
Millions upon millions of blossoms of flame erupted in the night, illuminating the sleeping city, illuminating the silent sky, illuminating the face beside the window, full of wonder.
Jin Zijin lay against the porthole, her eyes brimming with amazement.
Cheers rose from the ground, carried up from the whole city through the distance and blending into a low, buzzing roar filled with New Year joy.
At this moment, they were sitting inside the Phoenix, suspended above this surging sea of light like a pair of astronauts floating deep in the vast universe.
From far away, they witnessed an extreme and dazzling stellar explosion with their own eyes.
Splendid, grand, unforgettable.
Romantic to the extreme.
Jin Zijin turned to look at Wen Yan, still reflecting the sky full of streaking fire in her eyes, and said happily, “Yan Yan, Happy New Year.”
Wen Yan’s eyes curved into two gentle crescent moons. “Happy New Year.”
She paused, the smile in her eyes deepening. “My Majesty.”
——————
When the last warmth of the fireworks had faded, Wen Yan turned the Phoenix around and, following the original route, flew steadily back.
The fuselage tilted slightly, like a tired bird folding its wings and gliding slowly back into the night it had come from.
By the time the helicopter landed steadily in the open space, the ground was already covered in a thin layer of white.
Snow fell sparsely and lightly, fine and weightless, like salt sifted down from the sky.
It melted as soon as it touched hair; it disappeared as soon as it fell into the palm, leaving only a faint coolness to remind them it was real.
The moment Jin Zijin stepped out of the cabin, she widened her eyes slightly at the scattered snow all around her.
She froze for two seconds, then turned and grabbed Wen Yan’s sleeve, her voice full of undisguised surprise. “Yan Yan!”
She paused, her voice brimming with delight. “You even had someone set up snowfall here?”
Wen Yan raised her hand and caught a snowflake.
The hexagonal crystal stayed in her palm for an instant before slowly melting into a tiny, sparkling drop of water.
Her fingers curved slightly, as if sheltering something fragile. Her eyes rippled with a soft smile. “Snow feels more like New Year’s.”
She paused, then turned to Jin Zijin, her eyes shining. “And it goes with the surprise afterward.”
She took Jin Zijin’s hand and led her forward.
Not far away, beneath a pine tree heavy with snow, a pure white RV sat quietly.
Like a giant resting in the snow, the roof covered by a thin layer of white, like a cake frosted with cream. The snowy-white body blended into the falling snow, yet under the yellow streetlamp it gave off a warm pearly glow, especially eye-catching.
Jin Zijin’s eyes lit up.
She recognized it; it was the one she had given Wen Yan a few days ago.
Wen Yan tightened her grip on her hand, her voice full of delighted expectation. “Come on. To our first stop of the new year.”
The two of them stepped through the thin snow toward the RV.
A soft rustling sound came from beneath their feet with each step, like walking on sugar frost. Snowflakes landed on their shoulders and hair. Jin Zijin reached out and brushed the white from Wen Yan’s hair, but her fingers paused at the melting dampness.
Wen Yan pulled open the door, and warm air mixed with a faint sandalwood scent rushed out to meet them.
At the same time, a mechanical, icy AI voice suddenly came from the onboard radio.
It was the tone Jin Zijin knew all too well; Hengxing’s main AI: [A sudden cold wave has descended. Seventy percent of the cities across the globe have already been completely covered in ice and snow. Extreme cold continues to spread, and temperatures are expected to fall further to minus fifty degrees Celsius within the next seventy-two hours.]
[To adapt to the extreme cold survival environment, humanity has begun a new round of adaptive evolution. All survivors, please remain calm, find the nearest shelter, and await further instructions.]
[The broadcast will repeat in thirty seconds…]
Jin Zijin turned sharply to look at Wen Yan.
Her face was full of curiosity that she couldn’t hide, along with a tiny spark of excitement at having been hit right in one of her secret preferences. “What kind of setup is this?”
She paused, her voice turning amused. “Why are we doing a doomsday backdrop too?”
Wen Yan closed the RV door with a reverse motion.
With a soft click, the wind and snow outside were sealed away, along with the world that was endlessly repeating the apocalypse broadcast.
She turned back to Jin Zijin and smiled, the corners of her mouth lifted. “I made it specially for you; an apocalypse theme.”
Looking at Jin Zijin’s eyes, bright with surprise, she said softly, “Don’t you always say you like this kind of coexistence-in-the-apocalypse atmosphere?”
Hearing that, Jin Zijin suddenly became a little impatient. “I like it. Let’s wash up first.”
“We’ve been out hunting for so long; it’s time to rest.”
——————
The RV’s interior was luxuriously appointed.
The space was compact but complete in every way; wooden cabinets, creamy padded walls, warm yellow sconces, everything carefully tended and comfortingly in place.
Wen Yan led Jin Zijin into the washroom.
The little bathtub was polished to a shine, glimmering a warm porcelain white under the light. It wasn’t large, but it was just right for the two of them to squeeze into together.
The RV’s surround sound was excellent; in the fully immersive 3D system, they could hear the north wind beating against the thin walls with a rustling sound.
It was so realistic it felt as if they truly were in a frozen apocalypse, on that island isolated by ice and snow.
Wen Yan filled it with warm water, then crouched down to test the temperature before looking up and beckoning to Jin Zijin. “Come here. I’ll wash for you.”
Jin Zijin walked over. Wen Yan stood up and reached out, her fingertips lightly resting at Jin Zijin’s collar.
Jin Zijin said nothing; she simply stood quietly and let those hands take off her outer clothes, take off the dress dampened by snow water, take off the fatigue and clamor of the entire night.
Wen Yan’s fingertips moved gently through her hair.
The shampoo lather spread fine and dense, carrying a faint citrus fragrance. She washed for her, massaged for her, rinsed her clean; every motion was meticulous and gentle, as if polishing a precious piece of porcelain.
She washed especially cleanly.
Especially seriously.
Especially… carefully.
Jin Zijin leaned against Wen Yan’s chest.
Warm water flowed over her shoulders and neck, over her body that had been tired for the entire night.
Outside the bathroom, the wind and snow were still sounding, and the tail end of the broadcast still faintly echoed: [Emergency situation, District 133, extreme blizzard in progress. All survivors please remain calm… find the nearest shelter… await further instructions…]
But none of that mattered anymore.
She closed her eyes and listened to the steady, powerful heartbeat of the person behind her.
One beat, then another.
In the vast ice and snow, it seemed as if only the two of them remained, leaning on each other, with no one alone.
After washing, they dried off and wrapped themselves in soft bathrobes.
The bathrobes were creamy white and fluffy, like they’d been wrapped in two freshly baked clouds.
They came to the small living area of the RV.
The warm yellow lights switched on, turning the entire space cozy and glowing, like a balloon filled with light floating in this frozen world.
Wen Yan took out the hair dryer.
She stood behind Jin Zijin, her fingers threading through her still-dripping long hair, drying it strand by strand.
Warm air poured from the nozzle, carrying a faint sandalwood scent and fluffing the hair into soft volume. Her movements were light, as if she were combing through a bolt of precious silk.
Jin Zijin closed her eyes and let herself be handled.
She heard the low hum of the dryer, the sound of snow falling outside, the steady breathing of the person behind her.
And her own heartbeat.
Thump, thump.
“Want to drink some wine?”
Wen Yan set down the dryer and leaned in from behind, resting her chin lightly on Jin Zijin’s shoulder.
Curled up on the sofa, Jin Zijin looked lazy and languid, like a cat that had been stroked very comfortably. She nodded lightly, her voice soft. “Yes.”
Wen Yan stood and took out the drink set from the cabinet.
A white porcelain wine pot and two small cups; red plum blossoms were painted sparsely on the pot’s body, glowing warmly in the light.
She began to warm the wine over a low flame.
The amber-yellow wine bubbled gently in the little pot; fragrance drifted from the spout, sweet and mellow, carrying the warmth of Shaoxing yellow wine after rice and yeast fermentation.
Jin Zijin glanced at it and immediately understood.
She raised her brows, a teasing smile in her voice. “This Shaoxing yellow wine… was it Chunxin recommending it to you again?”
Wen Yan shook her head.
She looked up and smiled faintly. “No. I took it from the old house’s liquor cabinet.”
After a pause, Wen Yan added, “I know yellow wine is sweet, and I can drink a little with you.”
Jin Zijin was stunned for a moment, then laughed.
She reached out and gently took the hand Wen Yan still had resting on the wine pot, praising her, “You really are a seasoned eater.”
A little fire was warming the wine.
The fragrance of the wine filled the entire living room, blending with the warm yellow light and turning the small space into a tender cocoon.
Jin Zijin leaned against Wen Yan’s shoulder.
Her fingertip lightly tapped the table, once, then again, as if keeping time to some unsystematic rhythm.
“Let’s watch a movie.”
Her voice was soft, carrying a trace of lazy affection.
“What do you want to watch?” Wen Yan turned her head and rubbed her chin lightly against the top of Jin Zijin’s hair.
Jin Zijin paused, thinking for a moment. “Mr. Nobody.”
Wen Yan nodded. “That’s an old one.”
She reached out and turned on the RV projector; the image slowly brightened.
The protagonist in the film was named Nemo.
All the turning points in his life began the moment his parents divorced.
The film showed three very different life paths.
On the first, he married a banker’s daughter, sailing smoothly all the way to success, wealth, and status. He had everything the world envied, and in the end killed himself out of loneliness.
On the second, he became a laborer at the bottom rung of society. His days were ordinary and difficult, with firewood, rice, oil, and salt wrapped in the thickest atmosphere of everyday life, along with countless sorrows. He had the happiness of an ordinary person, but also many regrets.
On the third, he pursued the one he loved with everything he had. He drifted through life, wandering from city to city, from one stretch of time to another. He never truly owned anything, yet there was always light in his eyes, like sparks that had never gone out.
Three paths, three lives.
But no matter which path Nemo chose, no matter what kind of life he had,
he would ultimately make his way, without fail, toward the same woman; the heroine of his life.
There was never an exception.
The film ended.
As the ending credits slowly rolled, Jin Zijin held the warm wine cup in both hands, her palm softened by the heat. “This movie is really interesting.”
She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Life is like a big bang.”
Wen Yan turned her head and listened quietly.
“From the moment we’re born, we have the most choices. But as we slowly grow up, the forks in the road get fewer and fewer, and the choices get narrower and narrower.”
Jin Zijin’s voice was light, as if she were speaking of a truth she had understood a long time ago. “In the end, everyone only points toward the same destination…”
“Death.”
She turned to look at Wen Yan. The warm yellow light reflected in her eyes, gentle enough to drip. “So whatever choice you make, there’s no need to regret it.”
“Just charge forward boldly and go toward your own destiny.”
Wen Yan nodded. “That’s true… just like the male lead’s destiny. Aside from the very first branch, in every life after that he unflinchingly pointed toward the heroine.”
As she said that, she thought of a question and asked curiously, “Do you believe in that kind of fate?”
Jin Zijin lifted her gaze, deliberately asking the obvious. “What fate?”
“Mm. I mean, no matter which parallel world it is, there will always be the same person relentlessly running toward you.”
“Of course I believe it.” Jin Zijin reached out and gently touched Wen Yan’s face.
Her fingertips slid from the brow bone to the corner of the eye, from the corner of the eye to the cheekbone, and finally came to rest at the corner of her lips. “Am I not running toward you right now?”
Wen Yan froze.
Jin Zijin lightly rubbed her lower lip, her voice as tender as if soothing a child who lacked confidence. “I believe that in every parallel universe, the two of us, right now, are definitely together.”
Wen Yan’s pupils contracted at once.
She stared at Jin Zijin in front of her, as if she wanted to lock her into the deepest part of her pupils. She looked for a long time before she finally couldn’t help but curve her lips.
She reached out and firmly lifted Jin Zijin into her arms, letting her straddle her lap.
The two of them ended up facing each other.
The distance suddenly closed; so close they could count each other’s lashes, so close they could hear the rhythm of each other’s heartbeats, so close that every breath intertwined and it became impossible to tell whose was whose.
Their noses touched; Wen Yan rubbed hers lightly against Jin Zijin’s.
Outside, snow hissed softly. The tail end of the doomsday broadcast still drifted in the air like background music to this grand dream.
[Please remain calm… find the nearest shelter… await further instructions…]
Warm yellow light wrapped around the wine scent and turned the little room into a gentle cocoon.
Wen Yan tilted her head back and looked at the person she loved, her voice hoarse. “Then let’s do some grown-up things.”
“Your Majesty.”
——————
Compared with her usual impatience, Wen Yan’s movements this time were very gentle.
She pressed soft kisses to Jin Zijin’s face and neck, searching for her lips. Her other hand moved from her waist and stomach to her shoulder, then forward again, slipping into the bathrobe.
Jin Zijin tensed all over, her breathing growing quick and uneven.
She had no choice but to tilt her neck back high; her face was flushed red, her watery eyes hazy, her lips slightly parted.
Her tender, fragrant tongue slipped out, teasing and licking at the corner of Wen Yan’s mouth. Wen Yan opened her mouth and kissed her.
In this apocalyptic ice and snow, with the wind howling outside, they hid safely inside the RV, wrapped around each other, the scent of citrus completely enveloping them.
Wen Yan was utterly seized by that fragrance, and as she felt the body beneath her palms rising and falling, she gradually increased her force.
Jin Zijin rubbed against her with helpless need.
Both of their bodies were burning hot; through the thin layer of fabric, Wen Yan could distinctly feel that damp, searing heat.
Wen Yan released her lips.
Their breaths tangled. She looked at the person straddling her lap.
Jin Zijin’s bathrobe had already come loose and gathered at her waist like a wrinkled cloud.
Yet she had no intention of fixing it, only looking down at Wen Yan from on high, like a queen seated on her throne, like a god looking down on her believer.
And yet those watery eyes were hazy, her cheeks flushed, her lips faintly red; where was there any majesty at all?
She was just a cat that had been stroked so much she had gone soft all over, yet still stubbornly refused to climb off her owner’s lap.
Both of them were burning hot all over; between each breath, there was only each other’s scent.
Wen Yan felt like she was running a fever. She rubbed against Jin Zijin’s flushed cheek and pressed close to her, hot against hot.
Keeping their faces pressed together, Wen Yan reached for the small box beside them.
It was too hot; her fingers were trembling, slick and burning, and she nearly couldn’t get it on.
Jin Zijin pressed against her and, while rubbing against her ear, reached out to help her, moving in a flustered hurry.
At last it was done. Wen Yan was almost burning through as well. She exhaled, then said into Jin Zijin’s ear in a hot, husky whisper, “All right; lift yourself a little.”
Jin Zijin blinked and pretended she hadn’t heard clearly.
Wen Yan’s palm rested against her side, giving her a small lift, her voice patient and rough. “Lift up. I’ll help you.”
Only then did Jin Zijin react.
She bit her lower lip, both hands braced on Wen Yan’s shoulders, then pressed down through her knees and lifted her body slightly, rubbing against Wen Yan.
She’s so bad!
She knew exactly how to seduce people.
Wen Yan bit her own lip, then thrust in without hesitation; Jin Zijin instantly clutched her shoulders and collapsed into her arms.
Wen Yan opened her mouth and kissed her, using the tip of her tongue to deepen the kiss and stir her inside.
Jin Zijin was kissed until she could only make muffled sounds, raising a hand to slap at Wen Yan’s shoulder. The other woman kissed her fiercely for a long while. When they finally parted, Jin Zijin was so limp she was practically boneless.
Soft and clingy.
Like a kitten, curled in Wen Yan’s arms, her whole body trembling and shaking.
Wen Yan kissed her again, pecking her coaxingly. “Come on… talk to me…”
“Say you love me…”
“Jin Zijin, say you love me…”
While coaxing her, she was also being wicked, dodging whenever Jin Zijin tried to scratch her waist.
The woman was nearly driven mad by her. She looped her arms around Wen Yan’s neck and lowered her head to kiss her. “Wuu…”
“Be nice…”
“Be nice…”
“Wen Yan…”
“Wen Yan…”
She only knew how to call her name.
Again and again.
Like prayer, like a spell, like a drowning person desperately calling for the only shore in sight.
Wen Yan really couldn’t take her calls.
Every time she heard “Wen Yan,” she increased the force by a notch. Jin Zijin was shaken apart, her voice breaking into pieces, yet she still refused to stop calling her.
Until the very last moment, when the woman collapsed into her arms.
The two of them held each other, sticky and tangled.
After a long while, Jin Zijin straightened up. Both hands braced on Wen Yan’s shoulders, her knees firmly pressing into the sofa cushion.
She lifted a finger and pressed it to Wen Yan’s lips. “You’re so bad.”
“Don’t move. I’ll do it myself.”
With that, she braced herself on Wen Yan’s shoulders and made her waist rise and fall again.
This time, she was the one in control.
Wen Yan’s mind exploded with a boom.
Using her own rhythm, her own force, her own way, she sent herself to Wen Yan again and again.
Like riding a galloping horse.
Like waves rising and falling.
Like feathers carried by the night wind, drifting, spinning, falling, and rising in the endless sky.
Wen Yan looked up at her.
The woman’s long hair swept through the air in a beautiful arc; her reddened skin shone under the light with a pearly luster, and sweet, broken sounds slipped from her slightly parted lips.
She was completely…
absolutely a succubus reborn.
Wen Yan could hardly take her eyes off her.
She simply supported Jin Zijin’s waist and protected her, making sure she wouldn’t fall from her lap.
She let her take whatever she wanted.
She let her devour her inch by inch.
Jin Zijin’s movements gradually lost their rhythm.
She started trembling, started growing weak, started losing control of her own body.
The overwhelming tide surged in wave after wave, tossing her high and slamming her down again.
She felt like a small boat tossed on a stormy sea, unable to find shore or anchor.
She was lying on Wen Yan’s shoulder, panting and trembling, her voice soft as melted honey. “I can’t anymore…”
“I can’t…”
But her body was more honest than her mouth.
She clung tightly to Wen Yan, burying her face in the crook of her neck, refusing to leave her lap.
Her waist was still moving, but the rhythm was gone; only instinctive friction remained.
Wen Yan lightly patted her back and said in a husky voice, “Then leave it to me.”
She lifted Jin Zijin’s waist.
After that, Jin Zijin could no longer make out a complete sound.
She could only lie on Wen Yan’s shoulder, opening her mouth and spilling out broken whimpers. Tears slid down uncontrollably, trickling along Wen Yan’s neck and mixing with sweat, impossible to tell apart.
She gripped Wen Yan’s back tightly.
Her nails left streaks of red on those taut muscles.
Like a traveler lost on the road, carving marks into a tree trunk just to make sure she was still heading home.
At one moment.
Her entire body stiffened and began trembling violently.
The trembling surged from the deepest part of her body, like magma finally breaking through layers of rock deep in the earth, like an avalanche that had built up for an entire winter finally pouring down.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
She could only clamp her teeth hard into Wen Yan’s shoulder and bury all her pleasure in that patch of skin.
Wen Yan held her tightly, making sure she wouldn’t fall from her lap. Her palm rested against Jin Zijin’s violently rising and falling back, patting it gently, again and again.
No one knew how long passed before Jin Zijin finally found her voice again.
She still didn’t lift her head; her face remained buried in Wen Yan’s neck, her voice muffled and soft, spoiled and clingy. “You bullied me.”
Wen Yan laughed softly.
She lowered her head and kissed the damp top of her hair, her voice light and full of sated tenderness. “Mm.”
“I bullied you.”
Jin Zijin didn’t let it go. “You made me cry.”
Wen Yan paused.
She reached out and gently lifted Jin Zijin’s chin so she would look up.
The woman’s eyes were wet, the corners red, her nose red too, like a pitiful little animal soaked by rain.
Bullied so badly.
That was what Wen Yan thought as she lowered her head and kissed away the tears at the corner of her eye.
Salty.
And sweet too.
She said softly, “My Majesty, you look beautiful even when you cry.”
Jin Zijin lay in her arms, breathing in Wen Yan’s unique loquat scent, gradually calming the frantic beating of her heart.
It was so strange. Other people all smelled like shampoo, body wash, or perfume.
But Wen Yan was different.
No matter how much she washed, whenever they were intimate, it was always this scent she liked.
Was this the power of genetic selection?
Like pheromones in the animal world. So amazing.
Jin Zijin suddenly remembered an old movie she had seen many years ago, where the heroine asked the hero: Do you believe in fate?
The hero said: I believe in choice.
She hadn’t understood it back then.
Now she did.
Fate had written the most important choice into the code of heredity.
Among the brushes with eight billion people, among eight billion encounters…
In countless parallel universes, even if there were only one single meeting, I would… fall in love with you.
Because before I met you, fate had already written the code; my genes decided everything… aside from you, I would not love anyone else.
So I can only, and will only, love you.