Chapter 8
Sex is a strange thing.
It is only a physical union, and yet in an instant it can redraw every line of distance between two people.
Like fire meeting alcohol—once it erupts, all that’s left are searing embers and boundaries melted beyond recognition.
That thought flashed through Wen Yan’s mind as she pulled back the covers and got into bed.
Two days ago, she had still been worrying about how this marriage, which had begun as a substitute arrangement, was supposed to end.
Her brother’s warning still rang in her ears.
Jin Zijin was an icy demon of a boss; the Jin family was a deeply rooted aristocratic house. Wen Yan already found business banquets exhausting, so how was she supposed to handle so-called “wealthy-family life”?
But now...
Wen Yan rolled onto her side and looked at the woman who had automatically rolled into her arms; the corners of her lips lifted in silence.
Jin Zijin had her eyes closed. Very naturally, she loosened Wen Yan’s arm and used it as a pillow, then rubbed her cheek against the hollow of Wen Yan’s shoulder like a cat that had finally found a comfortable spot.
Wen Yan lowered her gaze and, in the faint moonlight seeping through the curtains, looked at the side of her face softened by fatigue.
Her lashes cast faint shadows beneath her eyes; the sharp, chilly edge she wore during the day had disappeared entirely, leaving only a kind of unguarded tenderness.
Wen Yan felt her heart soften. She touched Jin Zijin’s cheek with the back of her hand and asked softly, “Are you very tired?”
Jin Zijin gave a muffled “mm” without opening her eyes. “Board meeting at seven this morning, flight to Hong Kong at nine, handled two urgent documents after landing before heading home...”
She paused, her voice growing lower. “I’ve been going nonstop for thirty-six hours.”
Wen Yan thought of the evening dress and diamond necklace she had seen in last night’s video call, thought of the tall, straight figure she had seen standing against a foreign nightscape.
So beneath all that glittering polish, this was the fatigue she had been carrying.
Wen Yan reached out and gently combed through Jin Zijin’s hair spread across the pillow.
“I thought,” Wen Yan said, amusement in her voice, “that I’d been too rough.”
Jin Zijin’s eyes snapped open.
Under the moonlight, her eyes were bright, carrying a trace of embarrassed outrage at being exposed. “Shut up.”
Wen Yan laughed out loud.
She found herself liking this side of Jin Zijin very much.
Her body was always the most honest thing about her; she would tremble when kissed, cry when she was aroused, yet afterward she always had to put on that air of dignity, using a fierce tone to cover her bashfulness.
She really did love getting annoyed.
Like some beautiful, fluffy bird of prey; when you stroked her the right way, she’d rumble contentedly in her throat, yet she still had to turn her head away and pretend to be disdainful.
A strange, wicked urge rose in Wen Yan’s heart.
Like those clumsy kids from childhood who wouldn’t admit they liked someone, and instead tugged at their braid just to make them turn red with anger and chase after them; only then could they be sure they had truly gotten their attention.
She leaned closer until her lips were almost pressed to Jin Zijin’s ear, warm breath brushing that sensitive skin. “Then... do you want to go again?”
Jin Zijin visibly stiffened.
She turned her head and stared at Wen Yan as if she were looking at a monster.
What was this, some kind of stamina freak?
Jin Zijin glared at her through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to.”
“I still have a video conference with Europe at nine tomorrow morning, three project review meetings in the afternoon, and at night...”
“Fine, fine,” Wen Yan cut her off with a laugh, soothing her by kissing her cheek. “I know, President Jin has a full schedule; I wouldn’t dare delay you.”
Jin Zijin shot her another glare, then decisively rolled the quilt up and moved half a meter to the other side of the bed.
Wen Yan didn’t chase after her.
She just lay on her side, looking at the back facing her, wrapped into a cocoon of her own making, and somewhere in her heart, a soft little patch caved in.
After a moment, she said quietly, “Good night.”
The lights went out.
Darkness surged in like a tide.
Wen Yan closed her eyes, yet her senses were unusually sharp.
Another person’s body heat still lingered in her arms; the air was faintly scented with the citrus fragrance of body wash; every so often, a car passing outside sent a distant hum through the window, making the room feel even quieter.
She couldn’t sleep.
A jumble of images flashed through her mind: the warm luster of the jade bracelet Grandma had handed over under the lamp, the dishes on the dining table that had been prepared with perfect precision to suit her tastes, the faint trace of a smile in Jin Zijin’s eyes when she stood at the entrance of the old house and said, “I’m home.”
Judging by Grandma’s attitude, the Jin family had at least accepted her.
And getting along with Jin Zijin... had gone far more smoothly than she had imagined.
This marriage that had begun in absurdity had unexpectedly taken root like a seed fallen into barren soil, quietly sprouting in a place no one had expected, even sending out tender new shoots.
As for the future—
Wen Yan turned over and buried her face in the pillow.
Forget it.
Medical experiments required controlled variables, observation, and data analysis, but feelings had never followed any standard procedure.
Since every step right now was landing on solid ground, why insist on staring into the fog-shrouded distance?
She had just managed to convince herself to relax when movement suddenly came from beside her.
Jin Zijin turned over and wrapped herself around her with hands and feet.
First a calf hooked over her waist, then an arm crossed over her chest, and finally the whole person clung to her like an octopus, cheek pressed into the hollow of her neck, breathing even and long.
Wen Yan: “...”
The sudden weight on her body made her stiffen.
She turned her head and, in the moonlight, made out Jin Zijin’s peaceful sleeping face.
The woman’s brows were relaxed, her lips slightly parted; she looked utterly innocent in deep sleep.
Wen Yan looked up at the ceiling and silently sighed.
Her newlywed wife was good in every way, except for this sleeping posture...
It was just too terrible.
Wen Yan carefully extricated herself from the “restraint.” Just as she shifted to the other side of the bed, less than five minutes later Jin Zijin rolled back toward the source of warmth and once again latched onto her with perfect accuracy.
This time, Wen Yan didn’t dodge.
She resigned herself to it, reached out, and gently wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist before closing her eyes.
---
Her biological clock rang precisely at six in the morning.
When Wen Yan opened her eyes, Jin Zijin was still asleep.
The woman’s hands and feet were still tangled around her; her long hair spread across the pillow, with a few strands stuck to her slightly sweaty temples.
Wen Yan looked at her for a while before gradually prying herself out of her embrace.
By the time she went downstairs, the whole house was still sunk in quiet sleep.
She changed into sportswear and opened the glass door to the backyard.
The air in the early winter morning was icy and clear; inhaling it felt like taking in a mouthful of mint.
The lawn in the courtyard was covered with a thin layer of frost, and every step made a faint crunching sound.
She stood in the middle of the lawn and took up the opening stance of Bajiquan.
Her breathing settled; qi flowed to her dantian.
When the first strike split the air, the last traces of sleepiness from the night before vanished with it.
Sweat slowly beaded on her skin, turning to white mist in the cold air.
The world shrank to the three feet where her fists cut through space; only muscle memory, the coordination of bone and joint, and the rhythm of breath remained.
By the time she finished two sets of boxing, the sky was already bright.
Wen Yan settled into her stance and let out a long breath; the white mist dissipated in the morning light.
She turned back into the house, went upstairs to shower, and came back down to find someone already in the dining room.
Jin Zijin was seated at one end of the long table in a silk robe, with a cup of black coffee and a tablet in front of her.
Morning light poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding her entire figure with a soft glow.
Her long hair was loosely tied up, revealing the elegant line of her neck; beneath the V-neck of her robe, the hollow of her collarbone was faintly visible.
She was looking down at the screen, her fingers occasionally swiping, her expression focused.
When she heard footsteps, she didn’t even look up. “Eat quickly. I’ll take you after you’re done.”
Wen Yan sat opposite her. Breakfast had already been laid out for her: a fried egg, whole-wheat toast, avocado, and a cup of hot milk.
A very standard nutritionally balanced meal.
“Are you going to the hospital today too?” Wen Yan picked up her milk. “The roads might be jammed; if you end up late like last time...”
“It’s fine.” Jin Zijin took a sip of coffee, eyes still fixed on the screen. “I’m the boss. It’s only right that they wait for me.”
Wen Yan: “...”
For a moment, she couldn’t tell whether she should marvel at this person’s righteous self-assurance or remind her that capitalist rhetoric should be used with caution.
At that moment, Jin Zijin finally looked up and let her gaze settle on her.
Today Wen Yan was wearing a dark gray tracksuit, with a small white swoosh logo on the chest; the style was simple, the fabric soft.
It had been washed a little old, with slight pilling on the cuffs.
“Your clothes still haven’t been delivered?” Jin Zijin frowned slightly.
“They have.” Wen Yan looked down at herself. “But they’re all formal dresses and skirts. Not convenient for surgery.”
“You usually wear trousers?”
“Mm.” Wen Yan thought for a moment, then added, “Mostly sportswear. In the operating room I have to change into scrubs, so comfort in daily wear matters most.”
Jin Zijin went, “Oh,” and said nothing.
She looked back down at the tablet, but not a single one of the densely packed figures on the screen registered in her mind.
What floated up in her head was the scene from the day they first met.
Wen Yan had been wearing a champagne satin evening gown; the back was completely open, exposing the clean, crisp line of her spine.
Her long hair had been fully pinned up, revealing a smooth forehead and a slender neck.
She sat among the banquet guests, her back straight, her expression calm; she didn’t fit at all with the glittering surroundings, yet somehow she still dominated the room.
Clean, handsome, and full of strength.
Very beautiful.
Jin Zijin liked her that way.
She even wanted to tell her that from now on, she should just wear dresses all the time.
After all, she worked so hard outside every day; coming home to a wife who was pleasing to the eye was what she deserved.
But that sentence was far too arrogant, and Jin Zijin couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Her fingers tapped the table unconsciously.
“The ready-made clothes you’re wearing,” she began, keeping her tone as even as possible, “the fabric is average, and the tailoring is ordinary.”
Wen Yan looked up at her.
“On Sunday, if you’re free, have the family tailor come over,” Jin Zijin said, lifting her coffee to hide her gaze. “Take your measurements and make a few sets of casual clothes. Choose better fabric; something comfortable.”
Wen Yan froze.
A few seconds later, she smiled, her eyes curving into a soft arc. “Okay.”
---
After breakfast, Jin Zijin had the driver take Wen Yan to the hospital.
Just as Wen Yan was about to get out of the car, Jin Zijin suddenly leaned over.
Wen Yan instinctively closed her eyes.
A kiss landed on her lips, light and carrying the slight bitterness of coffee and the cool freshness of mint toothpaste.
It was only a brief touch; when they parted, Jin Zijin had already settled back into the rear seat and was looking straight ahead, as if that kiss had only been Wen Yan’s illusion.
“See you tonight,” she said.
Wen Yan smiled. “Okay, see you tonight.”
She got out of the car and looked back once at the rear seat.
Jin Zijin rolled down the window and waved at her, then merged into traffic.
Only after that dark gray figure disappeared around the corner did Wen Yan turn and head into the hospital building.
The day’s work proceeded as usual: ward rounds, chart discussions, pre-op preparation, surgery.
At four-thirty in the afternoon, after the final ligament repair surgery was over, Wen Yan removed her mask and finally had a chance to check her phone.
There was an unread message from an unsaved number.
But Wen Yan recognized it; it was Jin Zijin’s assistant.
“Hello, Dr. Wen. President Jin’s meeting this afternoon needs to run about half an hour longer. She asked me to let you know that you can go back to the Wen family first; she’ll go there directly after the meeting ends. The driver is waiting at the hospital entrance.”
Wen Yan replied, “Okay,” then gathered her things and went downstairs.
Sure enough, the driver was waiting in the usual spot.
The car headed toward the city center. Wen Yan leaned back against the seat and looked at the neon lights gradually coming on outside the window.
Her phone buzzed; when she opened it, it was a message from Jin Zijin.
“Meeting just ended. On the way.”
Those five short words made Wen Yan inexplicably relax.
After thinking for a moment, she replied, “No rush. Be careful on the road.”
When the car stopped in the duplex villa district where the Wen family lived, the sky was already completely dark.
This area was one of the city’s old-established luxury neighborhoods; the trees were lush and the streets quiet.
The Wen family house had been bought ten years ago; it had three floors above ground and one below, plus a small garden.
Wen Yan pressed her fingerprint to the lock; with a soft beep, the door opened.
“Oh my, Zijin, you’re finally here—”
Her mother, Wang Manyu’s voice came from inside, carrying a bit too much enthusiasm.
But when she saw only Wen Yan at the doorway, the smile on her face clearly stiffened.
“Yan Yan?” She peeked past Wen Yan toward the door behind her. “Where’s Zijin? Why didn’t she come with you?”
“She had a last-minute meeting at the company and will be half an hour late.” Wen Yan bent to change her shoes. “She told me to come back first.”
The disappointment on Wang Manyu’s face was almost impossible to hide, but she still forced a smile and took Wen Yan’s hand. “I see... It’s fine, it’s fine; come in quickly.”
“Your uncle and cousin are here too. They’ve been waiting for quite a while.”
Wen Yan’s steps paused.
She looked toward the living room and saw her uncle, Wang Jinyu, and her cousin, Wang Chenyu, seated on the sofa.
The moment they heard the sound, they both turned to look at her, faces already arranged into the exact same eager smiles.
“Yan Yan’s back!” her uncle was the first to stand up, though his eyes hurriedly swept past her toward the door behind her. “Where’s Zijin? Didn’t she come with you?”
“She’ll be here later.” Wen Yan repeated herself, her voice a little colder than before.
“That’s fine, that’s fine.” Her uncle rubbed his hands together, smiling until his eyes narrowed into slits. “Come, come, sit down.”
Wen Yan sat in the single armchair.
The sofa was very soft, but she kept her back straight, as if she were sitting in a consultation room facing a patient.
Cousin Wang Chenyu lifted her teacup, took a sip, and only then slowly spoke. “Yan Yan, how have things been with President Jin these past few days?”
She paused, then added with just the right amount of concern, “This marriage was so sudden; you didn’t know each other much before... She’s been treating you well, right?”
The question was phrased cleverly.
On the surface it sounded like concern, but underneath there was a hook.
If Wen Yan said “good,” it would sound like she was forcing it; if she said “not good,” it would only invite criticism.
Wen Yan raised her eyes and looked at her cousin.
Today Wang Chenyu was wearing a pale lotus-pink suit set, her makeup exquisite, her hair pinned up neatly without a strand out of place.
She was five years older than Wen Yan and worked as a VP at an investment bank; in the family, she was universally regarded as the “promising one.”
From childhood to now, the thing Wen Yan had heard most often was, “Look at your cousin.”
“Pretty good,” Wen Yan said.
Three words; all follow-up was blocked.
The smile on Wang Chenyu’s face faded a little.
She set down her teacup and was about to say something more when Wang Manyu spoke first.
“Pretty good, my foot,” Wang Manyu said, holding Wen Yan’s hand and sighing. “You child, you’ve been introverted since you were little. You can’t even get a fart out with three sticks.”
“I’ve seen that child Zijin a few times; she’s cold, and she barely speaks...” She looked at Wen Yan with a worried, troubled expression. “You two lumps of wood together; how are you supposed to live like that?”
Wen Yan lowered her gaze to look at her mother’s hand, painted with bright red nail polish, gripping hers tightly.
She thought of the restrained breaths Jin Zijin had let out by her ear last night, thought of the reddened corners of her eyes when she was aroused, thought of that mint-scented kiss this morning.
Cold?
Not at all.
“If you were even half as quick-witted as your cousin,” Wang Manyu kept nagging, “Mom wouldn’t have to worry so much...”
“Sis, don’t say that.” Her uncle Wang Jinyu chimed in at the right moment, his face still wearing a smile. “Being introverted has its own advantages.”
“People like the Jin family have seen all kinds of clever people. They’d actually prefer someone as honest and proper as Yan Yan.”
He turned to Wen Yan, his tone becoming even more affectionate. “Yan Yan, let your uncle speak plainly. What matters most now is that you hurry up and have a child for the Jin family.”
“Best if it’s a boy.”
“Once there’s a child, your position in the Jin family will be secure; your mother can rest easy, and our Wang family...”
He kept talking and talking, launching into his grand theory that women should “marry well and have children.”
Wen Yan raised her head and looked at her uncle’s face, flushed red with excitement, then at her mother’s approving expression; she was utterly speechless.
What kind of feudal garbage was this? Was there seriously no one going to stop them?