She hadn’t finished the previous one yet. With eyes downcast, she bit into it casually. The deep purple-red juice stained her naturally rosy lips, lending them an unfamiliar, sultry hue.
He looked away, finished the fruit, calmly hit enter one last time, confirmed the approval, closed the laptop with a snap.
Lan Yan looked up. “You’re done…”
Liang Jingchuan suddenly leaned in and kissed her fiercely, snatching the tablet and stylus from her hand and tossing them on the coffee table.
His arms closed around her, pinning her into the corner of the sofa without a gap.
Liang Jingchuan picked up right where they’d left off at the door.
As his palm pressed her hand back, fingers stalled by the bra clasp for those thirty seconds, he continuously suckled her earlobe.
The moment it unhooked, Lan Yan felt as if her soul had been released from a cage, soaring like a balloon.
She gradually struggled to breathe. The pushed-up cashmere shirt blocked her view, so she clung to Liang Jingchuan’s head with trepidation.
The room was heated, but her exposed skin still felt the air’s slight chill, making the wet, hot areas stand out more.
It was as if she could sense him biting into and devouring the cherry whole.
Lan Yan raised a hand to cover her eyes, restrained herself repeatedly, but couldn’t stop the sweet, broken whimpers escaping her nose.
Liang Jingchuan was slow and patient, as if determined to devour the deep red pulp clean, leaving nothing behind.
He was like an impenetrable wall, filling her space. Her attempts to push his head were feeble. She wanted to curl up but couldn’t, so she instinctively arched her waist and rubbed against him. She no longer cared about shyness.
At that moment, Liang Jingchuan lifted his head and buried it in her shoulder.
It was as if he’d been submerged too long in pressurized depths and had to surface for air.
His breaths were long and heavy; she could hear the chaotic pounding in his chest.
She was no better—every inch of skin felt scalded by superheated steam, faintly burning.
“Liang Jingchuan…” Lan Yan couldn’t hold back the sound. Her voice was strangely soft, barely more than a breath.
“…Mm?”
“Are you the type who likes favorite things too much to finish them all at once?”
Liang Jingchuan fell silent. After a long while, she heard him whisper by her ear, “Can I finish it all at once?”
Lan Yan bit her lip, turned her face away, and shoved his chest. “…I’m out of tea. Go buy some for me.”
Liang Jingchuan paused for a moment. “…Alright.”
He stood up, grabbed his phone from the coffee table, and headed toward the door. Lan Yan didn’t dare look at him. She quickly straightened her clothes and called out to his retreating back. “Take the key with you. Let yourself in later.”
Liang Jingchuan said “alright.”
Fifteen minutes later, Liang Jingchuan returned from the convenience store. He unlocked the door with the key but didn’t see Lan Yan in the living room.
His gaze searched around. A figure flickered on the balcony, and Lan Yan came in hugging a pile of dry laundry.
She had thrown a knitted cardigan over her pajamas. She had already taken a shower.
A black T-shirt came flying toward him. Liang Jingchuan caught it. It was the one he had ordered the night before last when he had stayed over.
Lan Yan didn’t look at him or say anything. She hugged the pile of clothes and headed straight to the bedroom.
There weren’t many clothes. Lan Yan tossed them onto the bed and spent a long time sorting them—some hung up, others folded. She dawdled, smoothing out every single wrinkle as if she could.
She lost track of time and didn’t know how long had passed when she heard footsteps at the bedroom door.
She didn’t look up. She just glanced sideways. Liang Jingchuan had showered too. His hair tips were slightly damp, and he wore a black T-shirt that fit him better—probably one from his suitcase.
He held the tea she had asked for. As he walked in, he casually closed the door behind him.
Lan Yan hung up the last sweater and picked up the blanket left on the bed. She stood on tiptoe, trying to put it on the top shelf of the wardrobe.
As expected, Liang Jingchuan came over. He set the bottle of tea on the bedside table and reached up to take the blanket from her hands.
He stood behind her, carrying a damp, clean scent.
Once the blanket was in place, Liang Jingchuan’s arms dropped. The moment Lan Yan closed the wardrobe door, he hugged her from behind without surprise.
“…Did you buy it?” Lan Yan asked softly.
“I did. On the bedside table.”
“…I didn’t mean the tea.”
“Then what?”
Lan Yan couldn’t tell if he truly didn’t understand or was pretending not to.
“…Did you only buy the tea?”
“What else was there to buy?”
She felt utterly speechless and didn’t know what to say when she heard Liang Jingchuan chuckle lightly.
“You…” She turned her head in anger, wanting to curse at him, but Liang Jingchuan had clearly been waiting for this moment.
The instant she turned, he gently pinched her chin and brought his lips down.
The repeated interruptions had piled up like dry kindling. Now, a single kiss easily ignited it all.
Liang Jingchuan held her and took two steps back onto the bed. Her knees pressed against the edge between his legs. She leaned down, her hands climbing to the back of his head. His lips moved to the side of her neck, trailing along her skin.
Her feet went soft beneath her. She couldn’t stand like this—one sitting, one standing—and Liang Jingchuan always seemed to know her thoughts precisely.
Her feet lifted off the ground. He picked her up, and her slippers slid off. The next moment, her back landed softly on the bedding.
She opened her eyes and met Liang Jingchuan’s handsome face above her. Those usually serene eyes now held a cluster of dark flames.
Seeing his throat bob slightly, she couldn’t help but prop herself up on her arms and bite upward at it.
She heard him let out a muffled grunt.
In an instant, he wrapped his arm around her. She felt the arm propping him up on the bedding tremble faintly.
“Yanyan… Can we turn off the light?”
Lan Yan nodded without speaking.
The moment darkness fell, their breathing became clearly audible. In one held breath, they eagerly tangled together.
As the buttons of her pajamas were undone one by one, Lan Yan reached out and touched the firm muscles of Liang Jingchuan’s waist and abdomen beneath his T-shirt.
She blushed as she realized that her desire in this moment had been planted back when they went to Suzhou, when she had burst into his bathroom. She still wasn’t sure if it had been mere accident or his scheme.
With vision half-deprived, her hearing and touch amplified many times over.
Liang Jingchuan only felt her fingers so gentle, every place they passed burning like scorched skin.
What he touched felt like a bolt of smooth silk, or flowing water impossible to grasp tightly.
He desperately needed to immerse himself in that silk.
The curtains didn’t fully block the light, and the air conditioner’s indicator glowed. After being in the dimness long enough, all outlines became discernible.
Lan Yan saw Liang Jingchuan sit up. His hands crossed to grab the hem of his T-shirt. In the next moment, the dim light revealed the silhouette of his broad shoulders and narrow waist.
The instant he leaned down with shadows cloaking him, her heart nearly jumped out of her throat.
Her pajamas hung only by half-sleeves on her arms now. Their embrace had no barriers. They were like two sleek fish deep in the ocean, hiding in a coral cave.
Lan Yan couldn’t tell if the hot, trembling skin belonged to Liang Jingchuan or herself.
The kisses lost all pattern, branding her skin wherever they desired. But his fingers followed a resolute purpose, winding downward.
Lan Yan sensed his intent. She bit her lip and turned her face aside.
She wanted to hold her breath, but prolonged oxygen deprivation didn’t allow it. The moment she felt his fingertips, her already disordered breathing grew even more chaotic.
Liang Jingchuan touched a thin layer of wetness, and his mind boomed.
Suddenly, he wanted to see the entire process of his white camellia blooming for him.
The bedside lamp blazed on. Lan Yan instinctively squinted her eyes.
She didn’t know why Liang Jingchuan had suddenly turned on the light. She couldn’t speak, so she covered her face with her arm.
Even so, she knew he was watching her. Time stretched so long that her cheeks burned red.
Her arm was pulled away. Her lashes trembled. She didn’t open her eyes. Liang Jingchuan gave her a lingering kiss and used his fingers to thwart her attempt to press her knees together.
She thought back to last summer, at the lively birthday party, when she had taught Liang Jingchuan that painting restoration experience blind box.
Patching, she had shown him how to make the joints.
The pad of the finger lightly twisted; every bit of pressure had to be just right. Beginners always got it uneven or too reckless.
Such a natural association made her feel extremely ashamed.
“…Yanyan.” Liang Jingchuan’s voice was hoarse, carrying an undisguisable tremor. Like a fish mouth twisting around his fingers, he wanted to describe it to her but couldn’t speak—and feared she wouldn’t like it.
“Hm?”
“…Do you like it?” That was all he asked.
She didn’t speak, but her reaction answered. She arched her waist, like a little fish chasing food after his fingers.
A moment later, Liang Jingchuan lifted his hand and looked down to observe.
The light made his drenched fingers gleam faintly. Lan Yan averted her gaze as if scalded, but from the corner of her eye, she saw Liang Jingchuan unhesitatingly lower his head.
“…” Her mind buzzed. It was too late to stop him.
“Yanyan. It tastes the same as your tears.”