Song Yu’s cheeks burned hot, her throat parched and dry.
She coughed lightly, her back pressed against the trunk of the palm tree behind her. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do with her hands and feet. Then she remembered she had come here to smoke, and her index finger, pinching the slim cigarette, twitched slightly.
She flicked the lighter again, lit the cigarette, and took a drag.
The scent of tobacco wafted through the air, steadying her nerves a little.
Pei Zhi watched her smoke.
Her fingers holding the cigarette were slender, her wrists like pale lotus stems.
Her movements were elegant yet languid, her eyes narrowed. Through the haze of pale gray smoke, she gained an extra layer of sensuality and laziness.
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
Suddenly, a little monkey popped out of the water, sending up a spray of droplets as it clambered onto the man’s broad shoulders.
Judy noticed the new person on the shore and twisted its head to look at her, blinking its round eyes and chattering with squeaky sounds that shattered the stagnant quiet.
Pei Zhi grabbed it by the scruff of the neck, hoisting the monkey up. He said something in the local tongue and patted it none too gently.
Judy’s little face scrunched up in displeasure. With a leap, it bounded onto the shore and vanished into the jungle.
Without Judy’s fussing, the surroundings fell quiet once more.
Pei Zhi waded step by step toward the bank, his lean waist rippling the water into waves.
The ripples spread outward in circles, trailing behind him like a meteor’s tail.
The chain around his neck, dangling a curved, sharp white tooth, swayed gently with his movements, making Song Yu’s heart itch.
“No earrings?” he asked, his voice low and slow, rich with magnetism.
Song Yu pursed her lips and muttered softly, “Lost them.”
Pei Zhi reached the riverbank but couldn’t quite catch what she said. “Come closer.”
Song Yu met his gaze—deep and dark, like a magnet pulling her in.
The cigarette burned on its own in her hand, and a falling ash scorched her fingertip.
Reason seemed to vanish, as if something else controlled her. She crossed the line once more.
Song Yu crouched down, closing the distance with the man.
“Where’d you lose them?” he asked.
“Lost is lost,” Song Yu replied curtly, petulant in her dissatisfaction at his two unannounced departures and long absences.
He tilted his head up to stare at her for a moment, not angry at all. Instead, he let out a low, soft chuckle. “Then I’ll make you another pair next time.”
Song Yu stared at the faint curve of his lips, his low, languid voice tickling her heart like a feather. Pathetically, she forgot her own stance.
“Did you find the Apotara Tribe?” she asked, taking the initiative.
Pei Zhi shook his head. “No.” His voice carried the weariness of a fruitless journey.
“Then why’d you come back?” Song Yu asked gently.
Pei Zhi met her eyes. In his calm, unruffled gaze hid something even he wasn’t sure of.
Why had he come back?
He had lingered here too long.
For these two months, he had wandered alone through the primal forest. Hunger and exhaustion were routine; he was used to it.
But for the first time, the loneliness had become unbearable.
The cigarette had burned halfway down.
Pei Zhi didn’t answer directly. His gaze shifted slightly to the cigarette.
“Can I have a drag?” he asked.
Song Yu shrugged. She tapped the ash off the tip with her index finger and offered it.
Pei Zhi’s hand was wet; he didn’t take the cigarette. Instead, he grasped her slender wrist and pulled it to his lips, taking a drag from her hand.
Song Yu froze, the wet, warm touch on her wrist nearly making her drop it.
The man’s palm was large, his fingertips callused, rubbing against her skin.
Tobacco filled his lungs, laced with a faint minty flavor.
Pei Zhi felt himself sharpen, the numbness from his rainforest ordeals fading. His heart began to beat again.
“I was afraid you’d wait too long and lose patience,” he said.
The sky had darkened, the rosy sunset haze dissipating.
Song Yu gazed at him in a daze, peering into his pitch-black pupils. In the dim light, they gleamed like a lion’s eyes—bright and sharp, harboring hidden intent.
In her earbuds, the movie played on—
The woman’s voice was husky as she asked, “Do you like animals more than people?”
“Sometimes,” the man replied carelessly. “They do everything like it’s the first time—work, hunt, mate.”
“Only humans do it worst. Only humans get bored.”
“…”
Another long silence.
Pei Zhi asked, “What have you been up to lately?” His tone was casual, like small talk.
“Nothing much. Learned a few phrases of the tribe’s language from Kasi.” Though with Kasi’s wild personality, they probably weren’t anything proper.
Pei Zhi raised a brow. “What’d you learn? Let me hear.”
Song Yu opened her mouth, her throat drier than ever.
In the earbuds, the man’s voice continued—
“Animals say it outright. Listen, I know how you feel about me, and you know how I feel about you. We understand each other, so let’s lie down and get started.”
“…”
A wave of heat rose from her chest.
Some emotion surged into her brain, overtaking reason.
Song Yu yanked out her earbuds. The cord tugged her phone from her pocket, and it thudded to the ground.
She ignored it, her gaze fixed straight on the man in the water—like another lion testing the waters.
Song Yu parted her lips slowly, mimicking the tribe’s tune men used to invite women to love games.
Her tone carried teasing offense.
She brought the cigarette to her lips, right where he had drawn from, and took a deep drag.
Smoke rose lazily between them. In that instant, the boundaries of civilization vanished, reverting to the primal.
Pei Zhi’s eyes narrowed, his pupils darkening to an endless night.
He reached from the water, gripped her ankle, and yanked her in.
The river flowed calm and sluggish, lapping at Song Yu’s arms. Baked by the sun all day, the water wasn’t as cold as she’d imagined—instead, it held a gentle warmth.
The man supported her arms, lifting her up.
Song Yu surfaced, not expecting such a direct, utterly primal response to her mere probe.
Water streamed from her hair. She squeezed her eyes and mouth shut, her feet sinking into the soft riverbed mud. She lost her balance and started to tip backward.
Pei Zhi’s palm pressed against her lower back, holding her steady.
They were very close, separated only by the thin, wet fabric of their clothes.
Song Yu could clearly feel the heat of his palm, his firm arms conveying a sense of security in their strength.
Her heart pounded wildly.
The water’s buoyancy left her feeling utterly weightless, different from solid ground.
It was like a return—to the most primal past, before humans crawled from the sea to land, in that barbaric era.
Song Yu raised a hand to wipe the water from her face. She opened her eyes and blinked; her long, dense lashes clumped together, dripping droplets, like a startled fawn.
“What are you doing?” Her throat was wet now, laced with playful anger, though she didn’t sound truly mad.
Song Yu’s breathing was unsteady, coming in quick rises and falls.
Pei Zhi lifted her higher out of the water, freeing one hand to tuck the stray strands of hair from her cheek behind her ear.
“To sober you up,” he said, voice husky. “Do you even know what you were saying?”
Song Yu tilted her head back, her eyes misty.
The dousing hadn’t cleared her head at all. It was still full of heat, plus a spark of defiance at being overpowered.
She reached out, splashing water, and grabbed the tooth pendant around his neck, tugging it down none too politely.
Pei Zhi bent forward, caught by her pull. Their faces drew near, noses almost brushing.
“If I’m sober, nothing’ll happen,” Song Yu said, lips curving slightly, eyelids drooping, her voice warm and lazy with seduction. “Right?”
This time, Pei Zhi froze.
They were already this far gone, so Song Yu went all in.
Her hands weren’t idle. She released the pendant and hooked her pale arms around his neck, pinching his earlobe between thumb and forefinger.
His earlobe was thin and well-shaped, veins faintly visible, now flushed red.
Song Yu couldn’t resist rubbing it a couple more times, with deliberate provocation.
Pei Zhi drew in a sharp breath.
His chest vibrated fiercely with her touch.
He stayed clear-headed, grabbing her mischievous hand and pinning it firmly in front.
“Stop messing around,” Pei Zhi said, his voice hoarse beyond recognition, low and heavy.
His grip on her wrist was ironclad. Song Yu tried to pull free—to no avail.
The more he feigned restraint, the more she wanted to provoke him.
“Who started it?” He was the one who dragged her into the water.
Knowing she had the upper hand, Song Yu laughed lightly. Unsteady on her feet, she pitched forward into him again.
Pei Zhi’s eyes were deep as the world’s darkest well.
His gaze burned, fixed on the woman before him.
Damn, she needed taming.
Things weren’t unfolding as he’d expected. He had more important matters to confess first.
Pei Zhi parted his lips, but his voice came out hoarse and halting. “I have something to tell you.”
Song Yu frowned, her patience utterly spent. “I don’t want to hear it right now.”
She wrenched her hand free from the man’s grip, rose onto her tiptoes, and looped her arms around his neck.
“You get to do one thing,” Song Yu said, her gaze lifting with a playful glint as her warm breath ghosted across his neck.
“Do what you want most.”
Pei Zhi’s eyes fixed on her lips as they parted and closed, plump and glistening like a rose in fresh bloom amid a savage jungle—strikingly vivid, boldly unfurling, waiting to be plucked.
It was as if he could hold back no longer.
His hands clamped tighter around her waist, as though determined to meld her into his very bones.
He bent down and claimed that proud rose with a kiss.
That night, though the rainy season had long passed, the forest was lashed by another heavy downpour.
Bean-sized raindrops hammered the roof of the farm’s wooden cabin, sluicing down palm fronds in a rapid patter, punctuated by earth-shaking claps of thunder and jagged bolts of lightning.
Through their wary circling, the two lions drew closer step by step, surrendering to primal instinct.
The air hung thick and humid, laced with the sharp, crisp scent of cedar amid the rising steam.
Lightning occasionally ripped across the sky, casting fleeting white glows that pierced the inky darkness of the cabin.
In those brief flashes, the man’s broad back came into view, crisscrossed with vivid scratch marks.