“Stop it.”

Zhou Jin’s face warmed slightly as she pushed at Jiang Hansheng.

In the past, when Zhou Jin said no, he never pushed further — but right now, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of her no matter what. Jiang Hansheng tried to stir her desire, lowering his head to press kiss after kiss along her collarbone.

Zhou Jin cupped his face in her hands and said with firm seriousness, “Jiang Hansheng, you’re still sick, and you’re far from sober. Don’t cause trouble for me, and don’t cause trouble for yourself either. Go to bed and sleep.”

“Don’t refuse me.” Jiang Hansheng reached for the buttons on her shirt. “Zhou Jin, I really want to tie you up.”

He murmured this as his right hand traced up along the outside of her thigh and lifted one of her legs, while his left hand gripped her waist and applied a light, deliberate pressure.

Zhou Jin felt herself become weightless, and on instinct her legs wrapped around Jiang Hansheng’s waist.

Jiang Hansheng couldn’t help smiling, his throat shifting with a quiet swallow — unbearably attractive in the moment. He caught her lip lightly between his teeth, then carried her to the desk.

Draped over the back of the chair was the tie he had pulled off carelessly while drinking. Jiang Hansheng picked it up, and in the blink of an eye had bound Zhou Jin’s wrists securely.

He knew how to tie a sailor’s knot — once it was fastened, Zhou Jin wouldn’t be able to work herself free.

“All tied up,” he said, his expression seemingly quite serious, gesturing for Zhou Jin to try slipping out of the restraint.

Zhou Jin attempted to rotate her wrists and found, as expected, that she couldn’t move them freely. She gave a helpless laugh and asked, “Professor Jiang, what kind of person are you? At home, taking liberties with your own wife.”

When Jiang Hansheng was drunk, he seemed to show sides of himself that were nothing like his usual self. Ordinarily he was calm and restrained, accustomed to holding everything in — but drunk, he would subtly and freely pour his emotions out toward her.

Even in moments like this one, he was more unguarded and uninhibited.

Zhou Jin didn’t mind. Or rather — she very much hoped for Jiang Hansheng to be this way.

This was how it should be between a husband and wife.

No holding back, no concealment. Finding out where the other person’s limits truly were, and then embracing each other without fear of causing harm.

This was how she had loved before — but she had come to realize it hadn’t worked. When she released her emotions toward Jiang Cheng without any restraint, she had never once considered whether he could handle it.

For a long time, Zhou Jin had believed that although Jiang Cheng’s infidelity was unforgivable, it had never been entirely his fault alone. She had also done badly — very badly.

After Zhou Chuan died, she couldn’t manage her own grief, and had vented it on Jiang Cheng without any restraint.

She had started picking fights with him over petty, trivial things. She had held onto Jiang Cheng through the nights and wept, night after night — and no matter how he tried to comfort her, Zhou Jin couldn’t emerge from the shadow of losing her brother. She left Jiang Cheng at a complete loss, filling him with frustration and a sense of helplessness…

Their time together quickly lost the happiness and warmth it had once held.

She had once seen Jiang Cheng come home after work and simply stop downstairs, smoking alone in silence, chain-smoking — but refusing to come through the door. She had guessed that during that period, he had perhaps found their home suffocating.

He had gradually become unable to endure it — unable to endure her weeping, unable to endure her volatile moods — and so he had turned to another woman…

After the breakup with Jiang Cheng, Zhou Jin could no longer allow herself to release her emotions freely onto anyone.

The restraint between her and Jiang Hansheng was perhaps not so different from the restraint she had imposed on herself, which was why they got along so well after marriage — yet that kind of “getting along well” was never quite enough.

He had moments of losing control. She might too, someday.

And when that happened — what then?

Zhou Jin didn’t know what Jiang Hansheng would do, but she was willing to bear it — to bear whatever emotions he chose to release toward her.

Like right now. She didn’t resent this small indulgence of his while drunk. She found it endearing. She leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

“Hansheng, enough now.”

Jiang Hansheng kissed her neck, a hidden fire burning in his chest. He felt something close to madness stirring within him. His hand slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, and with one hand he undid the clasps down the back.

He felt Zhou Jin’s heart racing wildly beneath his touch. He lowered his head and caught her shoulder strap between his teeth, pulling it to one side.

Zhou Jin’s shirt slipped from her shoulders. Her burned arm was still wrapped in clean white bandaging, and her clothes had been pulled into disarray — there was something raw and vulnerable about her in that moment, a kind of disheveled beauty that almost invited taking advantage of.

Could he take advantage of Zhou Jin?

Make her yield, hear her plead with him, and then have her never want to leave his side for the rest of their lives.

With these thoughts, the blood in his veins surged and roared, and somewhere deep within him a destructive urge quietly rose.

He opened his mouth and bit down on her shoulder.

Zhou Jin winced in pain, her fingers tangling into his hair as she glared at him. “That hurts!”

Jiang Hansheng quickly lowered his head again, took hold of her wrist, and brought it to his lips — kissing the back of her hand, then her palm, with a devotion that was almost like that of a servant.

“You can bite me too,” he said.

“Why would I bite you?”

Jiang Hansheng said, “Because I’m not good. There are things I don’t do well.”

Like not being jealous of Jiang Cheng. Like not minding her past.

Like having long prepared himself to respect Zhou Jin’s wishes and choices in all things — yet now that the moment had truly arrived, he wanted to take it all back.

Jealousy. Greed.

The two emotions he least ought to have — he had both.

Zhou Jin didn’t know what things he was referring to, but in her eyes there was nothing Jiang Hansheng couldn’t do well. He was clever, composed, possessed of a sharpness and a talent unlike anyone she’d known — and whenever trouble arose, he always seemed to find a way.

She said, “You are already very good.”

The next morning. Early.

Zhou Jin woke early. Jiang Hansheng lay sleeping soundly beside her. The first thing she did upon waking was reach over and press her hand to his forehead — it seemed the fever had broken entirely. The back of his neck was damp, soaked through with sweat.

Afraid he might be dehydrated, she got up and brought a cup of warm water, calling him to wake up and drink.

Jiang Hansheng could barely open his eyes. He was fully sober now — just exhausted. He’d kept Zhou Jin up until well past midnight, and hadn’t eaten anything either.

He said, “Zhou Jin, I’m tired.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Zhou Jin thought back to how energetic he’d been when he was biting her, and felt a flicker of irritation.

But Jiang Hansheng’s face was pale, his dark hair a tangled mess, his collar askew — and where his collarbone was exposed, there were the marks of Zhou Jin’s own teeth.

In illness, he let slip an easily-broken fragility without even seeming to realize it.

Zhou Jin found it difficult to hold onto her exasperation. She brought the water to him, and he drank it in small, careful sips, one at a time — gentle as a deer.

Once he had finished drinking, Jiang Hansheng lay back down. Zhou Jin tucked the blanket snugly around him.

Jiang Hansheng made the effort to reach out a hand and catch at the hem of Zhou Jin’s clothing. Eyes still closed, he made a quiet request: “Stay home with me today, will you?”

Zhou Jin glanced at the time. “I can’t. I need to make a trip to Guhua Prison today.”

She pulled Jiang Hansheng’s hand free and tucked it back under the covers, explaining, “I found a former cellmate of Jiang Cheng’s from his time inside. I need to speak with him to get a better picture of what happened. You rest properly at home — remember to take your medicine on time, no drinking, and no showers.”

Having finished her instructions, she quickly washed up and got dressed.

When it was time to leave, she saw that Jiang Hansheng was lying quietly in the bed, seemingly already asleep. She didn’t say goodbye — just hurried out of the apartment.

The moment the door clicked shut, a hollow, empty silence settled over the room.

Jiang Hansheng opened his eyes and sat bolt upright in bed. He exhaled a long, heavy breath, his right hand pushing the disheveled hair back from his forehead. His hand trembled faintly despite himself.

He raised his eyes and saw the crumpled tie lying across the bed. His expression shifted almost imperceptibly — his pupils growing particularly dark.