I liked doing *that* during stormy weather.
I even wrote an article about it specifically. The article was complex – I cited many postmodern philosophical theories, deconstructing the nature of intimacy from the perspective of textual evolution, to demonstrate the “profound” connection between the four characters for “stormy weather” and intimacy.
Unfortunately, Deng Ying couldn’t understand it. Though his knowledge in that area was no less than mine. Strangely, he was obsessed with teaching me the health principles behind it.
For instance, he said rainy days weren’t suitable for such activities. When I asked why, he pulled out his little yellow book and earnestly told me: “During stormy weather, men’s yang contracts, women’s breasts contract, and limbs grow cold, making one prone to illness. While he would be fine, it wouldn’t be good for my health there.”
“Good for where?” I wondered.
Speaking of “where,” I have much to say about that.
As everyone knows, there was no foreplay between Deng Ying and me.
Why no foreplay? Because back then, he had his fears, and I had my doubts.
At that time, he was still beside me, obsessed with the pleasure brought by “self-shame,” while I wasn’t yet capable of protecting him properly.
It’s hard to say who was saving whom under heaven’s thunder and earth’s fire.
The complexity of intimacy mirrors human complexity – different life stages bring different perspectives and methods of experiencing intimacy. As Deng Ying’s partner, mutual pleasure sounds simple but proves difficult in practice. I was inexperienced, he was a virgin. I struggled to enlighten myself before enlightening him. Unfortunately, I initially approached this from sociological and psychological perspectives, making it too theoretical and impractical. This led to our interactions being quite limited, most notably rushing straight to the main event without any prelude.
Of course, these were issues I only gradually reflected upon during the Jinghe era.
Deng Ying’s mental transformation allowed me to address these problems.
How did I know Deng Ying had changed?
It was when Song Yunqing told me about the moment Deng Ying was tied to the execution frame. When they removed his clothes, he said to those below: “Please preserve my dignity.”
I never witnessed Deng Ying’s execution ground, but I dreamed of it.
In my dreams, the scene was like a censored torture scene from television. Deng Ying remained fully clothed, just looking somewhat haggard. This was perhaps my subconscious protecting him. Though I understood feudal punishments included many humiliating elements, I didn’t want to understand and accept them as Deng Ying did.
However, in Deng Ying’s Great Ming Dynasty, I couldn’t directly ask him to resist, as that would only make his death more painful. What I hadn’t expected was that Deng Ying would eventually speak those words “Please preserve my dignity” himself.
That was wonderful.
Academically speaking, Deng Ying had completed a transformation in self-awareness.
And in terms of intimacy…
Deng Ying and I could now have foreplay.
That was truly wonderful.
In the deep autumn of the first year of Jinghe.
I did something foolish.
I accidentally sprained my hand at home and couldn’t bathe alone. During that time, the An’he Pagoda was under construction in the suburbs of the capital, and Deng Ying was invited to inspect the main beam structure, sometimes staying in the work sheds. Fearing he would make daily trips back and forth if I told him, I endured it alone for a while. Who knew it would develop into a bigger problem – even bending slightly became unbearably painful.
When Song Yunqing found out, she went to the construction site and brought Deng Ying back, scolding him before they even entered the door.
“Sir, I thought you knew, but you didn’t?”
Deng Ying spoke softly: “I haven’t been home these past days.”
Song Yunqing said: “I was wondering why she suddenly asked me to help find those story books in Hangzhou when she wanted to go herself. Today I came by and saw her arm hanging limp like it had no bones. You may be busy with construction work outside the city, but you can’t neglect her.”
The term “construction work” was something I taught Song Yunqing – it was quite amusing hearing her use it on Deng Ying.
However, at that moment, I couldn’t spare any thought for such things, as I was about to face the most mortifying moment of my life.
Song Yunqing called out while pushing the door: “Yang Wan, where are you?”
Where was I?
I was in the bathtub behind the screen! And…
I had just managed to remove all my clothes.
Not seeing me in the room, Song Yunqing didn’t come behind the screen. She put her hands on her hips and said irritably: “Yang Wan, really – going out with a sprained hand. At this time, she’s probably at the Qingbo Pavilion again.”
She turned to say: “Sir, I’ll go look for her. You should pay more attention.”
Deng Ying quickly responded: “Yes, I understand.”
Song Yunqing nodded and left.
I sat in the bathtub, watching as Deng Ying removed his outer robe, draping it over his arm as he walked behind the screen.
I gripped the edge of the tub with one hand and made a soft “eh” sound.
Deng Ying was startled and then saw me in the tub.
“You…”
I quickly interrupted him, “Why did you come back?”
Deng Ying looked at my arm hanging in the tub, trying to speak.
But he only got out “You” before I interrupted again.
“I was preparing to bathe.”
Deng Ying looked at the empty tub and said: “Then the water…”
“I had just removed my clothes when you and Song Yunqing came in. What could I do? I had to hide in the tub – hadn’t even filled it with water yet. Hey, stop looking!”
I grew somewhat anxious, but Deng Ying lowered his head and smiled gently.
He rolled up his sleeves and carefully lifted my uninjured arm.
“Can you use this one?”
“Huh?”
“Can you use force with this arm?”
“Yes.”
“Then wrap it around my neck.”
Well, Deng Ying had carried me before, but being lifted from the bathtub like this was a first. I actually… became timid.
Seeing my hesitation to use force, Deng Ying lowered his head and whispered in my ear: “Wan-wan, you can hold tight around my neck. It’s fine even if you squeeze – if you don’t use force, I might drop you when carrying you.”
I truly became timid.
So timid my face flushed and my thoughts scattered.
He was about to lift me out, but why was he so calm, even considering the practical matter of “force application”?
“Wan-wan…”
“I-I-I… how can I squeeze you?”
“Around the neck.”
“Oh…”
As he spoke, one hand supported my back while the other hooked under my knees. With a slight lift of his waist, he carried me out of the tub. Then he gently placed me on the couch, temporarily covering me with his robe before standing straight and saying: “Sit still, I’ll get water for you.”
I clutched his robe and tentatively asked, “When are you going back?”
While scooping water, Deng Ying replied: “I’m not going back today.”
“I’m fine, I can manage.”
Deng Ying put down the water bucket and turned around, gently patting my head and smiling at me: “Wan-wan.”
I nervously responded with an “Ah?”
He said without mercy: “Your face is red.”
I truly was timid.
But it was worth it.
Deng Ying placed a small blanket by the edge of the tub, letting me rest my injured hand on it. Then he helped tie up my hair into a perfectly standard bun.
As he helped me bathe, I didn’t say a word the entire time.
Fortunately, he too remained silent – silently lifting me and laying me on the blanket-covered bed.
Silently bringing dry towels to help dry my body.
I lay face-up, the naturally evaporating water vapor taking away the temperature from my skin’s surface. The warmth from Deng Ying’s hands was warmer than my body temperature. He parted my knees, his other hand supporting my tailbone to help lift my back. As the towel gently wiped private areas, my whole body trembled.
“Deng Ying…”
His name escaped my lips.
“What is it?”
I coughed once, and suddenly a light mist appeared before my eyes.
“I feel a bit…”
He didn’t speak but put down the towel in his hand.
I’m certain it was a stormy evening.
The windows rattled loudly, the sound of rain drowning out all human voices. Deng Ying remained silent, but he took control of me.
He supported himself on the couch, half-kneeling on the bed, kissing my eyes to calm me.
Then he kissed my lips, revealing both our clumsy kissing techniques.
But it didn’t matter.
Beside him, I experienced for the first time the pleasure of surrendering myself – a feeling I’d never had before.
I freely relaxed my body, letting it give me the most honest feedback on Deng Ying’s movements.
It began to tremble slightly, sweat, flush red, then it released honest waters, finally gathered tenderly by someone’s tongue.
I looked down, but could only see Deng Ying’s slightly raised shoulders between my knees.
He hadn’t removed his clothes, while I was completely bare.
I don’t know what this meant to Deng Ying, but for me, it was undoubtedly a self-liberation.
His technique was still awkward, but my subconscious desperately grasped at bodily sensations, helping him easily send me to cloud nine.
I no longer needed to consider the order of “respect” and “love” – I just needed to love him and let him love me.
So I gradually released the restraint on my throat, beginning to say some “nonsensical” things. He silently listened at the foot of the bed, holding my legs to keep me from moving.
How could I not move?
For the first time, Deng Ying, you suffered.
This continued for a long while.
Until the second year of Jinghe, when Deng Ying saved some money and bought a piece of jade from Yang Lun.
Interestingly, he hid it and wouldn’t let me see him carving it.
Half a month later, I found his “masterpiece” behind his bookshelf, along with some private savings.
I placed his “masterpiece” and the money in front of him and then questioned him.
Deng Ying honestly lowered his head to listen to me, then went to the cabinet to bring out the rest of his private savings, obediently handing them over to me.
I saw the labels he had written on the money.
“Buy a swing for Wan-wan”
“Buy rouge for Wan-wan”
“Buy… for Wan-wan”
The silver tag with the “masterpiece” read – Not well made, will make a new one for Wan-wan next month.
I picked up the “masterpiece” and looked at it carefully – the design was based on a sketch I had drawn after waking from a spring dream.
I asked Deng Ying, “Do you know what this is?”
Deng Ying said he didn’t know.
I rested my chin on my hand and smiled.
The sunset outside the window that day was truly shy.