Qing Hang was the type who spoke little but did much. In the past, when friends gathered noisily together, he was always the quietest one.

Many times during their Cold War, it was Cheng Wanyue who coaxed him.

For every irritating thing she did to make him sulk, she had a way to appease him.

After the first time, whenever they had disagreements, he would expect her to comfort him. In reality, as soon as he saw her, he wasn’t angry anymore. But because he wanted to hear her say sweet things, or he enjoyed her following him around and acting coquettish, he would always hold out a little longer. If he annoyed her too much, he would be the one to give in.

Qing Hang didn’t know how other girls behaved when angry, but Cheng Wanyue wasn’t difficult to appease. He just needed to go along with her.

Cheng Wanyue was still crying. “Cheng Yuzhou calls A’Yu ‘baby’ and ‘wife,’ Cheng Yanqing calls his girlfriend ‘Er Gou’ and ‘Stinky.’ Why do you always use my full name?”

“I just now didn’t…”

“You did!” She was usually unreasonable with him, especially at times like this.

He simply gave up trying to explain.

Cheng Wanyue pinched his ear. “Call me baby.”

Her passage was stretched full, the inner walls contracting slightly, pushing him out while simultaneously seeming to suck him in. She was in pain, and he was in agony. Despite the air conditioning, sweat dripped from his face, falling from his chin.

After about a minute of stalemate, Qing Hang lowered his head. His warm lips pressed against her ear as he whispered the endearment.

He tightened his arms, his body close to hers, like two vines growing from the same root, intertwined tightly. Sweat and fluids were like nutrients, nourishing the roots growing wildly deep inside, breaking through the ground to form a cage, tightly enclosing them both.

His body moved slightly, and her inside moved as well.

Cheng Wanyue’s legs wrapped around his waist, her heels rubbing against his tailbone. “Do you think my short hair doesn’t look good?”

She cried when she needed to cry, not holding back a single tear.

“How could that be? It’s beautiful,” Qing Hang’s head nuzzled slightly in the crook of her neck. He tried to divert her attention with kisses, moving up along her neck, his tongue exploring from the corner of her lips.

She smelled cigarette smoke and frowned, but because she was being kissed breathless, the soft moans escaping from between her teeth were broken and unclear.

“Who… who said… You could smoke?”

Qing Hang had only smoked half a cigarette; the smell was faint.

In the past, she was curious about new things, wanting to try both good and bad, but she particularly disliked tobacco.

Qing Hang didn’t have a smoking habit. The box of cigarettes in the living room coffee table drawer had been there for a long time. The last time he smoked was on that rainy night when he suddenly woke from a dream before dawn. In the dream, he and Cheng Wanyue had been entangled from dusk till dawn in that damp, narrow room in Baicheng. Every part of her body was his territory, kissed, licked, touched, covered with his semen. He seemed to have inexhaustible strength, or perhaps he was bewitched by her seduction, his soul lost, wanting to die on top of her. After finishing, he could quickly become erect again, with little conscious thought left. His breath was like flames, his manhood still buried inside her, tirelessly pushing deeper.

Just now, he had also been driven to some frustration by her, so he lit a cigarette before going out.

His hair was wet, his clothes were carelessly put on, and even the transparent fluid on his chin and nose bridge had only been casually wiped. In the store, he just grabbed a box of condoms and checked out. The bulge in his lower abdomen was hidden by his clothes, but the overly excited veins on his arms and neck were visible without any cover. Even though the passion was concealed beneath a cold irritability, anyone with a bit of experience could tell he had either just gotten out of bed or was rushing back to get in it.

He didn’t care how others saw him; his mind was full of thoughts of going back to have her.

“I’ll go brush my teeth,” Qing Hang said, preparing to get up.

Cheng Wanyue bit his shoulder. “You’ve left me hanging, neither up nor down, and at this time you want to brush your teeth?”

A slight pain spread along his nerves. Qing Hang used this kiss to launch a hidden attack.

She had taught him how to make her feel good.

Rather than using his hands, she preferred him to use his tongue. Just now, it had only taken ten minutes to make her surrender, showing he was doing well.

Cheng Wanyue pushed him away slightly and turned her head to breathe, having no extra energy to speak. He kissed down along her jawline. To avoid making her angry tomorrow morning, he didn’t leave any suspicious marks on her neck, directly sucking on the tender flesh of her breast and rolling her nipple with his tongue.

Her tense body gradually softened, her eyes misty with tears, that bit of fire also disappearing.

The sheets were damp in one spot. Qing Hang tried using force, and the sticky sounds became increasingly clear, fueling the surging passion in the steamy atmosphere.

Cheng Wanyue’s hand, which had been clutching Qing Hang’s short hair, was guided by him to cover his chest. The other side was still in his mouth. The pain gradually gave way to a tart pleasure. The last time she had been drunk was many years ago, and drunkenness was probably like this—everything hazy and unclear, limbs heavy, yet feeling like walking on cotton, being thrown high up, and then pulled down to the ground the next second.

His teeth scraped against her nipple, hurting her, and her lower abdomen contracted sharply.

The narrow passage, already difficult to navigate after being forcibly opened, suddenly tightened. The soft flesh constricted from all around, as if countless mouths were wrapped around his manhood, sucking and pulling.

Qing Hang let out a low, muffled groan. Cheng Wanyue had no idea of the torture he was enduring. In retaliation, she bit the hollow of his shoulder, only to have him lift one of her legs onto his shoulder the next moment.

The carnal sounds challenged his sense of shame, yet also stimulated him to uncontrollably thrust deeper.

People are ugly in the face of desire.

They become greedy, insatiable, breaking through the shell of pretense to expose their most genuine cravings.

It was as if his blood vessels were about to burst through his skin. After a low growl, he pressed heavily onto her, like a distress signal sent at the brink of death.

Cheng Wanyue was a bit dazed, tears still hanging at the corners of her eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Was it… slightly… too quick?

Qing Hang didn’t allow her to mock him. He kissed her lips, covering her eyes with one hand while finding a condom by the bed with the other, tearing it open with his teeth and putting it on. Not only did he not go soft after finishing, but when he pushed back in, he had grown even larger. Then she couldn’t laugh anymore.

The deeper he went below, the tighter his tongue intertwined with hers.

She reached climax before suffocation, struggling weakly but finally surrendering, completely dependent on him beneath his body, slowly recovering her senses only with the bit of oxygen he passed to her.

The fluids flowed more than sweat, her cries were more prolonged than gasps, and she was more disheveled than he.

With windows and doors tightly closed, the air conditioning’s ventilation function seemed rather useless. The scent of passion was trapped in the room, growing stronger.

The sheets were twisted like ropes around their calves, as if to trap them there forever.

The phone rang for the fourth time, with no one paying attention.

Cheng Wanyue could barely open her eyes. “Is that Cheng Yanqing calling?”

“No, it’s my phone.”

She kicked Qing Hang. “Then answer it, or hang up. It’s annoying.”

Qing Hang picked up his pants from the floor and took out his phone. Zhou Heng’s name was lit up on the screen. After the system automatically disconnected, Zhou Heng called for the fifth time.

As soon as Qing Hang answered, Zhou Heng’s voice came through as if on speaker.

“Damn, aren’t you off work today? You didn’t answer for so long, I thought something had happened to you. I was so worried, I almost called your landlord. Where are you?”

Cheng Wanyue could also clearly hear that it was Zhou Heng.

The kick she had just given Qing Hang had used up the last of her strength. Now, seeing him take the phone call so formally despite his disheveled state, she couldn’t resist the urge to be mischievous.

She raised one leg, her toes moving slowly from his waist upward, pressing against his hardened nipple and grinding forcefully.

Qing Hang grabbed her foot. Without even looking at her, he knew what she was trying to do.

“At home,” he said, then placed her leg on his shoulder, pressing his body down to stifle the sound about to escape from her throat.

“I left some materials at home, in that blue folder. I need them for a meeting tomorrow morning. Scan a copy and send it to me.”

“Mm.”

“Hurry up, I’m waiting.”

“Mm.”

Qing Hang hung up and tossed the phone aside.

Cheng Wanyue had already melted into a puddle, the bent leg’s knee almost touching her face.

The sounds of moisture began to rhythmically move, and the bed frame creaked.

He couldn’t remember how many condoms he had used, but it was more than two.

“I’m so tired… Qing Hang… I want to sleep!” She cried out the last sentence, her throat hoarse.

After his aggression subsided, his movements became much gentler. He stroked her hair and kissed her face. “Take a bath before sleeping.”

“No bath.”

Qing Hang first opened the window for ventilation, then picked her up. “I’ll wash you.”

There was a mirror above the sink, reflecting several scratch marks on his back. Cheng Wanyue was like a baby who couldn’t walk, carried around by him.

He even carefully dried her toes.

The sheets, pillows, and blankets were all replaced with clean ones.

After she fell asleep comfortably, he changed her bandage, and only then did he go to Zhou Heng’s room to scan the documents.

Apart from that night when Qing Hang had a high fever and dizziness, and habitually returned to the bedroom after using the bathroom, confusedly sleeping together with Cheng Wanyue, this was their first time sharing a bed.

Qing Hang thought he would be sleepless, but he slept dreamlessly until dawn.

Cheng Yanqing’s flight wasn’t particularly late. According to Cheng Wanyue’s usual schedule, they could easily make it, but she stayed in bed, with a severe case of morning grumpiness. Qing Hang didn’t intend to wake her; he just lifted the blanket and moved slightly, and she woke up, keeping her eyes closed and grumbling unhappily.

“Qing Hang, you’re pressing on my hair.”

Qing Hang looked down at her sleepy little face. “With hair your length, I’d have to be stuck to you to press on it.”

Cheng Wanyue crawled on top of him. “Oh, was I dreaming then?”

He went along with it. “No, I did press on your hair, Princess Rapunzel.”

“What princess?”

“The long-haired princess from Disney fairy tales.”

“Tsk, tsk, you watch little girls’ fairy tales…”

“The children in the hospital were watching it.” Qing Hang patted her bottom. “You can sleep for another twenty minutes. I’ll make breakfast.”

She started being difficult again. “You can’t go.”

“If I don’t go, what will you eat?”

“Meat, of course.”

“…”

—-