A faint floral fragrance wafted in the evening breeze. Cheng Wanyue lowered her head to count how many roses there were, while Qing Hang carried the backpack and listened to her call Cheng Yanqing to say she wouldn’t be coming home tonight.

In the past, Cheng Yanqing hadn’t kept tabs on her. Sometimes she wouldn’t come home for days, and he wouldn’t even know.

The courtyard Qing Hang had rented in Baicheng wasn’t far from the Cheng family home, but it wasn’t particularly close either. Cheng Wanyue would barely stay at her grandmother’s for a few minutes before running over to his place.

Yan Ci lived in the staff apartment building across from the Cheng family compound.

At that time, she had wanted to find Yan Ci. Yan Ci was two grades ahead of them—when they were in their first year of high school, Yan Ci was already in his third year. He often had extra classes on weekends, started morning self-study earlier than they did, and finished evening self-study later. He also wasn’t in the same teaching building. It wasn’t until Yan Ci’s parents died in a car accident that he missed the college entrance exam and lost a year. When he repeated his senior year, they became classmates in the same grade.

Cheng Wanyue heard music on the other end of the phone and guessed that the three of them must have gone somewhere else to drink.

Cheng Yanqing didn’t have strong opinions about her not returning home tonight. He just reminded her a few extra times not to stay up too late and to go to bed early.

Too many people had wished her a happy birthday. She set her phone to silent mode, planning to reply tomorrow.

The nearest hotel didn’t allow pets, but there was a pet center next door. The receptionist suggested they leave the cat there.

“No, Coal Ball has to stay with us,” Cheng Wanyue looked up at Qing Hang, hooking his pinky with hers and gently swinging it. “It just met me. If I abandon it, it will be sad.”

Qing Hang said, “Let’s find another hotel that allows pets.”

“Mm-hmm!” She followed him out. “Are you feeling uncomfortable?”

The tips of his ears turned slightly red, and his grip on her hand tightened. “I’m fine.”

Cheng Wanyue didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Although he wasn’t urgent, men and women had different physiological responses when aroused. “I’m not asking about that… I’m asking if you feel sick from drinking, if you want to throw up, if your head hurts, if you’re thirsty.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Even if you were drunk, I’d sober you up.”

After trying four hotels in a row, they finally found one that allowed pets. Qing Hang registered their information, got the room key, and took the elevator upstairs.

Cheng Wanyue took a disposable cup to get water for Coal Ball. She looked around, wondering where to put the kitten later.

The bathroom wouldn’t work—it wasn’t suitable and would be in the way.

The balcony was even worse—too dangerous.

Letting it stay in the room seemed a bit inappropriate for its young eyes.

Just as Cheng Wanyue was about to speak to Qing Hang, she turned to see him pulling his shirt off over his head. He had sweated a lot throughout the evening.

Young doctors were especially busy, particularly in their first two years at the hospital. When Zhou Heng had signed up for a gym membership, the owner said two people could get a discount, so Zhou Heng had brought Qing Hang along.

So he did work out regularly.

Clothes showed off his figure, and when shirtless, his abs were visible. His muscle definition wasn’t exaggerated, but it was powerful.

There was an empty vase on the table. He took it into the bathroom, filled it halfway with water, and arranged the roses in it.

A few petals fell onto the carpet. Coal Ball approached to sniff them, but didn’t seem to like the smell. It circled Qing Hang’s feet twice, then jumped onto the table, and with another light leap, landed on the sofa, curling up on his freshly removed shirt and yawning.

The mineral water bottle was knocked over, and a small box fell from the table.

Qing Hang steadied the water bottle but didn’t catch the box in time. Cheng Wanyue was still crouching by the paper cup where Coal Ball was drinking, and the box hit her on the head.

They both looked down at the same time.

Size M, unusable.

Last time it had gotten stuck halfway.

But it wasn’t a big problem—the hotel was well-stocked with all sizes and even several types of toys.

Their shadows overlapped at the foot of the bed, and Cheng Wanyue suddenly forgot what she had wanted to say. Qing Hang picked up the box and put it back in its place, braced his left hand on the sofa armrest, lowered his body, and ran his right hand through her hair to grip the back of her neck, gently pulling her toward him.

The air conditioning was quite cool, but as her arms wrapped around his neck, every inch of skin she touched was burning hot.

Compared to outside, his kisses became much more direct once the door closed and they were alone.

Their tongues entwined, amplifying the subtle sounds like a kitten lapping up water.

Cheng Wanyue fell sitting onto the carpet. Qing Hang knelt in front of her. She was wearing a black spaghetti-strap dress with a zipper at the side of the waist. Qing Hang felt around but couldn’t find it.

“It’s here,” she guided his hand to the zipper. “This is my first time wearing it. Don’t ruin it.”

“Mm,” Qing Hang’s movements became gentler and slower.

As he undressed her, she touched him too. Her cool fingers traced from his Adam’s apple downward, reaching the metal buckle as she tried to undo his belt.

The first time Cheng Wanyue had undone his belt, she had been at a disadvantage.

She had meant to teach him a lesson, starting with mischievous intentions, but he was no longer the Qing Hang who would let her bully him without fighting back.

He was Qing Xiaogou (Little Dog Qing).

Just as she was about to do something, he pinned her to the bed and used the belt she had unfastened to tie her hands behind her back.

The belt had no elasticity. Not only had she exhausted herself trying to break free without success, but she had also left a red mark on her wrist from the pressure.

She cursed at him, but he ignored her.

When she finally cried from anger, he was the one who came to comfort her.

She was still furious, and a few sweet words wouldn’t be enough to appease her.

Qing Hang apologized and spoke gently, but she continued to cry, saying she wouldn’t forgive him unless he allowed her to bind him the same way.

He slowly taught her how to do it, and when she learned, he voluntarily turned his back to her and put his hands behind him.

The belt passed through the metal buckle, gradually tightening.

She knew he was a beast hiding in the darkness, with strong aggressive tendencies, so she left him no chance to escape and counter-attack.

Right there in his room, on that hard, cool chair.

After binding his hands tightly with the belt, she moved in front of him, placed a pillow to support her lower back, and found a comfortable sitting position.

The collar of her sweater had already been stretched loose when he had roughed her up earlier. It hung askew, slipping off one shoulder to reveal the black bra strap underneath. She didn’t mind, leisurely removing the long stockings under her plaid skirt. Her toes were delicate and as white as the flesh of a mangosteen peeled from its shell.

Tears still hung at the corners of her eyes, but that didn’t stop her from taking revenge.

Her toes hooked onto his loose waistband, pressing with moderate force against his groin. He endured without making a sound, though his neck turned red. On one hand, he wanted her to calm down quickly, but on the other, he shamefully hoped she would press harder.

The more he wanted, the less she gave him.

She teased him here and there.

Only when he succumbed to the increasingly unbearable torment, lowered his pride, abandoned his sense of shame, and softly begged her would she pay special attention to the pitifully tortured area.

“Don’t get any on me. Not even a drop.”

But some still splashed onto her face.

So she had a second reason to torment him a second time.

When she was in the right and had the upper hand, she was like a little demon. The diagrams in biology textbooks weren’t very appealing, but Qing Hang’s were clean, so she didn’t mind using either her hands or her mouth.

The sound of the metal clasp was faint. Qing Hang’s kiss paused for a few seconds, and his gaze subtly changed—he probably remembered it too.

But it was too late.

Cheng Wanyue pursed his lips. As he leaned back, she took the opportunity to straddle his legs, and in the moment he lowered his guard, she tightened the belt.

Her triumphant laugh hadn’t even left her mouth before he swallowed it. With his hands bound, he wasn’t as agile, and she easily dodged away.

Coal Ball was staring directly at them.

Cheng Wanyue covered her chest, quickly making a nest with some clothes, then placing the backpack in front to block the view.

Coal Ball curled up in the corner, now unable to see them.

She pulled the belt. “Let’s shower first.”

Qing Hang struggled to stand up. “Cheng Wanyue, untie me.”

“No. If you’re capable, undo it yourself…”

Suddenly, he raised his hands, lifting them high before bringing them down over her head, encircling her completely.

Now they were both bound by the belt—wherever he went, she had to follow.

The kisses started at her neck and slowly moved downward. He used his teeth to tear off her breast tape. She kept stepping on his feet, barely standing steady thanks to his hand on her lower back as they stumbled into the bathroom.

The shower door was made of frosted glass, and inside there was a mirror.

After she turned on the shower, water splashed onto the mirror, blurring the reflected images.

Qing Hang bit her chin. “If you don’t untie me, how can I wash?”

“I’ll help you.”

Cheng Wanyue poured some shower gel into her hand, worked up a lather, and attended to every area she could reach. But she moved slowly, not deliberately so, but because she was trapped between his arms and body, unable to extend her limbs fully.

Just as one hand was about to move from his waist downward, he suddenly embraced her and changed positions, pressing her against the wall.

She had a heart-shaped birthmark on her bottom. The way he squeezed her buttocks matched the way she squeezed his hardness.

His breathing grew heavier. She whispered in his ear that he could finish on her body.

After all, they were in the shower, where it would be easy to wash off.

The thick white fluid landed on her stomach and was rinsed away by water the next second.

It was too hot inside. Cheng Wanyue turned off the shower, pushed Qing Hang away slightly, and turned her head to catch her breath. He kissed from her chin to her neck, took the pink tips into his mouth, pressed his tongue against the slightly hardened nipples, then licked and sucked them. Only after hearing her long moan did he squat down to kneel at her feet, his bound hands naturally embracing her from behind.

He was still hard, pointing upward against his abdomen.

Cheng Wanyue looked down but could only see his dark short hair. She bit the back of her hand to keep from crying out, but her legs had already gone weak. By the time he carried her out of the bathroom, she barely had the strength to cling to his waist.

They fell onto the bed together. Qing Hang bit her ear, telling her to untie the belt.

She weakly murmured that she wouldn’t.

After regaining some strength, Cheng Wanyue crawled out from under him, got a box of condoms, and straddled his legs.

“I want to be on top,” she opened one, bending her knee to rub against him. “If that’s not okay, then we won’t do it.”