The lake surface sparkled with shimmering light, somewhat dazzling to the eyes.

Cheng Wanyue leaned in the corner, rainwater from the eaves falling onto her shoulder without her noticing.

Whenever Qing Hang kissed her, it was as if he wanted to chew her up and swallow her whole. Only when she was breathless, her body sliding down weakly, no longer able to say those heart-racing words, would he relent. His lips and tongue would then trail along her chin and neck, licking away even that extra drop of rain.

The stuffiness in the air made her feel slightly oxygen-deprived, her breathing heavy.

He feared angering her, yet craved this intimacy. His face nestled against the skin of her neck, gently nuzzling. The hand that had been gripping her wrist slowly moved down, gradually opening her closed fingers, slipping between them to interlock their hands.

At this moment, if any external factor approached her, he would reveal sharp claws and fangs—either to hide her away or to tear apart the intruders.

Cheng Wanyue tilted her head back and softly asked, “Are you hard?”

Though Qing Hang didn’t speak, his ears turned bright red.

She knew full well.

Cheng Wanyue lowered her head, but Qing Hang wouldn’t let her look at him, covering her eyes with his hand.

She leaned her head back, almost hitting the wall. He was solely focused on protecting her, which exposed all his emotions to her.

Earlier, Qing Hang had pulled Cheng Wanyue away from the barbecue area because of Zhou Heng.

She had been interested in astrology for a while, studying all her friends. Though astrology was mystical with no scientific basis, it could reveal certain aspects of a person’s hidden character.

Qing Hang was born on the day of the Beginning of Winter, a Scorpio.

A Moon in Taurus indicates inner stability, while a Sun in Scorpio suggests resourcefulness. Among all the men she’d studied, his chart was the best, though prone to contradiction and hesitation.

Cheng Wanyue tickled his palm. “Qing Hang, what are you thinking about?”

Qing Hang snapped back to reality, his eyes still covered with a layer of uncertain mist. “I was thinking… if only you could become me, or enter my body, control my consciousness, touch my heart.”

It wouldn’t take long, just one second would do.

What he wanted to say was, “Wanyue, don’t like anyone else.”

She chuckled softly. “So I should like you?”

He wished for nothing more. “Mm, like me.”

This wasn’t the first time Qing Hang had said these words, but it was the first time Cheng Wanyue had heard them.

During high school breaks, she was always forced by Cheng Guo’an to stay home for tutoring. Qing Hang had to explain even the most basic concepts countless times before she could remember them.

At first, she would deliberately make things difficult for him, teasing him. Later, when it became routine, if he didn’t come to her house one day, she felt something was missing. Yet when he did come, she could hardly study for more than a few minutes, falling asleep at the desk before completing even half a test paper.

The pen in her hand would smudge her fair face, yet she slept soundly.

He would rest his head on his arm, quietly watching her for a long time.

“Cheng Wanyue, like me.”

The desk heard it, the textbooks and test papers knew, as did the watermelon slices on the plate, the sticky notes on the wall, the stuffed toys on her bed, and even the wind and sunset outside the window.

Only Cheng Wanyue didn’t know.

More than alternative solutions to math Olympiad problems, he wanted to know what dreams she was having.

She moved slightly, nearly falling off the chair, but still didn’t wake. He had quickly reached out to steady her, his arm around her waist now stiff. She had many new dresses, various materials, styles, and colors. Even the creases at the hem looked beautiful.

He began to imagine that he existed in her dreams.

So much so that whenever she fell asleep beside him, he wished to enter her dreams.

“Cheng Wanyue, like me.”

The second time Cheng Wanyue heard it was in a hotel room. After a heavy downpour, they had entered the hotel soaking wet, yet no one found it strange.

She was stripped bare by him, washed clean, while not even a button on his clothes had been undone.

Steam filled the bathroom as she braced one hand against the glass door, unable to grasp anything, leaving only streaks of water.

She was like a pot of boiling water, bubbling and gurgling. Qing Hang was like a glass thrown into that boiling water. Perhaps at some point, he would be unable to withstand the high temperature and shatter, but even if broken, glass shards would remain in the water, impossible to clean completely. When swallowed, they would cut the throat, causing blood and pain, unforgettable.

“Wanyue,” he couldn’t bear to hurt her, yet his movement entering her body contained not a trace of gentleness. “Trust me, whatever others can give you, I can give too. I won’t make you wait too long.”

“You’ve never even pursued me.”

“Then I’ll pursue you now.”

The mirror reflected Cheng Wanyue’s flushed face. His clothes concealed the evidence of Qing Hang’s arousal, and his expression was also unclear. She wanted to remove his clothes, but was pressed against the glass door instead.

His hot body pressed against her from behind, gripping her waist and pressing down slightly.

The dress Cheng Wanyue wore today didn’t have an open back.

Qing Hang understood human anatomy well, knowing she could accommodate him and which spots to stimulate for her pleasure. Re-entering the wet entrance, the hot, moist flesh enveloped him layer upon layer, tightening around him, sucking away his reason and indulging his desire.

Between her legs was soaking wet, long past being just water from the shower.

Her body was thrust forward, hitting her head several times. Her nipples, rubbed and pressed against the glass, turned red and pitiful. He reached around with one hand to hold them.

Soft kisses fell on her back—perhaps his only gentleness.

The air in the bathroom was humid, yet her throat felt parched. She could no longer stand, whimpering as she was carried out and thrown onto the bed. Before she could recover, her legs were spread apart.

Her consciousness scattered, then quickly regathered. Her body tensed, her slender waist arching up, then falling back weakly onto the bed. Her choked sobs rose and fell, finally trembling as she bit his shoulder.

Her stamina was poor; there might not be a second time. Qing Hang, who had never spoken dirty words, cursed softly while breathing heavily. The intense pleasure made the veins in his arms and neck bulge, yet he could not resist the urge to ejaculate.

In bed, he always revealed a forceful side.

Exhausted, Cheng Wanyue was trapped beneath him as he rubbed against her wet thighs, his face buried in her cleavage, biting and nibbling. When she tried to speak, or perhaps push him away, he took advantage to catch her tongue. As she drifted in a haze, he changed condoms and entered her again.

Her body, just having experienced climax, could not withstand such intense stimulation. The marks she scratched on his back grew deeper with each stroke.

He seemed lucid, yet also lost in the rolling tide of passion, greedy and tireless, never satisfied.

He even wished she would remain forever as she was now—unable to break free or escape, only able to depend on him.

Cheng Wanyue’s skin was fair. All the places hidden from others were marked by Qing Hang. As he helped her dress, she frowned in displeasure.

His hands could perform surgery, cook for her, and also thread through her bra straps to adjust their tightness and length.

Her hair had already dried. Qing Hang found a comb on the shelf above the washbasin. A few strands by her ear had been pressed upward. He braided a very thin plait for her.

Qing Hang didn’t have a sister; it was Cheng Wanyue who taught him how to braid hair.

She used to have long hair and wouldn’t cut it too short, even when visiting the salon.

Once, out of boredom, she noticed the red cord holding the jade pendant had loosened. She called him over, had him sit behind her, and demonstrated with the red cord while he followed along.

Later, looking in the mirror, she verbally criticized the braid he’d made as ugly, but she didn’t take it out.

Cheng Wanyue hadn’t eaten lunch. After sitting for a while, she closed her eyes and leaned back into Qing Hang’s arms. He took the opportunity to lift her onto the sofa.

Qing Hang kissed her cheek. “Still want to eat barbecue?”

She was truly hungry. “Anything will do.”

Qing Hang remembered Yan Ci mentioning her anemia. “Would you go to the hospital for a check-up when you have time?”

“I won’t go,” Cheng Wanyue frowned slightly. “I just had a check-up at the beginning of the year. Who gets checked so frequently? Besides, I have my regular hospital and doctor.”

When she didn’t want to do something, no one could force her.

Qing Hang didn’t mention it again. “Let’s go out to eat.”

The sunset was beautiful, half the sky dyed orange-red. Meng Qi and the others had opened several cases of beer. Xu Qian was still the same as in the morning, with only Zhou Heng being unusually quiet.

Cheng Wanyue only had energy to play after eating. She ate whatever Qing Hang gave her, finishing with a glass of fruit juice.

Xu Qian was telling ghost stories. Cheng Wanyue leaned against her chair, looking at her phone, when she came across a video. At first, she just thought the music was nice, but as the camera zoomed in, she realized the lead singer looked familiar.

“When will Brother Chi Yue marry me?”

Only after seeing this hot comment did Cheng Wanyue learn his name was Chi Yue. He seemed quite famous. Following the comments, she clicked on Chi Yue’s Weibo. He only followed 10 people, and the latest was her.

Suddenly, her phone was snatched away. She looked up in confusion. Night had fallen, and Qing Hang’s gaze was inscrutable.

Qing Hang didn’t use Weibo, but he took a few extra glances at Cheng Wanyue’s profile picture and her Weibo name.

Her profile picture was his WeChat avatar. Her Weibo name had a suffix because he called her Princess Rapunzel.

“I’ll keep this for now,” Qing Hang put the phone in his pocket.

Cheng Wanyue objected. “Give it back.”

She reached over to grab it, but Qing Hang wouldn’t return it. She pinched his waist and bit his wrist.

Xu Qian happened to look over, thinking the two were flirting. Qing Hang was such a serious person, yet today he repeatedly broke the rigid impression she had of him. In all the time she’d known Qing Hang, this was the first time she’d seen him smile.

Cheng Wanyue was normally a princess, picky and delicate. But next to Qing Hang, she was like a child: temperamental and difficult, yet easily coaxed.

Qing Hang was usually boring and rigid, uninterested in anything. Yet when facing Cheng Wanyue, his emotions fluctuated abnormally, but also more authentically.

“We’re all friends here. Let’s play Truth or Dare. Wanyue, you must participate.”

Xu Qian diverted Cheng Wanyue’s attention. She sat back in her seat. “I drove here, so I can’t drink.”

“Qing Hang can drink for you,” Xu Qian placed an empty wine bottle in the center of the table. “There are exactly eight of us. Whoever the bottle points to must answer two questions from the person opposite, or do a dare. If you choose neither, you drink three glasses of alcohol.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

Cheng Wanyue had always been lucky from childhood. She was quite tired of these drinking games. At first, everyone was restrained, but after several rounds, the atmosphere grew livelier. Neither the truths nor the dares were simple.

The person next to Meng Qi spun the bottle, which finally stopped between Cheng Wanyue and Qing Hang.

Xu Qian told them to play rock-paper-scissors to determine who it land on, but they kept matching each other, unable to decide a winner.

“There’s no way around it. You’ll each take one turn,” Xu Qian was excited. Sitting opposite Cheng Wanyue, she asked directly, “What were you two doing this afternoon?”

Cheng Wanyue answered without blushing or hesitation. “Sleeping in a hotel.”

“Just sleeping?”

“We also did…” Her mouth was covered.

Cheng Wanyue turned to look at Qing Hang. He didn’t give Xu Qian a chance to dig deeper, one hand still covering Cheng Wanyue’s mouth while the other picked up a wine glass. He drank three glasses in succession.

Meng Qi’s turn came next, and this time, the bottle pointed directly at Cheng Wanyue.

“Wanyue, who was your first kiss?” This question was already quite ordinary; Xu Qian hadn’t even asked about her first night.

Cheng Wanyue poked Qing Hang’s arm. “Him.”

Xu Qian had already figured out they weren’t merely from the same hometown. “Wow! Puppy love! Then why did you break up?”