Chapter 64

*The World Is Sinking, and We Are in Love*
Steam filled the bathroom. Frosted glass had condensed a layer of hazy mist, faintly outlining two figures pressed together. Her back pressed against the cold glass. Hot water cascaded down; threads of heat wound upward from behind her knees, climbing and tangling.
“Sang-sang, don’t be afraid.”
His voice was sexy and hoarse, words slurred. His usually cool brows and eyes were stained with desire; even the corners of his eyes were red. His breath brushed past her neck—as scorching as his embrace. The water rushed; thick mist rose. She could barely see anything. Her consciousness drifted, as if swept into a deep sea named “Xie Yuncheng,” sinking and rising, until her senses were filled to the brim.
She didn’t like this feeling—losing control of her body. But he was extremely patient, testing little by little, waiting until she could fully adapt.
In the end, her mind was a mess. She babbled nonsense, crying and saying it hurt, shaking her head and saying she was tired, wanted to rest.
He was always patient. He wiped away the tears at the corners of her eyes, voice hoarse beyond words. His hand pressed against her thin spine, soothing her restless emotions. Then he gripped the back of her neck, forcing her to lift her head, and kissed her with unusual force—like a beast invading, as if he wanted to devour her whole.
In the end, she had no strength left. Like petals beaten down by rain, she drooped listlessly, lashes lowered. Her snow-white skin flushed pink, delicate and tender.
The reward he’d demanded came at too high a price—so high she couldn’t resist. She slept and slept, only waking in the middle of the night because she was thirsty.
When Qin Sang opened her eyes, the room was empty. The spot beside her was cold, as if no one had slept there. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Only the dim lights outside the window reflected on the floor-to-ceiling glass.
She lay there quietly for a while, then tried to move her body. But no—it hurt, and her legs were numb. She breathed in lightly, hugging the blanket and barely managing to sit up.
When she’d come in, she hadn’t looked carefully. She’d only known it was empty, but hadn’t expected it to be so bare that there weren’t even basic supplies. The nightstand was empty. Only a just-opened pack of tissues remained beside it.
Besides that, there was only the silk blanket covering her. He must have cleaned her carefully. Besides the uncomfortable soreness, her body felt fine—clean and dry. Her wet hair had been blow-dried; only the ends were still slightly damp, but that wasn’t a big deal.
Qin Sang looked around but didn’t see Xie Yuncheng. The bathroom was also empty, only a sliver of weak light seeping through the slightly ajar door.
She bit her lip, feeling troubled. In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t considered his “house of four bare walls” situation, and naturally hadn’t prepared a change of clothes beforehand.
Now there was nothing. She didn’t know what to do.
When she tried to get up, her feet touched the carpet—soft and weak. The moment she stood, that sudden soreness nearly made her fall. She leaned against the bed and slowly, bit by bit, tried to rise. The light silk blanket slipped a little, revealing her thin spine. That soft, snow-white skin looked like fine mutton-fat jade under the dim light. Mottled marks like plum blossoms on winter branches—vivid red blooming on pure white snow—stood out starkly.
Her head ached; her whole body felt terrible. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the full-length mirror beside her. Her exposed skin was almost entirely marked. The bite marks on her neck were especially bold. When her fingertips brushed over them, she hissed—it hurt.
Fragmented memories reminded her of what had just happened. The man’s breath was heavy. He bit the soft flesh at the side of her neck like a swift leopard—aggressive and domineering, controlling her trembling body, not letting her move or hide, forcing her to passively accept until dawn.
So…
Was he born in the Year of the Dog? He bit so hard.
Qin Sang sighed. Still unwilling to give up, she searched around. Sure enough, the closet was empty—no clothes to wear. The bathrobe was dirty, stained with wet marks. She pulled the thin blanket tight, trying not to expose more skin. Moving quietly, her thin arm lifted slightly as she bent to pick up the shirt that had fallen on the wool rug. Fortunately, the shirt was only wrinkled—still clean.
She blushed as she put it on, buttoning it up properly. But she couldn’t help thinking of the scene when she’d been coaxed into unbuttoning it—her face flushed, heart racing.
When she opened the door and went out, she happened to see the living room lit up. The dim light outlined the man’s clear, handsome figure. He was turned away from her, as if on a call.
She stood for a moment, then moved closer. The moment she approached, it was as if he had eyes in the back of his head. Before her outstretched hand could touch him, he grabbed it and pulled her in front of him, pinching her soft fingers and playing with them.
Up close, the phone had a slight echo. She could tell the caller was a man. He said, “No choice. The old man’s pushing hard. I’ll come back next month to check. If it really doesn’t work, I’ll just have to leave it to fate.”
Xie Yuncheng responded lazily, but his gaze grew deeper. She was wearing his shirt; it looked very loose. Maybe she felt stuffy—the collar wasn’t fully buttoned. Her neck was slender, collarbones delicate and straight.
Qin Sang wasn’t fully awake yet. Her consciousness still lingered in the afterglow; that tingling tremor still lazily stirred her nerve endings.
So she was docile, letting the man stroke her hair, her back, until his hand slid down to the small of her back. His hold wasn’t tight—as if he just wanted to enjoy a moment of warmth, holding her loosely. His body silently adjusted position, blocking the cold wind for her.
But Qin Sang leaned in like she was dependent on him, tilting her head up to kiss his chin. She had sharp canines that weren’t usually obvious, but when she bit, that sharp sting was unmistakable.
She bit him lightly, as if in revenge. Her fingers had already left bite marks, and she didn’t even spare his Adam’s apple.
The man’s eyes darkened. His Adam’s apple rolled slowly. The hand rubbing the soft flesh at the back of her neck pressed harder, forcing her to open her mouth and lift her head. He pulled the phone slightly away and bent down to kiss her—deeply. As their lips tangled, long lashes secreted traces of moisture.
Qin Sang went along with it. She blindly reached out her arms and hugged him, thin hands wandering over his back, as if searching for something to cling to.
On the other end of the phone, the man’s voice was unchanged, with a hint of teasing. “By the way, when can you introduce me? I’d like to meet the big star too.”
Qin Sang thought distractedly—was “big star” referring to her? The big star had no time to meet. The big star couldn’t even refuse, because she was thirsty, mouth dry, and blocked—uncomfortable. She let out two impatient sounds.
The night was quiet. That weak, cat-like moan sounded especially abrupt. The phone went eerily silent. After a long pause, only one word came through: “Fuck.”
She was about to run out of breath. She pushed him twice, pouting, hands gripping the hem of his shirt at the small of his back, whining in protest, not letting him keep kissing.
Xie Yuncheng laughed at her for provoking him without the ability to handle it. Punishing her, he bit her once, then lazily replied, voice hoarse beyond words, “We’ll talk later.”
The other end probably realized something. The call ended instantly, not even leaving a word.
Qin Sang was a bit more awake now. The cold wind made her shiver, but her cheeks were flushed. She bit her lip and looked at him, eyes warm and bright, misty with moisture, voice soft and gentle. “You kissed me secretly. I think you got caught.”
Although she didn’t know who was calling, they must have noticed something was off.
He chuckled softly, not particularly concerned, and brushed aside her hair. It had grown a bit—the bob that used to reach her ears now reached her collarbone. The ends covered it, not very obvious. “Are you scared?”
She shook her head. It seemed her courage had grown a bit. Before, she definitely would have felt mortified, but now it didn’t feel like such a big deal.
Her arms trembling, she hugged him again, face buried in his chest, voice muffled. “I’m cold.”
It was already winter. Beijing entered winter earlier than the south, and this place was right in the wind. The balcony was chilly at night; the night wind swept past, cold and biting. She just felt cold.
“Carry me inside. I don’t have any strength.”
She couldn’t walk anymore—could barely stand.
Xie Yuncheng smoothly picked her up, hand pressing against the back of her thigh. The shirt wasn’t long to begin with; now it had slipped noticeably. He casually tugged it down, barely covering her.
They went all the way into the living room. The balcony door closed, cutting off the biting cold wind. Inside it was warm as spring; sitting on the sofa didn’t feel cold at all.
It turned out that while she was sleeping, Xie Yuncheng had gone to the convenience store downstairs. Besides clean supplies and food, he’d also bought her underwear—even sanitary pads.
She flushed red. Her eyes fell on the blue and black boxes in the transparent bag. If she wasn’t mistaken, those should be things used for safety measures.
Xie Yuncheng’s expression was normal, explaining calmly, “So next time we come, there won’t be nothing. I prepared everything.”
Qin Sang nodded and didn’t speak.
He had prepared everything perfectly. There didn’t seem to be anything special for her to worry about. Qin Sang studied him. In the warm yellow light, the man’s cool brows and eyes seemed much gentler—not like before, keeping everyone at arm’s length, cold and distant.
She pursed her lips, thinking back on everything that had happened during the day. Her emotions were unsettled. She leaned against him, extremely reluctant to move, staying in his arms, voice muffled. “Thank you. Thank you for launching the Lantern Project.”
Lantern, lantern—it had truly become the only light guiding her through her bleak life.
Xie Yuncheng’s hand stroking her back paused slightly. He had never imagined that an unintentional act would become the only channel to help someone else. But now he was incredibly grateful. The seed planted many years ago had now borne sweet fruit, at least making up for some regret—even if it only filled a tiny gap.
“Sang-sang,” Xie Yuncheng’s voice was low and hoarse, “you asked me what I would do if I could go back to the past. I answered you: I would come to see you. I want to watch over you, want to occupy every moment of your life. When we graduated, I would take you home, lock you up, and spend a chaotic summer with you.”
“I think, occasionally being a bad student wouldn’t be bad either.”
The innocent, awkward feelings between a boy and a girl had been pierced on graduation night. After that hazy window paper was torn away, there was raw, primitive desire. On a summer night filled with cicada songs, in a hot, closed room, it lured her—like Adam and Eve, tasting the forbidden fruit.
His fingers brushed over warm, hot skin. Qin Sang’s back instantly went rigid. Helplessly, she said softly, “It hurts.”
She didn’t know if it was a bit red, but it definitely couldn’t be touched.
Xie Yuncheng tugged at his lips, voice hoarse and mixed. “Let me see.”