Chapter 13: Gentle Warmth
Chen Yansi’s arm draped over her back, holding her tightly in a full embrace. Their body heat melded seamlessly together.
She was naturally light, pressing against him without adding an ounce of extra weight, as if he only needed to exert a little more strength to ensure she wouldn’t quietly slip away from his grasp.
It had been a long time since they had nestled together so quietly.
Back in college, Chen Yansi liked to hold her like this while they napped, and she would eventually be coaxed to sleep while he remained awake.
Then he would gently nudge her soft earlobe with the tip of his nose.
She was an exceptionally quiet sleeper, not making a sound.
Unable to rouse her, he would lazily tease in a deep voice, “Wen Shuhan, why are you snoring?”
His warm breath tickled her earlobe, a little ticklish.
She didn’t quite catch what he said, but was on the verge of waking, letting out a soft whimper as she buried herself in his arms like a cat.
He pinched her delicate little nose, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest: “Why are you so obedient?”
...
She used to find Chen Yansi rather annoying.
Though he was still mischievous now, he had gained a steady maturity deep within, his broad shoulders capable of bearing greater burdens.
More and more often, Chen Yansi found moments of calm; during rest, his features relaxed, and that lazy, arrogant air faded considerably.
Like an alpha wolf returning from the hunt to the depths of the forest, dropping all defenses in a fleeting moment of peace.
She could almost feel the blood pulsing through the veins on his arms, his warmth flowing through the fabric to her skin.
The faint awkwardness after their long separation was slowly dissolving; the “no contact” agreement made at their breakup was utterly broken at this moment.
Finally sensing a change in his breathing, she lifted her head slightly.
His eyes half-closed, he met her gaze, and her misty eyes, tender and unaware, quietly said, “I’m leaving now.”
His expression shifted subtly, his voice still heavy with laziness: “Where to?”
She blinked: “Of course, home.”
“Together.”
No room for argument.
His drowsiness lingered, as if he wanted to keep her there.
With such a stark difference in strength, as long as he didn’t let go, she would be forced to stay pressed against him.
Just then, Chen Yansi’s phone rang.
He looked at her: “Answer it for me.”
At last, she had a chance to move.
Supporting herself against his ribs, she sat up, took the phone, swiped to answer, and held the receiver to his ear.
A voice came through.
A trace of boredom flickered in his eyes, but his gaze remained fixed on her.
“Who is this?”
“Can’t you recognize my voice? It’s Zheng Yao.”
The tone on the other end resembled that of the girl Wen Shuhan had encountered in the corridor.
“Ulive opened today. Are you there or not? I knocked on the suite door but no one answered.”
Chen Yansi’s eyes darkened, a mocking edge creeping into his words: “If no one’s there, why keep knocking? Expecting a ghost to answer?”
Silence fell for a few seconds on the other end before the voice grew louder: “What’s with that attitude? I specifically came back to the country to find you. Your birthday’s coming up, right? What are your plans?”
“Just surviving,” he replied.
Zheng Yao was speechless.
Seizing the moment while he was on the call, Wen Shuhan lightly stepped down, trying to slip away unnoticed.
But he suddenly yanked her up with one hand.
She was nearly jolted, a soft sound escaping her throat unconsciously, and she quickly pressed her lips together.
Chen Yansi caught the subtle change in her expression, raised an eyebrow, and tightened his arm around her.
The voice on the phone asked again, “No birthday party then?”
He remained indifferent: “Mind your own business.”
“Pfft.” Zheng Yao shifted tone, “I went to Dongwan City Yacht Harbor and saw the ‘Morning Light’—it’s really beautiful. Looks like you’re not totally unromantic.”
Hearing the familiar name made Wen Shuhan’s brow furrow.
Chen Yansi was somewhat dismissive, replying slowly.
Yet during the call, his hand pressed against her body, fingers lightly pinching the back of her neck, slowly trailing down as if caressing a delicate, polished string instrument.
Her earlobes flushed crimson.
Chen Yansi’s body heat was always warm, except when calm, his fingertips cool like melting ice with sharp edges yet to dissolve.
Every touch made her breath falter.
The voice continued, “By the way, how did you know my nickname is Xixi and that I love sailing the most? Such a romantic gift. Was its maiden voyage reserved just for me? Your friends say you haven’t used it.”
Her thoughts stalled, a brittle branch inside her heart snapping painfully.
So, who exactly was the ‘Morning Light’ for?
After the other’s excitement faded, Chen Yansi smiled faintly, his hand still gently stroking Wen Shuhan’s fragile, fair neck.
She held her breath slightly.
It tickled, but she couldn’t make a sound.
Her shoulders lifted subtly, revealing a graceful collarbone sinking into his gaze.
Finally, he coldly replied to the other side, “None of your business. Stop dreaming.”
As his words fell, Wen Shuhan glanced at him.
The call had ended.
She inhaled quietly, furrowing her brow in complaint, “It’s so itchy.”
After holding it in for so long, her mood was also gloomy.
Chen Yansi remained the same as before, always liking to tease her in private.
Especially fond of toying masterfully in that blurry gap between the “public” and the “secret.”
Like coaxing her to kiss him during a call, or when she hung underwear on the bedroom balcony, he would come up behind her under the pretense of helping, but his arm would wrap around her waist, his head tilting to kiss her earlobe, sometimes even nibbling lightly.
The bedroom door wasn’t even locked.
...
Warm, sticky memories intertwined in her mind, and Wen Shuhan frowned slightly.
Chen Yansi’s mobile slid forward, lifting her chin, eyes sparkling with interest: “What are you thinking about? Why that expression?”
“I was just thinking—” Images flashed in her mind, but she quickly changed her words, “Nothing.”
“Oh.” Chen Yansi deliberately caught only the first half, teasing lightly, “I thought you forgot.”
She hadn’t forgotten.
About those secret pasts.
In college, everyone agreed Chen Yansi “had a girlfriend.”
They just didn’t know who the person occupying every inch of his life was.
A man admired by all, sending private messages during class that lasted the entire session.
The black elastic band on his wrist, the faint lipstick marks on his knuckles, the faint scent of cherry-scented shower gel on his shoulder... countless signs of intimacy.
Anyone could tell he was in a relationship.
The more mysterious, the more people wanted to dig deeper.
Yet the girls who followed him closely had scoured the entire university and couldn’t find a hint of a partner.
Perhaps he hid it too well.
But the one truly being concealed wasn’t him—it was Wen Shuhan.
Chen Yansi might have been cooperating with her, but he still left “exclusive marks” on her from time to time.
Love bites, accessories.
Once, in the changing room, a classmate stared at the object on her wrist for a long time and exclaimed, “Wow, Wen Shuhan, you’re full of surprises, huh?”
She was baffled: “What?”
“Your watch!” The girl loved luxury goods and instantly recognized it. “Isn’t that the Vacheron Constantin Fiftysix? What does your family do to be so rich?”
“...” She clenched her fingers, choosing not to explain.
That watch was given to her by Chen Yansi, meant to remind her to keep track of time and not keep him waiting.
She focused on dance training, rarely paying attention to accessories. She hadn’t realized the one he gave her was from the same series as his.
Not considered valuable by him, but already eye-catching enough.
Not wanting to attract too much attention, she kept the watch in her bag and only wore it when meeting him, or else he would be unhappy.
He was hard to please back then.
The Beijing University Dance Academy was separate from the main campus, just across the street.
Nearby was a café where she often sat by the window with her study partner, struggling over cultural subjects.
Occasionally, she overheard the conversations of girls nearby.
At eighteen or nineteen, emotions ran high; they would chatter about loving some popular celebrity forever or grieving over lost love.
Every time she heard such talk, Wen Shuhan wondered:
What was love really like?
Wen Shaode often told her, “Daddy loves you very much.”
But if he loved her, why did he cheat on her mother when she was very young, driving her mother away?
She couldn’t understand.
She seemed never to have seen love that was truly firm and unbreakable, nor could she imagine what it looked like.
The café bustled, glass doors opening and closing, wind chimes ringing crisply.
She marked key points in Chinese cultural history with a highlighter.
Suddenly, a small commotion stirred nearby.
She kept her head down, unaware, until her study partner whispered, “Look, that guy in the black hoodie is Chen Yansi, the one I told you about. Isn’t he amazing?”
“... Oh, I don’t really remember,” she replied, drawing a straight line.
Her partner teased her for being so focused on studying that even the most handsome guy couldn’t catch her eye.
It was just past two in the afternoon; Chen Yansi seemed freshly awakened from his nap.
With his usual bad morning breath, he looked like a lazy troublemaker, hands in pockets, buying coffee with friends, barely saying more than five words.
So cool.
Cool? Ten minutes ago, just waking up, his hair must have been a mess—wild and unruly—definitely not cool.
She thought this silently, marking her notes harder.
Soon, Chen Yansi carried a cup of ice-cold black coffee and passed by their table indifferently.
His gaze didn’t linger.
A subtle ripple stirred the air; she recalled the faintly sweet scent from the reckless night before.
They shared the same scent, but no one knew.
Countless eyes secretly followed him.
A man like him might only be met a few times in a lifetime. Thanks to the top university with all kinds of people, it created an illusion of minimized differences, making chance encounters seem natural.
But once studies ended, he would return to the pinnacle of his pyramid, out of reach even by silhouette.
Better to steal a few more glances now.
Only Wen Shuhan kept her head down, focused on her notes.
Her phone buzzed on the table.
A new message.
From Chen Yansi—
“Tonight, I’ll take you to the Nan’er Mountain Observatory.”
“To watch the meteor shower.”