Chapter 49: Good Night, I Love You

A Secret.

Qin Yichi’s eyes darkened as he fought desperately to suppress the desire raging in his heart. His voice was even, betraying no emotion. “Tell me.”

But Qiao Zhen squirmed on the bed in protest, shaking her head with a sulky unhappiness. “Then come closer. Let’s whisper it, just between us, so no one else can hear…”

Though the room was empty save for the two of them, Qin Yichi still bent down, leaning closer to her, indulging the childish little rabbit in her game.

Then he heard her sweet, soft voice, lowered and proud: “Qin Yichi, in our past lives… we were together! We were husband and wife, with a real marriage certificate! That red booklet and everything~”

Together.

Husband and wife.

Married.

Each word sent tremors through Qin Yichi’s heartstrings, his blood surging backward, heart pounding like a drum, fevered and wild, only slowly returning to normal.

Once the surprise faded, he lowered his head and gave a bitter laugh, feeling he was just deluding himself.

Past lives, destiny… What nonsense.

Qiao Zhen was drunk, muddled, speaking nothing but fantasies.

Cute, silly, thoughtless.

Qin Yichi sighed, the corners of his lips unconsciously curling upwards. Even if it was all just Qiao Zhen’s dream, he was still very, very happy.

Yet suddenly, as if reminded of something, Qiao Zhen’s mood shifted sharply to sorrow. She clutched the small blanket tightly, her voice growing softer, lips trembling with a pitiful whimper as she murmured, “But after we got married, you were so bad to me... you bullied me, pinched me, bumped into me, always making me cry…”

Crystalline tears clung to Qiao Zhen’s lashes as she sniffled, aggrieved, as if suffering the greatest wrong.

Seeing her so pitiful, Qin Yichi’s whole body stiffened.

In the nightmare of his childhood, his worthless father had always hit and kicked him, threatening him with a kitchen knife.

The worst time, his leg was broken outright.

His mother, covered in bloody wounds, would kneel and beg, her voice trembling, “Stop hitting him! Please, hit me instead, don’t hurt little Chi…”

Though that wretch was dead, the shadow he’d cast on Qin Yichi had never truly lifted.

Qin Yichi closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and buried the pain deep within.

He was silent for a long time before speaking, his tone unusually serious: “How could I ever bully you?”

Qiao Zhen, how could I ever hurt you…

But when Qin Yichi flatly denied it, Qiao Zhen grew even more upset, glaring at him fiercely, each word enunciated with childish indignation: “But you did!”

You definitely bullied her!

Her long, thick lashes fluttered, her cheeks flushed deeper pink.

Scenes from a past life, unspeakable and wild, flooded her mind.

The Qin Yichi from those memories was mature and steady, exuding a unique charm, like an immovable mountain, his gaze burning hot enough to devour her.

He would press her down in every corner of their home, coaxing and spoiling her with gentle words, but his actions were rough, fierce—not gentle at all.

Not at all!

Just recalling those moments made Qiao Zhen bristle, clenching her fists and pointing accusingly at his face, “Qin Yichi, you… you’re a big meanie!”

Her angry, puffed-up face was almost unbearably adorable, her brows furrowed, her whole expression lively and animated.

It made one want to pinch her cheeks hard, just to see her reaction.

A muffled laugh rumbled from deep in Qin Yichi’s chest. He followed her lead and replied with a simple, indulgent, “Mm,” as if agreeing with her outright.

The air was laced with the faint scent of alcohol, mingling with the girl’s sweet fragrance.

Suddenly, Qiao Zhen scooted closer, mischief glinting in her eyes. She pointed at herself, declaring with utmost seriousness, “I… I’m a little troublemaker!”

“I’m going to bully you now!”

In her mind it was a fierce, menacing threat, but in Qin Yichi’s ears, the words sounded so soft and sweet, like a feather gently brushing the edge of his ear over and over.

Qin Yichi lounged lazily against the back of his chair, watching her, laughter bubbling in his chest, amused and curious. “Oh? And how will the little troublemaker bully me?”

The tiny figure on the bed blinked, tilting her head as she pondered, her sly thoughts plain on her face. “Come closer, closer still…”

Her every intention was written in her eyes.

Qin Yichi knew he shouldn’t oblige.

But his body betrayed him, refusing to heed his mind, as if enchanted by her voice. He leaned in, head lowered obediently.

Qiao Zhen, eyes dewy and bright, inched closer and closer, curiosity lighting her face.

Her gaze landed on the prominent line of his Adam’s apple, sensual and wild. She couldn’t resist reaching out, brushing it lightly with her fingertip, sparks flaring at the contact.

She’d wanted to touch it for ages.

At last, her wish was granted~

Qiao Zhen’s fair finger prodded his Adam’s apple with fascination, as if she’d discovered some rare treasure, testing it over and over.

She was like a clingy little kitten.

With every movement, the taut string in Qin Yichi’s mind snapped, his reason collapsing into ruin.

He burned with desire, fighting to tamp it down, his Adam’s apple bobbing involuntarily.

Her finger rose and fell with each swallow.

She froze, then beamed at him, satisfied. “It moves~”

Qin Yichi stared at her, gaze deep, his breathing growing heavier.

It was as if a seed had sprouted in his heart, rapidly growing into a towering tree, bursting with countless beautiful blossoms, filling his soul.

So this drunken Qiao Zhen wasn’t just a little troublemaker—she was a little flirt, too.

A bit naughty, but so adorably so.

Especially now, tipsy and innocent, her fair skin tinged with pink, as soft and plump as a ripe peach begging to be bitten.

Qin Yichi clenched his jaw, veins throbbing at his temples. At last, he gently moved Qiao Zhen’s hand away, putting some space between them.

Qiao Zhen, still wanting to play, left her hand hanging awkwardly in the air before withdrawing it, a wave of sorrow welling up inside. Her eyes grew moist.

Why wouldn’t he let her touch him…

Was it because he didn’t like her…?

Overwhelmed by her cuteness, Qin Yichi nearly forgot himself.

He found a white nightgown in Qiao Zhen’s bag and tossed it to her. “Put this on yourself. Can you manage?”

The nightgown landed right on her head, covering it completely.

She stared blankly for a moment, then slowly pulled it off, nodding obediently like a well-behaved child. “Mm-hmm!”

Qin Yichi turned away. After a few minutes, he returned with a cup of warm honey water, only approaching once he was sure she was dressed.

The girl sat on the bed, the white nightgown making her look even softer and sweeter. She raised her hand with pride, seeking praise.

Qin Yichi’s gaze lingered on her, and a helpless, muffled laugh escaped him.

Well, she’d put it on, at least.

Just backwards.

“Drink this,” he said patiently, pressing the cup into her hands. “When you’re done, go to sleep.”

Honey water would ease the effects of the alcohol, soothe her headache, and, best of all, she liked it sweet.

Qiao Zhen lowered her head, obediently finishing the drink. Warmth spread through her, leaving her body relaxed and comfortable as she lay back on the bed.

So sweet, so very sweet…

She rubbed her tired eyes and yawned.

She’d been sleepy for a while now, but she didn’t want to sleep—couldn’t bear to, really.

Lying on her side, facing Qin Yichi, she hesitated for ages, words on the tip of her tongue but never spoken.

She wanted to, but couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Time passed. At last, as if reading her every thought, Qin Yichi couldn’t help but ask, “What do you want to say?”

What did she want to say…

There were so many things she wanted to tell Qin Yichi, so many questions she longed to ask.

Her eyes hazy, her whole being adrift and uncertain, she whispered, lacking confidence, “Qin Yichi, do you… like me?”

A flood of memories surged through her mind, playing out in slow motion: him kneeling to rub her leg on the school stairs; carrying her like a princess in the haunted house; watching the sunset together atop the mountain; that moment in the karaoke room, cupping her face, gazing into her eyes…

From childhood, to adulthood; from a past life, to this one.

Qiao Zhen could feel Qin Yichi’s kindness, his passion, the care woven into his every action.

But this “kindness”—was it for family, or for someone he loved? Was she worthy of it…?

She looked up at him anxiously, biting her lip, hope and nerves mingling in her gaze.

But the silence stretched on and on. He said nothing, as if struggling with some powerful restraint.

He said nothing.

The room fell eerily silent, an oppressive quiet.

Seconds ticked by. Qiao Zhen’s eyes grew hot, panic and helplessness rising, her voice choked: “Why… why won’t you answer me…”

Would he, like the others, leave her behind and walk away?

Qin Yichi clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white, forcing down the bitterness spreading through his chest.

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to pour out all the secrets hidden in his heart, to confess the sour, aching love he’d harbored for more than ten years.

Yes, to tell her everything.

But Qiao Zhen was drunk—would she remember any of this when she woke? If she knew how he felt, would she begin to keep her distance…?

Back in middle school, there’d been a cheerful boy who got along well with Qiao Zhen. After he confessed, she’d gradually distanced herself until their friendship faded away.

Qin Yichi’s thoughts drifted; for an instant, countless memories flashed through his mind.

In the end, defeated, he lowered his head, weary.

Because of Ji Xian, he, too, had once been pushed away by Qiao Zhen, forced to watch as she drifted further and further from him.

He couldn’t take that risk.

Qiao Zhen curled up under the covers, eyes red, clutching the blanket as tears welled up. She whispered, “Qin Yichi, don’t you like me? Not even a little, not even the tiniest bit…”

She wasn’t asking for much—just a little was enough.

She pressed her lips together, tearful eyes never leaving him.

At last, Qin Yichi took a deep breath, a complex storm of emotion roiling inside.

“It’s late. You should rest.”

He stood, barely able to keep his voice steady, “Qiao Zhen, good night.”

Good night.

I love you.