Chapter 25 - The Story of You
He hadn't actually left. After stepping out of the hotel, Lin Yiyang had found a quiet spot just outside the main entrance. When he saw Yin Guo’s reply on WeChat, a sudden, sharp craving for a cigarette hit him.
He searched his pockets, but they were empty.
Near the hotel entrance, a few travelers were gathered around a trash bin, puffing away. He walked over and politely borrowed a cigarette. It was a simple thing—pure white paper, easily lit, tightly wrapping the brown tobacco shreds. For him, it was the best thing to steady his nerves. The way he held the cigarette, the practiced ease of his exhale, would make anyone take him for a heavy smoker. In reality, he had been clean for years.
The last time he had succumbed to the habit was back in New York, standing beneath his apartment building with Chen An’an. Why had he done it then?
Because of Yin Guo.
And this time, it was for her again. In the span of a single cigarette, he had reached a realization. A round trip would cost him over six hours of separation; by any metric, it wasn't worth it. Moreover, knowing himself, he knew those six hours would be wasted. He wouldn't be able to focus on anything productive; his mind would be entirely occupied by her.
If that was the case, he might as well just go back upstairs.
***
Lin Yiyang placed his watch on the sideboard near the entrance. The black metal links clinked softly against the wood. On the dial, the silver hands—which he had manually wound back—continued their steady march. It was now 7:01 PM in his world.
Without a word, he swept Yin Guo up into his arms. Her feet left the floor abruptly, and she instinctively looped her arms around his neck to steady herself. She could feel the heat of his palms—his left hand firm against her waist, his right supporting her thigh.
"Climb up," he murmured.
Yin Guo shifted her weight, pulling herself closer. Her heart was hammering against her ribs with a frantic, wild rhythm. All of this, this madness, was for this man.
Lin Yiyang had originally intended to carry her all the way into the bedroom, but the soft strands of her hair brushed against his cheek, distracting him. She had just showered and dried her hair, but she hadn't tied it back. It cascaded over her shoulders and framed her face in a silken veil. He wondered briefly if girls were always this fragrant, or if it was merely the psychological effect of his own longing. Perhaps it was the scent of her shampoo and body wash, but he didn't care to analyze it. He simply didn't want to walk another step. He wanted her right here, right now.
He set her down on the edge of the sideboard. Leaning in, he sought out her face, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly husk. "Why do you smell so good?"
"I... I just showered. Right before I fell asleep." His compliment was too direct, hovering on the edge of a provocation.
He let out a soft, breathy laugh. His breath, warm and carrying the faint, lingering trace of tobacco, brushed against her forehead.
"You should move—" she started to say, wanting to tease him. Didn't he know that every girl smelled good after a shower?
"Move where?"
He tilted his head, his intent clear. He wanted to kiss her.
Yet, he hesitated. His lips remained a fraction of a centimeter from hers, perfectly still. Yin Guo couldn't help but purse her lips slightly, her heart feeling as though it were adrift. She felt like she was suspended in water—lacking the buoyancy to float, yet unable to truly sink.
He was watching her, observing every minute change in her expression. Slowly, he adjusted his angle, as if searching for the perfect point of contact.
"Not going to finish your sentence?" he asked.
It was a trap. He was waiting for her to speak, waiting for her to part her lips.
Yin Guo fell for it. The moment she opened her mouth to respond, Lin Yiyang claimed her lips in a kiss. It was a total eclipse of the senses. He gave her no room to breathe, nor did he take any for himself. It was an embrace that demanded the very oxygen from her lungs. Her tongue felt numb under the pressure of his, and she tried desperately to inhale through her nose, but the air in the room seemed to have been sucked away, stolen by the intensity of the moment.
When the last of her breath was spent, her nails dug into his shoulders. He finally pulled back slightly, though their lips remained ghostingly close. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her gaze dazed as she stared up at him.
He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
The past, the future—none of it mattered. Her brain had ceased to function. She didn't want to think anymore. After a moment, she caught her breath, resting her head against the cabinet as she looked at him.
Lin Yiyang was doing the same, a faint, involuntary smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"What are you smiling at?" she whispered.
"How are you this beautiful?" he replied. "How were you even made?"
Sweet talk, she thought. And yet, she could feel her heart melting, dissolving entirely in his presence.
"You must have had a lot of pursuers," he remarked. "Someone this pretty... there must have been many."
She shook her head. "My brother had a lot of 'underlings' at our school. Ever since middle school, he put the word out that no one was allowed to chase me. Throughout junior high and high school, there were very few boys who even dared to speak to me."
He supposed he really ought to thank Meng Xiaodong for that.
"There was only one time," Yin Guo recalled, a smile touching her lips at the memory. "I was called to the office for no reason. It turned out a student who had been held back a grade had written my name on the back of his school uniform. I had no idea, but the teacher scolded me anyway, insisting I was in a 'premature relationship' and demanding to see my parents. My brother went in my place. My homeroom teacher was a huge fan of his; I still suspect she did it on purpose just to meet him."
Lin Yiyang listened, picturing the scene. He thought to himself that if he had known her back then, it wouldn't have been so simple. He likely would have dragged that boy out for a proper thrashing.
"Later, my brother came back and told me he’d looked at the class photo. He told the teacher, 'It’s impossible. My sister doesn't have great taste, but she only likes the handsome ones.'"
Lin Yiyang reflected on his own reflection. He was decent-looking enough; otherwise, he might not have had the confidence to pursue her.
As she spoke, Yin Guo grew more relaxed. She had changed into a loose short-sleeved top and cotton gym shorts after her shower. Her pale legs were fully exposed, and she shifted restlessly against him, trying to find a comfortable sitting position on the counter. She was blissfully unaware of the sheer temptation she presented.
His vision, his sense of smell, his hearing—she occupied every facet of his perception. He needed to say something, anything, to redirect his focus.
"I graduated from No. 7 High School," he said, bringing up his own past.
Yin Guo was surprised. "That’s only five minutes from my school. You could walk there. Back then, the people loitering outside our gates were either local thugs or students from No. 7."
He didn't deny it. It wasn't surprising; his high school had a reputation for being a breeding ground for delinquents.
"Tell me more," she said, reaching out to hug him again, leaning her body into his. "I want to hear."
Her breath tickled his ear, and he could feel the soft press of her body against his chest. Lin Yiyang allowed her to hold him, resting his cheek against hers. "What do you want to hear?"
"About your past."
"Which part?"
Yin Guo suddenly worried she might be poking at an old wound. She quickly pivoted. "Something else is fine, too. Like... your major."
"I told you before," he said softly. "Whatever you want to know, just ask. I’ll tell you everything. No secrets."
The simple promise, delivered in his low tone, took on a warm, intimate quality. If a voice could have a color, his would be the glow of a roadside motel in the dead of night—warm, dim, and inextricably linked to the darkness.
Over the next hour, Lin Yiyang shared much with her. He spoke of childhood memories, of the homeland across the ocean, and finally, the story of his parents.
"My parents passed away together," he said, his voice level. "A car accident on the highway during a business trip. They both worked for the same automotive group—my dad was in sales, my mom in finance. My mom had stayed home to raise me and my brother, but that year, she suddenly insisted on going with him. I found out later she had suspected him of cheating and wanted to keep an eye on him. She didn't expect they would leave this world together."
He paused, then continued. "When I grew up and went through their things, I discovered the other side of the story. My dad had been taking those long trips because he had discovered my mother was having an affair."
Yin Guo wasn't good at comforting people. Usually, when her friends were sad, she could only offer silent company, snacks, or tissues. She lacked the knack for silver-tongued consolation. "The fact that you can talk about it... it means you've let it go, right?"
"Yeah," he replied simply. "It ended a long time ago."
The stories of the previous generation had reached their finale, the curtains drawn long ago.
"Do you still believe in marriage?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
As soon as the words left her mouth, she saw Lin Yiyang's eyes shift, studying her.
"I was just trying to comfort you," she explained quickly. "Don't overthink it. Don't misinterpret me."
"What do you think I'm thinking?"
Yin Guo fell silent. She couldn't win an argument with him.
"I believe," he said after a moment, answering her question. "I believe in myself."
He had seen enough melodrama to last a lifetime and had weathered his own share of highs and lows. He had fought as a youth, reached the pinnacle as a national champion, and then lost everything at sixteen, forced to start from scratch. For many, sixteen is just the beginning; for him, it was the end of one life and the start of another. Now, at twenty-seven, he knew exactly what kind of life he wanted.
"Anything else?" he asked.
"No, that's enough," she said, shaking her head and hugging him tight. "I was sleeping when you woke me up. I'm still tired."
She had originally wanted to ask why he left Dongxincheng, but now, she didn't want to know. She didn't want to ask anything that might carry weight. Even a hundred sentences of meaningless chatter felt like a better use of her time if it was with him. She felt that even counting to three with him would be more interesting than watching a blockbuster movie.
But more than that, his parents' story had left her wanting to stay quiet, to ensure he didn't feel even a flicker of sadness.
Lin Yiyang, meanwhile, was acutely aware of the curves of his girlfriend's body. She had a figure that made his blood simmer. As she hugged him repeatedly, he couldn't pull away—nor did he want to. In this private space, holding his girlfriend, there was no reason to hide.
"I'll take you to bed," he said.
"Okay."
He lifted her up and carried her from the hallway into the bedroom, laying her down on the bed. Her slippers had long since fallen onto the carpet, and his jacket lay forgotten by the door. He pushed the white duvet aside and kicked off his shoes.
They tumbled onto the sheets together. Both were in short sleeves, their arms brushing against each other. The rough texture of his denim jeans rubbed against her soft legs and ankles—a contrast of smooth and coarse.
Lin Yiyang began to kiss her—everywhere he wanted to, everywhere he could—through the thin cotton of her clothes. Yin Guo felt like she was losing her mind. With the simplest, most ordinary movements, this man made her feel a profound sense of being wanted.
She had heard people say that first loves are always frantic because everything is a first. There is no technique, no experience—only a raw hunger for emotion, for the opposite sex, and a total lack of knowledge about the other person's body. When faced with someone they truly like, a girl's curiosity about intimacy and anatomy is no less than a man's.
Like right now.
Lin Yiyang was slowly, methodically kissing her lips as she lay flat on the bed, her head tilted back. They were both exhausted; they had been tangled together like this for over three hours. Every nerve and drop of blood in their bodies was screaming with fatigue, yet neither wanted it to end. She thought, in her dazed state, that she would be happy to just keep kissing him until they both fell asleep.
In her haze, she reached for his waist, wanting to feel his skin. His bare back, his torso.
The man above her stopped, looking at her face. He wanted to take her top off, to see her, to hold her as they slept. Given that he had tried twice already and she had playfully dodged him, she knew exactly what that look meant. She stopped moving, her throat feeling dry.
The room was silent.
After a few seconds, she whispered, her voice barely audible, "...I'm not ready for *that* yet."
"We won't," he murmured against her neck. "I just want to look."
After hours of kissing and intimate friction, his every word and action had lost their restraint. He had returned to the raw state of a man—unfiltered, unadorned. He was simply a man who wanted to see his girlfriend clearly.
Yin Guo’s head was spinning, her face flushed with heat. "Girls are all the same. There's no difference." Her neck was turning pink, and her ears were a deep crimson.
"I wouldn't know if there's a difference," he said. "I've never seen anyone else."
Yin Guo hesitated for a long time before offering a small, weak rebuttal. "I haven't seen anyone else either."
She had meant to discourage him. She hadn't expected him to be such an unrepentant rogue.
Lin Yiyang propped himself up on his elbows. Without a word of explanation, he grabbed the hem of his white T-shirt and pulled it over his head. He tossed the shirt onto the pillow and leaned back down.
"Here," he whispered near her ear. "Take a good look."
As he braced himself on his elbows, the muscles in his arms flexed naturally. His upper body was lean, without a trace of excess; his waist tapered sharply, and his V-line was clearly defined.
Yin Guo’s gaze followed that line downward, stopping where his physique met the waistband of his jeans. She realized then that he had more than one tattoo. Just above his hip, there was an abstract design.
It was a compass, but it had no face.
She could only see half of it; the rest was hidden beneath his denim. Intrigued, she reached out to touch it. "Is there no needle?" she asked, pointing to the ink on his waist.
The design had the directional markings and the background, but where was the pointer?
"It's right here," he said.
Lin Yiyang took his right hand, pressing his index and middle fingers together. He traced a spot just below his belt, further down the line of his hip. His meaning was clear: *If you want to see it, I'll show you.*
***
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