When she woke up the next morning, the room was empty. The living room was cluttered with belongings, and Qi Lian was in the midst of moving things, drenched in sweat. His white T-shirt was soaked through, clinging to his sturdy back.
She asked, "Do you need any help?"
Qi Lian was moving things out of the small bedroom. Hearing her voice, he realized she was up and quickly signaled for her to stay back. "Don't add to the chaos," he said. "Just stay in the room. There’s too much stuff; I don't want you getting bumped or bruised. There’s breakfast on the table, go eat first."
Only after seeing her pick up a pastry did he turn back to his work. He asked, "Are you feeling better today? You weren't very peaceful in your sleep last night, whimpering the whole time. Were you exhausted or in pain?"
Yu Mo answered casually, "Just tired."
She nibbled on the sesame pastry, her eyes following Qi Lian as he moved in and out. Beads of sweat rolled down his cheeks in succession. When he exerted himself, his jaw clenched tight, and the muscles in his arms turned hard as stone.
Outside the window, the cicadas chirped incessantly. Yu Mo felt herself growing a bit flushed as well.
Holding the pastry in one hand and resting her chin on the other, she called out to him languidly, "Qi Lian—"
Qi Lian turned to look at her, pulling up the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.
She sat there in her slip dress, looking as fresh and plump as a morning fruit, her gaze carrying a subtle lure.
A surge of heat rushed through him. He strode over in a few steps, cupped her face, and leaned in, his mouth capturing hers and sweeping the half-chewed pastry right out of her mouth into his own.
Yu Mo reached out her porcelain-pale arms to embrace him, but he quickly stepped back, using his thumb to brush a stray sesame seed from the corner of her mouth. "I'm covered in sweat, I'm filthy. Not today—your body can't take it. Wait a bit longer."
Yu Mo was indignant. "What's wrong with my body? I'm fine."
"I don't believe you. You were whimpering all night; I'm worried. Go stay in the room once you're done eating. It's hot and dirty out here. Be good."
He turned back to moving things. When he came out again, he saw Yu Mo holding a bowl of tofu pudding, crouching on the floor and staring at something in a daze, the long hem of her slip dress pooling on the ground.
Amused by her, he thought she looked like she had discovered some incredible treasure. He felt an urge to tease her and walked over. "What are you looking at?"
Yu Mo reflexively handed him the paper bowl. She picked up a small wooden stool from the floor, examining it from every angle. "Where did this stool come from?" she asked.
Qi Lian found it a bit funny, but he played along solemnly. "It's always been in my house. Is there something special about it?"
The tofu pudding had only been touched a few times; it wouldn't taste good once it went cold. He scooped some up with a plastic spoon and brought it to Yu Mo's lips to feed her.
Yu Mo absentmindedly took a bite, her eyes shining with excitement. "Can you give it to me? This is teak. I'd estimate it's from the Republic of China era at the very least, though it's hard to date it precisely. The market price is probably one to two thousand yuan. Or you can sell it to me."
Qi Lian snorted, scooping another spoonful of tofu pudding for her. For some reason, he didn't like her talking like that.
"Sell it? Selling things to my own woman—you really think highly of me. I told you, everything I have is yours. Why even ask? Besides, whether it's yours or mine, isn't it all staying in our home? What's the difference?"
Yu Mo had already scurried off with the stool in her arms. She tried placing it in different spots, stepping back a few paces to look before shaking her head. Finally, she tucked the stool into a corner and began stacking books on top of it, one by one.
The sunlight spilled over her. Her snow-white slip dress became nearly transparent in the light, leaving the silhouette of her slender body completely exposed.
As she bent over to set down the books, the view at her neckline spilled out, lively and unrestrained.
It was enough to drive a man mad.
Qi Lian stood up, set the plastic bowl on the dining table, and walked over to press himself against her. He gripped her waist and lifted her up. "My little ancestor, go back to the room and stop causing trouble. I have a Grandmaster chair similar to this in my other apartment. I'll take you to get it next time."
"Really? Can we go today?"
Qi Lian carried her into the bedroom and set her down. Hearing her request, he gave her backside a firm swat. "When I take you to see houses, you don't say a word, but you get this excited over a broken chair. We'll see about it once you've behaved yourself."
He left the room, leaving her there alone.
By noon, Qi Lian pushed the door open. He was damp from a shower, smelling of body wash, wearing nothing but a pair of lounge shorts.
Yu Mo was sitting cross-legged on the bed watching a movie. She asked, "All finished?"
"Not yet. It's too hot. I'm taking a shower and a break first."
Yu Mo patted the bed. Qi Lian leaped onto it, the mattress bouncing three times from the impact, making Yu Mo's laptop jump.
Yu Mo scrambled to grab the laptop; she was right in the middle of an engrossing scene.
Qi Lian lay beside her, propping his upper body up with one hand. With the other, he toyed with her hair before pressing his lips against her arm, kissing her repeatedly with light, fleeting touches.
It tickled so much that Yu Mo pulled her arm away.
After a moment, Yu Mo put the laptop away and lay down as well.
The two lay side by side.
Yu Mo’s hands began to wander. Qi Lian’s large hand caught hers, gripping it tightly.
"Qi Lian—" a flirtatious female voice called.
"Mm," a deep, emotionless male voice replied.
"Don't you want to?" she asked again, her voice now tinged with playfulness.
"More than you do. But your body can't take it. Don't start a fire you can't put out. Get your strength back first, then I'll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it," the male voice coaxed, steady and low.
"I'm perfectly fine. I want it now. If you don't give it to me... I'll..."
The male voice finally lost its composure. "You're quick to mention other men. You think just any man will do? Try it. If you let another man even get close, I'll kill him. You can walk all over me for all I care, but not that. Not even a little. If they even look at you too much, I want to gouge their eyes out."
"Then let go of my hand," she said bossily.
And so, the small movements continued, and the sound of breathing gradually intensified.
There was a rustle of fabric.
"Do it yourself then, little ancestor. Take it easy, stop immediately if it hurts," the male voice had gone hoarse, finally surrendering his resistance.
Before long, the sweat he had just washed off began to coat his lean, muscular body once again.
He supported the "ancestor" who only knew how to charge ahead without any technique, worried she would hurt herself or hit her head. The veins on his forehead bulged from the strain of holding back. He coaxed her, "Come a bit closer... straighten up... slow down."
In the face of such favoritism, all the rules and logic of the world were worth absolutely nothing.
***
