“Be good, don’t move.”
Jiang Ci’s voice was low and steady, his fingers pressing Su Yue’s hands gently above her head. The bright yellow ribbons bound around her slender, pale wrists shimmered faintly under the light ( a color that, in Chinese culture, symbolized warmth and sensual vitality).
Su Yue’s soft figure exuded an indescribable purity and restraint. Her fair face was tinged with blush, her eyes moist and unfocused, the sight stirring a deep astonishment in Jiang Ci’s dark eyes.
He ran his tongue lightly across his lips. After waiting for so long, the person he cherished most was finally within reach.
Downstairs, the hall still echoed faintly with laughter and drunken chatter. As neither Xu Xue nor Jin Mingyuan had left. Jin Mingyuan, flushed from the wine, kept raising her glass, while Xu Xue remained sitting, her expression uncertain.
She gazed toward the staircase, heart tangled with unease. She knew she should leave now — yet something in her resisted. A vague premonition whispered that if she left tonight, she might wake up to nothing but regret.
“Mingyuan, that’s enough. Let’s stay over at Yueyue’s place tonight, alright?” Xu Xue coaxed softly, taking the glass from her friend’s hand.
“Stay here?” Jin Mingyuan nodded, dizzy from drink. “Sure. I used to sleep with Yueyue all the time.”
“The guest rooms are upstairs,” Xu Xue said, supporting her as they climbed. The weight of her friend was difficult to manage, and Xu Xue wasn’t strong to begin with. She gritted her teeth, one hand holding the rail, the other steadying Jin Mingyuan.
“More wine,” Jin Mingyuan muttered, stumbling. “Where’s Yueyue? Why isn’t she drinking? She used to be such a heavy drinker… can’t even keep up with me now…”
“Shh, keep your voice down,” Xu Xue whispered as they passed the master bedroom. “Yueyue’s already asleep.”
“She’s asleep? But I haven’t wished her a happy birthday yet,” Jin Mingyuan murmured blearily.
“It’s fine. We’ll tell her tomorrow.” Xu Xue’s gaze lingered for a moment on the closed door before she turned away, helping Jin Mingyuan toward the guest rooms.
Upstairs, behind that door, the night air was thick and still.
Su Yue’s breath came unevenly. The ribbon at her wrists held her still, while Jiang Ci leaned over her, his eyes dark with a mixture of tenderness and desire.
“Aoao… this isn’t comfortable,” she murmured softly, her voice tinged with grievance. “Let me go.”
“Not comfortable?” Jiang Ci’s lips curved faintly as he leaned closer. His warm breath brushed her cheek, deepening her blush. She struggled slightly, her wrists twisting against the silk.
“Don’t move around like a little fish,” he said, his tone indulgent yet teasing.
Su Yue’s eyes glimmered like dark water. “I’m uncomfortable,” she said again, her voice growing smaller. “Don’t tie me up.”
Jiang Ci’s expression changed slightly — a flicker of guilt and worry passing through his gaze. He had been waiting for this moment for months, but now, seeing the faint red marks on her wrists, his heart tightened.
He loosened the ribbon carefully. The silk was light and smooth, the finest he could find, yet her skin still showed faint traces where it had pressed too long.
“Tsk,” he muttered under his breath. “How delicate…”
When he finally released her, Su Yue flexed her wrists and smiled softly. As long as she spoke her discomfort, Aoao always listened. He was rough only in words — never in heart.
Jiang Ci lifted the ribbon in his fingers. Under the light, its golden sheen glowed softly. Before he could put it aside, the drunken Su Yue reached out playfully, snatching it from his hand. She laughed, placing it over her eyes.
Jiang Ci’s gaze darkened, his voice low and magnetic. “Shall I tie it for you?”
“Tie it gently,” Su Yue said, her voice almost a whisper. Her flushed cheeks glowed faintly, like peach petals dusted with rouge [a poetic symbol for youthful beauty].
“Okay,” Jiang Ci replied, lips curving upward. His long fingers were deft, tying the silk into a loose, beautiful bow behind her head.
With the thin ribbon veiling her eyes, her delicate face seemed even more enticing — the unknown making her beauty more vivid.
“Aoao, I can’t see you clearly,” she said softly. The thin silk blurred her vision until all she could make out was the dark silhouette hovering close.
Jiang Ci bent down until his shadow merged with hers. “Can you see me now?”
“I still can’t… Aoao, don’t come so close,” she murmured, shrinking slightly as his breath brushed her skin.
“You don’t like me close?” he asked, voice low.
“I like it…” she admitted shyly, “but if you come too close… I’ll lose control.”
Her words sent a flicker of amusement through him. He didn’t quite understand, but the sound of her voice — half-dazed, half-sweet — was enough to make his restraint tremble.
He cupped her face gently. “Xiao Yue’er, I want to kiss you. Will you let me?”
“Yes,” she breathed. Her lips curved softly, trusting him completely.
The warmth between them deepened. His kiss was gentle this time — lingering, patient — tasting faintly of wine and sweetness, just like her.
Su Yue felt dizzy, her mind hazy with the faint fragrance that surrounded him. When her fingers brushed his skin, she realized in surprise that his shirt was gone. The heat between them pulsed stronger, a quiet rhythm only the two of them could feel.
“Xiao Yue’er,” Jiang Ci murmured, his voice husky near her ear, “I want to sleep with you tonight.”
Su Yue froze for a moment. Her vision was still veiled by silk; she could only feel his warmth, hear his words. Her heart trembled — nervous, but not rejecting him.
Her fingers moved toward the ribbon, but he stopped her hand gently. “Don’t move. Just trust me.”
For a long moment, the room was silent except for their mingled breathing. The snow outside fell in fine white flakes, catching the warm yellow glow of the streetlamps — soft and slow, like time itself was holding its breath [snow often symbolizes purity and quiet passion in Chinese imagery].
Later, Su Yue’s voice broke the silence, soft and hoarse. “Aoao… can I take off the ribbon now?”
Jiang Ci smiled faintly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her damp forehead. “Not yet. We have plenty of time.”
…
In the guest room, Xu Xue had finally settled Jin Mingyuan to bed, pulling the quilt over her before stepping back with a sigh.
As she turned to leave, she paused, hearing faint sounds from the direction of the master bedroom. The quiet, rhythmic movements, the low voices — she couldn’t make out the words, only the intimacy of them.
Her heart tightened.
Without thinking, she turned and walked downstairs. The hall was dim now, the earlier warmth fading into silence.
…
Upstairs, the ribbon covering Su Yue’s eyes had grown damp — from sweat or tears, she didn’t know. She bit her lip softly, the sensitivity of not seeing sharpening every sensation. Every breath, every sound felt magnified, echoing in the dimly lit room.
When the night finally fell still again, Jiang Ci reached over and untied the ribbon. Her lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes. The faint red marks on her wrists, the warmth lingering in the air — everything felt like a dream she couldn’t quite wake from.
Her voice was barely a whisper. “Aoao… water…”
He brushed a thumb against her flushed cheek. “Alright. I’ll get it for you.” His voice was low, gentle. He stood, dressed casually, and walked out with the cup in hand.
Downstairs, the lights were still on. Xu Xue sat alone on the sofa, her eyes fixed on the staircase. She didn’t know why she couldn’t bring herself to sleep — only that something restless stirred inside her.
When she finally rose to head upstairs, a tall figure appeared at the top of the steps. The faint light caught the outline of his face — calm, composed — and her breath caught in her throat.
Jiang Ci was coming down.
And Xu Xue, who had been so sure she wanted to leave, suddenly found herself frozen in place, her heart beating far too fast.