The lights in the hall glowed softly, scattering over the marble floor. Jiang Ci walked down the stairs barefoot, a glass in his hand. The air was cool — there was no heating — and the chill helped quiet the heat still lingering on his skin.
He hadn’t expected anyone else to be awake. His gaze drifted lazily toward the hall, and when he caught sight of the figure there, his expression didn’t change. Without a word, he went straight to the water dispenser.
Xu Xue froze. Her fair face turned crimson, and her hands instantly lost their composure. Just that one casual glance from Jiang Ci sent her heart pounding violently, her breath stuttering in her throat.
“I’m sorry, I…” she began softly, her voice trembling. But Jiang Ci was already turning away, his back broad and distant as he poured water into his glass.
Xu Xue’s fingers twisted together nervously. The desire she had tried so hard to bury began to surface again. With her heart hammering, she walked closer, drawn helplessly toward that cold, dark figure.
As she approached, she noticed that Jiang Ci’s black shirt was partly unbuttoned, revealing a few faint red marks on his chest. Xu Xue’s eyes dimmed slightly. They looked like scratches — the kind left by fingernails. The closer she got, the clearer the faint, lingering scent around him became — something warm, masculine, and intoxicating.
Her emotions tangled into something indescribable.
Jiang Ci and Su Yue were husband and wife. It was normal for them to be intimate. She had even overheard faint sounds earlier when passing by their door — laughter, the soft murmur of voices, maybe more. She told herself it was natural, yet her chest still filled with a mix of anger and envy that burned and embarrassed her.
She stole a glance at the man’s sharp profile — calm, cold, impossibly handsome — and bit her lip. “I’m sorry to bother you and Yueyue tonight,” she murmured gently. “Mingyuan was asking for a drink, and I couldn’t sleep, so I came down for a while. I’ll go back upstairs soon. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
Her voice was light, smooth, and sweet — the kind of voice that sounded tender even when whispering. In the quiet hall, her soft tone seemed to echo.
Jiang Ci took a sip of water and turned slightly, his eyes sweeping over her indifferently. “Sorry to bother you.” His words were polite, yet distant — a clear sign that he wished to end the conversation.
He had been waiting all night to be alone with Su Yue. After months of restraint, this was supposed to be their night. Having anyone else interrupt it felt intolerably intrusive.
Jiang Ci turned to leave, his thoughts already back in the room upstairs.
Xu Xue froze. His bluntness caught her off guard.
She wasn’t completely without shame — she knew it was Su Yue’s birthday today, and she had used that as an excuse to come over. She had even stayed the night deliberately, waiting for a chance like this.
“Wait a moment.”
Jiang Ci stopped mid-step. His brow furrowed slightly. “What is it?”
Xu Xue lowered her gaze, her voice trembling with practiced gentleness. “Yueyue drank quite a bit tonight. If she doesn’t have some hangover soup, she’ll feel awful tomorrow. I can make her some now, and you can bring it up to her later.”
(Hangover soup — a traditional Chinese remedy made with ginger, vinegar, or mung beans, believed to relieve dizziness and nausea after drinking.)
Her tone was so thoughtful it might have seemed selfless.
Jiang Ci frowned faintly. He remembered the last two times Su Yue had gotten drunk — both times she’d forgotten everything that happened and had complained of a pounding headache afterward.
Xu Xue noticed the flicker of concern in his expression, and her heart twisted with envy. He truly cared for Su Yue — that was obvious.
“The kitchen’s over there, right?” she said softly. “I’ll make some for Mingyuan too; she drank quite a bit.” She smiled gently and walked toward the kitchen.
“Whatever,” Jiang Ci replied flatly, holding his glass as he turned away. He had no interest in continuing the conversation. Upstairs, someone delicate and warm was waiting for him.
Xu Xue’s smile faltered when he left. She had imagined he might stay — maybe linger by her side while she cooked, just to talk. Instead, she was left alone in the quiet kitchen, feeling like an unwanted servant.
Her delicate face darkened slowly, her eyes cold beneath the softness.
—
In the bedroom, the pale quilt had fallen to the floor in a heap. On the bed, Su Yue lay beneath a thin sheet, her slender arms and legs peeking through, her skin glowing faintly under the lamplight — as if kissed by warmth and dew.
Jiang Ci bent to pick up the quilt, laying it gently back over her. Then he sat beside her, his gaze softening. Her eyes were closed, the corners tinged with a faint red hue that made her look like a painted blossom (peach blossom eyes — a Chinese term for naturally seductive eyes with a faint red hue at the corners). Her fair face was flushed, lips slightly parted, breathing soft and shallow.
He studied her quietly. Perhaps from crying earlier, her small nose was a little congested, her breaths muffled. A tear clung stubbornly to her long lashes, trembling faintly as if it too refused to fall.
Jiang Ci brushed the tear away with his fingertips. The moisture lingered on his skin — a taste of salt and emotion that made something in his chest tighten.
He took a sip from the glass, then leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers.
When their lips touched, the coolness of the water met the heat of her mouth. Su Yue stirred faintly, her throat parched. She swallowed unconsciously, following the motion of his breath as if seeking more. The faint sound between them was quiet but lingering — a whisper between sleep and wakefulness.
When she blinked her eyes open, hazy and unfocused, realization dawned. Startled, she pushed him away weakly, her hands trembling.
Her body still ached from his earlier action and her mind felt light and unsteady.
Seeing her reaction, Jiang Ci’s expression softened. He reached out, wrapping her small hand in his. His fingers brushed over hers — a simple touch, yet one that carried silent apology and warmth.
Time passed slowly. Outside, snow began to fall, dusting the branches in white. The only sound was the faint rustle of cloth.
“Be good,” Jiang Ci murmured after a while. “Sit here. I’ll change the sheets.”
He cleaned up quietly, helped her into a nightgown, and then lifted her gently to the chaise longue. The sheets on the bed were crumpled, so he stripped them away and replaced them with fresh ones — light smoky-blue, still carrying the faint scent of detergent and sunlight (sun-dried sheets are a common sign of care and warmth in Chinese households).
Su Yue curled up, her cheeks and neck flushed crimson. Her eyes were hazy, half-embarrassed, half-lost. She hugged her knees tightly, sneaking glances at him as he moved.
When she noticed faint marks on the old sheets, her face turned even redder.
She bit her lip, curling her toes unconsciously. Her whole being seemed to shrink in on itself with shyness.
Jiang Ci dropped the old sheets and approached her, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “The bed’s ready. Come on — give me your hand.”
Su Yue obeyed quietly, her fingers light in his palm.
He held her hand and chuckled under his breath, lowering his head as if to kiss it. She immediately snatched it back, glaring at him, her ears red. “You… you’re impossible. How can you be so shameless?”
Jiang Ci raised an eyebrow, amused. He caught her hand again, his voice low and teasing. “Do you dislike me that much?”
Su Yue glared, her heart fluttering despite herself.
He brushed his thumb over her fingertips, murmuring, “They’re so soft. It feels good just holding them.” His tone carried a quiet laugh, one that made her face burn even hotter.
Just then, a sudden knock came at the door — and before either of them could react, it opened.
Xu Xue stood at the doorway, tray in hand, stunned.
Across the room, on the chaise longue, Jiang Ci was holding Su Yue in his arms, their posture unmistakably close. Both looked up in surprise.
Su Yue’s eyes widened. “Xiaoxue?”
For a brief moment, no one spoke.
Jiang Ci’s expression darkened — this was the second time he’d been interrupted tonight. “What is it?” His voice, moments ago soft and coaxing, turned cold again.
Xu Xue blinked rapidly, flustered. She hadn’t expected Su Yue to be awake. The air between them was thick, charged — her intrusion obvious. She tightened her hold on the tray and forced a smile.
“The hangover soup is ready,” she said softly. “Yueyue, you should drink it. It’ll help with the headache tomorrow. Mingyuan’s still being noisy, so I’ll take hers after.”
Su Yue, still curled against Jiang Ci, flushed from head to toe. She wanted to stand, but Jiang Ci’s arm around her waist held her in place.
“Thank you, Xiaoxue,” Su Yue said politely, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Just leave it there — I’ll drink it later.”
Xu Xue nodded quickly and stepped inside, setting the tray down on the table. The air carried a faint scent — warm and unmistakable. She noticed the color still lingering on Su Yue’s face, the softened look in Jiang Ci’s eyes, and the disarray of the bed behind them.
It stung — more than she wanted to admit.
“I’ll leave you to rest,” she said quietly, forcing a smile. “I still have to check on Mingyuan.”
She turned, leaving quickly and shutting the door behind her.
Jiang Ci let out a low laugh, leaning close to Su Yue’s ear. “That light bulb (Chinese slang for a third wheel) really knows how to ruin the mood.”
Su Yue shot him a glare, half mortified, half amused.
Outside, Xu Xue walked back slowly through the silent corridor.
In the guest room, Jin Mingyuan had already fallen asleep. Xu Xue sat at the edge of the bed, her hands trembling faintly.
The image of the two of them — warm and close, lost in each other — replayed in her mind again and again.
Su Yue was truly blessed, she thought bitterly. Jiang Ci, for all his coldness, treated her with real tenderness.
And she… she wanted that kind of tenderness too.