Chapter 75: Hesitation

The lamp on the bedside table glowed softly, casting a tranquil ambiance over the bedroom in the deep night.

The air conditioning was set to warm, yet she still felt a chill. The soft blanket was pulled up to her shoulders, and only by nestling into his embrace did she feel any warmth.

“Still cold?” he whispered, his warm palm gently rubbing her exposed shoulder. “Should I turn up the heat?”

She didn’t speak, just shook her head slightly, pressing her cheek against his chest—a languid intimacy lingered between them.

Unable to resist, he leaned down to kiss her again. Though their earlier passion had faded, this tenderness still carried an edge of danger. She lightly pushed him away, mumbling half-complainingly, half-coquettishly, “I’m tired…”

He was more captivated but still released her as she wished. Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling with lingering affection.

“Then sleep…” he softly caressed her cheek, his tone brimming with unmistakable tenderness. “Turn off the light?”

This time, she nodded silently, remaining quiet as he sat up and turned his back to switch off the lamp. But just as he reached for it, her hand instinctively stretched out from beneath the blanket, tracing the outline of his prominent shoulder blades.

Click.

The room plunged into darkness once more, just as the lamp switched off.

He noticed her touch, his voice hesitant. “Xiao Xi?”

It seemed he considered turning the light back on.

“No…”

She stopped him, her fingers still lingering on his shoulder blades.

“…Don’t turn on the light.”

He complied, not only leaving the light off but also remaining in that position, allowing her to continue her gentle exploration. Unbeknownst to him, at that moment, she was recalling the day they broke up seven years ago. She had sat in the back of the classroom, watching his silhouette—the graceful curve of his shoulder blades casting a subtle shadow.

She was trying to erase those painful memories—or perhaps simply reminiscing about the past. After a few minutes, she calmed down, retracting her hand back under the blanket.

“It’s fine now…”

Her voice was awkward, tinged with shyness.

The man beside her turned back, pulling her gently into his arms once more. In the darkness, their closeness felt like something from a dream.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against her forehead. “What are you thinking about?”

She refused to say, sulking quietly in her own peculiar way. Fortunately, he knew her well—despite her feigned rebellion, she was still inherently compliant and soft. A little earnestness and seriousness in his questioning would coax her into honesty.

“Let’s stop hiding things from each other, okay…” he skillfully guided her, nudging their relationship back toward what it once was. “…Seven years is long enough.”

His tone was sincere, tinged with melancholy and resignation.

Her heart stirred, guilt creeping in. To conceal anything further felt like a grave sin. After some hesitation, she finally relented, speaking in fragments: “Nothing… just thinking about the past…”

“The past?” he coaxed gently.

“When we were in class, or in the library…” she answered obediently, one response for every question. “…I always watched your back.”

“When we broke up too… You were sitting in front, talking to other girls… and Tang Fei…”

…A jumbled mess.

She began to berate herself for being so disorganized, wondering why she always became so strange around him. After she finished speaking, silence settled once more. He remained quiet for a long while, perhaps finding her both sentimental and troublesome.

Unwilling to face him, she rolled over, pulling the blanket tightly around her. But before she could settle, he embraced her from behind. His warmth enveloped her, their body temperatures syncing once more.

“In the future, this won’t happen again…” he whispered, each word pulling her deeper under his spell. He kissed her back, as if his infatuation with her matched hers for him. “…Let’s get married.”

Ah.

The five simple words drifted through the air, carried by the warm breeze of the air conditioner until they filled every corner of the room. She froze, immobilized as if under a spell. Yet he continued to kiss her, trailing from her ear to her cheek. Before she realized it, she was turned back to face him, his lips meeting hers, their breaths entwined in shared confusion.

“We should meet our parents soon…” his hypnotic words brushed against her ear. “…And then we’ll settle everything, okay?”

“Okay?”

He had often asked her this way in the past, his phrasing seemingly respectful, as if the decision rested entirely with her. Now, his approach hadn’t changed, but she oddly felt this inquiry was merely a formality—her answer no longer mattered.

“I…” she faltered, flustered. “We…”

“How so?” he pressed cleverly, applying just enough pressure.

“It’s too fast…” she forced herself to respond, remarkable for maintaining clarity even amidst his intoxicating kisses. “Marriage should be approached with great caution…”

They had been apart for seven years—a span long enough to change many things. They knew nothing of each other’s experiences during that time. How could they rely on this half-baked reunion to enter into marriage?

“Haven’t we been cautious enough?” he countered with a sigh, his gentleness masking his assertiveness. “It’s already been so long…”

“At times, I’ve wondered—if we had been more impulsive back then, would we have avoided breaking up?”

Ah.

This…

She didn’t know how to respond. One couldn’t dwell on hypotheticals, or regret and sorrow would come rushing in unchecked.

“Let’s talk about it later…” she evaded stiffly, retreating once more. “Let’s take it slow…”

He fell silent again. In the darkness, she couldn’t see his expression but sensed he was deep in thought.

“What’s worrying you?” he asked eventually, probing like an academic, dissecting one small point to dig deeper. “…Do you think I’ve changed?”

Him?

Of course not.

A perfectionist plagued by self-doubt would always find fault within themselves. Right now, she was simply uncertain if she was ready.

Why had they broken up in the first place? Wasn’t it because of her insecurity? The imbalance in their conditions had led to their downfall. And now, what had really changed? She had just rejected Sun Jianbin’s offer. Returning to Never Stop was impossible, and re-entering the Program Center was unlikely. If she remained stuck in documentary programming for years, when would her career ever take off?

She didn’t know if she was strong enough… to be with him without relying on external standards.

“I’m sleepy…” she evaded again, avoiding the downward spiral that came so easily. “…I want to sleep.”

He understood, aware of what troubled her and why she was dodging. She should be grateful it was late—otherwise, he wouldn’t have let the conversation rest so easily. In the darkness, his voice grew lower, warmer. She felt another gentle kiss on her forehead, the sensation of being cherished swelling within her. Moments later, he murmured, “Alright… goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

A word long unspoken.

She felt a bit dazed, the sense of unreality returning. More than relief, she felt a wave of emotion. It was hard to believe he was back by her side, embracing her as closely as before, whispering “goodnight” tenderly in her ear.

“…Goodnight,” she replied, struggling to hold back tears.

But.

…Could she really fall asleep?

As it turned out, her heart was far stronger than she imagined.

Not only did she fall asleep, but she slept soundly through the night, waking only at eight in the morning. Had her phone not kept ringing with an incoming call, she might have slept even longer.

Groggily, she reached out to cover her ears, but her hand found his instead. He called her name softly—he must have been awake for a while, his voice clear and alert. He retrieved her phone from the bedside table and handed it to her, reminding her, “It’s your mom calling…”

Still too groggy to open her eyes, she nestled deeper into his embrace, barely registering her surroundings. Without a second thought about where she had spent the night, she blindly pressed the speaker button and answered hazily, “Hello, Mom…”

“Xixi? Are you still sleeping?” Her mother’s voice came through the line, sharp and critical. “Isn’t today Friday? Don’t you have work?”

Since leaving the Program Center, Yin Mengxi’s sense of time had grown lax. At the documentary department, punctuality wasn’t strictly enforced—arriving ten or twenty minutes late wasn’t a big deal. She responded casually, her mind still foggy.

“Alright, alright, rest if you need to…” her mother sighed, quickly moving on to other arrangements. “But meals must be on time—did you eat breakfast? When do you plan to have lunch?”

“No, not yet…” Yin Mengxi rubbed her temples groggily, burrowing further into the man’s embrace. “…Lunch after twelve…”

“Alright, make sure to keep that time free,” her mother sounded unusually enthusiastic. “Your Aunt Peng is such a good person—she’s found another young man for you. He’s an engineer at a company, very respectable…”

Ah.

Yin Mengxi had been comfortably nestled in Xiao Zhi’s arms, his gentle hand stroking her hair. But at these words, his movements suddenly stilled, and the arm around her waist tightened slightly. She snapped awake instantly, opening her eyes to meet his unusually humorless gaze. Awkwardness bubbled up again; the atmosphere felt tense.

“Xixi? Xixi?”

Her mother, oblivious to her daughter’s predicament, called out anxiously from the other end of the line.

“Did you hear me? You can’t be stubborn this time. The other day, that guy in finance complained to Aunt Peng, saying you’re involved with another young man—ah, who is he? What does he do? How long have you known him? Can we consider him seriously?”

On and on she went.

As Yin Mengxi listened to her mother’s relentless interrogation, she watched Xiao Zhi’s expression grow increasingly strained. Facing this situation so early in the morning felt overwhelmingly stressful, akin to a live broadcast mishap at the station. Unable to bear it, she turned off the speakerphone and held the phone close to her ear, whispering softly, “Mom, I can’t go. I’m… I’m really busy today. I have a meeting at noon and can’t leave…”

The lie rolled off her tongue smoothly, her face unwavering, like a mischievous little rabbit.

Her mother seemed to protest further, but Yin Mengxi mumbled a vague excuse about needing to get up for work and hung up. Looking up, she found him still staring at her, his expression stern, like a strict teacher catching a student cheating.

…So why did I turn on the speakerphone?

Yin Mengxi thought ruefully.