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At one o’clock in the morning, Cheng Simin gasped sharply as if she were prey caught by a giant snake. She flailed her limbs and jolted awake from the bed.
The bedside lamp cast a soft glow, illuminating the moonlit sand dunes outside the window. On her left, Shi Ying sat cross-legged on the bed, wearing gold-rimmed glasses while reviewing sales reports. Catching her movement out of the corner of his eye, he casually tapped the screen to close the chat window that had been synchronized with his device.
“Waking up already? Want some water?”
Shi Ying turned toward her, his smile warm and inviting, like an ancient demon who had just feasted on Tang Monk’s flesh.
The blue-tinted lenses of his glasses refracted the white light from the screen. Freshly showered, a few damp strands of hair clung to his forehead, giving him an air of restrained coolness.
Cheng Simin glanced at his scholarly yet mischievous appearance, unimpressed. Clutching her lower back, she unleashed her frustration: “Shi Ying! Are you even human? How did I fall asleep? How long were you going at it—two hours straight? You’re such a pervert!”
Though she’d urged him to hurry earlier, she now used this excuse to drive her point home, each word sharper than the last.
Front, side, reverse—like a Swiss roll, he twisted her around, spinning her 360 degrees until she nearly collided with the nightstand.
Was this hatred disguised as passion? An outsider might think they had blood-feuding enemies.
Ignoring the glass of water he offered, Cheng Simin watched as he set it back down. Calmly glancing at his phone’s screen time, he said nonchalantly, “Not that long, maybe three rounds, two hours tops. Who knew your stamina was so poor—you passed out halfway.”
“Looks like square dancing isn’t cutting it. Starting tomorrow, you’ll join me for morning runs. Let’s work on your lung capacity.”
Cheng Simin’s pupils dilated in shock at his shameless reasoning. Was she supposed to train physically just to endure him longer in bed? Was this romance or preparation for an Ironwoman triathlon?
Never. Not in this lifetime, not in the next.
She crossed her legs defiantly and shot back, “Bullshit! Who passed out?! I was resting my head because there was nothing else to look at—it got boring… so boring I fell asleep!”
“Is that so?”
Shi Ying’s gaze shifted from the report to her. Closing his laptop and removing his glasses, he smirked teasingly. “Then since you’re awake now, shall we continue? After all, you brought food and condoms over here. It must’ve been quite the effort. As your boyfriend, I should ensure you leave thoroughly satisfied, right?”
“This time, no boredom allowed. We’ll play ‘guess the number’ in front of the mirror.”
“Or you can trace a line on your belly with a pen and see how far we go.”
He loved spouting these saccharine lines, but Cheng Simin wasn’t about to indulge him. Her retorts were equally sharp.
Under the covers, her calf muscles twitched involuntarily as memories of their earlier activities resurfaced. The area around her pubic bone felt unusually sore.
Panicking, Cheng Simin sucked in her stomach and immediately grabbed his wrist to beg for mercy. “Who said I came here just to sleep with you? Don’t I have things to talk to you about? We haven’t contacted each other in days—you had no one to confide in, and neither did I. I’ve been bottling everything up too.”
“Really?” Shi Ying raised an eyebrow skeptically, his grip on her calf unwavering as his hand slid toward her ankle.
With a sardonic grin, he taunted, “If I recall correctly, last time you said talking to me was a waste of your precious time. You even implied I wasn’t worthy of arguing with you, let alone sharing your innermost thoughts. Am I really worthy?”
His fingertips grazed the sole of her foot, sending tingles through her body.
Like a rabbit kicking, Cheng Simin twisted sideways and shoved his hand away.
There was no escaping what was coming. She knew Shi Ying still harbored resentment over their previous fight. His grudges were needle-sized, and clearly, he wouldn’t rest until he reclaimed the dignity he felt he’d lost.
Wrapping her arms tightly around his, Cheng Simin lifted her chin to argue, “Did I say exactly those words? Stop embellishing. For every sentence I utter, you add ten more, complete with unnecessary adjectives.”
“Besides,” she continued, “I was upset that day. Everything I said was in anger.”
“You’re right… about losing your temper. That part is my fault.”
His analysis exposed vulnerabilities she’d tried to hide, which only fueled her indignation. Desperate to prove him wrong, she lashed out indiscriminately.
The heart of a strong person remains undisturbed by external forces. They slay gods and demons alike, dismissing emotions as fleeting clouds easily discarded without guilt. Only then could one claim true enlightenment.
But Cheng Simin wasn’t born strong. She carried a heart prone to sadness, easily moved, and often bitter.
In this regard, her efforts were limited. Since hiding her feelings hadn’t worked, she decided to bare them openly, letting him mock or critique her as he pleased.
Her eyes shimmered like fireflies. Smiling faintly at Shi Ying, though the smile carried a tinge of sorrow, she admitted frankly, “That day, as soon as I got home, I cried my eyes out. I couldn’t bear to think too deeply about it.”
Lying flat on her back, hands folded behind her head, she stared at the ceiling and sighed. “I am truly saddened by my father’s passing. Strange, isn’t it? Despite having a thousand grievances against him, the memories that surfaced after learning of his death were the ones where he made me feel warm.”
“Compared to our arguments and the cruel things he said, I find myself clinging to the moments that made me feel good.”
“When we lived in the countryside before moving to the city, there was a massive apricot tree in front of our old house. Snacks were scarce in the village, so every spring, when the apricot blossoms bloomed, I’d squat under the tree, eagerly waiting for it to bear fruit.”
“By late May, the apricots weren’t ripe yet, but I was impatient to eat them.”
“My mother insisted I wait another half month until all the apricots turned yellow.”
“I threw a tantrum, demanding to eat them. While my mother slept, my father climbed the tree to pick some for me. He chose several, but none satisfied me. Finally, I pointed to the hardest-to-reach one and demanded he get it for me.”
That day, Cheng Wei nearly fell from the tree trying to please his young daughter. Thanks to his agility, he managed to hook onto another branch before crashing down. A broken branch landed on the ground, and eventually, the red-green apricot fell into Cheng Simin’s lap.
“That apricot looked incredibly red, but it was rock-hard. One bite sent waves of sourness through me, bringing tears to my eyes. But not wanting him to laugh at me, I forced myself to tell him it tasted great.”
Closing her eyes, Cheng Simin could still picture Cheng Wei laughing at her from atop the tree.
His face bore no wrinkles of hardship, no drunken stupor, only vibrant energy and a hint of roguish charm.
This was the face Cheng Simin wanted to remember.
Unconsciously, tears welled up again as if reliving the taste of that apricot. Turning to Shi Ying, she gazed into his eyes, her expression solemn. “You must be thrilled now! Why aren’t you saying anything? Go ahead—I give you permission to say it: ‘I told you so.’”
Shi Ying gently wiped away the tears from her cheek and shook his head.
Though their bodies had entered an intimate state, emotional vulnerability created true attachment. He didn’t want to interrupt her as he had during their previous argument.
Cheng Simin wiped away the tears on the other side of her face, rolled her eyes knowingly, and said, “Hurry up. Whether you stick your neck out or pull it back, it’s still getting chopped. Give me a clean break. Consider the past fight resolved. Don’t bring it up again—it’s killing me.”
“It’s over. I promise.” Shi Ying pressed her fingers to his chin, kissing them lightly. “I was wrong last time too. I spoke too harshly. What I meant to say was, regardless of how you feel or what choices you make, I’ll support you.”
“Just that simple?”
“Just that simple.”
“Even if I burst into tears and declare I want to financially support my mom and sister? Such a huge burden—you’d still support me?”
“Of course. Doesn’t loving someone mean loving all of them?”
“Such a large sum of money!”
Cheng Simin poked his chest, using exaggerated headlines from clickbait articles to scare him. “My dad once calculated it for me. In Xicheng, raising a college student costs 460,000 yuan! If I repay that amount, I’ll become debt-ridden overnight. Add supporting my sister and providing for my mom’s retirement—I’ll need 880,000 yuan as dowry. Oh no, Young Master, you’re doomed! Aren’t you scared? Tell me—are you scared?”
Despite growing older, her habit of telling ghost stories remained unchanged.
Shi Ying found her attempt at horror utterly unconvincing. This amount of money didn’t faze him in the slightest.
“Hmm, not particularly. If it eases your mental burden, I can try to scrape it together.”
Cheng Simin had been joking wildly, never expecting Shi Ying to take her seriously.
Her emotions came and went quickly. Hearing his boastful promises, she laughed uncontrollably.
“Young Master, you’ve mastered the idol drama trope of a domineering CEO rescuing a destitute heroine. Today, you’ll pay off my debts to ease my worries. Tomorrow, you’ll help me open a shop and provide a career path. The day after, will you buy me a house, slip a diamond ring on my finger, and ask me to bear two children so we can live happily ever after with both a son and a daughter?”
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