Embedded Files
Psst! We're moving!
She gazed into Ye Lin’s eyes.
The atmosphere fell silent for a moment, emotions swirling between them as their eyes locked. Before she could make a choice, her lips were sealed by his.
His tongue gently swept along the edge of her lips, and after a while, it pressed in, slowly tracing around her tongue. She felt as if she were submerged in a thick fog, unable to see herself clearly, her thoughts gradually slipping away.
Two cats were tussling outside the door, making startling yet secretive noises. Somewhere, water had been knocked over, trickling down the table in a steady stream.
Her fingers tightly gripped his shoulders, and when his tongue withdrew, she finally succumbed to oxygen deprivation and exhaustion, slowly falling backward.
He pulled her into his arms, kissing the corner of her reddened eyes, “Are you okay?”
It was as if she had just survived a massive tsunami, leaving her speechless.
Having seemingly completed his self-imposed mission, Ye Lin smiled again, “Not mad this time?”
She wanted to say she hadn’t been angry in the first place: “Don’t make it sound like I’m always mad at you...”
“Alright—no—I’m not,” he coaxed her like a child, lifting her up and placing her on the bed, then kissed the corner of her eye again, “Sleep.”
Yan Man blinked her misty eyes, vaguely sensing something different: “...What about you?”
“I’ll be there in a moment.”
More than ten minutes later, Ye Lin entered the bed with an icy chill clinging to him. Yan Man, half-asleep, shifted toward him, her forehead resting against his chest.
“...So cold,” she murmured, then burrowed further into him.
That night, she slept deeply, dreamlessly. When she arrived at the set the next day, she still felt slightly dazed, as though some lingering sensations remained in her body.
However, she quickly composed herself and began focusing on today’s shoot.
Today’s scene was another emotionally draining one.
She portrayed an ordinary city dweller who, due to a client’s request to vacate a house, ventured out into a snowstorm to reach the client’s home. She juggled making phone calls while riding an old motorcycle she had purchased.
The motorcycle, long past its prime, lacked shine, but every part was still intact, showing that despite her lack of money for maintenance, the owner cherished it dearly.
This detail was something Yan Man had suggested adding, believing such small touches would make the character more three-dimensional.
The wind was fierce that day, but the crew still used fans and snow machines, creating an extremely harsh environment. Despite this, Yan Man filmed the scene five times for the camera.
By the final take, the director couldn’t help but speak up as he saw her coughing: “Let’s use a stunt double for the back shot?”
“No... no need,” Yan Man paused for a moment, sipping some hot water, “I’m fine. We’re almost done anyway; why bother with a double?”
In sub-zero temperatures, amidst hundreds of meters of scenery, she was choked into tears by the biting wind, her knuckles red from the cold, her eyes barely able to stay open, her head covered in snow and wind. Yet, she still had to deliver her lines at this moment.
After they called “cut,” even the director couldn’t bear to watch anymore.
She covered her mouth, coughing forcefully. Her eyelashes glistened with moisture, and her eyes were already watery. Wrapped in a down jacket handed to her by the staff, she couldn’t help but tremble slightly.
The director made arrangements: “Xiao Yan, go rest this afternoon. It’s just a solo scene—can’t it be reshot anytime?”
She shook her head, about to speak, but the director played his trump card: “If you push through in this condition, the performance won’t be as good as if you rested properly.”
Sure enough, hearing this, Yan Man paused.
The director continued: “Alright, go rest. It’s just one scene; we can reshoot it in a couple of days.”
“Besides, what a great actress you are—if you get sick because of filming, everyone will feel guilty. Hurry up and go drink some cough medicine.”
“Go ahead,” Simon also urged, “When actors work this hard, the crew usually gives them half a day off.”
And so, with a hoarse voice and unable to speak from coughing, Yan Man was sent home by Simon without any chance to protest.
When she got home, Ye Lin wasn’t there—he had gone somewhere. Yan Man boiled two large pots of water, bought some throat lozenges, cuddled with her cat, and took a short nap. By the time she woke up, she felt much better.
She thought to herself: there really was no need to rush back; a little rest would have sufficed.
She got up to feed the cat, and as she turned around, Ye Lin had already returned.
Yan Man looked at the bag in his hand: “Where did you go?”
“Bought some daily necessities...” He paused, realizing something was off, “Why is your voice hoarse?”
“You noticed? It’s fine,” Yan Man blinked, “I got choked while filming earlier. I’ll be better tomorrow.”
Even the slightest change being noticed brought an unconscious joy bubbling up inside her.
Clearly, Ye Lin didn’t let it go with just a few words.
He furrowed his brows, looking concerned: “Will it really get better this quickly? Should I cook something for you?”
“No need,” she said, accustomed to this, “Sometimes when I meet friends I haven’t seen in a while and talk too much, it happens.”
“...”
“I’ll boil half a pear for you,” he still wasn’t reassured, so he ordered delivery and walked into the kitchen, “Is there anything you want to eat?”
Yan Man leaned against the fridge, gazing out at the dusk outside the window, recalling that she hadn’t taken a walk in a long time.
“It’s fine, but I want to go for a walk tonight.”
He hummed in acknowledgment: “Where do you want to go?”
She clasped her hands behind her back, leaning forward with slight anticipation: “The arcade?”
“Every time we pass by on the way home from work, I see so many girls coming out of the arcade hugging stuffed animals, looking so happy.”
He said it was fine and laughed: “You’re going for a walk in the arcade?”
“It’s unexpected, which makes it all the more brilliant,” she justified herself with her usual quirky logic, “Plus, it’s dark inside, fun to play, and not easy to be recognized.”
By 8 p.m., standing inside the arcade, Ye Lin finally understood what she meant.
Looking at the two managers in front of them, like two oversized light bulbs illuminating the pitch-black night sky.
Ye Lin: “Why did you bring Bi Tan along?”
“To avoid being photographed,” Yan Man whispered, “My drama isn’t finished yet, and I don’t want people saying I’m hyping myself up again. Even if we’re photographed, four people together won’t attract much attention.”
Understanding her concerns, Ye Lin nodded.
Soon, Simon came over with exchanged coins, holding two small boxes: “You two share one, and we’ll use the other.”
Ye Lin nodded, taking one box and walking ahead with Yan Man.
Bi Tan reached out, trying to grab some coins, but someone slapped his hand twice firmly.
Bi Tan: “What? Do you want us to walk together holding each other?”
“No,” Simon said, “You have to pay for yours.”
“...”
Bi Tan was half-angered and ended up forcing his way to Ye Lin’s side, planning to freeload off Simon’s coins.
After finishing a round, watching Yang Simon’s livid expression, he felt as if life suddenly had meaning.
The second game was a test of speed. The opponent placed their hand in the player’s palm and quickly pulled it away. The player had to press the button immediately to counterattack.
Three minutes later, glancing at Ye Lin’s score and then his own, Bi Tan smirked: “Teacher Ye, your reaction time isn’t great, huh?”
Ye Lin didn’t respond, but Simon started twisting: “Do you know why you hit more people?”
“Why?”
Simon: “No reason, just that you’re more sword-like.”
Bi Tan: “Hey, Yang Ximon, do you have no shame?”
Soon, the two were exchanging verbal jabs again, but afraid of drawing attention, they kept their voices low, only daring to retaliate when the volume of the boxing game on the opposite side increased.
No one noticed, amidst the noisy atmosphere, Yan Man quietly lowering her face, burying it in her scarf.
She felt a bit warm in the face and wanted to deny it, but actually, his reaction speed seemed pretty good.
Seemingly noticing her distraction, Ye Lin also got up from his seat and leaned close to her ear: “My manager slandered me like this. Should I clear my name?”
“...”
“No,” she whispered, “He’s right.”
Ye Lin bent down to meet her gaze. She couldn’t help but avoid his eyes, then heard him chuckle: “You say one thing but mean another?”
Yan Man looked up at him. Most of his face was covered by a mask, revealing only a pair of sternly curved eyes. The colorful lights of the arcade flowed over his hair and the corners of his eyes, like a fleeting aurora.
Her heart suddenly started pounding.
But even after the two left, Bi Tan still hadn’t come back to his senses.
He stopped arguing with Ximon, standing there in shock.
“Damn, I saw Ye Lin flirting with someone.”
Ximon: “...”
Yan Man casually mentioned wanting to exchange for the biggest plush toy, so Ye Lin found a lottery machine and played for over half an hour.
Bi Tan asked curiously: “Why are you playing Rhythm Master all this time?”
Without turning his head, he replied: “Practicing my hand speed.”
Yan Man: “...”
She suspected Ye Lin was hinting at something about her, but she had no evidence.
In the end, the tickets from the game piled up like a small mountain. Yan Man stood aside, noticing many passersby casting glances in their direction.
She tugged at her mask, hearing someone discussing with their friend: “He’s so tall. Don’t you think his figure looks a bit like Ye Lin’s…”
Yan Man’s heartbeat skipped a beat, her gaze froze, and all her attention focused on them.
Could they recognize him?
But Ye Lin calmly finished the last round of the game, collected the tickets, counted them carefully, and put them into his pocket.
Throughout the process, there were no actions like pulling down his hat or adjusting his mask, as if he hadn’t heard them talking.
The girl couldn’t help but self-deny: “Forget it, what am I thinking? How could Ye Lin possibly come here to play this.”
“Yeah,” her friend agreed, “He doesn’t look like he has the free time to come here. Let’s go, isn’t he known for avoiding noise?”
When they reached the counter, Yan Man finally looked up and asked: “How can you be so calm? My heart almost jumped out.”
He tilted his head: “Hmm?”
Yan Man observed his expression for a moment, wondering if he was unaware.
“Two passersby just said you look like Ye Lin. Didn’t you hear them?”
“No,” he said, “What happened next?”
“They later thought it was impossible for you to come to such a place and dismissed it,” Yan Man found it strange, “Didn’t you hear them even though they were so loud? What were you doing?”
“Counting tickets,” he said, “Don’t you want that bear?”
After saying that, the man once again focused intently and lowered his head, “I’m short by 100 tickets to get that rabbit too. Wait for me a moment.”
Yan Man opened her mouth, but before she could speak, his back disappeared from her sight.
She was momentarily stunned, looking at the wall of stuffed toys in front of her, lost in thought.
Not only did he come to this place, but he was wholeheartedly helping her get that small trinket she had casually mentioned.
At around 11 p.m., hugging the bear and rabbit, they returned home. Yan Man was tired from playing.
Nowadays, dolls were treated better than people, even having their own outfits. After taking a bath, Yan Man lay on the bed choosing clothes for them.
She also bought two outfits for Nuomi Paper.
Yan Man became absorbed in selecting, not even noticing that Ye Lin had already lain down.
A rustling sound came from beside her, and she turned her head: “What are you looking for?”
“Tissues.”
Yan Man gestured toward the nightstand on her side: “Grab some. I don’t have any hands.”
Soon, the man climbed over her, reaching toward the low cabinet on her left side.
It seemed a bit difficult to pull out, so his body paused for a moment. Her vision was blocked, preventing her from using her phone. In front of her was darkness, obscured by his neck.
The faint scent of his shower gel wafted into her nose.
One second, two seconds.
Yan Man inexplicably moved closer.
Soon, she felt something soft touch her neck. Ye Lin’s body stiffened momentarily, and then she gently sucked on it before letting go.
Ye Lin slightly withdrew, propping himself up to look at her.
Bathed in the light, Yan Man admired the hickey she had just planted. The shape was fine, but the force was a bit light.
She blinked, lifting her eyelids to look at him. The light fell, gathering a small point of light in her almond-shaped eyes.
“You gave me one; I’ll give you one.”
As if she didn’t think she had done anything wrong, she pursed her bright red lips.
Ye Lin’s Adam’s apple slid slightly, gripping her wrist.
Realizing something.
Yan Man froze slightly: “You...”
Before she could finish, he responded.
“Mm.”
His eyelashes lowered, likely due to her earlier mischief. At this moment, dark waves churned in his eyes.
Yan Man innocently blinked: “Do you need help?”
“...What?”
She pulled her hand out of his grasp and whispered: “Let me help you.”
Google Sites
Report abuse