Embedded Files
Psst! We're moving!
Ye Lin cradled her head, gently pressing it down. Her lips met his, and she lightly bit him without much force.
He didn’t appear angry at all. Instead, he gently stroked the back of her neck, threading a finger through her hair, and murmured, “Do you know how to kiss?”
She held the reins of control, smiling as she hovered over his lips but deliberately refrained from moving. She teased, “What kind of kiss are you talking about?”
Her kisses were slow, like the drizzle of spring in March—soft and gentle, carrying moisture as they glided across his lips, falling in tiny, delicate drops. Though seemingly innocent, they became increasingly provocative, testing his restraint.
Every time she thought she would deepen the kiss, he parted his lips, but instead of meeting her, he heard her complain, “Stop opening your mouth so much; I can’t kiss you properly.”
Finally unable to resist, he extended his tongue, and she softly took it in, then explored with her own, circling the roof of his mouth twice before retreating—but was immediately met with his suckling.
The room grew warmer, and she heard his uneven breaths, feeling his movements as she gradually withdrew her lips and tongue.
Hmm, this time, she had retreated first.
With a slight nasal tone, she said, “I have to go to work.”
He suppressed himself for a while before hoarsely asking, “Do you have an early scene?”
“Mm.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed repeatedly, his voice low and incredulous, “And yet you still teased me?”
She seemed to relish her revenge, resting her chin on his jawline, clearly amused.
“Don’t you always do this to me?”
“...”
“Seriously—I really do have an early scene,” she said, looking at his expression and feeling a twinge of guilt. “Oh well, I’ll make it up to you later.”
To prevent herself from truly losing the motivation to “go to work,” Yan Man hurriedly threw off the blanket and got out of bed, intending to leave directly.
“I’ll eat at the set. You sleep a little longer—it’s still early.”
When she reached the door, she turned back mischievously, leaning halfway against the doorframe.
“Off to work,” she waved mockingly. “Then poor Teacher Ye, I guess you’ll have to settle with your ten-fingered girlfriend?”
“...”
Once in the car, Yan Man finally started to feel sleepy, unable to stifle a yawn.
Simon’s gaze swept over her like an X-ray. “What? Did you stay up late last night?”
“How could I dare?” Yan Man replied. “I went to bed early last night.”
Simon Holmes: “So you two had a morning quickie?”
“...”
Yan Man remained silent, thinking his train of thought was truly unlike that of a normal person. “Didn’t you visit the psychiatric department yesterday?”
Simon rubbed his chin. “Did I misunderstand? Did you two not do anything?”
Yan Man pondered, realizing her phrasing wasn’t precise enough. “Well, maybe we did do something.”
“...”
She then threw herself into today’s filming. An hour later, a tall man wearing a hat and mask arrived on set.
Ye Lin sat beside the director.
She worried about being photographed, so he rarely came, but after yesterday’s hospital visit, he was still concerned and chose a route without paparazzi.
Her condition had indeed improved significantly. During breaks, she chatted with the crew, though not for long before returning to her script. After shooting two outdoor scenes, the crew began setting up for the next location.
She accepted the small blanket handed to her by Zhou Xuan and said, “It’s too cold. Let me drink some water before checking the monitor for the results.”
Ye Lin adjusted his cap brim, unsure of his intentions, and gestured to a nearby cameraman to hand over the equipment.
This camera was a spare used for recording behind-the-scenes footage; anyone could use it.
Soon, the cameraman handed over his gear, watching as the top star held the machine in one hand while pulling up his black mask with the other.
As Yan Man approached, she glanced at his camera and walked straight past him to the monitor to review the two scenes she had just filmed.
They looked good—no issues.
She wrapped herself tighter in the blanket. Wearing high heels made it inconvenient to move, so she sat down beside him.
Before Ye Lin could adjust the camera, he felt a head rest against his shoulder.
She whispered, “I’m sleepy. Let me lean on you for a bit.”
Yan Man adjusted the edge of the blanket around her neck, tucking it down. Though she claimed she was going to sleep, a few seconds later, she spoke again, her voice slightly nasal with sleepiness. “Did the driver bring you here?”
“I drove myself,” Ye Lin paused, lowering the camera. “You recognized me?”
“Obviously,” she said. “I noticed the moment you arrived wearing that hat.”
Though he was covered head to toe, making it impossible to tell who he was from a meter away, they had shared a bed for so long now—it would be strange if she didn’t recognize him.
It was hard to explain how she knew it was him, but the moment she saw him, she recognized him instantly.
It was below freezing today, and she was only wearing a shirt and hoodie. No matter how cold-resistant someone might be, the chill was biting, especially after spending hours filming in the wind.
In her friends’ eyes, she had always been a little heater, but as an actress, she had learned that female stars had a completely different standard for enduring the cold due to on-screen demands.
Forget about dressing warmly—walking the red carpet in strapless dresses during winter was common.
Yan Man snuggled closer, remembering that he was wearing a down jacket. She pulled a corner of the blanket and draped it over his left leg.
Ye Lin was about to say it wasn’t necessary when, under the cover of the blanket, she slipped her hand into his pocket.
His palm was warm.
Her hand was cold, so she pressed it against his palm, lowering her head and burying her voice in the blanket.
A subtle sense of satisfaction filled her body as she softly sighed, “...So warm.”
The crew bustled around, noisy and lively. No one knew that beneath this blanket, two hands were sharing the same pocket.
Ye Lin moved slightly, enveloping her hand in his palm.
After waiting over twenty minutes for her scene, she dozed off briefly but didn’t fall asleep. She got up to shoot the next scene.
Yan Man removed the blanket and asked him, “Why did you come out so early today? Do you have something to do later?”
“Mm,” he nodded. “I contacted a lawyer yesterday, so I might return a bit late tonight.”
She raised an eyebrow, about to crack a cheeky joke, but the staff urged her fiercely, leaving no time to speak. She was quickly pulled back into filming.
Due to the nature of the project, the crew members were all relatively mature and didn’t ask too many questions about her and Ye Lin’s relationship—they more or less understood.
She specifically reminded everyone not to spread the word, and the matter was kept very well under wraps.
He quietly came and quietly left.
Since he said he’d be late tonight, she wasn’t in a rush. After finishing filming, she even chatted with her co-star about tomorrow’s scenes, discussing whether any preparations were needed.
There was a drunken scene tomorrow, and since there was plenty of time today, Yan Man planned to buy some alcohol to taste and practice getting into the right state.
She informed Simon beforehand. When they arrived at the supermarket and got out of the car, she noticed Bi Tan was there too.
She asked Simon, “Why did you call Bi Tan as well?”
Simon replied, “He knows about drinking. He can help keep an eye on you so you don’t drink too much tonight and end up with a headache tomorrow.”
After thinking about it, Yan Man realized he had a point.
Once inside the supermarket, Yan Man headed straight for the alcohol aisle. Her first choice was fruit wine with a higher alcohol content—it suited her taste and wasn’t too harsh.
Bi Tan picked out a few types: “This one gives a light buzz; you won’t get drunk. This one is strong—it works quickly, and you’ll feel dizzy before you finish. And this one... is also potent, but the effects build up slowly—from fuzzy to drunk, it takes longer.”
Considering the immersive quality of acting, Yan Man chose the third option and then asked, “Does Ye Lin drink?”
“He does, but not much,” Bi Tan said. “At most gatherings, he doesn’t drink much, and it’s hard to persuade him. He prefers staying clear-headed. I’ve never seen him drunk.”
“Except for one time—”
An exception?
Yan Man curiously asked, “Which time?”
Bi Tan: “Before that variety show with you and Bian He, when he was obsessing over whether you liked him or not, he drank half a bottle of Louis XIII and even made a simulator. He looked a little tipsy.”
“...”
“Simulator?” Yan Man repeated. “What simulator?”
“It’s—well, it’s hard to describe,” Bi Tan hesitated. “It’s like those lovesick girls plucking rose petals. Next time, you can ask him or sneak a peek at his computer.”
Bi Tan didn’t dare say more, fearing unemployment.
After buying the alcohol, Yan Man returned home.
Ye Lin hadn’t returned yet, busy with something unknown. Yan Man retrieved the camera she had purchased earlier and set it up on the desk, fearing that if she got drunk later and forgot everything, she could at least review her emotions and expressions.
After the camera started recording, Yan Man began watching a movie while opening a can of alcohol, embarking on her drinking endeavor.
She had bought five cans in total. Bi Tan had said that most people would be knocked out after just one.
As she was pulling the tab on her second can, Ye Lin returned.
He smelled the alcohol from afar and approached her, noticing her already somewhat unfocused eyes. “Drinking?”
“Mm,” she nodded obediently, admitting, “I’m drunk.”
“...”
Looking at the camera set up in front of her and the red-marked script beside her, he quickly understood what was going on.
Ye Lin took off his coat and sat down next to her. “How much more are you planning to drink?”
The question seemed to stump her. She rested her chin on the can and blinked at him repeatedly. After a moment, her head tilted to the side, almost falling over.
Ye Lin quickly steadied her, but she seemed to snap back to attention, lowering her head to take another sip.
“It’s not good,” she lightly furrowed her brows and pushed it toward him. “Can’t waste it; you drink it.”
“Alright—” Ye Lin accepted it, naturally taking a swig, then said, “It’s not bad, just a bit bitter.”
He picked out a peach-flavored can from the pile and handed it to her.
“This one should taste better. Drink this.”
After drinking, she became unusually docile, obediently opening the can and nestling there, sipping slowly. Soon, the effects of the alcohol showed on her face, her eyes shimmering with a hint of springtime.
Somehow, she leaned closer to him and tilted her head up to ask, “Where did you go?”
Ye Lin lowered his eyes, noticing her slipper had fallen off. He picked it up and put it back on her.
He whispered, “Talking about things.”
She chuckled mischievously, “Was it about prenuptial asset division?”
Without speaking, he pulled out a row of cards from his wallet and placed them into the pocket of her pajamas.
“No division. Everything is yours.”
She straightened up, shook the empty bottle he had finished, and solemnly nodded, declaring, “You’re drunk.”
“Not drunk.”
She reached down to find the card he had placed, but with so many pockets, she momentarily forgot which one it was in.
“So what did you go do?” she continued curiously. “Is it related to me?”
Ye Lin reached out and pinched her chin. “What do you think?”
Amidst her blurred vision, his gaze inexplicably turned tender, his figure blurring into several overlapping images. Confused by the waves of drunkenness and hormones, she softly guessed after a while, “Maybe it is.”
After a few minutes of silence, she asked again, “When did you call the lawyer?”
“Yesterday afternoon, at five.”
She nodded, feeling the weight of her head, and rested her chin on her knees, watching the movie for a while before shifting the topic along with the plot.
“Ye Lin.”
“Hmm?”
“Have you ever been really afraid of something?”
“Not before,” he said. “But I have since meeting you.”
She murmured, “What is it?”
“Afraid of not living long enough, and also afraid of living too long.”
She tried to ponder this statement, but her brain capacity was limited, and she couldn’t quite grasp its meaning. After a while, she sighed resignedly and gave up.
She reached out her hand and said, “Carry me to bed.”
Ye Lin lifted her up and placed her in the center of the bed, covering her with the blanket. Just as he was about to get up and leave, she grabbed the hem of his shirt.
She said, “You sleep too.”
His lips brushed against her forehead, and he whispered, “I’ll take a shower first.”
She was unusually clingy tonight, looking into his eyes and asking,
“Will you come sleep with me after your shower?”
“Mm, I’ll stay with you the whole night,” he said.
The next morning, bright daylight woke Yan Man as cats dashed past her door. She pressed her temples and sat up.
She didn’t remember much about last night. After using the restroom, she recalled the camera still set up in the living room and went over to turn it off.
There were still more than ten minutes left, making another nap unrealistic. Yan Man brought out her laptop, inserted the camera’s memory card, and decided to watch the footage recorded last night.
The camera had run out of battery shortly after Ye Lin returned, capturing only ten minutes of footage.
As she watched, she saw herself handing him the drink, and he hesitated slightly before accepting it. She vaguely thought, wasn’t Bi Tan saying no one could persuade him to drink?
Why did he accept it so readily when she offered?
Perhaps because it was fruit wine. She thought.
After fast-forwarding through the playback, she rewound it, observing her gradual intoxication. Meanwhile, fragmented memories from last night uncontrollably flooded back.
—Have you ever been afraid of anything?
—Afraid of not living long enough, and also afraid of living too long.
Her thoughts drifted along, hazily pondering.
The lawyer was contacted at five o’clock in the afternoon two days ago, related to her. What was she doing at that time?
Yan Man struggled to recall, eventually piecing together the timeline.
She remembered.
At that time, she was in the hospital, and he was rushing to her.
Perhaps he still thought she was critically ill, facing the same peril as her mother.
Though he didn’t say it, she could tell during the checkup that he specifically requested a thorough brain scan.
And his journey to her took only ten minutes. What could he have done during that time? What was the purpose of contacting the lawyer?
Yan Man had a vague prediction but dared not think further, yet she couldn’t stop herself from continuing.
His bag was placed in the corner of the sofa, covered by his coat.
Yan Man stood up, lifted the coat, and the black briefcase slid down, its zipper not closed. Several sheets of paper fell out.
She flipped the pages over.
Her premonition came true—it was a heritage donation agreement.
The effective date of the agreement was precisely two days ago.
Her palms trembled as she desperately restrained her thoughts. How could she dare to imagine that Ye Lin would willingly die for her?
At that moment, footsteps sounded behind her. Yan Man turned around to look.
He stood at the doorway, his gaze fixed on her hands, explaining everything.
“The lawyer helped draft it urgently two days ago. Though it wasn’t needed, I still went to retrieve it yesterday.”
He said, “I hope to live a little longer. If there’s a future, I don’t want you to be too lonely. But I also don’t need to live too long. If one day you leave, I’ll accompany you, so you won’t be alone.”
With such calmness and straightforwardness, he spoke as if recounting the simplest matter.
“You’re alive, so I am alive too.”
Her vision blurred, recalling that afternoon in the hospital’s empty corridor. His hand reached out to hold hers, visibly trembling.
At that time, he said he would stay with her.
Among countless possibilities, his promise to stay with her was genuine.
Stay with her everywhere, stay with her until any outcome.
Google Sites
Report abuse