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The living room was dim and quiet, the overhead light switched off, leaving only the soft glow of the night seeping in through the windows.
Outside, the rain poured heavily. The sofa creaked faintly as the two cats played with the scattered pajamas and nightgowns on the floor, their antics adding to the disarray. The sound of water echoed softly in the background.
The worn clock pendulum swung back and forth, striking three o’clock in the morning. Its rhythmic ticking reverberated through the room—long, rapid beats that ebbed and flowed like the ebb and flow of emotions.
Amidst his kisses and caresses, Yan Man struggled to catch her breath, beads of sweat glistening on her jawline.
“Why did we change places…?”
“It’s softer here than before,” he rasped, offering his critique. “Don’t you think so?”
Before she could respond, he leaned down and kissed her again.
After the storm had passed and they finally found a moment to rest, Yan Man reclined against the soft pillows, utterly exhausted.
She resembled a delicate camellia crushed underfoot, her long hair splayed out like petals blooming luxuriously across the dark sheets. Her eyes, nose, and chin were flushed red, and her neck bore the marks of his possession, trailing downward in a winding path.
Occasionally, stray petals from her hair would fall onto the bed. Ye Lin patiently wiped them away one by one, then changed the sheets.
The fresh scent of detergent lingered in the air as she was carried around like a ragdoll, too tired even to go to the bathroom on her own—he had carried her there. She had intended to ask about the glass of water but was too drained. Perhaps next time.
She closed her eyes and rested for a while, feeling him finish tidying up and return to lie beside her. But instead of sleeping, he propped himself up on his elbows to gaze at her.
She cracked open one eye halfway, her voice heavy with sleep and a hint of nasal tone. Reaching up to loop her arm around his neck, she murmured lazily, “What is it, Teacher Ye, who broke two of your rules tonight?”
Her voice was soft and faintly tinged with an involuntary whimper, her lashes damp and alluring without her even realizing it.
Ye Lin didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out and gently brushed the corner of her eye with his fingertip.
He whispered, “Why are you crying again?”
She blinked deliberately, looking up at him with the clearest, most innocent gaze. “Don’t you like seeing me cry?”
“…”
She sighed dramatically. “If you don’t like it, I won’t cry anymore.”
“…”
“I do like it.”
She rolled her eyes and kicked at him weakly. “Are you some kind of pervert?”
Ye Lin caught her foot and chuckled, unable to suppress his own amusement.
“If you don’t like it, it’s wrong; if you do like it, I’m a pervert. So what do you want me to say?”
She didn’t continue the banter and closed her eyes again, drifting off for a few minutes. When she opened them, his gaze still hadn’t left her.
Her fingertips, cool from resting outside the blanket, rested lightly on his shoulder.
On a whim, she whispered teasingly in a sultry voice:
“Baby.”
“…”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his pupils darkened. “Don’t call me that.”
The more he forbade it, the more mischievous she became.
Yan Man teased, “You look so sexy when you pant.”
“…”
Realizing the boldness of her words, she quickly tried to backtrack. “Wait, wait…”
He interrupted smoothly, “That’s what you get for calling me names.”
“…”
How was this her fault? Was he just making accusations?
A split second before the blanket began to shift again, Yan Man’s last fleeting thought was—
Damn, the sheets were changed for nothing.
________________________________________
At seven o’clock the next morning, Yan Man jolted awake after only half an hour of sleep.
She grabbed the edge of the blanket. “I need to go—”
The words “to work” hadn’t even left her lips when she was pressed back down.
His voice was hoarse with satisfaction. “Sleep. No early scenes today.”
“You asked the crew for leave?” she asked, surprised, inching closer until her lips brushed against his chin. “Won’t they figure it out?”
“…No, I didn’t ask,” Ye Lin pulled her into his arms. “Your schedule was always for evening shoots today.”
“Oh.” She nodded slowly, remembering how abruptly things had happened yesterday and realizing she had forgotten to check the day’s itinerary.
“You sound a little disappointed,” Ye Lin said. “Should I let them know?”
“Who would tell them something like that?” She kicked at him under the covers. “Do you even have—”
Before she could finish, her ankle was caught, and he teasingly stroked it.
Ye Lin: “You’ve only slept for half an hour. Aren’t you tired?”
This sparked a reaction. “Whose fault is it?”
He expertly deflected blame, readily agreeing. “Mine.”
But before she could nod in satisfaction, the man spoke again—
“But the last time was your idea.”
“…!”
“I didn’t ask for it!”
“Alright, you didn’t ask. It was all my doing.”
He patted her back soothingly, like comforting a child, his chin resting on her forehead. In no time, lulled by the sense of security, she drifted back to sleep.
After a night of passion, she was truly exhausted, waking up at one o’clock in the afternoon. As she opened her eyes and turned her head, she met his gaze once more.
Stretching lazily, she nestled into his embrace. “Didn’t you sleep?”
“Just woke up,” he said, reaching out to tousle her hair. “Are you awake now?”
“More or less.”
Yan Man reached for his wrist and finally remembered something, touching the scar she had noticed earlier. Sitting up and turning on the lamp, she stared at it blankly. “...What is this?”
Before he could answer, she asked, “An injury from filming?”
“No,” he shook his head. “From when I was a child.”
From his relatively calm recounting over several minutes, Yan Man learned the origin of the scar. For a moment, she was rendered speechless, staring at it blankly.
She was usually adept at responding, but now her chest felt blocked, unable to utter a single word.
“It’s fine,” he smiled, flipping his hand over to cover the scar with his palm. “It’s all in the past.”
All in the past.
The five words he had spoken so lightly weighed heavily on her heart, and she found it impossible to let go as easily as he seemed to.
That day, while waiting for her scenes, she found Bi Tan’s WeChat and finally pieced together the twists and turns of his journey from Bi Tan’s perspective.
To outsiders, he appeared to have a smooth and successful life, but behind that success, fate had demanded its price.
When she returned home, she was still feeling a pang of sorrow. The moment she saw him emerge from the bedroom, she couldn’t help but bury herself in his arms, pressing her forehead against his chest without saying a word, her arms tightly wrapped around him.
Ye Lin assumed she must have encountered something unpleasant that day. He gently cradled her neck, massaging it twice before asking softly, “What’s wrong?”
She struggled for a long time before managing to suppress the urge to cry. Reaching out to touch the scar on his wrist, she asked quietly, “Have you ever tried laser treatment for this scar?”
“This is after the treatment.”
She lowered her head, pulling out her phone. “I looked it up today; there are other methods... For example, look at this one—it can cover it up.”
“Mm,” he replied softly. “Seeing how concerned you are makes me feel like this wound wasn’t suffered in vain.”
“Don’t say such nonsense.” Yan Man scolded him gently, continuing to browse her phone. “Like this one here—it could work as coverage.”
“I’ve thought about it too—getting a tattoo.”
“But I haven’t found the right design yet, and I haven’t had the time.”
Before she could offer to help brainstorm ideas, he said, “What about a camellia?”
She paused, recalling the white camellia earring she once dropped at his place.
“That works—I quite like it,” she said. “But why did you choose it?”
“Because you like it,” he said. “It carries your essence.”
After finalizing the tattoo plan, Yan Man insisted on accompanying him. However, filming kept her busy, and it wasn’t until the spring wrap party that she finally had time.
The sunlight that day was beautiful, and cherry blossoms bloomed all over the trees. She stood under the tree, accepting a bouquet handed to her by the staff, and asked Ye Lin to take a commemorative photo of her wrapping up the project.
As they left, she reminded Teacher Xu Wenjing to notify her as soon as there was a play performance.
Placing the bouquet in the backseat, Ye Lin drove them to the tattoo studio.
During the process, Yan Man held his hand tightly. Watching the machine move, she couldn’t help but frown and ask, “Does it hurt?”
He reassured her with a gentle squeeze of her palm, whispering, “It’s bearable.”
Having filmed countless action scenes, pain was no stranger to him. Though he wouldn’t voice it, he still needed to endure.
As he endured, the man tilted his head slightly, veins protruding on his neck, sweat trickling down.
For some inexplicable reason, this scene overlapped with a certain night in her memory. Yan Man coughed lightly, shaking off the colorful debris in her mind.
Spring was nearing its end, and the temperature gradually warmed up.
As they stepped out of the studio, Yan Man noticed that the man who had always covered his wrists with long sleeves finally rolled them up, bidding farewell to a part of his past—
In her name.
Halfway through the drive, she began to muse aloud, “Should I get one with you?”
“But as a female artist, I can’t get a matching couple tattoo. It’ll have to be somewhere inconspicuous...”
Before she finished, Ye Lin interrupted, “No, it’ll hurt.”
Yan Man, having experienced many film shoots, considered herself somewhat knowledgeable: “It’s not like I haven’t felt pain before.”
He furrowed his brows, eyes fixed ahead. “Even when I’m rough with you, you complain about the pain. Do you think you can handle it?”
“…”
Yan Man turned her head. “Don’t use such a serious expression to say things like that.”
Knowing she might have just been momentarily inspired without much thought, the man added, “But you can buy temporary tattoos if you want. They give the same effect.”
“How can it just be for fun?” Yan Man felt his statement lacked seriousness. “This is my way of learning to love you.”
The man continued driving, stopping in front of a shop that offered custom-printed temporary tattoos.
He spoke slowly: “Getting a tattoo is your way of loving me. But what do you think it means if you don’t get one?”
She looked up. “What does it mean?”
“It means I love you.”
...
In the end, she couldn’t sway him. Yan Man ended up buying temporary tattoos—over a hundred of them. Ye Lin said she could stick them whenever she wanted, even until the end of time.
That night, after finishing her bath, she decided to try one on.
With an event scheduled for the next day, she couldn’t place it anywhere conspicuous, so she opted for the area near her left hipbone, visible only when her underwear was pulled aside.
After applying it, she was very particular about privacy and sent a fleeting snap to Zhou Xuan for feedback: [How does it look?]
Zhou Xuan: [Not bad, but why there? Is it visible during certain moments?]
Yan Man: [……………………]?
Zhou Xuan’s mind was clearly filled with unhealthy thoughts. Too lazy to engage further, Yan Man mysteriously adjusted her nightgown and walked out.
The man was leaning against the side of the bed, reading.
She pounced, causing the bed to dip slightly at the corner.
Yan Man: “Guess where I put it?”
Ye Lin scanned her twice before his Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Under the dress?”
“Mm,” she found it strange. “How did you guess so accurately?”
He leaned closer, his voice low. “Isn’t everywhere else visible?”
She shifted toward him, her nightgown riding up. Her sheer white underwear revealed the sticker’s position at a glance.
Ye Lin grasped her wrist.
Sensing impending danger, Yan Man attempted to move slightly, but he pressed down more firmly.
“Don’t move,” he rasped. “Let me see… the camellia.”
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