CITM - 36

Ye Yun’s desire to return home later was largely driven by her wish to avoid the awkwardness of family dinners. She wasn’t a skilled actress, incapable of pretending to reciprocate Wenbin’s affection while harboring feelings for his older brother. At the same time, she feared that being overly cautious might arouse Wenbin’s suspicions—like this morning when she had refused to let him wash her clothes.

As for Bai Wenfu, he had become a whirlpool she dared not approach. His voice, his appearance, every move he made—she couldn’t help but focus on him. Yet, she feared falling into that whirlpool at any moment, dragging everyone down with her into an irreparable abyss.

Since Wenbin’s return, an invisible moral barrier had risen between Ye Yun and Bai Wenfu. A red line neither could cross now stood between them. For Ye Yun, who had spent the first twenty years of her life steeped in conservative values, this forbidden challenge was nothing short of torment. The mere phrase “fear of public opinion” was enough to throw her into a boiling cauldron, draining her of all courage.

Meanwhile, Tong Mingfang remained ever vigilant, striving to prevent anyone from venturing near that point of no return. Still, on many nights, Ye Yun heard her tossing and turning, sighing softly.

When Ye Yun returned on her bike, Wenbin was standing by the newsstand, craning his neck to look around. He must have been waiting for a long time. Upon seeing him, Ye Yun got off her bike: “Why are you standing here in the cold wind?”

Wenbin walked beside her as they headed home: “Waiting for you. I was worried it wouldn’t be safe if you came back late.”

Ye Yun pushed her bike, looking down at their shadows, which wavered slightly apart from each other: “Don’t wait for me next time. My workload varies every day—I can’t predict when I’ll finish. Besides, I ride fast. I’ll be fine.”

Wenbin glanced at the stylish women’s bicycle and asked: “How much did it cost?”

Ye Yun hesitated before replying: “It was bought by my brother-in-law.”

Wenbin raised his gaze toward the figure leaning against the corridor: “Then I need to thank him properly. But I’ll still repay him for it. One thing has nothing to do with another, right?”

Following his line of sight, Ye Yun looked up. With the colder weather, few people lingered in the corridor after dinner; most retired indoors early.

Bai Wenfu stood leaning against the corridor railing, wearing a black leather jacket, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. His gaze was lowered, watching them quietly.

Wenbin took the bicycle from Ye Yun, parked it, and locked it. Then he said to her: “Once we’re married and living on our own, we can’t keep relying on Brother for support. We should settle accounts clearly with him regarding money.”

Ye Yun lowered her gaze without responding. Wenbin straightened up and glanced at her: “Let’s go upstairs.”

The autumn night grew chilly. Wenbin removed his coat and draped it over Ye Yun’s shoulders. She flinched slightly, then took it off and handed it back to him: “I’m not cold, really.”

A faint, enigmatic smile tugged at the corners of Wenbin’s lips: “Am I not even allowed to show some concern?”

He draped the coat over her shoulders again: “You’re dressed so lightly. Don’t catch a chill.”

Ye Yun didn’t refuse again; further refusal would have seemed too deliberate.

By the time they reached home, the cigarette in Bai Wenfu’s hand had burned out. He turned around, his eyes sweeping over the coat on Ye Yun’s shoulders, and said to her: “Dinner is ready. Go inside and eat.”

“Mm,” Ye Yun replied and entered the house.

Wenbin approached Bai Wenfu, placing a hand on his shoulder: “Brother, Xiao Yun said the bicycle was bought by you. How much did it cost? Let me pay you back.”

Bai Wenfu turned his head away: “No need.”

Wenbin’s round eyes and bright pupils, framed by clear double eyelids, gave him a youthful, spirited appearance. However, after everything he’d been through, he had grown thinner, and the light in his eyes was no longer as pure as before—it carried a weariness beyond his years.

Still, he used the same teasing tone he’d always employed with Bai Wenfu: “When you bought shampoo for Xiao Yun before, I offered to pay you back, but you refused, saying it was a welcoming gift. What about this time?”

“Is it a wedding present?” Wenbin looked at him.

The incandescent light from inside spilled into the corridor, casting half of Bai Wenfu’s sharp features in shadow. His face betrayed no emotion as he calmly shifted his gaze and, with unwavering authority, stated: “It’s already bought. If I say no repayment is needed, then none is required.”

Listening to their conversation, Ye Yun’s heart remained suspended. Ever since Bai Wenfu had called her “Xiao Yun” openly in front of Wenbin that morning, she’d felt an overwhelming sense of urgency and unease.

After dinner, Wenbin went into his room. Ye Yun also returned to her room and told Tong Mingfang that she planned to stay later at the tailor shop going forward. Surprisingly, Tong Mingfang was unusually understanding. Perhaps because she’d been emotionally drained lately, having both sons at home left her constantly uneasy. If Ye Yun stayed busy and out of the house, it was a temporary relief.

Later that evening, Ye Yun carried a bundle of clothes to the washroom. Her hair was loose, tied back casually.

In the evenings, each household fetched water in buckets, using it sparingly throughout the night. Few people came to the washroom after dark, making it an ideal time for Ye Yun to avoid prying eyes.

A sudden “click” filled the air with the smell of oil. Ye Yun froze, turning her head. Her delicate face, watery eyes, and startled expression were illuminated faintly.

The corners of Bai Wenfu’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, spreading uncontrollably.

Ye Yun averted her gaze, lowering her head to continue washing clothes: “You’re not asleep?”

He leaned against the doorframe of the washroom, flicking his lighter absentmindedly: “Can’t sleep.”

Ye Yun lifted her eyes to the cracked round mirror on the wall. This scene felt like a flashback to the day they first met.

He wore a black leather jacket and jeans, his sharp, elongated eyes piercing and captivating. Back then, the无形的压迫感 (invisible pressure) he exuded made Ye Yun too afraid to look at him directly. Who could have imagined that, in the days to come, their lives would intertwine so deeply?

“Why did you come back late today?” Bai Wenfu toyed with the lighter, asking.

“There was a lot of work at the shop. From now on, I want to stay a little longer so Master Zhang can have an easier time.”

“Is that so?” He struck the lighter, and the flame leapt, casting eerie, dancing shadows on the washroom walls.

Her long lashes fluttered. Though she appeared alluring and delicate, there was an undeniable trace of vulnerability.

“Wenfu, I don’t have any other choice.”

Bai Wenfu pocketed the lighter, straightened up, and closed the washroom door. The moment he secured it with a wooden rod, Ye Yun’s heartbeat quickened involuntarily.

He moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her slender frame, resting his chin on her small shoulders as if trying to meld her into his body.

Her back pressed against his warm, steady heartbeat, her breathing faltered.

How could he not feel sorry for her? When she called him “Wenfu,” his heart softened immeasurably. If it weren’t for the fact that the person involved was his younger brother, he would never have let her endure such grievement.

He turned her around forcefully, his suppressed and taut desire like a wild beast breaking free.

The rhythmic sound of running water mingled with the enveloping darkness of the night. She trembled, clutching his leather jacket tightly as the zipper of his jeans was undone.

Her breath caught abruptly, her legs lifted unexpectedly, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to stifle any sound.

In Wenbin’s eyes, Bai Wenfu was the older brother he trusted most, the one he entrusted with his wife’s care before leaving. Regardless of the twists of fate or misunderstandings along the way, Bai Wenfu’s feelings for Ye Yun were genuine, as was his current desire to claim her as his own. Seeing Wenbin touch her was unbearable.

Though Bai Wenfu couldn’t stop Wenbin from waiting for her at the intersection, he couldn’t bear to see them walking side by side, arms brushing, or Wenbin draping a coat over her shoulders.

Once someone touched Bai Wenfu’s bottom line, his rationality shattered, unleashing a darker, more ruthless side he could no longer suppress.

Her rosy buds, the winding paths of intimacy, the swaying shadows—all were irresistible. How could he possibly let her go, even to his most beloved younger brother?

He knew she was avoiding conflict, doing everything to make life easier for everyone. She had no other options.

She had always been timid, traditional, and conservative. It had taken immense effort for him to pull her out of those constraints, only for her to retreat back into them now. He feared she might escape again. This time, it was just coming home late, but what about later? Would she leave this house, just as she had once tried to have her family take her back?

He lowered his head, pressing his lips against hers, simultaneously claiming her fiercely, taking her breath, her worries, her hesitation.

Ye Yun dared not make a sound. She lacked Bai Wenfu’s boldness; being with him outside the bedroom for the first time terrified her. Her heart pounded in her throat, her mind blank, her nerves stretched to the brink of fainting.

Yet her body reacted contrary to her thoughts. The dual assault of stimulation and fear pushed her to the edge of losing control.

The cold leather occasionally brushed against her skin, the hard metal buttons leaving marks on her tender, pale flesh.

With one hand gripping her waist and the other tilting her chin, he demanded: “Do you have feelings for me?”

Ye Yun’s tongue tingled from his kiss, her breath stolen. Her hair cascaded down, exuding an unintentional allure. She nodded faintly.

He lifted her entirely, seating her on his hips. Ye Yun clung tightly to his shoulders.

His deep-set eyes held her fully, pulling her deeper, faster, until she shattered completely.

What societal norms, what propriety, what moral constraints—all were crushed and obliterated by him.

This untamed version of him, like a hurricane, wild and unrestrained, dragged her into the depths repeatedly until she surrendered entirely.

In the washroom stood a small wooden stool. When Bai Wenfu placed Ye Yun on it, she was still dazed, unable to detach herself from the intensity of the experience.

He walked to the sink, bending down to finish washing her clothes—delicate undergarments. Ye Yun’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t stop him, her gaze soft and lingering on his back.

Moonlight seeped through the cracks in the door, casting a comforting glow on his broad silhouette. Ye Yun stood up, her body feeling as though it had melted, weak and unsteady. She moved behind Bai Wenfu, wrapping her slender arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his back.

Bai Wenfu paused momentarily, a faint smirk tugging at his lips: “Comfortable now?”

Ye Yun turned her neck, burying her face entirely into his back.

Bai Wenfu wrung out the clothes, turned around, and held her close for a while longer before gathering her hair neatly. He handed her the basin: “Go back first.”

Ye Yun nodded. Bai Wenfu opened the washroom door, and she peeked out cautiously. Seeing no one, she carried the basin back inside.

The living room light was still on. She pushed open the door and stepped in. Wenbin stood by the table pouring water.

Their eyes met briefly, and Ye Yun’s heart lurched. Her fingers tightened unconsciously around the basin.

“Where did you go?” Wenbin’s eyes bore into her, carrying a hint of suspicion.

Ye Yun lifted the basin slightly: “To wash clothes.”

Wenbin leaned out to glance outside: “Did you see Brother?”

Ye Yun avoided his gaze and walked toward the room: “No, I didn’t.”

She entered Tong Mingfang’s room, closing the door behind her. Leaning against it, her body went limp, and she breathed softly.

By the time Bai Wenfu returned home, the living room was empty. On the stool by his door lay the money Wenbin had left for him.