Chapter 1: Old Dreams

The rainy season in Baicheng was very long.

There was a shortcut home. After leaving school, one had to pass through an alley first. The eaves were still dripping water, and the ground was wet. If one was unlucky enough to step on a broken brick, both shoes and pants would be ruined.

Turning the corner, Qing Hang suddenly stopped. Not far away, two people stood close together, talking. Laughter occasionally drifted over.

He had seen Cheng Wanyue that morning before class. She was wearing a very short pleated skirt today, with matching long socks that only reached just below her knees. The exposed skin on the back of her thighs bore obvious red marks from mosquito bites.

Qing Hang pressed his lower lip tightly, his delicate features showing little emotion. He lowered the umbrella brim to block out the sight of the two, then turned around to take another route.

“Qing Hang!”

She had still noticed him.

“I sprained my ankle. Can you help me?” She spoke as if it was only natural to ask, but there was an unmistakable tone of coquettishness and intimacy in her voice.

With his back to them, Qing Hang heard her dismiss the boy from the sports class. The boy was reluctant, wanting to escort her home, but she brushed him off after a few words, clearly impatient.

“Don’t bother. Qing Hang will take me home.”

Cheng Wanyue sent the boy away. The school uniform that had been draped over her arm was now spread on the stone bench. She leaned against the wall and sat down, calling out ‘Qing Hang’ repeatedly—sometimes pitifully, sometimes angrily, and sometimes with a hint of grievance.

Even from several meters away, Qing Hang’s heart fluctuated with her changing tones. She always teased and played with him without any sense of restraint, only to discard him like an old shoe once she got what she wanted. When she thought of him again, she would set up a trap effortlessly, waiting for him to fall into it once more.

He knew all too well, yet he still fell into her traps.

He reminded himself again and again to stay hidden, not letting her see through him, or else she would gloat. But by the time he realized it, he was already standing in front of her.

The narrow, dim alley couldn’t conceal the bright smile in her eyes.

She had won again.

“It really hurts a lot. I’m not lying.”

“Where did you sprain it?”

She raised her hand and pointed carelessly ahead. “Right at the steps. I even heard my bones crack.”

Qing Hang handed her the umbrella, silently crouched halfway, and grasped her lightly swaying foot suspended in the air. Through her sock, he couldn’t feel much, but no matter where he touched, she cried out in pain.

“You carry me,” she said, unable to walk a single step.

Qing Hang slung his backpack around his neck, took off his school uniform jacket, and tied the sleeves around her waist. Turning his back to her, he squatted down. Her body was so soft that when she leaned on his back, he even worried that his bones might bruise her.

She held the umbrella while a drop of rain landed on his forehead, making him instantly alert. Carrying her, he stood up and grabbed the school uniform from the stone bench so his hands wouldn’t directly touch her skin. However, the warmth of her body still heated his ears as it pressed against his back.

Cheng Wanyue rested her head on his shoulder. “I want to go to your place. My parents are working overtime and won’t be back until late. Cheng Yanqing went out to play right after school, so I’d be alone at home anyway.”

The hem of her skirt softly brushed against his wrist, causing a slight itch. Qing Hang didn’t say anything but changed direction and headed home.

“I waited for so long. Why did you take so long? That academic committee member in your class is so annoying. She’s always asking you questions at school and even delaying you after school. Can’t she ask the teacher instead? Qing Hang, you’re not allowed to like her.”

“She’s just a classmate. I won’t like her,” Qing Hang couldn’t help but ask, “What did he say to you just now?”

“He said he had the answers to the test papers. Who would copy from the answers? So stupid,” Cheng Wanyue tightened her grip around his neck. “And besides, I have you. I don’t need the answers.”

She could clearly feel the shift in Qing Hang’s emotions after she said this. He wasn’t as cold as before.

Qing Hang carried Cheng Wanyue home and went straight into the bedroom, placing her on the lounge chair by the window.

Grandpa had returned to the village, so only the two of them were at home.

Cheng Wanyue wasn’t visiting for the first time. She came frequently. Qing Hang’s room was neat and clean, just like him.

Qing Hang left and came back with a bottle of safflower oil. Naturally, Cheng Wanyue lifted her injured foot and placed it on his leg. He first removed her shoe, then her sock. Her foot looked small cradled in his palm.

He poured some safflower oil into his hand and wrapped his palm around her ankle.

Even though he was being extremely gentle, she still let out a soft cry of pain. The air was humid and stifling. She was the one who had sprained her ankle, yet he was the one drenched in sweat.

Finally finished, Qing Hang let out a sigh of relief and went outside to wash his hands.

Cheng Wanyue looked down at her foot. When he returned to the room with a glass of water, she sat up properly. “The lounge chair is so hard. It hurts my butt.”

“Go sit on the bed.”

“How am I supposed to go like this?”

She lightly swung one leg over the armrest of the lounge chair. After taking off her socks, her pale toes gleamed with a delicate luster. Qing Hang averted his gaze and placed the glass of water in front of her before squatting down.

“You need to carry me. It’s uncomfortable on my back.”

Qing Hang said, “It’s just two steps.”

“But I still want you to carry me,” she extended a finger and gently poked his arm. “Are you saying you can’t carry me?”

After struggling for less than three seconds, he conceded. Facing her, he allowed her to stand on one foot while holding tightly onto his neck. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her as she jumped onto him, causing him to sway slightly. Fearing she might fall, she tightly wrapped her legs around his waist.

The softness beneath her thin blouse pressed against him unexpectedly, and her fragrance stealthily seeped into his pores. Though there were only two steps between the lounge chair and the bed, Qing Hang found himself unable to take even a single step.

Her short skirt was practically useless, barely concealing the awkward physiological reaction of the young man.

A faint sound came from nearby, as if something had rolled onto the floor.

Qing Hang didn’t have the extra energy to check what it was until Cheng Wanyue whispered that a button from her blouse had popped off. As she spoke, her warm breath brushed against his neck, her lips grazing his earlobe. He wondered if she noticed his abnormally high body temperature.

Cheng Wanyue looked down beneath the lounge chair, but the button seemed to have rolled away somewhere. Qing Hang remained standing, unmoving.

Feeling as though she might fall, she clung tightly to his neck and softly urged, “Why aren’t you moving? A button from my blouse fell off.”

Qing Hang snapped out of his daze and stiffly carried Cheng Wanyue to the bed, sitting her down. Just those two steps nearly exposed his shameful physiological reaction. Fortunately, the room was dimly lit.

The fine rain carried humid heat as it blew in, making the air stifling.

With the button undone, her creamy white cotton undershirt was revealed. Her slender body showed a noticeable curve at her chest when viewed from the side.

He had touched her before.

On that rainy day, in the alley near the Cheng residence, he had kissed her and touched her.

He thought it would scare her away.

A second before she looked up, Qing Hang hastily averted his eyes. This was his own room, yet he felt uneasy, turning around once before squatting down to look for the button.

Cheng Wanyue lay on the pillow watching him. “Can you see it? Turn on the light.”

Qing Hang responded quietly, “I can see it.”

His features were refined, and he always maintained a composed demeanor in front of others. Even when people said harsh things to his face, he rarely reacted strongly.

The lounge chair was low, so he knelt on one knee to peer underneath. Her school uniform jacket, crumpled into a ball, lay on the lounge chair. Wearing only his short-sleeved school uniform shirt, his body was bent low, one hand reaching under the chair to feel for the button. This position made the bones of his back protrude; his youthful frame was lean yet carried an underlying strength.

Cheng Wanyue noticed the sweat glistening on the back of his neck. How could he be sweating so much? Was she really that heavy?

Her gaze traveled upward, stopping at his ear beneath his short hair.

So red.

“I found it,” Qing Hang stood up holding the button, wiping off the dust.

“Just put it on the table for now,” Cheng Wanyue casually pointed to a spot. With her fishbone braid, she looked every bit the obedient, good student. “Qing Hang, do you like me?”

The young man froze, lowering his head to avoid her straightforward gaze, almost fleeing in panic. “I’ll go get you something to eat...”

“Stop...”

Just as Qing Hang reached the door, he heard a coquettish cry from behind.

“It hurts so much!”

He knew she was doing it on purpose, yet instinctively turned back. The girl stood barefoot on the ground, her eyes red, as if tears were about to spill over. In a few quick steps, he returned to the bedside, helping her sit back on the bed. Lifting her T-shirt, he wiped the dust off her feet.

She was ticklish, and when she curled her toes, they brushed against his waist.

The grip on her ankle suddenly tightened, eliciting an exaggerated gasp from her. Concerned and worried, he leaned closer, but she suddenly smiled and kissed his jaw.

Too close.

He could clearly see his reflection in her eyes.

As he leaned in to kiss her, Cheng Wanyue supported herself on the bedding, leaning her body back. “You have to say you like me before you can kiss me.”

Qing Hang was bewitched, fully aware that this kiss was just bait, yet he still fell into her trap.

“I like you. I like you a lot.”

Hearing the satisfactory answer, her eyes sparkled with radiant laughter, her giggles swallowed by his eager, clumsy kiss. Only faint pants remained, very faint.

Unable to bear the weight of both their bodies, her elbow buckled, and she collapsed onto the bed. His hot body quickly drew near, and as she opened her mouth to speak, his tongue slipped in. The awkward kiss turned fierce, like an angry young beast. The hunter mocked his youthful ignorance, lack of technique, and inability to please, possessing only brute strength. Stimulated, he burst out of the trap, attempting to attack with claws and teeth, biting and gnawing until he turned her into his prey.

Because he knew that if she spoke, it would surely be mockery. She was clever, and after the previous experience, she wouldn’t panic again. With revenge in mind, she intended to embarrass him further.

Cheng Wanyue bit him and took the opportunity to turn her head and catch her breath, glaring at him with a coy expression. “Do you want to eat me alive?”

Her eyes shimmered with moisture, and her voice was flirtatious. Just as Qing Hang relaxed, thinking she wasn’t going to mock him, she suddenly pushed him down and straddled him.

To his astonishment, she pulled down his pants.

“Cheng Wanyue!”

“Shh, keep it down,” not only did she not restrain herself, but her mischievous hands reached for the last bit of covering on his lower body. “That’s what you get for using force on me last time. Did you think I was that easy to bully?”

Her bold actions trampled all over Qing Hang’s sense of shame, yet his physiological response intensified. His breathing grew rapid, his face flushed red. His rational mind told him to stop her, but his body hoped she would go further.

Cheng Wanyue had heard from others that these things were mostly ugly, dark, and some even disgusting.

“Qing Hang, why is it... pink?”

Cheng Wanyue knelt astride the boy, her legs spread on either side of his body, one hand braced against his abdomen as she leaned down. The warmth of her breath brushed against his skin as she drew closer.

At first, it had been just a soft, limp thing, but now, freed from the confines of his underwear, it stood stiffly before her eyes. It wasn’t ugly at all—even the rounded tip bore a tender, fleshy pink hue, trembling slightly like a living creature as a drop of sticky fluid seeped out.

She caught the scent of desire.

That scent mingled with the rain-soaked earthiness carried in by the wind, damp yet fervent, urging her to begin a game meant to tease and torment him.

Cheng Wanyue reached out a finger and lightly touched it. She couldn’t quite describe the sensation. Her face was so close that her lips—still red and glistening from their earlier kisses—parted slightly in surprise as she realized it could grow even larger. The way her mouth opened and closed almost made it seem like she was about to take him in.

The boy’s delicate face flushed crimson, his body’s uncontrollable reaction laid bare. The shame surging inside him threatened to crush his pride entirely. He could have resisted—just a little force would have been enough to stop her mischief, to kick her out of his house. So what if it was raining? She had plenty of friends who’d come running at her call.

Yet he did nothing, letting her wreak havoc as she pleased.

A wicked thought crossed her mind. She suddenly dragged a fingernail along the sensitive ridge, and his body arched violently before collapsing back onto the bed. A ragged, desperate gasp escaped his throat, the corners of his eyes reddening.

He seemed to be enjoying it.

But she wasn’t here to make him feel good.

That day in the alley, Qing Hang had shoved her against the wall, her back slamming into the hard surface. He had bitten down on her fiercely, his hands gripping her waist—never slipping beneath her clothes, but the way he ground against her through the fabric had been relentless, each thrust heavier than the last. When she got home and locked her door, lifting her skirt to check, she found the inside of her thighs red and raw, burning at the slightest touch.

He had been as fierce as a blade then, yet now, in her grasp, he was utterly vulnerable.

Right now, he’d probably beg her without hesitation if she asked.

She was the moon hanging in the sky, a rose glistening with dew—willful and proud. Qing Hang had expected her to look down on him with disdain, to coldly declare it “ugly” or “disgusting.” A single word from her would have been enough to strip his dignity bare and trample it into the dirt.

But she didn’t.

When one hand couldn’t fully grasp it, she let go and didn’t continue. Instead, she tugged his sweatpants back up and moved to climb off him, showing not the slightest reluctance.

“What’s wrong?”

She noticed the dazed look in his eyes. In this vulnerable position, his expression seemed almost... aggrieved.

This was clearly what she wanted. Having achieved her goal, she smiled, her beautiful eyes glinting with mischief.

“Want me to keep going? Then tell me what to do. Should I touch it? Or kiss it? Qing Hang, say it out loud, and I’ll consider giving you what you want. Just like when you said you liked me earlier...”

Before she could finish, the boy’s slender waist surged upward with a force that startled her, throwing her off balance. She nearly tumbled off the bed.

Luckily, he caught her leg in a tight grip.

His fingers dug in hard, the veins on the back of his hand bulging as he yanked her down onto the pillows. She let out a cry as her raised calf was seized, his grip leaving red marks on her fair skin.

His scorching body pressed over her, blocking out the light from the window—but nothing could hide the feverish desire in his eyes.

Pouting, she complained, “You only know how to bully me with your strength.”

Qing Hang gripped her shoulders. “Cheng Wanyue, you started this!”

And it was true. Every time, it was her who initiated—ignoring him, provoking him, taunting him, only to flash a sweet, coaxing smile once he took the bait.

Cheng Wanyue still wasn’t satisfied. She wanted him even angrier. But before she could speak, he flipped her onto her stomach.

“Don’t say another word.”

Her face was buried in the pillow, so she couldn’t see his expression, but those few words alone painted a vivid picture of his flustered rage.

The buttons of her blouse were undone, the sleeves pushed down to her elbows and used to bind her squirming hands behind her back.

Her skirt was already bunched around her waist, leaving her bottom bare. Qing Hang’s sweat-slicked chest pressed tightly against her. He didn’t know how to unhook her bra, so his hand slipped beneath the fabric instead, fingers closing around the soft swell of her breast. The moment he touched her, heat surged straight to his head. Overwhelmed by instinct, he kneaded the tender flesh in his palm, his rough handling drawing a moan from her lips.

The sweet, delicate sound shot straight to his ears like sparks from a firework, threatening to set him ablaze.

But she refused to let him have his way. The more he tried to silence her, the more she taunted him with humiliating words.

“My mouth is mine to control. If you don’t want to hear me, then find a way to stop me. Do you like groping me that much? Ah—! You’re hurting me, be gentler...”

Her words were cut off as his mouth crashed onto hers, his tongue plunging inside, hot and demanding. He kissed her as though he wanted to devour her whole, leaving no room for mockery. Dizzy from lack of air, her body went limp, all resistance melting away. Only then did he release her bruised lips, trailing scorching kisses down her jaw, her neck, her shoulders, the nape of her neck.

She was boneless beneath him, her head lolling to the side as she panted weakly. Her white cotton panties were damp with arousal, and the hardness she’d teased earlier now pressed insistently against her, separated only by that thin layer of fabric. Oblivious to the danger, she kept whimpering, her breathy little sounds driving him past reason.

All he wanted was to thrust into her, to make her cry out, to punish her until she never dared to tease him again. Driven by instinct, he rutted against her, seeking relief from the relentless hunger inside him.

But it wasn’t enough.

Remembering how good her soft hand had felt around him, he ignored his shame and freed one of her hands from its bindings. Gripping her waist, he flipped her onto her back—only to find her tear-streaked face flushed beyond recognition, her eyes hazy with want.

The sight made his throat tighten.

She was a spoiled princess who enjoyed seeing others show weakness before her. If he pleaded, “Yueyue, help me,” she would bestow pleasure upon him like a charity. But he wouldn’t. He stubbornly resisted, silently guiding her hand from his waist down. She snapped out of her suffocating discomfort, regaining some energy, and tightly closed her fingers around him, a smug chuckle escaping her lips at his stifled groan.

She flicked her tongue against his Adam’s apple, waiting for him to beg.

Her eyes said: Beg me, Qing Hang, beg me, and I’ll make you feel good.

Her slightly raised body was forcefully pressed back into the bedding. Qing Hang’s tongue tangled fiercely with hers, and she tasted blood in her mouth as his hips thrust his erect penis into her hand.

The rain grew heavier, a violent storm of wind and lightning raged, as if trying to tear the roof off.

Their gasps for breath mingled in the humid air, his lower body’s movements becoming increasingly unrestrained, sweat dripping from his jaw onto her face.

Cheng Wanyue was far less physically strong than him. In the fading light, he watched her exhaust herself, revealing a pitiful vulnerability. She unconsciously swallowed his saliva, her body relaxing as he took liberties, the swelling ecstasy about to explode.

A flash of white light washed over the last vestige of his self-control. He could no longer hold back, burying himself in her sweat-drenched neck and letting out a guttural roar of release.

...

Qing Hang abruptly opened his eyes. The space beside him was empty. Outside the window, the sky was turning white, and torrential rain had ripped a gash in the sky, as if to submerge the city.

The lingering warmth and dampness in the blanket reminded him that the girl’s charming laughter and the pleasure of their intertwined bodies had only been a dream.

Eight years.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had such an absurd dream. In his dreams, he was still the student sponsored by the Cheng family, barely considered a friend by the Cheng siblings. Everyone, both at school and outside, believed it.

So Cheng Wanyue had easily dumped him, unbeknownst to anyone.

When old classmates he hadn’t seen in a long time mentioned him again, they would at most sigh and say: He used the Cheng family to get out of their small town, yet he was utterly ungrateful, cutting off contact and abandoning the past to thrive in a big city – selfish and ruthless.

He had surgery this afternoon. Qing Hang had woken up too early. After washing away the sticky sweat in the bathroom, he stood by the window smoking. The heavy rain showed no sign of stopping.

Only the sound of rain filled his ears. The tobacco briefly soothed the agitation in his body, and he thought of that dream again, so real yet so unattainable.

Eight years ago, that rain had trapped Cheng Wanyue in that dilapidated courtyard. She slept in his bed, and he stood guard outside all night. The rain hadn’t lessened by the next morning. He had ridiculously thought that his all-night prayers had been answered. He hoped the rain wouldn’t stop, would last longer. She hated getting her clothes and shoes dirty with mud, so even if she found his house boring, she would stay a little longer.

But the one trapped in that rain, unable to escape, was him.