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Even when drunk, Qing Hang’s hardened heart melted like water in front of Cheng Wan Yue.
He would say he missed her and constantly wanted to kiss her.
During the hour-long car ride, he sat in the passenger seat, his eyes never leaving Cheng Wan Yue.
He was afraid she’d leave or disappear in the blink of an eye. No matter what she did, he followed her—even when she boiled water, he stood beside her. First, he held her hand, then hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.
Without air conditioning in the kitchen and living room, Cheng Wan Yue broke into a sweat while helping Qing Hang upstairs. His body radiated heat, a restless warmth seeping through his clothes.
When the water boiled, she gently pushed him, but the arm around her waist tightened.
Cheng Wan Yue nearly collapsed onto the counter under his weight. Struggling to support both their bodies, she thought he was unstable. But the next moment, he carried her into the bedroom.
“Aren’t you thirsty?”
“No,” Qing Hang nuzzled her nape. “It’s so hot. Why aren’t you taking off your clothes?”
Cheng Wan Yue: “….”
What difference did it make whether she wore them or not? He hadn’t left any part untouched. Outside, he greeted neighbors normally, but once the door closed, his true nature emerged.
“You go first,” she said, since they’d shower later. “Only take off your shirt. No pants.”
Qing Hang crossed his hands, lifted his T-shirt over his head, and tossed it aside. “Now you.”
“I only have one layer on. That puts me at a disadvantage,” Cheng Wan Yue teased, looking at the scratch marks on his chest—their color seemed darker than in the afternoon. She coughed twice. “Unless you let me touch you… Hmm, once isn’t enough. I want to touch more.”
Why not take advantage?
Even after their intimate encounter at the hotel earlier, Qing Hang rarely let her touch him. But if he always held her wrists, she’d get upset. Not wanting it to end too soon, their first time had been from behind.
Which was why, during their late-night snack, she could only sit on a cushion.
“Someone told me that drunk men can’t get hard. Let’s see if it’s true,” Cheng Wan Yue said. According to her friends, most men who used drunkenness as an excuse to sleep with someone were faking it and didn’t want to take responsibility.
Qing Hang prepared to go to the bathroom. “I’m not drunk.”
“What you say doesn’t count.” Cheng Wan Yue straddled his lap, leaning close, then pulling away.
Her breath against his chest caused his body to react. She saw his nipples tremble slightly.
Her fingers traced down from his Adam’s apple, outlining the contours of his abs. Even before she touched him fully, he was already hard, though his lower half remained restrained. Even sober, he had remarkable self-control.
Cheng Wan Yue ran to the living room for her phone and quickly returned to the bedroom. The light illuminated a fine layer of sweat on his forehead. His gaze wasn’t as cold as usual; the alcohol, amplified by the heat, created a hazy mist over the simmering passion beneath.
“Don’t think I’m bullying you,” she said, feigning confidence despite her guilt. “For every question you answer, I’ll either touch where you want me to or give you a two-minute kiss. Fair trade, no losses.”
Once he nodded, Cheng Wan Yue opened his WeChat and pressed the voice message button.
“Qing Hang, besides your grandpa, who do you love the most?”
He replied, “Cheng Wan Yue.”
“Correct answer.” She knelt, shifting closer on her knees. “Do you want me to touch you, or do you prefer a kiss?”
Qing Hang hooked her finger. “Both.”
“Nope, you can only choose one.”
“I choose to take off your clothes.”
“And here you are inventing answers,” Cheng Wan Yue teased outwardly but laughed inwardly. She doubted he’d remain calm once she removed her clothes. “Fine, go ahead. But I won’t help you. You can only undress me, no touching.”
“Okay.”
Qing Hang remembered the zippers were at the back, both on the waist and dress. Cheng Wan Yue’s figure-hugging dress was easy to remove—just a little cooperation, and it would slide off naturally.
The dress was black, as was her lingerie.
The marks on her body rivaled his own.
Qing Hang even recalled the exact pressure he’d used to leave the hickey along the edge of her bra—and another one about two centimeters lower.
Cheng Wan Yue knelt on the bed, letting him look at her freely. She continued with her second question: “Besides your grandpa, who has been kindest to you?”
Without hesitation, Qing Hang answered as before: “Cheng Wan Yue.”
“Reward: a kiss.” Cheng Wan Yue wrapped her arms around his neck, intending only a peck. But before her lips could touch his, he pulled her onto his lap.
A shallow kiss deepened, straining her neck.
Even when she forcibly broke free, he didn’t stop.
Her short hair prickled against her skin, causing an itch. As she leaned back, nearly falling, he caught her in his arms. His kisses started at her cheek, gradually approaching the hickey.
Cheng Wan Yue enjoyed his kisses too much to mind his small transgressions. “Qing Hang, who has treated you the worst?”
This time, after a long pause, he finally spoke: “Cheng Wan Yue.”
Cheng Wan Yue: ?
Retract.
Cheng Wan Yue retracted the voice message and tossed her phone aside. “How have I treated you badly? Tell me clearly! When did I ever mistreat you?”
“You ignore me, but you smile at them.”
“It’s because you argued with me that I ignored you. I naturally smile a lot. Even at cats and dogs, I smile when I’m happy. Qing Hang, you’re not some psychopath who enjoys seeing me cry, are you?”
Back then, their arguments were frequent. Cheng Wan Yue’s words cut deep, and Qing Hang often remained silent, leading to unresolved conflicts.
He said, “No matter who you are, I love you.”
Cheng Wan Yue thought to herself: Drinking isn’t all bad.
Just as she was about to ask more questions, Qing Hang wasn’t so easily fooled. “First, redeem your three questions.”
With actions rather than words, the hand on her waist moved upward, unhooking her bra. Before the straps slid off her shoulders, he bit the lace, tearing it away. Then, his tongue curled around the rosy tip, drawing it into his mouth along with the soft flesh.
The other side fell into his palm.
Cheng Wan Yue’s breathing grew heavier, her voice changing pitch. The lingering alcohol in his mouth seemed to seep into her skin through the wet heat of his saliva, causing a slight warmth.
She gripped his short hair, pushing him away slightly. The haze of desire in her eyes hadn’t yet faded.
Cheng Wan Yue knew he was drunk. “I told you on the phone that I was sick. Why didn’t you come to see me?”
Qing Hang nestled in the crook of her neck, his hand resting on her chest slowly slipping down. First, it brushed against her pinky finger, then wrapped around her knuckles, and finally closed gently around her hand. His voice was low and husky. “You lied to me.”
A flurry of soft kisses rained down on her skin, leaving Cheng Wan Yue dazed. It wasn’t until he bit her lightly that she snapped back to reality.
If they didn’t take a shower soon, he might just fall asleep holding her like this.
This was Cheng Wan Yue’s first time taking care of someone who was drunk, so she was clumsy. She barely managed to get Qing Hang onto the bed but lacked the energy to dress him again. In the end, neither of them wore clothes.
She thought he had fallen deeply asleep, but suddenly, he opened his eyes. They shared a single pillow, their faces close together.
“Cheng Wan Yue.”
“Why don’t you want me?”
“You little thief, you stole eight years from us.”
She couldn’t answer.
The same moon looked different every night.
________________________________________
Early in the morning, Qing Hang woke up right on schedule to make breakfast for Cheng Wan Yue. He didn’t even need an alarm clock—getting up early wasn’t difficult for him.
After calling her twice, all she did was roll over, showing no intention of getting out of bed.
Qing Hang sat by the edge of the bed for a while, his hand tracing along her ankle and sliding under the covers. Ticklish, she instinctively tried to pull away, but he pulled her out of the blankets.
She kicked at him with her legs, but he caught her ankle and kissed it. As she struggled to free herself, he pushed higher.
Her body awakened before her mind. Cheng Wan Yue tilted her neck back, then let it fall forward as hoarse moans escaped her throat. The pressure hit a sensitive spot, bringing waves of pleasure too intense to bear. Her nerves trembled, and the sheets crumpled beneath her clenched fists.
“Be quieter,” he whispered.
“I won’t,” she replied defiantly.
Qing Hang leaned down to kiss her damp, tear-filled eyes, each kiss growing deeper. “I can’t be late.”
“So hurry up if you’re capable,” Cheng Wan Yue retaliated by biting him.
Her overly stimulated passage began contracting wildly, and her disoriented expression fueled a sense of sadism within him. He became fiercer, scattering her cries into fragments.
She struggled to escape but was dragged down further by desire. Within minutes, she reached climax, sobbing softly.
He panted against her lips. “Who came first?”
Even in her scattered state, Cheng Wan Yue felt a bit embarrassed. “If you’ve got the guts, don’t finish inside.”
There wasn’t much time, so Qing Hang didn’t hold back intentionally.
When he woke, everything was fresh and clear. Afterward, his sweat-soaked body gradually calmed, his racing heartbeat slowing. His kisses grew tender, smoothing down her unruly hair and massaging her sore lower back.
Hungry and half-dazed, she mumbled, asking what they’d have for breakfast.
He saw a glimpse of their future.
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