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Psst! We're moving!
Shen Yihuan was pulled into the apartment elevator by him.
She even forgot to resist, too surprised—Lu Zhou lived in the same complex where they had cohabited before.
Shen Yihuan didn’t live in the high school dorms; she stayed here for all three years. Back then, it wasn’t cohabitation; Lu Zhou would just sometimes come to stay with her. Their actual cohabitation began after the college entrance exam.
Her thoughts drifted. With a “beep,” the password lock opened, and she was dragged into the apartment.
It was incredibly familiar, still arranged the same way as back then. Besides being much neater, all the furniture was placed identically.
It was as if she had suddenly time-traveled back three years.
“Look at me.”
A deep voice came from above. Lu Zhou pinched her chin, turning the head of the girl who was looking around the room.
He was really too good to her.
Even in this situation, she didn’t show the slightest fear.
She must be determined to have him completely under her thumb.
Shen Yihuan’s chin was clamped, a strong grip that squeezed her bones. She could only obediently look into Lu Zhou’s eyes.
She was pressed against the wall, her head hitting something. With a “snap,” the lights suddenly brightened, illuminating the fire in Lu Zhou’s eyes even more clearly.
Unable to adjust to the sudden light source, Shen Yihuan squinted slightly.
The familiar, overwhelming, oppressive scent of Lu Zhou made her heart race.
She couldn’t see clearly, only feeling Lu Zhou lean down, his lips close to her ear.
His breathing was heavy, warm air brushing against her ear.
He spoke, his voice incredibly hoarse.
“Will you do it with me?”
Shen Yihuan’s eyes widened in confusion. The light from the fluorescent lamp finally sharpened from blurry circles, and her vision returned, adjusting to the brightness.
Only then did she realize that Lu Zhou’s knees were somehow already positioned between her legs.
His hair was cut very short, looking prickly, buried against her neck.
Shen Yihuan was afraid he would suddenly get sick and bite her neck again, so she instinctively moved to the side. Lu Zhou followed closely, his chin resting on her collarbone, his warm lips pressing against her clothes.
Because of her neck allergy, she wore a short-sleeved top with a sheer neckline, which happened to cover the red marks.
Lu Zhou’s movement pressed the slightly rough sheer fabric tightly against her skin, carrying the burning warmth of his lips, clinging to her body.
“Lu, Lu Zhou...” Shen Yihuan grabbed his wrist, helpless. “Don’t.”
He ignored her.
He simply opened his mouth slightly, his teeth gently gripping the delicate skin on the side of her neck. Through the sheer fabric, his movements were fierce, his lips soft and delicate as they wrapped around that skin, sucking back and forth.
Shen Yihuan instantly lost her footing.
She had no idea how things were getting more and more out of control.
Although she regretted breaking up with Lu Zhou and didn’t like his current coldness towards her, wasn’t jumping to this step a bit too fast?
Suddenly, the warmth and weight on her body vanished.
Lu Zhou straightened up, quickly moved away from her, and walked into the bathroom.
He emerged quickly, his face wet, water droplets trailing down his facial contours, gathering at his chin, and falling onto his light-colored clothes, immediately creating a round wet mark.
He probably just washed his face; he wouldn’t have finished that quickly by himself.
Shen Yihuan thought, her face flushed and her heart pounding, still standing by the wall.
Lu Zhou pulled out two paper towels to wipe his face, threw them into the trash can, and glanced at her. “What do you want to eat?”
Shen Yihuan: “?”
What kind of turn was this?
Had it suddenly switched from an 18+ channel to a children’s channel?
She licked her lips and touched her shoulder. “Anything is fine.”
The kitchen was very clean. There weren’t many things in the refrigerator, just a small amount of vegetables.
Lu Zhou stood at the counter, his back to Shen Yihuan. She could see the prominent shoulder blades and inverted triangle of the man’s back. Water still clung to the hair on both sides of his head. The knuckles of the hand holding the knife were distinct, slightly pale.
“Do you need help?” She walked over to his side.
Lu Zhou finished cutting the greens, drained them, and placed them on another plate. “Move.”
“...” Shen Yihuan took a step back.
Lu Zhou opened the cabinet where she had been standing, took out a bowl, and rinsed it.
“What are you making?”
“Porridge.”
Shen Yihuan rubbed her nose and hummed in acknowledgment.
She had eaten Lu Zhou’s cooking before. She knew that when he was young, his father’s job had him assigned to another province. At that time, he was still very small, and there was no stepmother. His father hadn’t hired a cook to take care of Lu Zhou, so during that period, he had to figure out how to cook by himself.
His academic prowess wasn’t limited to studying; he was quick to learn many other things too.
And his cooking was delicious.
________________________________________
Lu Zhou cooked a bowl of millet porridge, seasoned with a little green vegetable and minced meat. When he opened the rice cooker, white steam billowed out, and the aroma of the porridge wafted through the air.
He scooped a bowl, grabbed a spoon, and walked out of the kitchen to the dining table in the living room.
“Come eat.”
Shen Yihuan followed. The porridge was steaming hot. She scooped a spoonful, then looked up and asked, “Aren’t you eating?”
“Not hungry.”
Lu Zhou sat on the other sofa, leaning back casually, a cigarette between his fingers. He cupped his hand to light it. The pale smoke from the cigarette intertwined with the white steam from the hot porridge.
Shen Yihuan couldn’t see his features clearly.
She just felt that he seemed somewhat lonely.
She was lost in thought, then put a spoonful into her mouth. “Ah... so hot.”
Her whole face crinkled from the heat, and she fanned her mouth with her hand.
Lu Zhou got up, poured her a glass of cold water, and placed it in front of her. The scent of smoke from him approached, then quickly drifted away.
“Why are you still living here?” she asked.
“Bought it before.”
He straightened up, tapping the ash from his cigarette near the trash can.
“...When did you buy it?”
“Don’t remember.”
Shen Yihuan slumped dejectedly onto the table. The porridge had cooled down enough. She ate it slowly, spoonful by spoonful, finally sighing and saying, “Why did you bring me to your place?”
“Weren’t you the one who wanted to come?”
Shen Yihuan thought about it. It seemed she had provoked him first, but wasn’t it clearly him who reacted so intensely and dragged her home?
She was so lost in thought that she accidentally pressed the spoon against the side of the bowl. The bowl tilted, instantly spilling onto her.
“Ah.”
Lu Zhou frowned, immediately stood up, pushed the spilled porridge to the center of the table with a newspaper, and pulled Shen Yihuan aside with swift speed. He frowned and asked, “Did it scald you?”
“No,” Shen Yihuan shook her head, lifting her clothes. “It’s dirty.”
Lu Zhou pulled her into the bedroom, picked out a short-sleeved shirt from the closet for her, and then silently went out, closing the door behind him.
Tsk.
Why did he seem to be getting angrier and angrier?
Shen Yihuan couldn’t understand. They had broken the ice several times, yet Lu Zhou still refused to engage with her.
He wasn’t actually someone who would deliberately cold-shoulder people. It was just his inherent aura of “do not approach” that made people perceive him as aloof.
When students asked him questions in school, Lu Zhou would always teach them patiently, never like this.
It felt like a deliberate snub.
Shen Yihuan took off her own clothes, threw them into the washing machine in the bathroom, and put on Lu Zhou’s black short-sleeved shirt.
His clothes were very large; on Shen Yihuan, it almost served as a dress.
Before long, the washing machine stopped its noise. She took out her wet clothes and found a bag to put them in.
When she came out again, the dining table was clean, and Lu Zhou was no longer in the living room.
Shen Yihuan found him in the kitchen. Another bowl of freshly served porridge was on the counter. She walked over, picked it up directly, and finished the bowl.
“I’ll wash the dishes,” Shen Yihuan said.
Lu Zhou turned his head to look at her, then his pupils suddenly constricted. His expression quickly turned somber, violent, and sinister.
Before she could react, her arm was violently yanked, and her slender, delicate neck was gripped by his hot palm, the web of his thumb and forefinger tightening, tightening.
From initial confusion to a growing sense of terrifying suffocation.
“Lu Zhou! Cough, cough, Lu Zhou!” she coughed and screamed, haphazardly kicking and hitting him. “What are you doing?!!”
The suffocating pressure, unusually, heightened Shen Yihuan’s intelligence. She realized the reason for Lu Zhou’s rage—after she changed into Lu Zhou’s short-sleeved shirt, the red marks on her neck were exposed.
Did he think... they were hickeys?
The next second, the force gripping her neck suddenly released.
Shen Yihuan took a deep breath, a large amount of air rushing into her nearly depleted lungs. Before she could cough, she was fiercely kissed on the lips by Lu Zhou.
His movements were rough and heavy, biting her tongue and taking forcefully.
She felt as if she had just emerged from suffocation only to be enveloped by it once again.
Shen Yihuan wrapped her arms around his back, her fingers tangled in his hair, passively accepting his assault.
When he pulled away, his eyes were bloodshot. Shen Yihuan was startled and immediately pointed to her neck, explaining, “No, these aren’t hickeys. Look closely.”
Lu Zhou pressed her against the kitchen counter, his hands braced on the surface. At her words, his brows twitched slightly, and his burning gaze fell on her fair neck.
They indeed didn’t look like hickeys.
There were no hickey-like blood vessels, nor the mottled blood marks that appear when capillaries burst.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
Shen Yihuan felt wronged, struggling against his restraint. “Let go! You’re hurting me!”
“What is this?” he asked, looking up at her.
Shen Yihuan deliberately tried to scare him. “Chickenpox, it’s contagious!”
His palm gently covered her slender waist, and his lips once again fell on her neck. This time, there was no obstruction.
He murmured, “Good.”
Shen Yihuan didn’t hear him clearly and pinched him. “Go away, or you’ll get infected.”
“Infect me then.”
He closed his eyes, suppressing the surging desire in silence.
Then, he slowly extended the tip of his tongue, gently licking the red marks on her neck, and the one he had just created by squeezing, creating a sensual, damp trail.
Shen Yihuan instinctively tilted her head back, her neck stretching into a beautiful curve.
Like a maiden’s sacrifice.
She heard a hazy voice near her ear.
The voice said.
“How I wish to die with you.”
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