TSDT - 25

In the silent room, they remained in a standoff.

After Jiang Ying got home, she started working on her side projects, confirming requirements with her contact person repeatedly and revising drafts over and over. Meng Jingshu received data from Wei Zhanfeng and looked at it for a while. He made a few phone calls from the balcony. When he came back inside, Jiang Ying was still reading a thesis.

He wanted to say something to her but ultimately remained silent and went to take a shower first.

As if it were planned, by the time he finished washing up, Jiang Ying had also finished her work and was closing her laptop. Meng Jingshu emerged from the bathroom, and she looked up, their gazes meeting perfectly.

Meng Jingshu paused, towel in hand, “You...”

A ringing phone interrupted the somewhat awkward opening. Meng Jingshu wasn’t one to procrastinate, so he quickly walked past her to answer the call.

They were alternately busy. Both were still angry from the previous argument, and the more they were, the less opportunity there was to talk things through properly.

By the time Jiang Ying had also showered and dried her hair, it was already late.

Meng Jingshu was on the balcony, his back to her. The late autumn night was cold, and he wore only thin loungewear, his back slightly hunched. He stood tall and steady like a tree in the cold wind, neither shrinking nor trembling.

The balcony light wasn’t on, but the red glow between his fingers was immediately visible. Even more noticeable than the red light was the smell; the glass door was left open a hand’s width, and a pungent odor faintly drifted in.

He was only twenty-five, yet already a heavy smoker. She told him off, but he never listened, always like this.

Jiang Ying was a bit annoyed. She walked over and said coldly, “Don’t smoke the mint to death.”

With a “snap” of her hand, the glass door closed tightly.

The man’s back stiffened outside the door.

She didn’t even look and pulled the curtains closed.

Meng Jingshu directly threw the half-smoked cigarette to the ground and extinguished it with his foot.

Below him was a twelve-story building, a bit shorter than his own home. The commercial building was adjacent to a main road, and even late at night, there was no shortage of vehicles.

He stared at the speeding cars, subconsciously wanting to do something to alleviate this terrible mood, so he counted them, one after another.

In less than half a minute, they all got mixed up.

“Damn it!” he cursed under his breath, gritting his teeth.

After cursing, he was even more damn annoyed.

He even had to curse quietly so she wouldn’t hear him.

He stood in the cold wind and lit another cigarette.

Meng Jingshu didn’t come inside until much later. He lifted the blanket and lay down, stirring a current of air that hit Jiang Ying’s neck, the temperature difference jarring.

Jiang Ying seemed completely oblivious, lying on her side, playing on her phone.

Suddenly, she heard him call out softly, “Jiang Ying...”

Without a second’s hesitation, she threw his words back at him, “Eat in silence, sleep in silence.”

Meng Jingshu fell silent, a little peeved, and turned his back to her. There was a person’s width between them, and this bed had never felt so spacious.

Jiang Ying was also frustrated scrolling on her phone. She looked at a post over and over but couldn’t remember what it was about. Her eyes ached from flipping pages, and she couldn’t take in a single word.

It was almost one o’clock, and the entire city had quieted down, yet she was wide awake. She also clearly felt that the person beside her wasn’t asleep either. Although he lay rigidly without a sound, not even his breathing was audible, she just knew he was just as agitated, just as feeling wronged.

So what exactly were they doing?

She wasn’t sleeping with him to invite trouble for herself.

The silent treatment was meant to emphasize one’s correctness, to force the other to comply.

But she had never intended to argue with him about past rights and wrongs, so why bother upsetting him now and disturbing her own peace of mind? All she wanted was to live in the moment, casting aside the past and the future.

She burrowed out from under the covers, threw her arms around him, and hugged his broad shoulders and back tightly.

Meng Jingshu clearly stiffened, then said coldly, “Let go, I want to sleep.”

Jiang Ying didn’t listen, forcefully wriggling from behind him to his chest. She pulled his arm away and burrowed into his embrace, enveloped by the man’s body heat and scent.

She mumbled, “Stingy. You’ve taken over my bed. So what if I slammed the door on you once or twice?”

Did she really think he was mad about her slamming the door?

Young Master Meng had a big temper; it wasn’t something that could be resolved with a few touches or a couple of words, especially when she was so self-righteous.

He rolled over and lay flat, forcefully pulling his hand from under her neck, closing his eyes, determined to ignore her.

Jiang Ying angrily said, “Do you think you can fall asleep with your eyes closed?”

He still didn’t answer, remaining motionless.

The more he acted this way, the more a desire to provoke him arose within her.

People who got together because of sex, what right did they have to demand petty things? If she wasn’t settling scores, he had no right to either!

He could only revel with her in the quagmire of lust, becoming dirty together.

She plunged under the covers like a fish.

After a moment, Meng Jingshu suddenly sat up.

“Jiang Ying!”

He threw off the blanket to pull her out, but she had the advantage of proximity and already had control of his vital spot.

Her body was half-prostrate, only her head moving. She had no time to speak, slightly tilting her head to meet his gaze.

That tilt almost killed him. Meng Jingshu took a sharp breath, his feigned coldness and calm shattered. A surging wave of desire rushed from below, his chest heaved violently, and his eyes burned like flames.

His reactions were always as undisguised as a beast’s. She loved being with him like this; she felt incredibly alive.

Her cheeks were strained, forming small indentations, her face becoming very sharp, her pupils larger and darker. With one look, his gaze was drawn in, unable to move away. Like a demon that had drifted in from the dark night, his wretched soul had nowhere to hide before her.

...

Half her face ached, and she propped herself up to sit.

Meng Jingshu pulled over a tissue, his voice hoarse, “Spit it out.”

She obediently leaned into his palm.

“It’s a bit bitter,” she said.

Meng Jingshu paused, crumpled the tissue, then got up and carried her to the bathroom, filled a cup with water, and gave it to her to rinse her mouth.

While doing these things, he said nothing. Jiang Ying looked up from the sink and saw him watching her, his gaze sticky, his sharply chiseled handsome face still flushed with an incongruous blush, his chest still heaving, his heavy breathing not yet subsided. Clearly, he hadn’t fully recovered.

“How do I feel?” Jiang Ying was a bit smug, smiling slyly at herself in the mirror, “First time doing it, not bad, huh...”

Meng Jingshu’s breathing grew heavy again.

He was nothing more than the most common of men. He would become petty when he heard her mention other men. And he would be overjoyed to have certain “firsts.”

His body was receding, but his heartbeat was like a frantic drum, each beat threatening to burst his eardrums.

If he didn’t kiss her, he would die.