Chapter 83: Stillness

When Yang Yi was still in the sky, she had imagined what his “showing you how strong my longing is through action” would look like—but…

She was tightly held in Chris’s arms, nearly unable to breathe—fortunately, she no longer needed to breathe for long periods—she was a full head shorter than him; he was too tall, standing at 188 cm, while she only reached his chin, so when he pulled her into his embrace, she had to bury her face in his pectorals, her mind utterly blank.

Her nostrils filled with the fresh citrus scent of his shower—he was still so thoughtful; this feeling of being catered to delighted her immensely, her heart pounding so fiercely it felt ready to leap from her throat, and her blood boiled hotter than lava.

Joy, pleasure, excitement mingled like a rushing current striking her heart; she instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist—ah, compared to his broad, sturdy shoulders, his waist was leaner and stronger…

Suddenly, a nonsensical thought intruded uninvited: if Zhang Ningning were held like this, she’d probably faint from excitement…

Damn it, what am I thinking? Shouldn’t I just savor this moment?

But her mind felt foreign, completely out of her control—random, chaotic thoughts and images forcibly flooded her mind: altar, secret base, corpses, oleander, fire demon, ocean, dam, pasture… they switched endlessly, like obsessive-compulsive flashes.

Oh, intrusive thoughts. She thought coldly.

At this moment, the emotion meant to guide her retreat into the background, while an unwelcome rationality seized control of her thoughts.

She released her grip on Chris’s waist and calmly analyzed herself: these uncontrollable intrusive thoughts are meant to pull me away from this moment of pleasure; my subconscious believes I don’t deserve it, I’m not worthy of joy and happiness.

The subconscious acts to save itself, because past experience has taught it that every moment of happiness is inevitably followed by disaster and pain, so to avoid the suffering that follows, it refuses joy altogether…

But at the same time, it strips her of pleasure, robs her of the ability to feel happiness.

It’s like a black dog that has always trailed her, seizing her whenever it gets the chance, always lurking in the surrounding shadows, and when her emotions rise, when something worthy of joy occurs, it suddenly leaps out to bite her.

Day after day, year after year of self-suppression, she had seemingly lost the capacity for joy entirely.

“Yang Yi…” Chris released her, calling her name in a low voice—those two syllables were perfectly enunciated, yet tender and lingering, as if he had practiced them a thousand times in his heart and on his tongue. His right hand slowly traced her cheek, as if touching the most precious treasure in the world.

Yang Yi had just regained her senses when she sank again into those mesmerizing blue oceans.

His voice grew huskier, “Mayi?” He leaned closer, his deep blue eyes fixed on her, silent inquiry in their gaze.

Yang Yi’s face flushed crimson; she was caught once more in the same dilemma as on the balcony: should I close my eyes or not…

But the blush on her cheeks was an unspoken permission; as Chris kissed her lips, she finally closed her eyes.

In an instant, fireworks exploded in the night sky, flowers of all four seasons bloomed simultaneously, winter’s ice melted under warmth, grass sprouted in spring rain, a beam of sunlight pierced through dense forest to strike a dark clearing, lightning split through layers of dark clouds…

She felt dizzy, as if dreaming—no, even more dizzy than any dream.

Before things went too far, Chris used the greatest self-control of his life to let her go. He had never realized that simply pulling his lips away from hers could be so difficult.

Yang Yi’s lips were red, her eyes hazy as she gazed at him.

Chris felt overheated; he knew he needed a cold shower to cool down.

Now isn’t the right time, the timing’s wrong—if I go further, she won’t like it… He persuaded himself even as he took her hand and kissed her knuckles with reverence, “Last time I promised to show you my home—still interested?”

“Of course,” Yang Yi murmured dazedly.

As he led her through half the mansion, all she could say was: “Damn, this place is insane!”

Just the massive theater, the audiovisual effects, the holographic displays, the comfortable massage chairs, the leather sofas that could roll over several times, the bar stocked with every kind of liquor—it left her awestruck, let alone everything else.

And outside, the vast lawn, the forest halfway up the hill, and an entire lake.

They wandered and looked, Chris describing each sight while telling her the amusing stories that had happened here.

His life was truly rich and interesting, just like he himself.

It was noon, the sun high overhead, the air warming; they sat side by side on the grass beneath the lake’s shade, backs against a large tree.

Chris carried a bucket of ice containing several bottles of drinks and beer, handing her one.

Yang Yi took it, tasted it—it was sweet sparkling wine, very low alcohol. Though she no longer experienced the taste of human food, she didn’t refuse it; she didn’t want to sever herself from human life.

Chris opened a can of chilled beer and drank half of it in one gulp, then sat beside her.

They exchanged a smile; neither spoke, yet a quiet understanding passed between them.

Leaning against the massive tree, they quietly savored the stillness of the moment.

Yang Yi idly plucked a blade of grass, then suddenly remembered something and smiled at Chris: “Have you ever eaten the tender shoots of that grass? We called them ‘maojian’—when they haven’t sprouted yet, they’re sweet; chew them longer and they taste like gum, but you can’t blow bubbles. When I was a kid, I’d search every ditch along the way home from school just to find them… ah, pity it’s not spring now—this is a spring-only snack…”

Her nostalgic smile made Chris’s heart ache; he felt sorrow for her, grieved for her dark childhood.

In the end, Chris gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders, letting her lean half against him, as if holding her.

“When spring comes, let’s go pick some together, okay?” he whispered.

Since the past couldn’t be changed, he thought, better to rebuild painful memories into pleasant ones—so that when recalled, they bring joy instead.

“Okay.”

The lake’s surface rippled gently; Yang Yi leaned against Chris, her heart utterly calm.

With him, she felt more at peace than ever before.

The warm wind grew cool as it reached the shaded grove, brushing her face pleasantly; occasionally, a fish leapt from the glittering lake.

Yang Yi felt this scene was familiar—then she remembered where: a dream, the day of her first date with Chris, when she was late because she’d fallen asleep and dreamed.

In the dream, she stood in a stream, surrounded by birdsong and insect chirps, cool water washing over her ankles, little fish kissing her toes.

The dream was just as tranquil.