Chapter 68

Wen Ling looked amusedly at the stool, while Zhou Yinhe nervously gazed at her.

"Do you think I'd still run away?"

"I didn't mean it that way." Zhou Yinhe bit his lip and explained: "Not seeing you, not hearing your voice, I feel anxious."

Wen Ling saw his somewhat aggrieved expression, her heart softened, she stepped forward again and hugged him, softly saying: "Carry me to the bathroom; I'll sit by the washbasin and wait for you."

Zhou Yinhe's eyes lit up, he lifted her like a child and placed her on the stool beside the washbasin.

Wen Ling instructed him: "Go get my phone." Zhou Yinhe nodded, took her phone from her bag and quickly returned, whispering: "You can play with it here, don't go out."

"Aren't you afraid I'll secretly take photos and videos of you showering?" Wen Ling waved her phone, joking: "Selling them to gossip reporters should fetch a good price."

"Can you bear it?" Zhou Yinhe, not annoyed, knelt before her and sucked on her exposed fair skin, leaving a red mark. Hearing her long hum, he hoarsely asked: "I belong only to you; can you bear to let others see me?"

"I can't bear it." Wen Ling shook her head, urging him to hurry and wash.

Zhou Yinhe took a towel and spread it on the washbasin, worried she might want to lie there and play with her phone, he cautioned: "If you want to lie down, do it here; the washbasin is too cold."

"I know." She said it word by word, clearly annoyed by his nagging.

Zhou Yinhe had no choice but to go into the bathroom to shower. Wen Ling glanced at him several times, feeling the frosted half of the glass door was really in the way, perfectly blocking the spot she wanted to see.

He merely took a quick shower, washed his hair, and while Wen Ling reluctantly withdrew her gaze to look at her phone, he only wrapped a towel around his waist and walked out slowly.

The towel hung loosely, revealing his standard inverted-triangle physique, his lean, muscular chest, and even his abs and mermaid line still bore droplets of water.

Wen Ling glanced at him sideways, blinking lightly. When he came beside her, because he stood while she sat, his abs and mermaid line were level with her sight. She fully understood his little tricks, and snorted: "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Zhou Yinhe admitted it with a soft hum.

He bent over, and droplets of water from his hair fell onto Wen Ling's face; she reached out to caress his cheek.

"I'll blow-dry your hair." She got up, had Zhou Yinhe sit down, picked up the hair dryer from nearby, and blew his hair.

Zhou Yinhe heard only the hair dryer's whooshing; Wen Ling suddenly whispered something he didn't catch. Through the mirror he looked at her puzzled, but she shook her head at him. He could only press his lips, lowering his eyes to feel her fingers massaging his scalp, his heart overflowing with contentment.

Wen Ling let out a quiet sigh, wondering what she had done to make Zhou Yinhe feel so insecure—was it because of their sudden breakup three years ago, or because she had used the wrong methods and shouldn't have bullied him like that.

His hair blew up fluffy; Wen Ling turned off the dryer, set it aside, leaned in from behind to hug him, and as their cheeks touched she rubbed against him slightly.

"I won't bully you anymore." Wen Ling said that.

Zhou Yinhe's eyes suddenly brightened; his heart raced so hard the thumping pounded his eardrums, his Adam's apple rolled a few times, and he hoarsely said: "This is what you said; you have to swear."

Wen Ling laughed at his childish remark, turned and sat in his lap, one hand around his neck, the other pinching his cheek, she asked: "Then does this count as bullying you? Does having you change my shoes count as bullying you? Having you bring me tea and water? Treating you like a little dog? Is that bullying you?"

"……" Zhou Yinhe lowered his eyes, his heart truly conflicted for a moment, he shook his head and whispered: "No."

"All right then." Wen Ling curved her lips and gave him a hard kiss, saying calmly: "There's no way I can avoid treating you like that."

Zhou Yinhe remained silent, pressed his hand to the back of her head pulling her toward him, lowered his head and kissed her fiercely; having been bullied by her few words made his eyes rim red, and he was about to start biting her.

Wen Ling hummed, obediently embraced him, allowing him to place her on the towel‑lined washbasin.

As his lips moved to explore her fragile spot, Wen Ling's whole body flushed red; her fingers gripped the edge of the washbasin so hard her fingertips turned white.

She frowned, her eyes hazy, and stammered: "When you go home tomorrow, remember to buy me medicine."

Zhou Yinhe paused his movements, gave a muffled hum, then continued.

When they returned to the bedroom, Wen Ling lay on her front before him, calming her rapid breathing, her eyes half‑closed as she gazed out the bedroom's glass curtain wall.

The rain grew heavier, large streaks of water blurred the glass.

"Is that piano prepared for me?" she suddenly asked. Zhou Yinhe buried his face in her warm neck and whispered: "Yes."

When she was young, staying by her grandfather's side, he treasured her like the pupil of his eye. During a period of turmoil in M Country, fearing she might meet with accident in that violent, chaotic land, her grandfather confined her to the vast Wen Garden. Out of boredom, she learned many instruments.

She excelled most at piano. Her first meeting with Zhou Yinhe came after she finally persuaded her grandfather to let her study abroad in Hua Guo as an exchange student; her teacher pushed her onto the freshman welcome party where she played Dance of Flowers, while he, originally bored, was dragged by classmates to the scene, and from then on his gaze never strayed.

Wen Ling sat up, her hair hanging down in front, thick locks covering most of her upper body.

"Shall I play the piano for you?" she said, then rose, pulled the robe over herself, got out of bed, walked to Zhou Yinhe's side, and reached out her hand.

Zhou Yinhe grasped her slender, soft hand, being led by her out of the suite to the crystal piano.

Wen Ling idly pressed a few keys, then sat on the bench and told Zhou Yinhe: "Over these three years, the song I've heard most is this 'With You'; I first heard it on a street in M Country, where an overseas student was singing it, I liked it so much I looked it up myself."

She looked at Zhou Yinhe with gentle eyes: "I haven't played it yet, nor sung it, but I want to sing it for you."

Zhou Yinhe pressed his lips together, his lashes fluttered, watching Wen Ling's fingers land on the keys.

"I want to admire the most beautiful scenery with you,"

"To watch the longest film,"

"To hear moving melodies,"

"Because it's because of you."

Zhou Yinhe placed one hand on the piano and the other on his chest, a sour surge rising; tears dropped one by one onto the piano. He lowered his head to avoid Wen Ling's gaze, his throat choked as he said: "Liar, you only know how to coax me—why didn't you come find me these three years? Why, after returning, do you still bully me? Liar."

The rain pattered, yet it couldn't drown his repressed sobs; Wen Ling gazed at him with a curved smile, tears spilling from her eyes and sliding down her cheeks, her heart filled with an ache beyond words.