Chapter 33: Breaking Through Her Last Line Of Defense

Ji Zhen Tang could easily lean forward a bit more and be completely controlled by him, but she kept one hand loosely on his shoulder, maintaining the subtle distance.

All remaining defenses lay in that hand.

Although only few, defenses still existed.

In the old house, the fading fire took away the last inch of light. Before everything darkened around them, Ji Zhen Tang lowered her head, and Zhong Yu Bai released her hand, moving gently, fearing she might stumble again.

Her slightly raised feet touched the ground.

As Ji Zhen Tang lowered her head, she subtly hooked the corner of her lips.

“Do you like my earring?” She pretended to be naive, asking almost rhetorically.

Her eyes weren’t innocent when she spoke, this seemingly innocent question could easily catch the other off guard, but it didn’t.

Zhong Yu Bai looked at her. “I prefer seeing you wear it.”

She mentioned the earring, and he responded in kind about the earring.

“What if it was someone else, or something else?” 

The man looked at her and said, “No.”

When Zhong Yu Bai said these two words, there was a sense of oppression, but not sharp; it didn’t feel like a big stone pressing on her chest, making it hard to breathe, but more like turning her into driftwood, floating alone in the deep sea, momentarily plunged into boundless confusion.

And he was that piece supporting her in the black sea.

Although she felt the storm coming, everything remained calm before her eyes. She couldn’t predict when she would be swallowed up.

It’s really hard to guess.

Ji Zhen Tang realized belatedly, what he said about “now it’s ours,” probably meant: she could only wear it for him in the future?

How could there be such a person, expressing possessiveness so gently and cryptically?

Ji Zhen Tang handed him the gloves.

Zhong Yu Bai took them, glanced at them, the color was too pale and delicate, not quite suitable for a man.

But he didn’t refuse.

Smart people are good at discerning hearts from trivial matters.

For example, this old stove, he didn’t ask why it wasn’t replaced, but inferred its reason for existence, so he just reminded her to be careful.

This pair of gloves, even if they didn’t quite suit him, there was still a reason for her to give them to him.

He calmly arranged everything in an orderly manner, including sorting out the mutual feelings between them.

“What if I rebel?” She rested her chin on her hand, fearlessly asking, referring to the earrings.

Zhong Yu Bai met her probing gaze. He pondered over the question for a moment, his calm tone carrying an unfathomable cunningness, throwing the question back at her: “What consequences do you want?”

Ji Zhen Tang smiled, not bothering to evade the question, and answered directly, “I want to be devoured by you, to die happily.”

He also raised his lips slightly, a fleeting smile, “Being devoured is possible, being happy is also possible.”

But—”You won’t die,” he said solemnly.

“…”

Her face suddenly turned red.

With that casual remark, she only now slowly realized how suggestive her words had been…

Zhong Yu Bai’s demeanor was cultured and calm, rarely showing any ill intentions, but the faint smile on his face as he spoke those words inexplicably made her feel like he could be quite tormenting to women.

Well, now not only were her words suggestive, but her mind was too. Looking at his arm that had just seemed strong, now inevitably tainted with desire due to her wandering thoughts.

“Cough, cough.” Ji Zhen Tang pulled up her mask, trying to cover her embarrassment as much as possible, “Is the medicine ready?”

She deliberately changed the subject.

He didn’t even look at her but could tell from the smell that something wasn’t right, without hesitation, “Let it boil a bit longer.”

She nervously twisted her fingers, “Oh.”

Zhong Yu Bai glanced at her, and after a while, asked softly, “When will you rest?”

“I don’t know, I stayed up very late.” Ji Zhen Tang replied.

He thought for a moment and lightly said, “Hmm.”

“Just ‘hmm’? Shouldn’t you be telling me to go to bed early?” 

“Early to bed and early to rise is good, but happiness is also important.” Zhong Yu Bai said gently, “You have the determination to adjust your habits without needing a reminder.”

“If not, talking about it is useless.”

Ji Zhen Tang smiled with relief, “It would be great if every parent had your deep understanding of righteousness.”

He expressed understanding, “I also used to dislike being disciplined, I’ve been there.”

Ji Zhen Tang glanced at Zhong and asked, “Are you still going back at this hour?”

Zhong Yu Bai looked at her curiously and said, “You can’t let me stay overnight either.”

“Do you want to stay overnight?”

After finishing speaking, Ji Zhen Tang regretted it, feeling like her logic was twisted again by her.

She was thinking about how to salvage the situation.

Zhong Yu Bai, as if oblivious, skipped over her successive pitfalls and simply said, “Let me borrow a book to read.”

She halted her embarrassed gaze.

“A book? By Eileen Chang?”

Earlier she mentioned she had just read the story, which was a casual lie, as she hadn’t actually been reading that book.

If everything didn’t happen so conveniently, there naturally needed to be some fabrications to push the emotions forward.

Interactions between people were like this; you lie to me, I lie to you, big lies cause heartache, small lies bring comfort.

“I read e-books,” she continued fabricating.

Zhong Yu Bai smiled slowly, “Is that so?”

It was easy to see that he had already seen through it.

“Yes.”

Ji Zhen Tang, trying to avoid embarrassment, crouched down beside the stove, fanning the flames, “Digging too deep is not good for oneself.”

She tried to teach him that one should live a bit foolishly, not always seeking the truth in everything. What if she attacked with clear intent?

Zhong Yu Bai just smiled and said he had learned.

She used to read books like that when she was in junior high school, indeed she bought them herself, a collection of short stories by Eileen Chang. Later, with changing dormitories, changing schools, and various upheavals and moves, she found that the heaviest things to carry were books, so she reluctantly let go of them one by one.

Afterward, Ji Zhen Tang got used to reading e-books.

He held onto this matter, which weighed on her mind for a while.

The next day, Ji Zhen Tang went to the school library, wanting to revisit it for herself.

This story was called “Lust, Caution”, and she had also seen the film adaptation, which differed from the original text’s coldness and cunning. The director had injected too much sentiment, giving Mr. Yi a bit of genuine affection, prompting viewers to diligently search for evidence of his love for her.

Ji Zhen Tang was no exception.

She savored his tender gaze in the jewelry store, savored his lingering at their bed after her execution, and his teary eyes.

Deciphering was exhausting, trying to extract warmth from a cold heart to prove the existence of affection, it was so foolish.

Wang Jia Zhi wouldn’t do that; she faced death calmly because: love doesn’t ask if it’s worth it.

Now, Ji Zhen Tang didn’t want to painstakingly extract that bit of affection again, exhausting her heart.

In deep winter, another snowfall.

On the first day of winter vacation, Ji Zhen Tang went to the hospital, probably the last time she walked out of the outpatient building. Zhong Yu Bai should have opened up long ago; perhaps the pain was really because she was about to sprout wings.

A doctor handed her medical records to Ji Zhen Tang.

She took a taxi back to Rainlamp Street, carrying her suitcase, stepping into a leisurely holiday.

The snow in the south was thin and didn’t accumulate. It piled up on flower beds and bushes.

People in the alley were shoveling snow, but they couldn’t finish because the foggy sky hinted at even heavier snowfall.

As Ji Zhen Tang walked forward with her suitcase, she received a call from Ji Huan, he sounded friendly, saying, “Ji Chen is also on winter vacation, do you want to come out for a meal together?”

Ji Zhen Tang asked, “What are we eating?”

“Hotpot, how about that?”

She thought for a moment and decided, “I won’t go, just enjoy yourselves.”

After hanging up the phone, Ji Zhen Tang happened to lower her head and stepped on a soft snowflake, watching it solidify into ice, then slowly melt into a puddle of water, as if it disappeared without a trace.

Just now, when she walked out of the clinic, the doctor congratulated her and asked if she had any insights.

Ji Zhen Tang remembered someone telling her that after experiencing all this, she would have a richer spiritual world.

Whether it was rich or not, she couldn’t say, but she did have some insights.

“In careers or relationships,” she said to the doctor, “regardless of the outcome, the heart is calm and free.”

That’s what a serious illness taught her.

What kind of illness is anxiety? It’s the result of overthinking, it’s a tangible reaction to fear of loss.

It’s the cry of a tight body and mind, it’s her carefree childhood calling for help.

She said she was afraid of Zhong Yu Bai, but what was she afraid of? Afraid of becoming a pawn, afraid of deception, afraid that their relationship was truly just a remedy, afraid she couldn’t handle it.

But compared to him, there were many more things that entangled her in fear.

She feared festivals, feared reunions, feared her father’s disapproving gaze, and feared being in situations where she was tossed around.

She even feared trying to retrieve a dish she liked, fearful of every tense dinner, thinking back, they were all experiences that made her tread carefully.

People have expectations, so they have concerns.

Like being frightened by withdrawal symptoms when nothing had actually happened, with such a personality, anyone would become sick with worry.

On the doctor’s desk were her medical records and a book she had painstakingly found in the library, which was already out of print. 

The book that contained that story which was called “A Record of Desolation”.

“Just naturally lonely”.

She returned to Luotan Pavilion, her aunt wasn’t there, the house was desolate.

Ji Zhen Tang took out the book, stared at the cover blankly, ran her fingertips over it, and the interpretation of Qian Zhongshu’s poem about this type of prose came to mind: The world is ever-changing, shifting sands under the candlelight. Good dreams will awaken, grand banquets will disperse.

The feeling of an impending curtain call, even in the midst of festivity, there was already a hint of desolation.

Writers are so apt at naming things, summarizing the philosophy of life’s ups and downs in concise words.

The dry pages of the book fluttered past her eyes, stirring a desolation that reached straight to the heart.

In the evening, she went to the convenience store and returned to a strong wind. Ji Zhen Tang carried the childhood lantern and remembered standing here at the age of eight, listening to the sound of snow.

At the corner of Rain Lantern Street, it was the year she first arrived, forgetting the terrain, even speaking the word “dad” awkwardly, waiting blankly for someone to pick her up. Instead of family, she waited for the police.

Ji Zhen Tang closed her eyes and slowed her pace. She wouldn’t get lost again, gradually learning to let go of expectations.

Without anticipating the outcome, without bitterly sighing over desolation, she would still take the stage, still participate in the excitement.

Watching the bustling dance halls, witnessing the tenderness of ten feet of soft red.

She walked in the deserted snowstorm, receiving the occasional favor of fate, seizing opportunities to grasp the light, forcing herself to muster the courage to quench her thirst.

Without asking for the result.

A moment of indulgence, a pillow of sweet dreams. Who said it wasn’t a good thing?

Good dreams must end, feasts must disperse, and she didn’t bother thinking about it; it was meaningless.

The first person to know the good news was Zhong Yu Bai.

Walking past countless lights, passing by these lamps seemingly they shine for her, she called him, feeling satisfied: “I’ve recovered.”

—

The winding river surface in winter seemed to slow the flow.

In a bustling pier with crowds of tourists, lights, and wine, Ji Zhen Tang was led onto a ship by Ding Jialing. At dusk, with the sky ablaze with clouds of fire painting it purple, she stood on the vast deck of the cruise ship, looking up at the towering ship with countless floors.

Ji Zhen Tang was stunned, swaying her coat’s hem as she ascended the stairs: “I just wanted to practice my dance for the drama privately. Your boss is really serious about this, isn’t he?!”

Ding Jialing chuckled, “Mr. Zhong has always been someone who values ceremony. Dancing is such an elegant thing; of course, it can’t be taken lightly.”

As he spoke, he opened the door to the cabin for her.

Ji Zhen Tang’s eyes lit up. In front of her was a two-story ballroom. Only a row of dim lights was lit at the top, accompanied by a spotlight sweeping aimlessly across the empty dance floor in the middle.

In front of the ballroom was a stage, and an orchestra was playing.

As the spotlight fell on the central seat of the second-floor balcony, Ji Zhen Tang looked up and immediately saw the man sitting there.

Zhong Yu Bai, in a suit and tie, with a slightly lazy posture, leaning against the red soft backrest. His position, right in the center, directly facing the entrance, was also above the stage where the orchestra was playing.

This demeanor truly exuded an imposing imperial style.

Except for him and the working orchestra, she looked around and confirmed that there were no extra people here. Ding Jialing, responsible for welcoming guests, closed the door quietly and left.

A glass of champagne was placed next to Zhong Yu Bai.

He leaned his forehead on his hand, closing his eyes. Perhaps tired and resting, the beautiful sound of the instruments playing in his ears, Ji Zhen Tang didn’t wake him. She sat down in the empty seat next to him, supporting her cheek with her hand, smiling as she looked around.

Looking at his distinct features, his slightly glowing jaw, his sharp Adam’s apple, and further down, the clean white shirt, the navy blue tie tightening the collar, tied in a European gentleman’s four-in-hand knot.

And the slightly undulating chest.

Thinking of what he said, that being devoured is possible, being happy is also possible.

Ji Zhen Tang lightly bit her lip, her mind wandering.

Today, she wore a little makeup, with a fiery red dance skirt hidden under the dark coat. Sitting diagonally, her posture relaxed, stretching her bare legs outward, almost brushing against his ankle.

At a critical moment, Ji Zhen Tang carefully retracted her leg.

“Why are you looking at me?” Zhong Yu Bai’s voice came out slowly, as if he were awakening.

“…I thought you were asleep! Well, everyone admires beauty. Just like men appreciate beautiful women. Being handsome is attractive, and I can’t help but admire it.”

Under the guise of admiring beauty, her greedy gaze became openly evident, so her eyes did not hide, staring directly at Zhong Yu Bai’s stunning face.

He opened his eyes, but said, “That’s not the answer I wanted to hear.”

She was surprised again, then cleverly replied, “I like looking at you.”

“Like looking at me,” he repeated, his deep gaze shifting towards her face, softly and lightly, like a questioning tone.

As a symphony played to completion, the surroundings quieted down. The insufficient lighting here wasn’t enough to sustain clear consciousness, yet it revealed a slightly intoxicating atmosphere, with the spotlight swaying rhythmically. Every five seconds, it fell on his eyes, his eyes, bearing a faint questioning look, stared at her, as if demanding a final answer to confirm her thoughts.

“I also like you,” she said softly.

Ji Zhen Tang shyly lowered her eyelids, looking at the slight upturn of his lips.

Zhong Yu Bai stood up and said, “Let’s dance.”

Ji Zhen Tang stood up with him. Zhong Yu Bai glanced at her and suddenly took a step forward, reaching out to open the collar of her coat, not a large movement, but it made her heart skip a beat, instinctively leaning back.

“Why wear a coat to dance?” he teased softly.

He helped her take off her coat, perhaps probing boundaries step by step, or maybe, at this point, it was an inevitable intimacy. Ji Zhen Tang didn’t stop him. Soon, the coat lay in his arms. She adjusted her red high-slit dance skirt, her light hair falling over her shoulders, shaking it lightly, adjusting her state.

Giving him a smile with her eyes.

Zhong Yu Bai gentlemanly extended his hand, waiting for her to place hers on top, and led her to the dance floor.

He was serious about dancing with her, showing the demeanor of a qualified dance partner. The orchestra accompanied them, and the spotlight followed them slowly.

That slightly tipsy feeling gently surged in Ji Zhen Tang’s heart once again.

Ji Zhen Tang moved lightly with his steps. Although they claimed it was practice, it hardly seemed like it, as their gazes met, seemingly congealing with profound meaning.

If it weren’t for the piano music still playing, she would truly have suspected that time had stood still at this moment.

“Are you really cured?” he suddenly asked.

She chuckled, “Of course, if you don’t believe me, go ask the doctor.”

“Too troublesome.” Zhong Yu Bai smiled faintly and said, “I might as well try it myself.”

Ji Zhen Tang looked at him puzzled.

As he spoke, he stopped his steps, turned his head slightly, and glanced at the symphony orchestra waiting for his command.

With a single glance, as if understanding, the curtains on the stage slowly closed, and soon, there were only the two of them left in the vast cabin.

As the curtains closed on one end, the curtains on the other end slowly opened, allowing the warm glow of the setting sun to shine through the clean rows of glass windows, filling the spacious dance floor, replacing the flickering chase lights.

Ji Zhen Tang glanced outside in surprise, feeling that the scenery on the river and the evening glow on the horizon were exceptionally beautiful, complementing each other.

Her hand was still held in Zhong Yu Bai’s palm, her cheek approaching his shoulder, but not entirely pressing against it.

Zhong Yu Bai didn’t look outside, only gazing tenderly at her with lowered eyes.

He spoke, “Since your heartbeat is normal—”

At his words, Ji Zhen Tang looked back up at him.

“Then if I kiss you now, there shouldn’t be much of a reaction, right?”

The man’s deep and mellow voice, like a charm, planted itself in her body at that moment, disturbing her rationality and emotions.

Ji Zhen Tang’s gaze dropped, from his eyes, slowly to his attractive lips. Struggling to maintain her composure, she forced a smile and said, “No, there shouldn’t be.”

With permission granted, he leaned in.

A kiss under the setting sun occurred naturally.

With the majestic fiery clouds as the backdrop, although she confidently uttered the words “there shouldn’t be,” her heartbeat had already surrendered early on, turning into sweat in the palm of her hand in the next moment.

The warm and moist lips intertwined, the gentle friction intensified her excitement. A beam of sunlight fell perfectly between their lips, as they entangled, embraced, exerted force, and indulged, as if trying to shatter this beam of light with their kiss.

A few seconds later, Zhong Yu Bai leaned close to her ear, tenderly asking, “Are you uncomfortable?”

He did so as if genuinely checking for any signs of illness.

“No.” Ji Zhen Tang replied somewhat embarrassedly, leaning back slightly, supported by him. She shook her head, her voice slightly hoarse and trembling as she spoke.

“And your heart rate?” he asked again.

“…Normal frequency.”

Upon hearing this, a hint of slight disapproval appeared on Zhong Yu Bai’s face. He lowered his body a bit more, softly asking her, “No increase?”

As if emphasizing with a touch of incredulity: Really?

“…”, One after another, his questioning made her feel somewhat guilty. “Um… no.”

Before she could finish her sentence, her waist was tightly gripped, and Zhong Yu Bai took a step forward, forcing her to retreat backward until a few steps later, she was pressed against the glass window.

A more intense kiss followed.

He held her chin with one hand, breaking through her lips and teeth defenses. This intensity and force, like a violent storm, seemed to be a proof of his unwillingness to lose.

He wanted her to maintain balance, yet expected she would truly lose it.

He exposed his contradictory greed without reservation.

Yet even in the midst of this storm, this urgency, the man understood the importance of gradual progress, not wantonly destroying this first tender affection.

Understanding the importance of seizing the opportunity with ease, burning her territory until nothing remained, then waiting for her to surrender and submit willingly.

Ji Zhen Tang was in chaos.

The butterfly bone revealed on the back of her dance dress was held in his palm, fearing she might hit the glass and hurt herself, Zhong Yu Bai still managed to maintain some sobriety to uphold necessary decorum.

But she was truly in disarray, her sweaty fingers tightly clutching his suit, feeling like she was about to soak it through.

Despite it being winter, her head was hot, and her body temperature had risen sharply.

A fragrant heart was handed out, held in his hands, molded into different shapes. Regardless, it was something she couldn’t control, much like the direction of this deep kiss.

The breaths after parting couldn’t be too forceful, appearing frantic and constrained. Ji Zhen Tang only lowered her eyes, swallowing saliva lightly.

Zhong Yu Bai looked at her with lowered eyes, and this time, his voice also carried a hint of hoarseness, “The challenge can be accepted.”

Slightly calmer, she softly asked, “What do you want?”

He said, “I want your heart.”

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