"What are you looking at?"
Qin Yuhe's voice suddenly rang out. Looking up, she met his gaze.
"Ah—"
Song Xinya quickly averted her eyes, feeling like a thief caught red-handed, and rubbed the tip of her nose.
"Well, I was just looking at the drawstring on the waist of your grey sweatpants. It's quite long, hanging down like that. Whenever you walk, it sways back and forth."
Qin Yuhe: "Is that so? Have you never seen it before?"
Song Xinya: "I've never seen one this long."
Qin Yuhe looked at her with a subtle expression and asked, "How long is it?"
Song Xinya reached out her hands to indicate a length: "This long."
Qin Yuhe looked at the distance between her hands and asked, "Are you sure it's only this long?"
Song Xinya brought up her other hand, using both to gesture an even longer length, and held them up against his lower abdomen to measure.
"This length should be enough, right?"
With a hidden meaning in his words, Qin Yuhe said, "If you think it's enough to use, then it's enough."
Wait... hold on a second. Song Xinya suddenly realized what was happening. Her cheeks burned hot, and she quickly pulled back the hands that were aimed at his lower abdomen.
"What are you talking about?"
"The drawstring," Qin Yuhe said with a perfectly serious face. "Weren't we talking about the drawstring this whole time?"
Song Xinya turned her burning face to the side. "Yes, I was talking about the drawstring."
Qin Yuhe: "So was I."
He walked toward her, the drawstring hanging from his waist swaying back and forth.
Song Xinya felt like her eyes were going to be made dizzy by it, yet she couldn't resist the urge to stare.
She suddenly understood the saying: men wearing grey sweatpants are the equivalent of women wearing sheer black tights.
Especially since he wasn't wearing a shirt, only those grey sweatpants.
Those bulging, firm pecs, his chiseled abdominal muscles, and the drawstring swaying just below his waist.
It was too flashy.
It really was way too flashy.
It was practically an invitation to commit a crime.
Blushing, Song Xinya said, "Tie a knot in that drawstring around your waist."
Qin Yuhe: "It's long enough anyway, how about I coil it around my waist?"
Song Xinya: "...Do whatever you want. It's your drawstring, you're the boss."
She simply turned her face to the side, giving him the back of her head.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Qin Yuhe looked at her earlobes, which were as red as cherries. He smiled, picked up his grey shirt from the side, and put it on.
The man's body heat radiated over. The mattress dipped on one side as he sat down, pinning the hem of her nightgown under him. Two separate individuals were thus joined into a single entity.
The cloud-shaped ceiling light was on, casting a warm yellow glow that enveloped Qin Yuhe and Song Xinya.
The two of them sat leaning against the headboard, each holding a book, reading quietly.
When she grew tired of reading, she gently rested her head on his shoulder.
The room was quiet; neither spoke. The only sound in the bedroom was the occasional rustle of turning pages.
The warm lighting, the soft atmosphere, the woman leaning on the man's shoulder—the room was filled with coziness. Even the evening breeze blowing in through the window felt gentle and tranquil.
As Qin Yuhe's fingers turned a page covered in English text, the weight on his shoulder suddenly vanished, and her head began to slide down his arm.
Just a split second before Song Xinya face-planted into the bed, his palm caught her face.
She opened her eyes, which were misty and hazy. Her delicate chin rested in his palm. She looked at him with watery eyes, her cheeks pale, soft, and flushed with a rosy hue. Her eyelashes fluttered like little fans, exuding a childish, innocent kind of cuteness.
"I almost fell asleep just now."
Qin Yuhe held her face with one hand, while the fingers of his free hand gently pinched her cheek.
"I know," he said, his voice deep and very gentle. "Just now, a little kitten slipped off my shoulder and almost fell onto the blanket."
Song Xinya looked at him: "Meow~"
Qin Yuhe's dark eyes curved into a smile: "Do you have to be this cute, Song Xinya?"
Song Xinya acted cute again: "Meow~"
Qin Yuhe's eyes darkened. His hand gripped her cheek as he swiftly rolled over, his lean, muscular body pressing down and pinning her against the bed.
He lowered his head and bit down heavily on her lips.
"Did you forget that tomorrow is Saturday?"
Song Xinya really had forgotten. Remembering that tomorrow was Saturday, alarm bells blared in her mind.
But it was too late. She had already provoked someone.
Qin Yuhe grabbed the hem of his shirt with both hands and pulled the grey shirt he had just put on over his head.
The grey shirt was thrown forcefully onto the floor.
His large hands gripped her soft, slender waist. His grip was as hard as steel, leaving her no room to struggle.
His surging desire pressed against her.
His muscular arms propped him up on either side of her body.
Qin Yuhe looked down at her, his gaze burning, a turbulent tide lurking in the depths of his eyes.
The tension was palpable.
"Why did you keep rejecting me before?"
All Song Xinya could see in her eyes was his lust-filled face and his powerful, sexy body.
Her beautiful eyes rippled with moisture, her consciousness drifting.
"When did I reject you?"
Qin Yuhe: "Several times."
Song Xinya seemed to recall that such a thing did happen.
"Wasn't that because I hadn't fully recovered yet?"
Qin Yuhe: "Is that the only reason?"
Song Xinya: "What other reason could there be?"
Qin Yuhe: "It had better be that reason."
Song Xinya: "What else could it be?"
Qin Yuhe: "There might be other reasons."
Song Xinya: "What other reasons are you talking about?"
Qin Yuhe: "You can't think of what those other reasons might be?"
Song Xinya's already muddled brain was twisted into a ball of yarn.
She felt like she was performing a comedy routine with him.
Were they going to do it or not?
This was so mentally exhausting, she might as well just lie there and do it with him to save energy.
But Qin Yuhe had no intention of letting her off the hook. He considered this a friendly exchange between husband and wife.
After all, a married couple needed to communicate often and review things frequently so their relationship could be harmonious.
"Your refusal of my advances and kisses before... it wasn't because you hate me, was it?"
"What?"
Song Xinya was greatly shocked. "Why would you think that?"
Qin Yuhe seemed to be stumped by the question and froze for a moment.
He realized he had never actually thought about why he felt that way.
Why did he think she hated him?
What else could it be?
When a person clearly knows they are loved by the other party, they do not harbor such doubts.
Because she doesn't love him.
The moment that thought popped into Qin Yuhe's mind, he was startled.
He didn't need love.
That was what he had always believed.
As a child, he had witnessed his parents' endless arguments. They fought the moment they saw each other; they fought every single day. A woman trapped in an unhappy marriage couldn't hide the sorrow on her face. Even though Jiang Yaoxue tried hard to maintain a peaceful facade in front of her child, the young Qin Yuhe still saw through her forced smiles to her pain and sadness.
People always say children don't understand things, but children are actually highly sensitive and can clearly perceive adults' emotions.
Throughout his entire childhood, Qin Yuhe grew up in an environment where his parents were disharmonious, unloving, and full of mutual hatred.
He had never known love, so he convinced himself he had no need for it.
All he required was a companion—a relationship built on polite respect and mutual non-interference.
Qin Yuhe asked himself, wasn't that the truth? Wasn't it?
His deep, dark eyes locked onto her as he asked, "Song Xinya, you don't hate me, do you?"
Swirling within his gaze was a quiet anticipation he hadn't even realized he harbored.
A longing to hear her speak sweet words to him...
