Song Xinya was knocked backward, her back hitting the chair.
Her front was pinned tightly against his solid chest.
Her lashes trembled wildly as damp saliva slipped from the corner of her lips.
He licked it away with burning heat.
Qin Yuhe’s broad shoulders and back crowded the slender, delicate woman into the corner, enveloping her securely in his arms and shielding her from view, unwilling to let anyone see how ravishingly alluring she looked when she was being kissed.
Qin Yuhe was cleaner than most men. He did not smoke, ate lightly, and always kept both his appearance and clothes immaculate. His breath smelled wonderfully fresh and clean.
Naturally, he tasted just as fresh.
Song Xinya’s reason quickly burned away, and she surrendered to his surging, tempestuous kiss.
Qin Yuhe’s large hand gripped her cheek, pinching her soft, fair little face until it flushed red.
The very thought of her sitting in a couples’ café, drinking coffee with another man, made him angry.
Very angry.
A fire churned in his chest, roiling as it threatened to burst free.
His lips and tongue grew especially fierce, the kiss domineering and deep. Though he was already inside her mouth, he kept pressing farther, as if he wanted to swallow her whole.
Song Xinya’s lips were forced farther apart.
She heard the wet sound of swallowing—some from her, some from him—provocative, urgent, intense enough to make her heart race and her cheeks burn.
He took from her without restraint.
He was so forceful that the kiss hurt.
Even the chatter of the other patrons could not conceal the fierce sounds of their lips and tongues entwining.
This was a café.
Song Xinya felt terribly ashamed.
Yet her hands did not push him away.
When she truly could not breathe and felt as though she were about to suffocate, Song Xinya thumped his chest.
Fortunately, Qin Yuhe did not misunderstand and assume she was acting coy.
He released her lips.
Song Xinya’s chest rose and fell as she drew quick, ragged breaths.
Qin Yuhe’s voice drifted down from above. “Do you want me to sit beside you?”
Song Xinya said, “No—”
Before she could say the word “no,” Qin Yuhe’s large hand seized her chin again, and his kiss came crashing down upon her.
Song Xinya once more experienced the feeling of being kissed breathless, unable to catch her breath.
Qin Yuhe released her and asked in a husky voice, “Do you want me to sit beside you?”
Song Xinya said, “No—”
Qin Yuhe’s hand and lips descended on her again.
The third time he let her go, he did not need to ask. Song Xinya hurriedly answered, “Yes. I do. I want you to sit beside me.”
Even though she could barely catch her breath and breathing was difficult, she still rushed to get the words out.
Qin Yuhe rubbed her hair with his palm and praised her, “Good girl, Yaya.”
Song Xinya admitted that she was hopeless. Faced with his forcefulness and his overpowering kisses, her heart fluttered beyond control.
At that moment, she could no longer care whether they were in public or not. Kissed by him until she was like a heap of spring mud that could not hold its shape, she melted softly into his arms, her cheek pressed to his chest. Like a kitten that had found shelter from the wind, she nestled obediently against her owner.
Qin Yuhe held her with one arm while picking up a glass of water with the other, bringing it to her lips.
Song Xinya took small sip after small sip. When she had finished, his fingers brushed across the edge of her lips, wiping them clean for her.
Neither of them spoke. They simply held each other in silence, their whole demeanor slowing and softening, wrapped in the warm tranquility of a peaceful life.
Only moments ago, they had been angrily trading barbs, sharp as needles against wheat awns.
Qin Yuhe suddenly recalled something his cousin Fu Xiaochen had once said.
Back then, Qin Yuhe had asked him how to coax his wife when she was angry.
Fu Xiaochen had replied: [When husband and wife quarrel, they fight at the head of the bed and make up at the foot of it. Just pin her down and give her a good, hard fucking, and everything will be fine.]
The circumstances clearly did not allow it now. Qin Yuhe could hardly pin Song Xinya onto a table in a café and fuck her senseless, but kissing her thoroughly had worked quite well too.
All the thorns around her softened beneath his kisses. She melted into a tender softness, obediently nestled against him.
Once Song Xinya’s breathing had steadied, Qin Yuhe idly flipped through the café menu.
“Have lunch with me.”
Song Xinya remembered that she still had something important to do. She had originally planned to get the contact information for a psychiatric specialist from Han Jingyi, then immediately go see Shen Chaoyang.
As for lunch, she had intended to make do with a piece of bread.
“I still have things to take care of later.”
Qin Yuhe’s fingers paused on the menu. “You have time to drink coffee with another man, but not to have lunch with me?”
Song Xinya leaned over and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. “I’ll have lunch with you. I’ll eat lunch with you.”
The frost on Qin Yuhe’s face instantly melted into a smile.
When the steak and pasta arrived, the two of them squeezed into the same booth to eat.
The arm Song Xinya used to hold her knife and fork brushed against his waist and abdomen from time to time.
She wanted to ask, Why aren’t you sitting across from me?
But she didn’t say it.
His emotions were still sensitive right now. She worried that if she said anything, he would stop eating altogether and pin her against a wall for another wild round of kissing.
Her lips were swollen.
Whenever food accidentally touched them, they hurt.
Qin Yuhe cut the steak into tiny, tiny pieces and pushed the plate toward her.
Song Xinya ate in small bites, barely opening her mouth wide enough for the food. That way, it didn’t hurt.
He took care of her first, cutting her steak and twirling the pasta into small neat bundles.
For every bite she took, he rolled up another forkful for her.
He was a man so busy that every minute of his time involved business deals worth hundreds of millions. Yet here he was, sitting beside her and patiently taking care of her while she ate.
Only after Song Xinya had finished eating did Qin Yuhe begin his own meal.
This café was far from the Qin Group. No matter which route one took, it was inconvenient to get to the Qin Group from here.
Song Xinya found it a little strange and asked, “Why did you suddenly come to this café?”
Qin Yuhe replied blandly, “I was here to discuss business. I happened to pass by.”
Song Xinya gave an “oh.” So that was why.
In truth, he had been following her.
Song Xinya had been leaving early and returning late these past few days. The time they spent alone together had dwindled, much less any intimate moments.
Qin Yuhe woke up early, but she woke even earlier. When he woke at six in the morning, he found that she had already gone out.
Worried that his wife might run off with another man, President Qin had started tailing his own wife.
Who was President Qin? The president of a Fortune 500 conglomerate. How could he possibly admit that he was worried about his wife running off with another man? So he merely said two airy words: “Just passing by.”
As Qin Yuhe ate, Song Xinya sat quietly and watched him.
Fragments of sunlight fell across one side of his face, softening his sharp features. The light rested on his long lashes, trembling with every blink, like tiny fairies dancing upon them.
The manners and etiquette ingrained in him since childhood meant that, no matter how hungry he was, Qin Yuhe still ate with unhurried elegance.
Song Xinya’s gaze wandered over his face and body, lingering as she marveled at how extravagantly favored he was by his Creator. Every part of him, from head to toe, was so beautiful.
Then her eyes fell on the hand holding his knife and fork, and she froze.
His fingers were long and beautiful, his knuckles distinct, his skin cool and pale like jade. Yet his palm was covered in crisscrossing, vicious scars.
Against his fair, smooth skin, those scars stood out in harsh contrast, looking so grotesque and ugly.
There was not a single part of his body that was not beautiful. Only these scars, left behind by later misfortune, were ugly.
Song Xinya noticed that, after holding the knife and fork for too long, Qin Yuhe’s fingers suddenly spasmed midway through the meal. He released the utensils and flexed his fingers.
His hand was hurting again.
After lunch, Song Xinya planned to go straight to find Shen Chaoyang.
But the company’s general manager, Yuan Jingcheng, called and said he had something urgent to ask her about.
Left with no choice, Song Xinya returned to the office first.
Yuan Jingcheng stood beside her workstation. “You’re back.”
“What did you want to ask me, President Yuan?” Song Xinya asked.
“The client you signed before—Sheng Tianjun. I’d like to know more about him.”
There were so many clients in the company. Why did he specifically want information about Sheng Tianjun?
Seeing her confusion, Yuan Jingcheng explained, “Sheng Tianjun is paying the highest fee out of all our clients, so I’d like to learn more about him.”
Song Xinya handed Sheng Tianjun’s file to Yuan Jingcheng.
But she left out the page about Shen Chaoyang being raped.
She still did not know Yuan Jingcheng well enough to tell whether he was friend or foe. She had to remain cautious.
Sincerity given to someone worthy of it was sincerity. Being sincere with bad people was no different from handing them a knife to use against you.
Shen Chaoyang was Song Xinya’s leverage for bringing down the father-and-son pair, Sheng Changpu and Sheng Tianjun. He was also her hope for curing Qin Yuhe’s hand. She would not allow anyone to ruin this!
After handing over the file, Song Xinya immediately headed out of the company.
Chen Siyan had seen how hard Song Xinya had been working lately. Every day, she left early and returned late, driving twenty kilometers to that remote village. It drained her time, energy, and strength; even he, a grown man, thought it sounded exhausting.
“Teacher Song, why not take a break today and go see Shen Chaoyang tomorrow?”
“There’s a saying: If you bloom, butterflies will come.”
Song Xinya said, “Rather than waiting for the wind, it’s better to start running yourself. Roads are made by forging ahead, not by waiting around.”
She did not like waiting. She preferred taking the initiative.
Keeping her speed right at the edge of the limit, Song Xinya arrived at the entrance to that run-down courtyard house.
She gave the front gate a push and found it locked.
The gate to this old courtyard residence had never been locked before.
Clearly, Shen Chaoyang and her mother were wary of her, afraid of her, and resisting her.
A clattering sound came from the entrance of the alley. The old man who sold roujiamo was returning after packing up his stall.
From a good distance away, the old man spotted Song Xinya and called out warmly at the top of his voice.
“Miss, you drove twenty kilometers all the way here again just to eat my roujiamo?”
Song Xinya went over to help him push his cart. “That’s right. If I go a day without eating your roujiamo, Grandpa, my mouth starts itching.”
The old man glanced at her. “Oh, oh-ho-ho! Look at that—your lips are even swollen from how badly you were craving it.”
Sweat beaded on Song Xinya’s forehead, but she didn’t respond to that.
The old man took out his keys and unlocked the courtyard gate. “You came all this way just for my roujiamo. Come in and have a seat.”
Song Xinya successfully made it into the courtyard.
The old man had sold out of both meat and flatbread at his stall, so he went inside to prepare some more.
Song Xinya wandered around the courtyard until she reached the room where Shen Chaoyang and her mother lived.
The door creaked open, and Shen’s mother stepped out.
The moment she saw Song Xinya, she bristled like a hen with its feathers ruffled, her entire body going on the defensive. She grabbed a shovel leaning against the wall and blocked the doorway.
“Why are you here again?”
“How dare you come back!”
“Why do you keep coming after us?”
“You think a widow and her daughter are easy to bully, don’t you?”
“I—”
Shen’s mother raised the shovel, stamped her foot, gritted her teeth, and, gathering her courage, swung it at Song Xinya.
She shut her eyes, too scared to look. “Aah! I’m hitting you!”
Naturally, Song Xinya was not going to stand there and let herself be struck. She deftly sidestepped the blow.
Seeing that Song Xinya still refused to leave, Shen’s mother raised the shovel again and swung at her a second time, even harder than before.
“You dared hurt my daughter! I’ll fight you to the death! I’m going to beat you to death today! Aahhh!”
With all that shouting and fighting, the commotion was too great not to attract attention.
The roujiamo vendor abandoned his frying and rushed out in a panic, throwing out his arms to shield Song Xinya.
“Don’t hit her! If you want to hit someone, hit me first!”
Song Xinya looked at the old man’s frail, trembling frame and thought, Better to hit me. I can survive it. If she hits him, he’ll be lying in a coffin before long.
What a sin. What a sin.
Shen’s mother asked, “Is she your relative?”
The roujiamo vendor said, “No.”
“Then why are you protecting her so fiercely?”
“She’s my customer. She drove twenty kilometers just to eat my roujiamo. A customer that sincere—I have to protect her.”
Shen’s mother suddenly realized what was going on. Pointing at Song Xinya, she said, “She’s lying to you! She didn’t come here for roujiamo at all. She came for our Chaoyang!”
“This woman deliberately got close to you so she could get into this courtyard and get near our Chaoyang!”
Shen’s mother stared at the roujiamo vendor. “With those pathetic skills of yours, a flatbread with a chunk of meat stuffed inside—what makes you think anyone would drive twenty kilometers just to eat it?”
The old man fell silent for a moment, then turned to Song Xinya. “Young lady, is what she said true?”
“Sir, your roujiamo is absolutely delicious,” Song Xinya said. “I took some back for my colleagues, and they all said it was the best roujiamo they’d ever had. From now on, they’re willing to drive twenty kilometers just to eat here. Your cooking is truly excellent.”
Faced with a choice between harsh words and kind ones, the old man chose to believe Song Xinya.
He glared at Shen’s mother. “Put that shovel down right now. This young lady is such a good person—don’t you dare hit her.”
“A guest is a guest once she steps through the door. If you really try to crack this young lady over the head with that shovel, you’ll have me to answer to!”
Shen’s mother said, “You should worry about your pot instead. You forgot to turn off the heat before you came out, didn’t you? I can already smell something burning. Wait any longer and you’ll melt the pot.”
The old man cried out in alarm and hurried back inside.
Shen’s mother raised the heavy iron shovel and swung it down at Song Xinya’s head.
If that blow landed, it would split her skull open and leave her bleeding profusely.
Song Xinya looked at the shovel speeding toward her forehead. Calm and unruffled, she said, “I can cure your daughter’s illness.”
The shovel stopped abruptly in midair, then jerked backward.
Having halted so suddenly, Shen’s mother wrenched her back.
Ignoring the sharp ache in her lower back, she stared at Song Xinya with shining eyes. “What did you say?”
“I said,” Song Xinya replied, her gaze sincere and resolute, “I can cure your daughter’s illness.”
Shen’s mother asked, “Do you know what illness my daughter has?”
At this point, any further evasiveness would only seem insincere. Song Xinya decided to speak plainly. “I do. I asked around about your daughter’s situation.”
Wariness rose in Shen’s mother’s eyes again.
“I also looked into the best psychiatric specialists in the country for your daughter,” Song Xinya continued. “They can cure her illness.”
A brilliant light kindled in Shen’s mother’s eyes.
But there was one thing she did not understand.
“My daughter and I don’t know you. Why are you helping us?”
Qin Yuhe’s face appeared in Song Xinya’s mind.
“I’m not doing this only to help you,” she said. “I’m doing it for my husband.”
Song Xinya was completely certain: she loved Qin Yuhe. She was willing to do anything for him.
Even if she could not pluck the moon from the sky for him, she would always want to try.
