When Song Xinya was staring at Qin Yuhe, he suddenly looked up without warning, and his gaze collided squarely with hers.
Time seemed to come to an abrupt standstill. Song Xinya’s heart fluttered and gave a quick, hard beat.
A layer of heated tenderness quietly spread through the air.
She walked over and sat beside him, gazing at his face in fascination. “Why did you come back to the bedroom so early today?”
Qin Yuhe said, “Check the time.”
Song Xinya took out her phone and glanced at it, then exclaimed, “It’s almost eleven already!”
It wasn’t that he had come back early. She had come back late.
“Since it’s so late, why aren’t you asleep yet?” Song Xinya asked.
Qin Yuhe’s deep eyes rested on her. “What do you think?”
Song Xinya wrapped both arms around his neck, leaned closer, and pressed her soft lips to his. She gave him a quick, gentle suck before saying sweetly, “Of course you’re waiting for your wife to come to bed with you.”
Warm lips.
Her soft, sweet scent.
Her sugary smile.
Qin Yuhe held the book in one hand while his other hand cradled the back of her head, wanting to deepen the kiss.
Based on past experience, once they started kissing, things would quickly get out of hand.
Song Xinya’s cheeks flushed. She pushed lightly against his arm. “I haven’t showered yet.”
“Then go shower now,” Qin Yuhe said.
“Okay.”
They had both been so busy this week that they hadn’t had sex.
Qin Yuhe was always ready. He worked from six in the morning until eleven at night, putting in seventeen-hour days of high-intensity work, and could still spend the entire night making love afterward.
After a full day of work, sex wasn’t a burden to him. On the contrary, it was the best way for him to relax and release his pent-up energy.
He was passionate about it.
Song Xinya considered herself a high-energy beagle rather than a low-energy mouse person, but compared with Qin Yuhe, she was still utterly outmatched. He was the king of boundless energy, while she was barely a bronze-rank rookie.
She was actually quite tired today.
But she was happy. She and Shen Chaoyang and her daughter had formed an alliance, bringing her one step closer to treating Qin Yuhe’s injured hand.
And since the two of them hadn’t done anything for several days, she was worried that she might starve her insatiable wolfdog.
In the bathroom, warm water streamed down the woman’s graceful curves.
Song Xinya closed her eyes, relaxing as her body was enveloped in the cozy warmth of the mist.
Suddenly, the bathroom door opened, and Qin Yuhe walked in.
Song Xinya instinctively covered herself, flustered and unsure whether she should cover her chest or her lower body first.
She shielded her breasts with both hands and turned sideways toward the door.
The snowy curve of her waist and hips was breathtakingly alluring.
Qin Yuhe walked farther into the bathroom. “You forgot to take your pajamas.”
Song Xinya blinked her damp lashes, her eyes dropping shyly. “Just put them on the rack.”
“Mm.”
Qin Yuhe placed the clothes on the rack and began walking toward the door, but halfway there, he suddenly stopped.
Song Xinya’s breath caught, her body tense and damp.
Things in the bathroom were physically demanding. It wasn’t just a matter of him exerting himself—she had to stand or kneel and actively move with him as well. It was far more tiring than simply lying on a soft bed.
Song Xinya was a little tired today and wanted to lie down.
She watched the man who had stopped halfway out of the corner of her eye.
Fortunately, after pausing for three seconds, Qin Yuhe continued out and closed the bathroom door for her.
Song Xinya lowered her hands, turned to face the door, and continued showering.
Half an hour later, she emerged wearing pajamas.
The pajamas Qin Yuhe had brought her were the black lace set. The plunging V-neck at the chest was semi-transparent and delicately embroidered, with a slight gathering effect that outlined her curves and shape beautifully.
When Song Xinya came out, she saw Qin Yuhe with one hand resting on his book while the other toyed with a one-yuan coin.
The silver-white coin flipped between his fingers.
It passed in turn over his thumb, index finger, middle finger, ring finger, and little finger before returning to his thumb, where he caught it firmly.
He was skillfully spinning the coin with one hand.
His hands had always been nimble.
Song Xinya had surrendered to those agile hands countless times—panting, crying, pleading softly for mercy, being sent soaring to the clouds, and soaking his fingers until they were dripping wet.
No one understood better than she did just how nimble his hands were.
Before they had been burned, he could spin a coin back and forth ten times in a single hand.
Now, he spun it once before closing it in his palm.
A perfectly good pair of hands had been burned by fire. It was impossible for them to be unaffected.
Song Xinya walked to the other side of the bed, lifted the covers, and slipped inside.
Qin Yuhe tucked the coin into the fold of his book.
Song Xinya glanced at it.
The reverse side was facing up, and the four digits “2000” gleamed brightly.
A one-yuan coin…
The year 2000…
A tempest of emotion surged through Song Xinya’s heart.
How could this coin be exactly the same as the one she had left with the strange man a year ago—the “payment” she had given him after their one-night stand, back when she still weighed 180 pounds?
A bold thought appeared in her mind.
Could Qin Yuhe be the man she had slept with that night?
The moment she considered the possibility, Song Xinya’s heart began pounding wildly. Excitement, agitation, delight—every kind of emotion became tangled together, and her fingertips trembled uncontrollably.
Then another question surfaced.
Could it really be such a coincidence?
She had been drugged into drunkenness by Zhang Yingying and Li Cuirou, walked into the wrong room, and encountered a strange man who was also drunk. Through a bizarre twist of fate, the two of them had slept together—and that man just happened to become her future husband?
How could it be that coincidental? At this rate, the entire Earth would have to be a tiny village!
It was as if two little people were pulling at opposite sides of Song Xinya’s mind. One insisted that the man from a year ago had been Qin Yuhe. The other told her to stop dreaming—how could that possibly be so coincidental?
One little person said, “It is! It’s him!”
The other said, “Impossible. Absolutely impossible!”
The first argued, “The world is vast, and people meet across distant lands. The encounters between people are always coincidences formed from countless chance events. What’s impossible about it? Anything is possible!”
The other retorted, “Who was Qin Yuhe? He was the head of the Qin Group, the Qin family's only son, the capital’s princeling—rich, handsome, and blessed with eight-pack abs. Countless heiresses from prestigious families wanted to climb into his bed but couldn’t. Yet you, a 180-pound chubby girl, managed to climb into it on your very first try? Could the heavens really offer something that wonderful?”
“Why couldn’t something that wonderful happen?” the first little person demanded. “We’re all human beings. Why should everyone else be the one to receive all the good things? Why can’t they happen to me? I’m simply lucky! I’m a heaven-chosen daughter of fortune! Money will come to me from every direction, blessings from every corner of the world. Wealth, luck, happiness, and love will all flow toward me!”
“What are you thinking?” the other scoffed. “Do you think you’re the center of the universe? Your head is full of unrealistic fantasies. With an imagination like that, why not become a science-fiction screenwriter?”
The two little people argued endlessly. Their bickering went on and on until Song Xinya’s head began to ache.
“What are you thinking about?” Qin Yuhe closed his book, set it on the nightstand, and turned to ask her.
“N-Nothing. I’m not thinking about anyone,” Song Xinya replied, coming back to herself from her tangled thoughts.
“You sighed just now,” Qin Yuhe said.
Song Xinya was startled. “Did I?”
“You did,” he said. “A very long sigh, as if something was troubling you.”
Song Xinya stared deeply at Qin Yuhe’s face. Could he really be the man—the man she had spent the night with a year ago?
