Snow was falling heavily over the streets of New York, leaving passersby stunned, shaken, and thrown into confusion by the sudden storm.
Those dressed warmly regarded it as a delightful surprise from nature. Clutching cups of fragrant hot coffee, they stopped to admire the beautiful snowy scene.
Those dressed lightly muttered, “Fuck, what kind of crazy weather is this?” Then they hunched their shoulders and hurried home, a layer of sparkling frost forming on their eyebrows as their breath instantly turned into a white mist before their eyes.
The bone-chilling cold battered the floor-to-ceiling windows, but it could not extinguish the searing heat inside the house.
Qin Yuhe’s hands and lips took turns.
He explored her thoroughly, inch by inch, not missing a single part of her, sensing the changes in her after the months they had spent apart.
She had said he’d lost weight, but hadn’t she done the same?
Her waist was even slimmer now.
He could encircle it tightly with just one hand.
Central Park seemed to have been pressed on pause, with fewer and fewer pedestrians passing by.
The snow kept falling, again and again, each flake landing heavily.
Gradually, an unmelting layer of snow accumulated on the streets, car roofs, and branches.
The bare branches were wrapped in thick hoarfrost. It was as if, overnight, a spring breeze had swept through, causing thousands upon thousands of pear trees to burst into bloom.
The solid-wood sofa was heavy, sturdy, and broad.
It could easily accommodate two people lying flat.
Even when they were on top of each other, there was still plenty of room.
Song Xinya was hopelessly addicted to this feeling—complete, exclusive, one-of-a-kind. It was as though everything in the world had ceased to exist, as though every external distraction had been blocked out by overwhelming pleasure. There were only the two of them. Only them.
The emotions surging through their hearts were expressed through their bodies without restraint.
The temperature kept rising, like water in a kettle, hissing and steaming as it neared the boiling point.
Then, suddenly, a phone began to ring.
They both froze.
The sound came from the floor, where Qin Yuhe’s suit jacket had been tossed.
The glow from the phone screen flickered faintly through the fabric.
Qin Yuhe ignored it.
He was an extremely focused man. Whenever he did something, he devoted himself to it completely.
Even as the phone rang noisily, he simply treated it as part of the atmosphere.
Song Xinya was lifted up, her hands gripping the back of the sofa tightly.
Qin Yuhe covered her.
The phone kept ringing without pause.
Whoever was calling seemed exceptionally persistent, as if determined to keep calling until the end of time if he refused to answer.
This person seemed to be just like Qin Yuhe—particularly single-minded when it came to getting something done.
After the phone had rung thirteen times, Song Xinya pushed against Qin Yuhe.
“Qin Yuhe, answer it.”
If he didn’t, the caller really might keep ringing until the end of time.
“Fine.” Qin Yuhe reached down, picked up the phone, and pressed the answer button. He turned on speakerphone and tossed it aside.
Old Master Qin’s voice came through, full of vigor, his words hurried and rapid.
“Brat, open the door. I’m right outside your place.”
Good heavens!
Grandpa was right outside!
He was standing right at the door!
Grandpa, could you please stop scaring people like that?
Thank goodness. Thank goodness they hadn’t actually gotten started yet.
Song Xinya immediately reached for anything she could find and pulled it over the two of them.
She grabbed the champagne-colored gown that had been torn to shreds and tossed it behind her.
It landed over Qin Yuhe’s head.
He gave a lazy, wicked laugh. “What good is covering my head? The parts that actually need covering are still completely exposed.”
He reached up, pulled the scrap of fabric off, and tossed it onto the floor.
“Don’t worry. Grandpa doesn’t have a key to my place.”
Song Xinya relaxed.
Old Master Qin’s voice rang out again. “Brat, who are you talking to?”
Qin Yuhe said, “Do you need something?”
Old Master Qin replied, “Yes. Open the door.”
Qin Yuhe said, “Before I open the door, tell me what it’s about.”
Old Master Qin answered, “You didn’t attend the banquet. I was worried you hadn’t eaten dinner, so I brought you some food.”
Qin Yuhe actually laughed. “Grandpa, I’m a grown man. If I’m hungry, don’t you think I know how to find something to eat? In your mind, am I still a little baby with a pacifier in my mouth?”
Old Master Qin said, “Yes. Not only are you still a little baby with a pacifier in your mouth, you still need someone to feed you.”
Qin Yuhe replied, “It doesn’t have to be you.”
Old Master Qin asked, “Then who do you want to feed you?”
Qin Yuhe said, “As a married man, naturally I want my wife to feed me.”
Old Master Qin asked, “Does your wife feed you better than I do?”
“Of course she does. Grandpa, could you have a little self-awareness? Why are you comparing yourself to my wife? What do you have that can compete with her? Your age? Or the fact that you don’t bathe?”
Old Master Qin had originally been worried that his grandson hadn’t eaten enough. Now, he turned around and left.
Let that little bastard starve to death!
The call ended.
No one interrupted them again.
Qin Yuhe leaned close and whispered in her ear, “I won’t let you feed me. If anyone’s doing the feeding, I’ll feed you. How could I bear to tire out those delicate hands of yours?”
“You’re precious. You’re meant to be cherished, not made to do housework.”
Outside the window, snow drifted down in soft, sweeping sheets, continuing from nightfall until dawn and transforming everything into a silver-clad wonderland from a fairy tale.
Crash—the solid-wood sofa collapsed!
