Chapter 33

The apartment, with its compact layout and open design, had just enough room to be functional but not spacious. The “outside” Xiang Feiran referred to was the sofa where Simon had been watching a movie earlier.

Shang Mingbao, still feeling the lingering warmth from earlier, asked, “So you mean you’ll be sleeping on the sofa?”

Xiang Feiran responded with a simple, “Mm, that’s the only place to sleep.”

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Shang Mingbao looked up, surprised and unsure.

She had expected something more, perhaps another room or bed. The American-style sofa, though soft, would be a tough fit for someone as tall as Xiang Feiran.

Xiang Feiran reassured her, “It’s fine, just for one night.”

“Well…” Shang Mingbao bit her lip.

Xiang Feiran, with a faint smile, watched her expectantly. “Well, what?”

Shang Mingbao gathered her courage and said, “I’ll go find a hotel nearby after I remove my makeup and take a shower.”

Xiang Feiran’s expression shifted to a soft laugh, “It’s too late for that. Don’t make things complicated.” He patted her waist, “Go take a shower.”

Simon had already tidied up the bathroom, neatly organizing his things and setting out essentials for her use.

Shang Mingbao hung up her coat and hesitated, “What should I wear after the shower?”

Xiang Feiran opened the closet, “Pick something.”

The closet was orderly, with a range of black, white, gray, and shades of brown, primarily T-shirts, hoodies, and various jackets.

Shang Mingbao chose a black T-shirt, and followed him into the bathroom. Xiang Feiran showed her how to adjust the water temperature and informed her which products were his.

Her ears remained flushed as he explained, and when she asked about towels, Xiang Feiran realized he had forgotten and fetched one from the bedroom.

Once everything was ready, both of them took a deep breath as Shang Mingbao closed the bathroom door.

Simon poured Xiang Feiran a glass of whiskey and, with a knowing smile, remarked, “I didn’t see you being this accommodating with the other ‘sisters’ you mentioned.”

Xiang Feiran took a swig of whiskey and gestured for Simon to come over, “Let’s go downstairs.”

Simon, already bundled up in his coat and hat, asked, “What for?”

“To run a quick errand.”

Simon grumbled, “It’s freezing out, no way I’m going.”

Xiang Feiran shot him a sidelong glance, “She’ll feel awkward if she sees you.”

Simon sighed and reluctantly dressed for the cold.

Xiang Feiran knocked on the bathroom door, “Simon and I are stepping out. Finish up and head back to the room. Call me if you need anything.”

Shang Mingbao agreed, puzzled by the sudden errand.

In the icy night, under the reflective moonlight, Simon and Xiang Feiran walked to the nearby 24-hour convenience store. Xiang Feiran headed straight to the women’s hygiene products section and picked out some disposable underwear.

Simon glanced over and realized what Xiang Feiran was after. It seemed like he was checking if any of his previous girlfriends had ever had such items on hand.

After checking out, Xiang Feiran grabbed two cans of beer from the freezer and handed one to Simon.

With the night still young and Shang Mingbao likely still in the shower, Xiang Feiran insisted Simon drink the beer at the entrance.

Simon, shivering from the cold, grumbled, “What about breakfast tomorrow?”

Xiang Feiran asked, “Do you have any plans?”

Simon replied, “You make better breakfast than I do.”

The two of them both cooked, but Simon’s skills had surpassed Xiang Feiran’s, leading Xiang Feiran to resign to washing dishes.

Simon sighed, “Fine.”

Xiang Feiran added, “She doesn’t like cherry tomatoes.”

This was a detail Xiang Feiran remembered from three years ago when he saw her meticulously picking out cherry tomatoes from her salad.

Simon shook his beer can, “This won’t cover all the demands you’re making.”

Xiang Feiran finished his drink, crumpled the can, and tossed it into the trash can. “Just mention it, I’ll cover it.”

Returning to the apartment, he found Shang Mingbao already back in the bedroom.

She had hurriedly showered, her hair still damp and loose, clutching a white lace panty that was damp but twisted dry. The thought of washing it herself was something she rarely did—besides that summer camp, this was her second time.

What to do? If she didn’t wash it, she’d be going without anything tonight. But even if she did, how would she dry it? Hanging it up wouldn’t be enough, and there was no dryer in the apartment. The laundry facilities were probably used for that. She considered using a hairdryer but couldn’t find it. She was hesitant to search too thoroughly, worried about stumbling upon any of Xiang Feiran’s private things.

In her anxious state, she heard the sound of the door unlocking.

Panicking, she quickly knelt on the bed and wrapped the blanket around her lower half.

The bathroom door was open, steam still lingering. Xiang Feiran, having removed his shoes, surveyed the room before approaching the bedroom. He stopped at the partially open door and knocked, “Are you in there? May I come in?”

Shang Mingbao replied with a voice that sounded a bit odd.

Xiang Feiran entered and closed the door behind him. He noticed her sitting on the bed in an awkward position, with the quilt covering her waist. Her upper body was straight, and the black T-shirt looked oversized on her.

He made a deliberate effort not to dwell on the sight of her on his bed.

“Why aren’t you drying your hair?” he asked casually.

“I couldn’t find the hairdryer,” Shang Mingbao said, clutching the lace panties tightly.

Realizing his oversight, Xiang Feiran apologized and retrieved the white hairdryer from a drawer in his desk.

Shang Mingbao remained in her awkward position, saying, “You should go out.”

Though he didn’t understand why she would need privacy to dry her hair, he complied and left the room.

Simon, already showered and back in his room, found the TV off, with only a small light on, casting a blue hue over the room and its aquatic tank. The atmosphere was eerily quiet.

Xiang Feiran, holding his half-empty whiskey with melted ice, approached the tank and watched the small pearl turtle, resembling a scowling Shang Mingbao.

He smiled slightly and touched the turtle’s head.

After finishing his drink, he placed the box of disposable panties in the bathroom for her to find, believing it would be less awkward for her to discover them herself rather than having him hand them over directly.

Sitting on the sofa and listening to the sound of the hairdryer next door, he lost track of time, eventually realizing she had been drying her hair for a while.

As it neared 1 a.m., with an early meeting the next day, he knocked on the door and entered, “I’ll just grab the clothes—”

He stopped abruptly.

Shang Mingbao stood by the desk, her body tensed and her eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Her gaze met his as she held the lace panties, using the hairdryer to dry them.

The delicate lace, thin as a cicada’s wing and light as moonlight, fluttered from her fingers in the breeze of the dryer.

In the dim light, it floated before falling onto the Turkish carpet near the door.

Shang Mingbao’s mind went blank. She turned off the dryer, her fingertips trembling, her palm sweaty.

What to do?

He saw it, and he likely guessed what it meant.

She was naked under his T-shirt.

In the sudden silence, Xiang Feiran paused for a moment before bending down. His fingers hovered before gently picking up the translucent lace.

It was soft and still slightly damp, carrying a faint scent of his shower gel.

He inhaled the delicate aroma, and his Adam’s apple bobbed instinctively.

His expression remained calm, but his gaze dropped slightly.

“Are you not wearing anything underneath?” he asked, maintaining his composure.

Shang Mingbao, overwhelmed with embarrassment, covered her face and began to cry. Her face was flushed, and she felt unbearably exposed.

Despite the size of his T-shirt, which covered her completely, the thought of being entirely naked in his shirt, sitting on his bed, and appearing before him made her feel suffocated.

He felt the same way.

Seeing her cry so distressingly, Xiang Feiran, momentarily unable to think of anything else, closed the door behind him and moved quickly to her side.

“Don’t cry,” he said, his voice firm but gently soothing, as if comforting her was a command.

Shang Mingbao cried with genuine emotion. Despite her usual fierceness, Xiang Feiran, at this moment, found himself at a loss and dared only to hold her gently, his attempts to comfort her very tentative.

He pressed her hands away from her face, revealing her flushed, tear-streaked cheeks, her eyes shimmering with tears. Her eyelashes were damp and her shoulders trembled, sweat beading on her forehead and temples.

Xiang Feiran, feeling utterly helpless, brushed her damp hair aside with his right hand, his palm cupping her face as he spoke softly, “…Do you want to put something on? I’m afraid to move if you stay like this.”

Shang Mingbao, in a heart-wrenching sob, lifted her hand and lightly slapped his face. The touch was so soft it felt like lace brushing against the skin.

Xiang Feiran gripped her wrist, narrowed his eyes, and asked with heated breath, “What was that slap for?”

Shang Mingbao couldn’t answer, her tears illuminated by the moonlight, glowing transparently. In his gaze, her sobs suddenly stopped—because she forgot. She forgot she was crying, feeling embarrassed and ashamed, and simply stared at him like a frightened deer.

Her slender body was pressed tightly against him, huddled towards the direction of the moonlight.

The slap had not been in vain.

Xiang Feiran kissed her fiercely; she couldn’t hold on, her bare feet stepping back, knocking over a pile of books, and finally collapsing against the cold, frost-covered glass of the octagonal window.

Shang Mingbao shivered heavily, alternating between hot and cold, feeling awful. Where there had been warmth, her long legs were tightly pressed together, afraid to let her skin touch even slightly.

In the dimly lit room, the breathing was heavy.

His kiss was so fierce, his tongue sweeping over her teeth and palate, holding her tongue and sucking it to the point where her tongue root almost went numb. Her saliva was sweet, abundantly mixed with the strong aroma of the beer he had just drunk.

Shang Mingbao could only steady herself by holding onto his arms, her fingers pressing against his bulging veins, rubbing her bare waist against his palm.

But Xiang Feiran did nothing different from the previous times—except that his left hand was now holding one of her half-dry personal items.

He didn’t even lift her skirt an inch. In his disordered passion, he tenderly rubbed her thigh, both of them trembling as if weightless.

His long, strong hands were so defined, about to penetrate, when, with remarkable willpower, he slammed on the brakes.

Shang Mingbao still had that teary-eyed look, her lips, which had been sucked to a wet sheen, pouting. So tempting, and he gently kissed her again.

Xiang Feiran wiped her soft, moist eyes and thoughtfully said, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re smarter than me. I was afraid you wouldn’t have a replacement, so I bought you some disposables.”

Shang Mingbao, with her tear-streaked face, asked, “Hmm? You bought them for me?”

“Yes.”

Shang Mingbao’s lips curled even more in disappointment, feeling that this ordeal was truly unfortunate: “Then why didn’t you tell me…”

Xiang Feiran sighed softly, “I was afraid you’d be embarrassed, so I just left them in the bathroom.”

Shang Mingbao wiped her tears with the back of her hand, “You mustn’t tell anyone. Especially not Fang Suining.”

Xiang Feiran thought she was overreacting, “…I wouldn’t tell anyone, okay.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

Shang Mingbao stopped sobbing, her voice softly commanding him to bring it to her.

Xiang Feiran did as told, turned the faucet to cold, splashed himself several times, and wiped his face and hands with a familiar towel.

When he wiped his arms, he paused.

Damn it.

He clearly thought of those two words. This was the towel he had just used to dry Shang Mingbao after her bath.

Xiang Feiran closed his eyes, gripping the towel tightly, with veins protruding.

When he returned to the bedroom, his expression had returned to calm, only the wet tips of his hair revealing his inner turmoil.

Shang Mingbao closed the door and changed into disposable underwear. The ones Xiang Feiran bought were the most expensive on the shelf, made of pure cotton, snug, and firm, feeling soft and comfortable, just like everyday wear.

After she dressed, Xiang Feiran came in, took his change of clothes and computer bag, and maintained a two-meter distance to say goodnight.

“What time are you going to school tomorrow?”

“Before ten.”

Xiang Feiran nodded, “Simon and I will leave early. Just close the door when you leave. He’ll leave breakfast for you; you don’t have to eat if you don’t want to. The milk and orange juice are in the fridge, cereal in the pantry, and just press the switch on the coffee machine.”

Shang Mingbao listened quietly, still processing, when Xiang Feiran said, “It’s late. Don’t play on your phone. Get some rest.”

“Feiran gege,” Shang Mingbao stopped him from closing the door.

“What?”

“Are you really sleeping on the sofa?”

Xiang Feiran looked at her, saying word by word, “Shang Mingbao, don’t be silly. I don’t deserve your trust.”

He closed the door quietly and left.

After a while, Shang Mingbao closed her eyes to the sound of the shower.

Xiang Feiran took two cold showers tonight.

One was before getting into bed. In near self-torture cold water, he forced his youthful, long-abstinent body to cool down.

When he emerged, the room was silent, allowing him to introspect.

He never played dating games, and engaging in ambiguous games under the guise of dating, pushing all boundaries was not his style. He sat on the soft, unsupportive sofa, fingers buried in his hair, head bowed, quietly reflecting.

It seemed almost inevitable that he allowed himself to advance these intimate behaviors prematurely.

But, what if Shang Mingbao refused altogether? What if she was just trying out dating with him?

At this point of introspection, Xiang Feiran suddenly realized that he hadn’t left any room for Shang Mingbao to not formally enter into a relationship with him.

The second cold shower was around three in the morning.

The heat was unbearable, making him frown and consider writing an email to complain about the apartment management turning the heating up too high.

He could actually release himself, but he was too lazy and thought it was inappropriate to fantasize about her self-pleasuring while she was right there in bed.

He hadn’t expected to run into Shang Mingbao after his shower.

Shang Mingbao, already somewhat on edge, heard him open the door and suddenly turned around, kicking her toes against a chair. She gasped, holding back a whimper.

Xiang Feiran: “…”

He lazily leaned against the doorframe, “I wasn’t looking for you, but you came looking for me?”

Shang Mingbao, in pain, sat down on a nearby dining chair, “Who’s looking for you? I just came to use the bathroom.”

Xiang Feiran stepped aside, seeming doubtful but coldly said, “Go ahead.”

Shang Mingbao walked towards the bathroom. She didn’t actually need to get up; she simply couldn’t sleep and had been listening to the noises from the living room.

She knew he had opened a bottle of whiskey, poured himself a drink with ice; knew he had opened the balcony door and come back in after ten minutes; knew he was up in the middle of the night taking a shower.

She wanted to ask, is it so unbearable to sleep next to me?

After pretending to wash her hands, she saw Xiang Feiran sitting in the chair she had just occupied, lighting a cigarette.

The room was dark, with the blue flame of the lighter illuminating his face.

“Shang Mingbao.” Xiang Feiran habitually addressed her by her full name, lighting his cigarette.

Shang Mingbao stopped, her heart racing as she knew he had more to say.

Xiang Feiran watched her for a moment, his voice gentle but pressuring, “Either be my sister or be my girlfriend. There’s no middle ground, you know that. Make your choice.”

Shang Mingbao’s fingertips were damp with water.

“Is it true that you’re against marriage?” she asked abruptly.

Xiang Feiran was momentarily stunned, then gently asked, “Did Fang Suining tell you?”

He had heard her mention their encounter before.

Shang Mingbao shook her head, “No.”

It didn’t matter who told her; it was something everyone around him knew. He hadn’t intended to hide it from her, and she would find out eventually.

“Yes, it’s true.” Xiang Feiran admitted without hesitation, without qualifiers or embellishments.

“For a lifetime… you don’t plan to get married?”

Xiang Feiran hadn’t considered discussing such deep matters of marriage with a nineteen-year-old girl. He simply nodded and said plainly, “That’s right.”

Hearing him admit it directly, Shang Mingbao suddenly felt a pang of sadness in her eyes.

She should have felt happy, relieved, and at ease, but instead, her nose felt sour.

“Then why are you still pursuing me?” she smiled slightly, trying to act nonchalant, “Isn’t it said that someone who’s against marriage should only date others with the same views to avoid trouble?”

Was it because he wanted to play with her from the beginning? That’s why he said, “A two-point affection is just right.”

The darkness prevented Xiang Feiran from noticing her slight trembling.

“Babe.” He called her English name seriously for the first time, his expression unfamiliarly calm: “Your background and family, whether or not I’m against marriage makes no difference to you. We were never meant to be.”

Shang Mingbao exhaled, as if laughing, but also in disbelief: “What?”

Xiang Feiran simply said, “I saw your grandfather’s funeral on the news.”

He was so perceptive that he instantly deduced why, after coming back this time, she was more enthusiastic, relaxed, and responsive to his kisses, and less resistant to his declarations of affection.

Because she knew he was against marriage.

She understood now and felt a sense of relief. She realized that they wouldn’t have a future together, and she didn’t need to second-guess herself.

Xiang Feiran, holding the cigarette, smiled with relief after coming to this realization.

It really was a two-point affection.

It was okay.