Chapter 39

The single sleeping bag was too narrow to comfortably cover both of them, even when fully spread out. Shang Mingbao kindly grabbed Xiang Feiran’s T-shirt and said, “Don’t sleep so far away, I can’t cover your back.”

Xiang Feiran moved his upper body closer to her, but only slightly.

Shang Mingbao closed her eyes, preparing to sleep. After a moment, she felt his breath, warm against her nose, and her own warmth. She wanted to swallow but didn’t dare, as the silence of the night made even the smallest sound conspicuous. After enduring for a while, she spoke softly, “It’s hot.”

Xiang Feiran moved a few inches away from her and asked, “How about now?”

Shang Mingbao felt the draft between them and said, “There’s a breeze coming through.”

The flattened sleeping bag was very light, lacking the enveloping feeling of being properly compressed.

Xiang Feiran, wide awake, allowed her to fidget. “What do you want?”

Shang Mingbao thought for a moment and said, “I’ll change into a different sleepwear.”

She got up and, without turning on the light, felt her way to the wardrobe. Based on her memory and touch, she picked out a lightweight silk nightgown.

In the darkness, the rustling of her changing clothes was audible.

After a while, the mattress shook as she crawled onto it, her scent reaching Xiang Feiran before she did. The bed was large; she knelt and crawled a few steps before lifting the sleeping bag.

“I’ve changed into something cooler,” Shang Mingbao said cleverly, “you can lie back down now.”

Xiang Feiran remained silent, holding his breath, his Adam’s apple moving but unable to swallow.

Seeing he hadn’t moved, Shang Mingbao gently tugged at his shirt. “Give me your arm.”

Xiang Feiran opened his clear, narrow eyes and calmly said, “Shang Mingbao, you really don’t care about me.”

Shang Mingbao’s face showed confusion. Despite their recent intimacy, her understanding of men was still limited, not knowing the kind of unruly physical reactions a man in his age might have. She was his girl in his dreams, now lying together with him in such cool attire, causing a flare-up just from a touch, and she was blissfully unaware of it, inviting him to ward off the cold together.

He didn’t need to ward off the cold; what he needed was a cold shower or to freeze on the balcony.

Reluctantly, under Shang Mingbao’s insistence, Xiang Feiran extended his arm, suppressing his own overwhelming feelings, and let her nestle into his embrace.

… Oddly, even though she was wearing such cool clothing, he felt unbearably hot within ten minutes of lying down.

Shang Mingbao, feeling the intense heat, carefully adjusted her position in his arms. Just as she moved, Xiang Feiran held her down. “Don’t move around.”

Ignoring his words, Shang Mingbao bent her knees slightly— even just brushing against his thigh through his sweatpants made Xiang Feiran tense up. He furrowed his brows and closed his eyes tightly.

It didn’t end there. Shang Mingbao suddenly placed her hand on his arm, feeling it, and asked, “Xiang Feiran, are you running a fever again?”

She recalled that Xiang Feiran had been alternating between feeling cold and hot all night.

Xiang Feiran, caught off guard by her sudden touch, gasped, suppressing his breath. After a moment of restraint, he exhaled slowly and lowered his head slightly. “Are you going to sleep or not?”

Shang Mingbao pressed her lips together. “You’re too hot. I can’t sleep.”

Xiang Feiran withdrew his arm and got out of bed— without hesitation: “I’m going to take a shower.”

He quickly took a cold shower, returning to her side with a chill that didn’t fit the winter night. This time, Shang Mingbao settled down, turned on her side, and faced away from him, saying, “Goodnight.”

Exhausted and with her mind settling down, sleep soon overcame her. She fell asleep within minutes, breathing steadily and unaware of the trouble she was causing Xiang Feiran.

Desperate, Xiang Feiran began mentally listing the Latin names of plants.

Sometime in the early morning, Shang Mingbao woke up feeling hot. She initially didn’t know where she was, forgetting it was winter. Her back was sweaty, and the silk nightgown was sticking to her skin. She opened her eyes, slowly becoming aware of the discomfort in the dark—her legs and between her legs…

What is this?

Even though there was a certain thickness of material from the sweatpants, she still felt considerable warmth and… weight.

The breathing behind her was very calm, with even the hands being quite gentlemanly and restrained—one hand propped up under her neck, and the other naturally resting on her waist.

If anyone were to blame, it would be that their bodies fit too well together, making the embrace perfectly snug.

Shang Mingbao dared not move at all, carefully swallowing—she was afraid that even the slightest movement would wake Xiang Feiran.

Her eyes were wide open.

Is this what dating is like? She pondered this philosophical, soul-searching question. Is dating supposed to involve these kinds of things? No, no, although she was usually adept at following stars and surfing the web, and had some understanding, when it came to actually experiencing it herself, she was immediately reduced to the state of “knowing about it but not being able to do it”—

Such things are better left to others to handle… She simply couldn’t handle it at all!

Amidst the tension, Shang Mingbao didn’t notice that the breathing behind her had paused—

Xiang Feiran had also woken up, but not because of Shang Mingbao, rather because the engorged, tense feeling was so unnatural that it yanked him out of his dreams.

Xiang Feiran was too preoccupied to notice the stiffness of the body in his arms. After taking a deep breath, he gently removed his hand from Shang Mingbao’s waist.

Brother Feiran is awake!

Shang Mingbao quickly shut her eyes, feeling each pore burning and itching, as if her skin were on fire.

In her heightened anxiety, Xiang Feiran moved the arm he had been resting on her. He was trying to withdraw it without waking her, so the movement was very slow.

The bed was very soft, making it difficult—Xiang Feiran inevitably relied on his core muscles.

A very light forward nudge split the warm, heavy layers of flesh on both sides.

It was merely an accidental light touch, but the force was more penetrating than expected, not like ripples or water patterns, but a forceful warm spring water surge, gently flowing and directly reaching deep into Shang Mingbao’s body.

She only felt a tingle in her spine, biting her lip hard to suppress an instinctive soft moan.

Xiang Feiran was no better off—perhaps even worse.

The tingling sensation shot from his tailbone to his cerebral cortex, giving him a sensation of near weightlessness. He even thought about whether he should just go ahead and do it. But this irresponsible thought only flashed through his mind for a second before he firmly pushed it away.

He finally managed to withdraw his arm, letting out a sigh of relief as if he had survived a disaster, and then he got up without looking back.

He wasn’t going to sleep tonight.

He walked to the living room, grabbed a cigarette pack from the coffee table. To avoid the noise of the sliding glass door waking Shang Mingbao, he went into the bathroom this time and lit a cigarette by the sink.

Cold water from the chrome faucet washed away the fallen ash into the drain. Xiang Feiran looked at it for a moment, splashed cold water on his face, then braced himself on the sink, squinting at his reflection in the mirror, filled with a sense of alienation and inquiry.

The face reflected in the mirror, with its pristine bone structure unchanged, now had a desire in the eyes that had never been there before, as the water flowed over his chin and Adam’s apple. This desire was suppressed by his reason, like a monster retreating into a dark abyss, repressed and agitated, churning up an obscurity that was impossible to see through.

His usually placid and serene eyes had become a chasm of desire.

But he wasn’t planning to act on it. What happened tonight was the limit he could allow himself.

If he couldn’t figure it out, then don’t think about it. He had lived twenty-four years with no desires or demands, indifferent even to billions in assets and top international biological laboratories—why couldn’t he refuse her body?

In terms of controlling his willpower, he remained that arrogant genius.

He put on his coat and lay down on the sofa, closing his eyes for the night.

The next morning, Shang Mingbao was awakened by the sound of a snowplow.

The room was bright, but there was no sign of Xiang Feiran. Strangely, she was not at all anxious or hurried to find him, because she knew Xiang Feiran would not leave her without a word.

Dressing and getting up, Shang Mingbao casually brushed her hair while walking to the balcony and opened the app to check the news.

The entire Manhattan Island was blanketed in snow, with the Hudson River reflecting the golden morning light so brilliantly that it was hard to see the buildings on either side. The news reported that this was the third most severe ice formation on the Hudson River this century, after 2004 and 2015, with the ice thickness exceeding 1.5 feet compared to 2015. To avoid disrupting shipping, icebreakers were already in operation, with the broken ice floating on the golden river, making it seem like spring floods had arrived.

Shang Mingbao listened to the news and realized this was her first time hearing morning news.

Why, on the first day with Xiang Feiran, is even the weather something she wants to care about?

She not only cared about the weather but also about everything that had happened in the world over the past twenty-four hours—political visits, local wars, traffic congestion on Manhattan Island, Christmas markets operating as usual, record-high sales at Bergdorf Goodman department store, and a spotted dog saving its three-month-old owner from death on New Year’s Eve.

New York, covered in snow all night, was still and windless, mirroring her mood as she leaned on the railing, watching the world.

When she caught sight of Xiang Feiran, Shang Mingbao couldn’t help but smile to herself.

Sure enough, he had gone out to buy breakfast, carrying two paper bags and coffee in his left hand.

His figure moving through the deep snow had a striking stillness.

Shang Mingbao propped her chin on one hand and watched intently. Perhaps her gaze had a perceptive power, as she saw Xiang Feiran’s steps slow down, and then, he accurately looked up towards this direction and floor.

He accurately and firmly captured her appearance, as if he had already looked up at this balcony from the street corner more than once.

Shang Mingbao relaxed her propping hand, but her body remained still. It wasn’t until the news broadcast on her phone was interrupted by a call—Xiang Feiran calling—that she moved. Holding the phone, he gazed straight up at her from below.

Shang Mingbao answered the call and heard him say, “Go inside and wait.”

Shang Mingbao asked, “What did you buy for breakfast?”

Even though they could talk face-to-face soon, Xiang Feiran stood at the street corner and chatted with her on the balcony.

“Tuna sandwich, chicken porridge, croissant, beef and vegetable roll.”

“So much?”

“I didn’t know what you’d like.”

Shang Mingbao leaned her face against the arm resting on the railing and said, “I don’t eat breakfast.”

Xiang Feiran responded with a hint of exasperation, “Who taught you such a bad habit?”

Sophie often criticized and advised her, but she usually dealt with mornings with just a cup of hot coffee.

“Then I’ll change it…” Shang Mingbao said in a soft tone, “Starting today.”

Xiang Feiran smiled slightly and didn’t say much more: “Hang up.”

He ended the call, slipped his phone back into his pocket, and continued to look at her with a calm demeanor, as if to ask why she hadn’t gone back inside yet.

Shang Mingbao shrank her neck and hurried back to her room.

In her hurried morning, she hadn’t noticed her surroundings. Now that she returned, she discovered a gift box under the Christmas tree. It was beautiful, with red and white stripes and a very standard bow tied with red ribbon on top.

Shang Mingbao’s footsteps faltered, her eyes widened, and her heart started to race.

She dashed to the Christmas tree like a gust of wind. In just a few steps, she was under the tree, catching her breath.

Sitting cross-legged on the carpet, she held the gift box gently. What could it be?

She even shook it a bit, trying to guess the sound inside.

She was being foolish. Despite having received countless gifts throughout her life, she had completely forgotten that the box was likely filled with raffia straw, which would muffle any sound.

Shang Mingbao placed the gift box on her lap, unsure of what to do with it.

She wiped her sweaty hands on her pajamas.

Xiang Feiran, who didn’t have much money, had to borrow two hundred dollars for emergency medical bills. Living alone in New York, even with a full scholarship, he wouldn’t be very well-off. He usually commuted by bike or subway, and rented an apartment. The amber he had given her last time must have been quite expensive, possibly even overextending his budget.

So, she shouldn’t have too high expectations.

If he bought the gift early, it would be close to the cost of the amber, and he wouldn’t have spent much more money.

If he bought the gift later, by that time they might have had conflicts, and she had already started avoiding him. He likely wouldn’t have bought an expensive gift, as it would be a sunk cost.

So, she shouldn’t have too high expectations.

Shang Mingbao took a deep breath, wiped her sweaty hands again, and then pinched the corner of the ribbon bow with her fingertips.

She was ready. With her heartbeat quickening uncontrollably, she gently pulled the corner.

The ribbon fell away from the box.

Shang Mingbao held the top of the gift box with both hands, her face inexplicably flushed, her eyes also bright.

If her parents saw this, they would definitely tease her. It was exactly like how she looked when she received birthday presents as a child.

She gently exhaled and opened the lid—

Inside was a rectangular velvet jewelry box, resting neatly among the red raffia.

Shang Mingbao froze, tossing the lid aside, hesitatingly—feeling a sense of homesickness—picked up the jewelry box and opened it.

Inside were a pair of earrings made of Australian white pearls, symmetrically placed.

Designed to fit the contour of the outer ear, they resembled a heart.

Pure white, pristine, and sparkling with top-tier brilliance—a heart ready to be spent everything, with no return.

The sudden, overwhelming bitterness that surged to her nose turned into crystal-clear tears before Shang Mingbao could react.

Xiang Feiran hadn’t lied to her—his gift was timeless.