Chapter 71

His sudden clarity and calm were obvious. Although his kiss still lingered on Shang Mingbao’s cheek, and their bodies were still intimately entwined, the pause in his breathing was unmistakable.

Moreover, his movements had also stopped.

With his soft kisses landing on her eyes and nose, Shang Mingbao closed her eyes. At first, she felt an unbearable sense of intoxication, but after a while, her breath slowed from rapid to steady, and her awareness slowly returned.

There was a needle in her mind as well, no thicker than a strand of hair, but as it pierced through, it sent a shiver down the back of her neck.

She couldn’t guess Xiang Feiran’s reaction. The fingers tangled in his hair and the palm pressed against his cheek grew soft with uncertainty.

Shang Mingbao called him “Feiran gege” and feigned confusion, trying to brush it off, asking him to move.

Xiang Feiran closed his eyes, kissing her eyelashes, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “What did you just call me?”

“Just now…”

“Did I hear wrong?” Xiang Feiran caressed her sweat-drenched face.

Shang Mingbao bit her lips, which were now red and slightly swollen from his kisses tonight, but she didn’t respond. He sounded as gentle as ever; perhaps the unease and nervousness she felt were just her own insecurities.

“I didn’t hear wrong,” Xiang Feiran whispered in a steady, husky voice as he kissed her earlobe. “You just called me ‘husband’.”

Shang Mingbao’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt a sudden urge to cry. His certainty seemed to confirm something on a deeper level. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and neck.

She called him softly again, shedding all the confusion from the intoxicated moment. Her words were clear and cautious, carefully spoken.

Xiang Feiran tightened his grip on her wrist, intertwining their fingers.

He didn’t say anything more, only kissed Shang Mingbao deeply. As the sweat trickled down his tense, silent jaw, it dripped onto her snow-white neck.

There was no room left for anything else in his pitch-black gaze, which carried a deep-seated ferocity and intensity.

The waves crashed ashore—strong and overwhelming, leaving Shang Mingbao in a state of blank consciousness. All that remained was the instinct to cry out, but her lips were sealed by his kiss. His tongue plunged deeply into her mouth, drawing in her essence, merging with her in a kiss that sealed every sound back into the volcano, leaving only trembling, trembling—the rumbling of an earthquake trapped within her body.

She never got the chance to call him “husband” a second time.

Even after they were spent, Xiang Feiran continued to kiss her, gently, tenderly, their lips brushing against each other.

In the dim light from the floor lamp at the end of the bed, Shang Mingbao looked at him, her watery eyes wide and dazed, her soul seemingly cleansed.

She felt that their relationship had been washed anew, becoming more intertwined and profound than before.

She held him, listening to her own pounding heartbeat.

In Xiang Feiran’s gentleness, there was a distant calmness. His brows, shadowed by the backlight, were heavy with darkness, making it hard to see clearly.

After holding her for a long enough moment, he stroked her hair. “I’m going to have a smoke.”

Shang Mingbao felt dazed, her eyes filled with attachment, shyness, and confusion. “You haven’t yet.”

“It’s okay.” Xiang Feiran lightly patted the back of her head, like a casual reassurance.

He got up, dressed, and pulled out the last cigarette from his sweatpants pocket.

Before heading to the balcony, Xiang Feiran leaned down again, touched Shang Mingbao’s soft, warm cheek, and kissed her forehead lightly. “Go take a shower, don’t wait for me.”

Before he left, Shang Mingbao suddenly grabbed his hand, her fingertips sliding down his forearm to his wrist, gently holding his palm. “Don’t go, just smoke here.”

“The smell of smoke is bad. Be good.” He insisted on going out.

“It doesn’t matter since I won’t be staying here after I send you to the airport tomorrow anyway.” Shang Mingbao held onto him.

After the first lease of this apartment expired, she renewed the contract for another two years, making it a total of three years. Over these three years, this 35-square-meter apartment gradually filled with many household items, clothes, and memories.

A few days ago, Sophie reminded her that there was only one more quarter left before it expired again and asked if she wanted to renew it. There was no need to renew it, but Shang Mingbao didn’t immediately reply to Sophie.

Xiang Feiran pulled his arm out of her hand. “Babe, let me be alone for a while.”

Shang Mingbao was stunned, and asked, as if she didn’t understand, “Why?”

She had already touched the outline of the truth. The question wasn’t really seeking an answer, but rather seeking a denial.

Xiang Feiran’s lowered eyes showed a trace of disinterest. He ended the conversation directly, “No reason, go take a shower.”

The glass door was opened and closed again. In those two seconds, the noise from outside came and went. The room was quiet again. Shang Mingbao slowly put on her clothes, her toes touching the floor.

She sat quietly by the bed with her head bowed for a couple of seconds before getting up and sliding the door open again.

Hearing the noise, Xiang Feiran’s fingers, which were holding the cigarette, curled slightly. Without turning around, he only said, “The wind is strong outside, go back inside.”

“You’re angry.” Shang Mingbao’s nails dug into her palm.

“What? No,” Xiang Feiran looked up this time, frowning. “It’s not like that, I just—”

“—You just lost interest after hearing me call you that.” Once the emotions were unleashed, they were uncontrollable. Shang Mingbao’s chest heaved, her breath short. “Do you think you’re being very responsible, holding on until the last moment before pulling away?”

The words were harsh. Xiang Feiran’s face turned cold. He stood up, stubbed out the barely smoked cigarette, grabbed her arm, and pulled her back to the room. “Fine, let’s continue.”

Shang Mingbao stood still, her face turned away in anger, her teeth clenched, expressionless.

Xiang Feiran’s breathing was well-controlled, deep yet light. “You don’t want to continue, do you?”

Shang Mingbao closed her eyes, still cold and silent.

“Shang Mingbao, tomorrow I’m flying back home. After that, it’ll take twenty-one hours to see you, not just one hour anymore.” Xiang Feiran mustered all his patience. “I don’t want to argue, do you understand?”

“I understand!” Shang Mingbao suddenly shook off his hand and turned her face to him. “So just say what’s on your mind, okay?”

“What do you want me to say?” Xiang Feiran gazed at her, his expression calm. “There’s nothing to say. What do you want me to say? I just wanted to stand here and smoke a cigarette.”

“You liked it,” Shang Mingbao murmured, every muscle in her face out of control. Her lips trembled, and her eyes quickly filled with a layer of tears. “You clearly liked it just now. Do you think I can’t tell? Why? Why do this?”

Couldn’t the evidence be his burning breath, his uncontrollable groans, the intense thrusts, and the deep red marks left on her skin?

Xiang Feiran’s eyes grew even deeper, but his face remained expressionless: “I also want to ask you why. Why did you suddenly call me that?”

He abruptly tore away the veneer of mutual understanding, and Shang Mingbao’s heart trembled. Instead of resisting, she wilted and compromised, choosing to avoid the issue.

“Isn’t it just a form of address?” She frantically looked around to avoid his gaze. “Brother, husband, teacher, professor, doctor, Xiang Feiran—what’s the difference? I don’t know why you care about this.”

“Because you know, and I know, that this form of address is different between us,” Xiang Feiran said, word by word.

For many people, love can be a child’s play, pretending to be adults, indulging in love, hate, and drama without any real consequences. But for them, who have already given each other deep, unconditional love, it’s a perilous adventure. Any role-playing that seems harmless to others is a conscious fall, playing with fire that leads to self-destruction, an illusory fantasy that drowns them.

“I don’t know, I called every star I liked ‘my husband’ when I was a fan. Is that okay, does that make it better?” Shang Mingbao’s eyes widened, desperately trying to hold back her tears, her thin voice tinged with a faint plea. “Don’t be so particular about this, Feiran-ge, in those moments, anything can be said.”

The wind was cool, but her limbs under the T-shirt were cold, so cold that it was piercing.

She regretted it, regretted not controlling herself, indulging herself. After all, she had held back for three years; it was just a form of address, and always calling him Feiran-ge was fine too.

But when she heard Wen Youyi personally say “it’s not impossible,” she still fantasized, foolishly dreamed, and imagined. She drank a lot of alcohol, eager to jump into his arms and share this good news.

But she forgot that this might not be good news for him.

Now that the explanation had reached this point, Xiang Feiran could no longer say anything more. He took her hand and pushed her back to her room: “Don’t call me that anymore.”

He said it so lightly.

“Are you taking this too seriously?” Shang Mingbao bit her lip, trying to calm the trembling in her bones.

“Is it really such a big deal? If it weren’t for dating you, I might have gotten used to calling someone else that by now.” She forced a smile that didn’t look too good, relying solely on her features to carry it. Her lower lip had a shallow cut, a bead of blood seeping out, which she licked away, tasting the metallic flavor.

Xiang Feiran closed the door, blocking out the wind. His hand was large enough to cover half her face.

“Babe,” he steadied himself, his natural height difference making his gaze fall straight into her eyes, “you know we can’t be together.”

“It’s precisely because we can’t, that I can call you whatever I want. After all, neither of us would take it seriously.” Shang Mingbao shrugged indifferently and tilted her head, “It’s just for fun, right?”

Xiang Feiran curved his lips slightly: “Yes, but still, you can’t.”

He had a wall of frost that Shang Mingbao couldn’t get over, and in her confusion, he pulled her into his arms.

His steady voice and kiss fell on the top of her head together: “This is enough. Don’t push it any further.”

Shang Mingbao suddenly shivered: “Are you telling me not to love you any more?”

Xiang Feiran tightened his arms: “Do you remember, at the beginning, I was content with just two points. The morning I learned you’d liked me since you were sixteen, I walked across Central Park from your house, and I’ll never forget that hour—it was the best day of my life.”

“You’re leaving tomorrow, and you’re telling me this now?” Shang Mingbao laughed through her tears, not sure if it was out of amusement or disbelief. “If my understanding is off, I might think you’re breaking up with me.”

“Feiran-ge,” she smiled and asked, “are you breaking up with me?”

A sharp pain pulsed from his heart to his fingertips, making both of Xiang Feiran’s arms feel unnervingly numb.

“No,” he denied firmly, “I’ve never thought about it.”

“I have.”

With just those three simple words, what right did they have to instantly strip away all his warmth?

“You…” Xiang Feiran took a slight breath, then spoke in a rough, strained voice, “You’ve thought about it?”

In the past three years, Shang Mingbao had thought about breaking up with him?

Just repeating the words in his mind made his breath burn with anxious frustration and helplessness.

Why? When? No matter how much he racked his brain, he couldn’t find a reason or clue. Had he done something wrong, or not done enough?

Yes, when giving gifts, he couldn’t offer ten thousand, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, or millions of dollars’ worth, but everything he had, he gave to her. Every gift, every date was meticulously planned, never half-hearted. But that couldn’t be it—Shang Mingbao wasn’t the kind of person who would be dissatisfied because of that. On the contrary, she would worry about whether he needed to pay in installments on his credit card or why the lab reimbursement hadn’t come through yet. She even suggested that they not exchange gifts for Valentine’s Day this year. But Xiang Feiran still prepared one, and she still pursed her lips and brought out the gift she had prepared for him.

Or was it that she felt he was too busy, that he didn’t have enough time for her? Yes, he wished he could stretch twenty-four hours into forty-eight, but aside from his research time, every second he had was for her. The road to the airport had become the most familiar one in Boston for him.

He never made her angry or upset.

Or perhaps, it’s simpler than that—no complex reasons, just that she didn’t love him as much anymore.

That’s the most common reason. In the gaps created by distance, in a sudden moment of time, she might have thought, this is tiring, dating like this. And the only reason she hadn’t made up her mind was simply that it didn’t really matter.

The world he brought her to wasn’t so unique after all. Flowers and plants, the myriad of human experiences—apart from him, there were many others who could offer her similar experiences, and this world was not a necessity for her life.

“She suffered because she loved you.” Xiang Weishan’s words echoed, like in a deep, rumbling valley.

It was because of love that everything he brought her seemed so sweet; without love, it was merely a plain, grim hardship.

“Yes, I’ve thought about it, many times,” Shang Mingbao said without hesitation, nodding. “I often think, maybe I should just let it go.”

Before she could fully grasp the situation, he had her pressed tightly into his arms, her bones aching from the pressure, as if his arms were trying to crush her.

“Why? Babe.” Suddenly, Xiang Feiran’s pupils lost focus, as if black mist was swirling before him. “If I haven’t done well, tell me. I can change.”

His brain was operating on years of instinct; he had no idea what he was saying or asking.

“No, you’re too good.” Shang Mingbao let him hold her, without a hint of resistance. But she was too soft, too loose; her compliance made her feel like quicksand, slipping through Xiang Feiran’s grasp.

“It’s because you’re too good that I often think about it. What should I do? It seems I’m growing more fond of you,” Shang Mingbao said softly, her chin resting on his shoulder. “You asked me not to increase my expectations. I understand that. In the tent, in the dim light, in the Boston apartment, here, on a summer evening sitting on the Central Park lawn, I often think it’s enough, that it’s sufficient, the more beautiful it gets, the more I think it’s enough, that I don’t want more, that I can’t want more.”

Tears, clear and sparkling, traced down her pale and flushed cheeks, dripping onto Xiang Feiran’s T-shirt.

“What if it’s possible?” Driven by stubborn impulse and what could be called reckless courage, she sniffled. “If I could negotiate with my family, get my parents to agree—”

“Babe.” Xiang Feiran’s breath was icy. “I am against marriage.”

Shang Mingbao suddenly stopped, her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes wide and bright, bathed in tears.

Her gaze, expression, and every second of her breathing were filled with disbelief. After her disbelief, she smiled, her lips curving high.

Even at this moment, he could still say those four words without blinking.

Xiang Feiran held her shoulder, stubbornly wanting to see her eyes before he spoke seriously. “Don’t waste your efforts on this. Don’t argue with your parents about it.”

He called it a waste of effort.

Shang Mingbao inexplicably started coughing, feeling a tickling emptiness in her chest.

“I haven’t, I haven’t talked to them about you. I haven’t forgotten that you don’t want to marry. I haven’t forgotten…”

She lowered her head, coughing heavily, murmuring, “I won’t forget…”

Xiang Feiran’s opposition to marriage was something that had been made clear from the start; she had etched it into her mind, into her dreams.

How could she forget?

How could she unilaterally and arbitrarily forget?

Her hand was held by him. It felt too cold, as if cold wind was seeping into his heart.

Shang Mingbao’s body suddenly went still, becoming quiet along with the room.

Suddenly, she looked down, calmly coming to terms with it. “Sorry, Feiran, I think I’ve lost control, crossed the line. You’re right, I shouldn’t call you husband because you will never be.”

She said this, raised her face, and looked back at him while he held her hand.

A face flushed with tears.

“But what if I want to?” she asked, staring at him with a dazed, confused look. “What if I want to, even if it’s a fantasy, even if it’s delusion? I’ve thought about it. What should I do?”

Her lips parted: “How about—”

Breaking up would be better. Since she had already committed a grave mistake.

The words she intended to say were swallowed by his uncontrolled grip on her wrist.

Xiang Feiran looked at her with unblinking, unfocused eyes, his mouth filled with a metallic taste.

That morning at New York’s foggy airport, his flight home was delayed by a full six hours. Shang Mingbao did not come to see him off at the airport and never showed concern for his safe and smooth departure.