Chapter 32

Wen Xin stretched out her hand, pretending to count on her fingers. “Well, let’s see, there’s—”

Yan Zeyang’s expression turned stormy. His dark eyes bore into her with such intensity that Wen Xin instantly put her hand down. She quickly sidled up to him with a flattering smile. “Do you really want to know?” she asked sweetly, reaching out to tug at his sleeve.

Yan Zeyang immediately pulled his arm away and gave her a deadpan glare. “No touching. Just talk.”

“Then let’s talk in my room,” Wen Xin suggested with a coaxing tone. “I can’t really explain it properly out here.” She leaned in slightly, tilting her face up to look at him like a delicate flower seeking sunlight.

Yan Zeyang eyed her warily. “Why your room?”

Tsk—his vigilance was commendable.

“Talking about relationships is a private matter. Of course, it should be discussed in a private space,” she reasoned with a teasing smile. “What, you don’t dare? Are you scared?”

Most men couldn’t stand being told they were scared, let alone a seasoned military officer like Yan Zeyang.

He narrowed his eyes at her. Was there anything he didn’t dare to do?

Daring is good! In the end, Wen Xin half-pushed and half-coaxed Yan Zeyang into her room.

It was his first time entering her room. This place was originally just a storage space, hastily tidied up with a bed added for her to stay.

As soon as he stepped in, his brows furrowed slightly—the room was small, and the ventilation wasn’t great.

To the left was a wooden desk, beside it a natural wood cabinet with several bottles of unknown contents on top. The wooden bed was covered with a soft, off-white cotton sheet. Since there was no proper storage for bedding, a matching off-white quilt was casually folded at the foot of the bed.

The curtains were a light yellow checkered pattern, tied up at the corner of the window. On the windowsill and the neatly arranged cabinet sat two glass bottles—one tall, one short—holding blue and yellow wild chrysanthemums, the kind commonly found along the roads in the military district. The scattered bursts of color made the small room feel clean, warm, and bright. Despite its limited space, it exuded a comfortable charm, carrying the essence of a woman making a home.

Wen Xin was someone who valued the art of living. No matter how harsh the environment, she always did her best to make it comfortable. And this was only a temporary setup—she had originally planned to stay just ten days to two weeks before leaving, so she hadn’t even put in much effort yet.

As he neared the bed, a faint, enticing fragrance—perhaps from the flowers, perhaps from something else—drifted into his lungs.

The room was clean, yes, but to a soldier with impeccable discipline in housekeeping, it was a different story altogether. Things were too messy—her blanket wasn’t folded into perfect squares, several pairs of shoes were left wherever she had taken them off rather than neatly aligned.

The bottles and jars on the table were scattered at different heights without any order. The basket of freshly washed clothes was haphazardly folded, with a few pieces simply tossed on top.

And why were her worn clothes hanging on the wall?

One glance was enough to tell that nothing met regulations.

Yan Zeyang’s sharp, radar-like gaze swept methodically across the entire room, inspecting every corner.

Wen Xin was completely unaware of this. As she closed the door, she turned back to glance at him—a soldier in full uniform, exuding heroic vigor, with a lean waist and long legs.

She couldn’t help but press her lips together in a triumphant smile.

Of course, she understood why Commander Yan was upset. It was because, after just one arranged meeting, the man had come looking for her again. Seeing her standing with another man had made him uncomfortable, so now he wanted to take it out on her.

What did that mean? It meant she was already on his mind.

It meant that, in his heart, she was now within his sphere of authority. Look at him—already trying to control her life and the people she associated with. When a man starts caring about these things, it means he’s invested. And if he was invested, wouldn’t winning him over be easy?

She had been eyeing that strong, fit body for a long time now. Having finally encountered him, how could she let this chance slip away?

The room didn’t have much space to sit. As soon as Yan Zeyang stepped inside, his presence seemed to take up half the room, making the air feel almost thinner—just one of the downsides of a man with such impressive lung capacity.

In the end, Wen Xin pulled him to sit on the edge of the bed.

The moment he sat down, the lingering scent of her body’s natural fragrance seeped into his senses, drifting into his nose and settling in his lungs. And what could be more soothing than the delicate scent of a woman?

But on the surface, Commander Yan remained composed, his posture firm, his legs spread slightly apart.

“Speak. How many? Be clear—what stage are you at with each of them?” His voice was crisp and commanding, his sharp eyes locked onto her, brooking no refusal. He demanded an immediate answer.

Wen Xin, grinning mischievously, lifted the hem of her white dress and tried to climb onto his lap. But just as she nestled between his legs and bent her knees, about to settle onto his left thigh, Yan Zeyang firmly gripped her waist, holding her mid-air.

“Stand up and answer properly!”

Wen Xin, a true beauty with silky black hair and porcelain-white skin, had lips so alluringly rosy they looked like ripe cherries on a branch, tempting one to take a gentle bite.

Countless men had wished for her to sit on their laps, yet she had always refused. And now? Here she was, holding up her skirt, yet being forcibly denied.

Instead, she stood before him like a reprimanded schoolgirl.

She wanted to cry—how was this fair? She was looking for a strong, passionate boyfriend with mutual affection, not a strict disciplinary officer who made her stand at attention while answering questions!

Unwilling to accept defeat, she twisted her waist playfully. But seeing Yan Zeyang’s tightly clenched jaw and his stern, still-not-appeased gaze, she finally gave in and pouted, “Fine, but you have to answer one question for me first. Where is my heart?”

Yan Zeyang narrowed his eyes at her.

“I mean my heart—my actual heart.” She gestured toward her chest.

For someone who had been on the battlefield, he knew all too well that an injury to the heart meant certain death. He answered without hesitation, “Left side.”

“Wrong. My heart isn’t on the left or the right. It’s with you.” She placed her small hand over his chest.

Yan Zeyang: “…”

Wen Xin leaned in, voice soft and sweet. “You are my only one. I like only you. I think about you every day. My heart belongs to you—no one else.”

As she spoke, she gently brushed her knee against the inside of his long, muscular leg. Her delicate lips whispered intimate, unrestricted words of love in his ear, each syllable dripping with tenderness.

…

Commander Yan had never heard such romantic whispers between lovers before.

The only reason he remained outwardly composed was because he had trained himself to remain unshaken, as steady as a mountain. Even if waves of emotions crashed within him, not a single crack would show on his face.

In this era, especially among military men, relationships were serious and formal. Even married couples rarely engaged in outward displays of affection. Pet names were practically nonexistent—at most, a man might introduce his wife as “my spouse,” and at home, they would simply call each other by name or nickname.

In more politically conscious families, spouses even addressed each other as “comrade”—proper, disciplined, and utterly devoid of romance.

If Wen Xin knew, she would surely scoff. People in this era were only “proper” because their environment forced them to be. They had no choice but to suppress their true nature. What was there to admire about that? They had a bunch of kids yet still insisted on calling each other “comrades.” In the future, the word “comrade” wouldn’t even mean the same thing anymore.

No matter how stern and imposing Yan the Devil was, faced with such straightforward sweet talk and affectionate whispers, his tough exterior became merely a facade. Even his grip on Wen Xin’s waist—meant to keep her from sitting down—began to loosen.

Seizing the opportunity, Wen Xin gently settled onto his left thigh, her soft, snow-white arms wrapping around his shoulders. Her clear eyes gazed at him intently.

Softly, her breath fragrant like orchids, she asked, “Look into my eyes. What do you see?”

They were so close, her petite frame nestled against his, her delicate curves pressing against his strong, muscular legs. The warmth of her body seared through his uniform, making Yan Zeyang’s back stiffen. His entire focus was drawn to the soft, fragrant woman before him. Her silky skin was as smooth as jade, and any accidental touch felt like sinking into a cloud.

As a normal man, especially facing the woman he liked, how could he not feel anything?

But in his mind, such behavior before marriage was wrong. As a soldier, he had to maintain discipline. He had already been pushed to his limits by this woman, but he still had to uphold his bottom line.

Yet, Wen Xin refused to let him off so easily. Every moment, every second, she was relentlessly testing his patience and self-control.

He looked into her eyes and instinctively asked, “What?”

“You,” she whispered. “I see the person I love. Look carefully. Do you see him?”

Her clear gaze locked onto him, and her warm breath caressed his skin as she spoke. She wasn’t shy at all, effortlessly uttering words that sent ripples through his heart.

From the reflection in her eyes, Commander Yan saw himself.

Wen Xin noticed the tension in his body easing and the sharpness in his gaze softening. Taking advantage of the moment, she leaned in and planted feather-light kisses along his strong jawline. Slowly, she moved up, gently tracing his lips.

Yan Zeyang knew he couldn’t let this continue. His hand rested on her waist, and with the last bit of clarity in his mind, he struggled to pull away. No matter what excuse he needed, he had to find a way to put some distance between them.

“This won’t do. I still have questions for you. Your dress—”

That white dress… It was the same one she had worn on that blind date. And now, coincidentally, both people from that date had shown up at the door, only to find her still wearing the same dress. No wonder that smooth-talking man had gotten so excited.

Before he could finish, Wen Xin whispered seductively against his lips, “My dress? Hmm… well, dresses can always be taken off, right?”

As she spoke, her fingers began undoing the buttons.

“Absolutely not! Don’t you dare! Button it back up!” His voice, however, had lost all its commanding force, sounding much weaker than before.

Yan Zeyang held the soft, fragrant woman on his lap, trying to warn her while retreating from her sweet and tempting lips. His body was wound tight with restraint, and he fought to button up the clothing she had just undone.

This was outrageous! This woman…

Wen Xin took advantage of his momentary distraction, and with a slight movement of her fingers, she…

Yan Zeyang froze.

In that instant, all his self-control, all his rational thoughts, completely vanished.

No man could resist this.

His gaze locked onto her as if time had stopped. For a moment, he was utterly speechless, unable to look away.

Before long…

From behind the tightly shut door, faint sounds of kisses and a soft, breathy moan from Wen Xin drifted out.

…

That night, He Wenyan had an emergency at the clinic, so she returned home later than usual. Wen Xin, who was always punctual when making dinner, was also running late. When He Wenyan arrived, the meal still wasn’t ready.

Wen Xin’s face was flushed with warmth, her expression filled with a satisfied glow. Smiling, she said, “Aunt He, just a moment. It’s almost done. I just need to make some soup. You can wash your hands, and dinner will be ready.”

He Wenyan glanced at her and noticed something different about her demeanor. She was still smiling, looking as natural as ever. After speaking, she turned and walked into the kitchen.

Curious, He Wenyan peeked inside and was immediately stunned by what she saw.

Yan Zeyang—the eldest son of the Yan family, the man who had never stepped into a kitchen before—was standing at the sink… washing vegetables?

Yan Zeyang… washing vegetables?

He Wenyan was momentarily taken aback. It was almost unbelievable.

Inside the kitchen, Wen Xin reached for something in the cupboard. Worried she couldn’t reach it, Yan Zeyang instinctively helped her take it down. This tall, imposing man, squeezed into the tiny kitchen, was busy helping Wen Xin with this and that?

He Wenyan immediately understood—the two of them were together.

From the moment Wen Xin was sent over by the Wen family, He Wenyan had already made up her mind. She believed that Wen Xin’s gentle nature would be the perfect match to tame the hard-headed Yan family’s “devil.” Standing side by side, the two looked unexpectedly harmonious.

Now, seeing how things had developed, it seemed her instincts had been right.

A girl like Wen Xin—gentle, trouble-free, and good-tempered—marrying into the Yan family was a blessing. It was certainly better than some spoiled and temperamental rich girl. If Wen Xin married in, He Wenyan’s position as the stepmother would also remain stable, ensuring a peaceful household. And perhaps, Yan Weiguo would visit home more often.

She had never expected her second marriage to be so difficult, and she no longer had the energy to endure more turmoil. She was getting older and just wanted a peaceful life.

But watching Yan Zeyang, who had never shown kindness to women, now hovering around Wen Xin, occasionally scolding her yet clearly doting on her…

He Wenyan felt a pang of bitterness.

She had long heard that Yan family men were good husbands, that they cherished their wives. Even this cold, serious young “devil” of the Yan family had learned to be caring after falling in love.

Yet, she had never received even a fraction of that affection from Yan Weiguo.

Was this the result of a marriage without love?

She had forced her way into this relationship, and now, all she had left was stability—nothing more.

Watching Yan Zeyang fussing over Wen Xin, their every interaction filled with warmth, He Wenyan found it almost blinding. Turning away, she quietly stepped into the bathroom.