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Chapter 17
◎ First Kiss. (Part One) ◎

The last few steps—Chu Zhixia practically skipped and hopped until she landed right in front of him.

“Hubby!”

“Hubby? Hubby—”

She knew her senior sister still hadn’t looked away, so she deliberately circled around his tall, lean figure, spinning from different angles, her voice ringing in his ears from every direction: “Hubby~”

Shen Qingshi: “…”

After a long moment, seeing she still wouldn’t stop, he pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, and finally said, a little unable to bear it, “Do you have to call me that?”

“Mm?” Chu Zhixia looked up at him.

His handsome little face was already red beyond belief—like a tender, freshly peeled boiled shrimp—but his expression remained calm, lips pressed in a faint line, even deliberately restrained and aloof.

“What, I can’t?”

What could she do? She really liked teasing him. If it weren’t for passersby, the faintly curious eyes from the guard booth, and the possibility of running into a teacher coming out, she’d have gone and pinched his pretty face right then.

“Then I’ll call you fujun (my lord husband), or Young Master Shen—which do you prefer?”

She couldn’t help but hook a finger under his chin, smiling brightly. She was about to keep pushing when his voice suddenly dropped a little, as if he couldn’t and wouldn’t endure anymore—

“No need. It’s fine.”

“Huh?”

He turned his face toward her, eyes locking directly on hers. His gaze was deep and steady, and he spoke each word slowly and clearly: “Then keep calling me that. Remember to always call me that—from now on, don’t get it wrong.”

Chu Zhixia: !!!

Under his calm, dark gaze, she felt completely exposed—her heart jumped to her throat, almost leaping out.

Was… was he flirting with her?

Had he learned bad habits from her…?

No way…

After he said that, she actually couldn’t get the words out anymore. It was like she’d gone mute, quietly standing by his side.

On the way back, Chu Zhixia was much quieter, much more well-behaved.

Shen Qingshi glanced at her several times and said, “Give it to me.”

“Give you what?” Chu Zhixia was still stuck in their earlier banter. She should’ve asked him, “What should I call you?” or “Do you want me to call you that?” or “I love calling you that—do you dare to listen?” Just to tease him again and see how he’d keep up his stubborn front.

His face had gone that red, and he still managed to bully her back.

Shen Qingshi had been holding one hand out by her side for a while now. “Don’t you want me to carry it for you?”

Her schoolbag and erhu didn’t look light.

“Oh, oh, oh.” Chu Zhixia had completely forgotten. She quickly handed over everything she was carrying.

“You look so good with that erhu on your back—just like a street performer,” Chu Zhixia added.

Shen Qingshi: “…”

“Phew—” Once she’d given him everything, Chu Zhixia suddenly felt light all over. She stretched and patted her head.

“What is it?”

“Wait, I feel like I forgot something—” Chu Zhixia paced back and forth, but couldn’t remember. “Forget it, I can’t think of it. Let’s go.”

Shen Qingshi gave a quiet “mm,” zipped up the bottom of her white schoolbag that hadn’t been closed, and slung it over his left shoulder. “Should I walk you back to the hotel?”

“Aren’t you staying with me?” Chu Zhixia finally seized the upper hand again, leaning in so her warm breath brushed past him. “I guessed the interview this afternoon might run late, so I specifically bought tickets to go back tomorrow. Oh, did you come by high-speed rail or…?”

“I drove over. I can take you back.” Shen Qingshi completely ignored the first part of her question.

“If you drove, then all the more reason to go back tomorrow. You know about the dangers of fatigued driving, right? So where’d you park? If it’s near the school, don’t you need to go move it?” They’d already walked quite a distance.

Shen Qingshi pressed his lips together slightly. “No, hotel parking lot.”

“Which hotel?” Chu Zhixia asked, then realized, giving a soft “oh,” a small sweetness blooming in her chest.

She had told him the hotel name and address before. He must’ve seen it on WeChat, then driven over. He’d probably gone to the hotel to look for her first, found she wasn’t there, and only then gone to wait at the school gate.

He could’ve just skipped the school gate like most people accompanying examinees. After all, she would definitely go back to the hotel when the exam ended.

“Did you actually see that WeChat I sent you?” Chu Zhixia wrinkled her nose and asked softly.

She’d sent that message the night before the exam, when she was too anxious and scared to think straight. Then her phone was in airplane mode and had signal blocks—she had no idea when it was sent.

Maybe the night after the first day of exams.

So he came today—counting the time, it lined up perfectly.

“—Mm.” Shen Qingshi sounded a bit unnatural, his voice lower than before.

That message hadn’t been long, but the tone had been so sweet it was almost unbearable—

[Doctor Shen, I’m so scared. Could you come pick me up? If the finish line is you, I’m not afraid of anything.]

Now that Chu Zhixia thought about it, she wanted to die.

What kind of sappy, lovesick nonsense was that…

Too much sugar.

Chu Zhixia coughed, cheeks red. “I had a really scary nightmare at the time, I was half-asleep, so I don’t remember what I sent—it was just nonsense.”

“I know.”

He understood everything and saw through everything, but if she didn’t say it outright, his manners meant he wouldn’t press and embarrass her.

—But he still came. No matter how much “nonsense” she’d sent.

Thinking of that, Chu Zhixia felt both sweetly moved and much more at ease.

Outside the school gate, the road split in two—one was the regular street with bus and subway stops leading directly to the hotel; the other was a scenic promenade, a winding, secluded path with beautiful views, where the night wind stirred the shadows of the trees.

Chu Zhixia had passed here while checking out the exam venue earlier, and now she pointed in surprise: “Look, the wisteria’s blooming!”

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Shen Qingshi followed her gaze.

“I’m telling you, when I came here before, there was nothing—just bare branches. Now it’s all turned into little purple chimes, hanging like vines. Isn’t it beautiful?” Chu Zhixia ran ahead, stopping under the flower trellis, but couldn’t help glancing back at him.
She had a strange feeling in her heart, an itch she couldn’t name. Maybe it was because the flowers bloomed so dreamlike, so beautiful.

The fragrance was intoxicating—making her want, urgently want, to kiss him right here.

Or maybe… do something a little less innocent.

Shen Qingshi stepped forward. “It is beautiful.”

It was a deep spring night. After several days of wind and rain, the night wasn’t yet late, but the flowers had already bloomed.

And they were such graceful, lovely wisteria—each vine hanging long from the gaps in the wooden frame, like a waterfall of purple blossoms. Paired with the winding, shadowy corridor, it looked like a dream—half real, half unreal.

“Do you think this means I’ll definitely pass my exam?” Chu Zhixia counted on her fingers, trying to make conversation, to drive away the strange, restless feeling inside her. Spring had truly arrived, and even the breeze was uncomfortably warm.

Seeing Shen Qingshi still in the mood to admire the flowers, she said, “Don’t you think so, Dr. Shen? Have you ever had moments when you just had a feeling?”

“Hm?” He turned, the flowers framing a face as fine as carved jade.

He was so beautiful, it was almost inhuman—like an exiled immortal.

“I’ve never believed in that sort of thing,” he said lightly, then added, “But… it’s not impossible.”

She heard the comfort in that last sentence, and her heart softened. Her breath grew warmer, and she couldn’t help leaning closer—just a little closer. “Never? Not even in gods or spirits? I always thought you might be a Puritan.” She took a breath and went on, “But I’ve never believed in that either. I only believe in myself. The world is material, matter is in motion, and only the correct worldview and methodology can guide us forward…”
She started reciting textbook lines just to stop herself from kissing him.

Shen Qingshi: “…”

“You’re going to recite Marx to me here?”

Chu Zhixia paused for a second, then said slowly, “No. But… could you let me kiss you?”

Shen Qingshi: “?”

“Forget it, we’d better go. These flowers are like they’re poisonous—an aphrodisiac. No, no, I mean… maybe I should just keep reciting to you. I just finished my exam, I’m still in the mood.” Chu Zhixia almost blurted out the truth. She couldn’t look at him right now—whenever she saw his thin, cool but somehow soft lips, she just wanted to kiss them.

Kiss them hard…

She swallowed, turned away, and tried to fill her head with something normal. “Do you know theater history? Theater actually began with the worship of Dionysus—you know him, right? Dionysus. Oh, I never asked—do you know the three great tragedians of ancient Greece? Aeschylus, Sophocles, and…”

Before she could finish the last name, she heard him call her—

“Zhixia.”

His voice was low, slightly hoarse, rich with magnetism.

“Mm?”

She turned instinctively—and found him stepping closer. They were already very close.

“Euripides…” she murmured the last name.

Shen Qingshi lowered his head, his long, slender, cool fingers tilting her chin upward.

Before she could react, he leaned down, his thick lashes almost brushing hers. His straight nose drew near, and his thin, soft lips touched her cheek…

Cool and pure as morning dew—beautiful beyond words.

But… just the cheek?

“I prefer Sophocles, because his tragedies are about the sorrow of fate—sorrow without fault.” Shen Qingshi knew what she was about to ask. His voice was still low, meeting her gaze.

But before he could finish, Chu Zhixia couldn’t take it anymore. The cheek he kissed made her whole body feel light and tingly. And he was so close—she simply wrapped her arms around his long, pale neck, rising on tiptoe.

“I like Euripides.”

In truth, she didn’t like any of them. She didn’t like tragedy at all.

But when she said “Euripides,” Shen Qingshi kissed her!

She looked straight into his eyes, madness blooming there like in Euripides’ Medea. Then she tilted her head and pressed her lips to his soft, cool mouth.

She wanted him.

And now he knew—she “liked” Medea.

So why not be a little mad, a little possessive—like Medea herself, mixing passion with desire?

…

Chu Zhixia could feel his body, stiff at first, slowly relax.

Her arms were getting tired, so she let go of his neck—but her lips still brushed his, clinging lightly, her tongue flicking over the seam of his mouth.

Standing on tiptoe was tiring too. Just as she was about to let go, his large hand at her waist tightened. He pulled her closer, bent over, and pressed her back against one of the wooden pillars…

Turns out she wasn’t the only one who wanted this.

She suddenly remembered the first time they held hands, long ago.

He had felt something too.

Soon, his kiss left her breathless, her toes curling, her legs weak. In her fluster, she met his eyes—clear as water, yet burning with the same wild desire she felt.

The night wind blew, and the wisteria seemed to bloom even more seductively…

“Do you want to come back to the hotel with me?” She hooked her fingers with his long, slender ones, her voice as soft and tempting as spring water, their lips still brushing as she made the invitation.