Chapter 21: Embracing

Jiang Qingmeng lounged lazily against the balcony railing. She lowered her head to light a cigarette, then lifted her gaze to appraise the drunken man before her, a mocking smile curling her lips.

Lin Mo had been all the rage two years ago, but the influencer market moved on fast. Two years later, he’d faded into complete obscurity. Now he’d thrown a fortune at the Nine Songs production crew, hoping for a comeback.

Two years prior, she and Lin Mo had fueled dating rumors, leveraging his buzz to shift attention away from Jiang Zhizhou.

His fans had been rabid, hurling abuse her way—no matter. She didn’t hold it against them.

In this world, everyone but that one person was utterly inconsequential.

Inconsequential things didn’t deserve space in her thoughts.

Still, he’d done her a solid back then, diverting plenty of prying eyes.

With that in mind, Jiang Qingmeng took a shallow drag from the cigarette pinched between her fingers and exhaled softly.

Amid the drifting haze of smoke, she decided to let Lin Mo’s boldness slide—with just a light lesson, of course.

“Qingmeng, you look so damn seductive when you smoke…” Taking her silence for permission, Lin Mo swallowed hard, desire stirring in his chest as he edged closer, step by step.

“Is that right? Thank you.” Jiang Qingmeng’s lips curved in a smile as she offered a polite acknowledgment.

She raised her hand to summon the bodyguard lurking in the shadows.

But her hand was only halfway up, the gesture unfinished, when something caught her eye. She froze, lowered her arm, and hesitated, words dying on her tongue.

In the next instant, the man let out a muffled grunt. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground.

A woman with a face like frost appeared behind him, her narrow eyes blazing with fury.

Before the kneeling Lin Mo could even process it, Jiang Zhizhou whipped up her right leg in a spinning kick, slamming it into his neck.

Lin Mo hit the deck, clutching his throat as he spat curses. “Fuck! Who the hell is this lunatic? What’d I ever do to you?”

He struggled to rise, but Jiang Zhizhou shot out her long leg, nailing him in the gut. “Can’t stay down, huh?”

Her words barely landed before Lin Mo crumpled again, doubling over in agony, on the verge of retching up his guts.

Her rage unspent, Jiang Zhizhou stomped his face, kicked his chest, hammered his abdomen. Her strikes were vicious and lightning-fast. Lin Mo scrambled up half a dozen times, only to get floored each time. At last, battered and terrified, he curled into a ball, shielding his head as he begged, “Not the face! I need it for work! I’m sorry! I get it, I was wrong!”

Satisfied with his surrender, Jiang Zhizhou delivered one final kick to his groin. “If you know you’re wrong, apologize to her and beat it.”

Lin Mo clutched himself, cold sweat pouring down his forehead as he scrambled to grovel before Jiang Qingmeng.

Jiang Qingmeng waved over the bodyguards to haul him away. She never once glanced his way the entire time, her eyes fixed on Jiang Zhizhou instead—like a spectator enjoying the show, her gaze brimming with curiosity and playful intrigue.

She’d pushed a bit too hard; Jiang Zhizhou’s calf muscles quivered faintly.

She’d kept up her workouts steadily over the past six months, but this body’s foundation couldn’t match her previous life’s—not without a lifetime of training from childhood.

Brushing off the ache in her leg, Jiang Zhizhou met Jiang Qingmeng’s stare and furrowed her brow. “Why do you always draw in every tomcat and stray like this?”

They hadn’t exchanged words in days, and this was how she broke the ice.

Jiang Qingmeng said nothing. She didn’t ask about the sudden distance between them these past days, or why Jiang Zhizhou was even here. Her amber eyes locked onto her, intense, as if afraid she’d vanish into thin air again.

With Jiang Qingmeng still silent, Jiang Zhizhou pressed on. “Smoking’s no good for you. Can you quit?”

“Okay.” Jiang Qingmeng’s voice was a soft murmur. She veiled the probing glint in her eyes and smiled, lips curving sweetly. “I won’t.” She crushed out the cigarette, tossed it into the trash bin along with the lighter, and kept her warm gaze fixed on Jiang Zhizhou.

Unlike her usual elegant light makeup, tonight called for stage performance, so Jiang Qingmeng had gone bold.

In the night shadows, the black-clad beauty gleamed: raven hair framing porcelain skin, lips like smoldering embers, neck elegantly slender, collarbones sharply defined. Her exposed flesh was flawless and luminous, her bright eyes seductive, every glance a siren’s allure.

Her smile left Jiang Zhizhou momentarily dazed. She blinked, looked away—then noticed how scantily she was dressed against the biting wind. Worried she’d catch cold, Jiang Zhizhou shrugged off her coat and draped it over her shoulders.

Tonight’s high heels added half a head to Jiang Qingmeng’s height. They were evenly matched in stature anyway, so Jiang Zhizhou’s long white overcoat draped perfectly.

Jiang Zhizhou straightened the collar, then stepped back to leave. But Jiang Qingmeng lunged forward, hooking an arm around her neck and yanking her close. The coat tumbled to the ground.

Off-balance, Jiang Zhizhou stumbled into her arms, their bodies pressed together.

Jiang Qingmeng held her tight, her breath warm against her ear. “You can warm me with more than just clothes—your body works too.”

The teasing heat brushed her ear, light and ticklish, scattering her thoughts in an instant.

That one line ignited the desire she’d bottled up for so long. Restraint shattered; Jiang Zhizhou didn’t pull away. Her arms slid around her waist, holding on fierce and tight.

Embracing, drawing close—no more suppressing it, no more staying apart.

The tip of her nose caught the faint fragrance of Jiang Qingmeng’s body mingled with a subtle hint of tobacco, and her earlobes burned hot.

Their bodies pressed so tightly together that she could feel her chill, her softness, her breath, her heartbeat.

Jiang Zhizhou let out a soft sigh, her tone a mix of reproach and teasing. “At your age, where on earth did you pick up such flirtatious words?”

The girl in her arms had always been so gentle, self-disciplined, proper, and well-mannered—yet here she was, saying something like that.

If it had come from an adult of the opposite sex, Jiang Zhizhou would have instantly recognized the heavy innuendo. But from someone of the same sex, she wasn’t so sure. Maybe she really just wanted to warm up, drawing heat from her body.

Jiang Qingmeng murmured softly, “Just learned it and putting it to use.”

Earlier, Lin Mo had teased her with those exact words. She’d simply swapped the subject and tried them out on someone else. It felt pretty good.

As she held Jiang Qingmeng’s slender waist, Jiang Zhizhou chuckled to herself: Not just learning and using—you’re even improvising and forcing a hug on top of it.

“I’m not that young. I’m twenty,” Jiang Qingmeng said, only now catching on. “You’ve gotten weird. You’re talking like some old fogey.”

She was right. Twenty years old—no longer that twelve-year-old little girl. The body nestled in her arms was now curvaceous, soft and fragrant…

Her heart pounded wildly. Knowing she shouldn’t dwell on it, Jiang Zhizhou cleared her throat and ventured, “So… do you prefer the old me, or the me now?”

“The me now,” Jiang Qingmeng whispered right in her ear. “You’re great like this.”

There was an inexplicable sense of harmony, a deep familiarity that warmed her to the core, reassuring her, making her never want to let go.

A fine joy welled up bit by bit in her heart. Jiang Zhizhou tried to suppress her smile, but the curve of her lips wouldn’t obey. In the end, she let out a soft laugh and tightened her hold around the waist.

She was happy.

Truly happy.

It had been so long since her mood felt this free and light.

Unable to resist, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the strands of hair at Jiang Qingmeng’s neck. “Let’s head back,” she said softly. “It’s windy here. You’ll catch a cold if we stay out too long.”

Jiang Qingmeng’s constitution was delicate; Jiang Zhizhou couldn’t bear for her to be exposed to the cold wind for long.

Still clinging to her, Jiang Qingmeng didn’t let go. She merely lifted her wrist to glance at her watch. “One more minute.”

“What for?”

“You’ll see in one minute.”

They stayed locked in their embrace. A minute later, a series of massive booms erupted from across the river. Dozens of sparks shot into the sky in unison, bursting into a cascade of brilliant colors. In an instant, shimmering lights overflowed, illuminating the ground as bright as day.

Midnight. New Year’s fireworks.

Jiang Zhizhou rested her forehead on Jiang Qingmeng’s shoulder, her right ear pressed to her neck. “You waited a whole minute just to see the New Year’s fireworks? Do you like them?”

“Lots of girls do,” Jiang Qingmeng replied evasively, neither confirming nor denying it.

It wasn’t a full-throated yes, so Jiang Zhizhou guessed she wasn’t all that into them. Qingmeng might seem gentle and approachable on the surface, but deep down she was cool and detached, with few likes or strong attachments.

Maybe she stayed because she thought I would like it?

The thought made Jiang Zhizhou smile. “Yeah, lots of girls love them. I do too. They’re beautiful.”

East wind loosed a thousand blooming flowers into the night—like cascading waterfalls, like a rain of stars—radiant in every color, dazzling beyond measure.

Amid the roar of the fireworks, Jiang Qingmeng leaned close to her ear and said, word by word, “No more avoiding me from now on.”

Her tone was gentle, almost a murmur, yet laced with a subtle threat.

She had always known. Known that Jiang Zhizhou was pulling away from her.

Jiang Zhizhou had thought she didn’t care about the distance. But now it was clear: she did.

Her nose tingled. Jiang Zhizhou hugged her tighter. Hesitation and restraint flickered in her eyes before fading entirely. She lowered her gaze and rasped out a single word: “Okay.”

As the fireworks died out, Jiang Qingmeng finally released her warm embrace. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” Jiang Zhizhou replied with a smile. Then she asked, “Got any New Year’s resolutions?”

“No idea. You?”

“Me? Oh, tons. I want to blow up online, make some real money, star in movies…”

And if she could, win a certain someone’s affection.

“Mine are probably about the same.”

“What do you mean ‘about the same’? You’re already huge.” Unable to help herself, Jiang Zhizhou reached out and ruffled her hair. “Make them your own—like falling in love, going traveling. Filmmaking’s fine too, of course.”

“I don’t want to date. And the company wouldn’t allow it anyway,” Jiang Qingmeng said offhandedly. “Come on, let’s go back.”

Celebrities thrived on hyped-up scandals, real or fake, to drum up buzz and heat. But announcing a real relationship during a career peak? That was career suicide.

“Right.” Jiang Zhizhou nodded and started to turn—only for a sudden, stabbing spasm to seize her calf. Her leg buckled, and she nearly collapsed.

Jiang Qingmeng’s reflexes were lightning-fast. She caught her at once. “What happened?”

“Nothing much.” Jiang Zhizhou clung to her shoulder and whispered, “My calf cramped up a little. I kicked too hard earlier.”

“Like that, huh…” Jiang Qingmeng nodded thoughtfully.

In that case, just giving that guy a light lesson was letting him off too easy. Better to cripple him for good…

Having made up her mind, she lowered her eyes to gaze at Jiang Zhizhou. She reached out to gently tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “Want to come to my room?”

The moment the words left her lips, the air between them grew subtly charged with ambiguity.

Jiang Zhizhou’s thoughts wandered, and she wanted to look away. But she remembered her recent promise not to hide anymore, so she forced herself to hold the gaze for a few seconds. A smile bloomed involuntarily on her face. “Lots of people have asked me that before, and I’ve never said yes…”

Jiang Qingmeng cut off her reverie. “There’s some ointment in my room. Rub a little on, and it’ll get better faster.”

Truth be told, it was just a temporary spasm—no medicine was needed. A short rest would suffice. Besides, Jiang Zhizhou always carried remedies for bruises and sprains in her personal bag.

But she didn’t refuse.

The shackles of reason had come undone. She didn’t want to miss a single chance to draw closer to her.

She only wanted to stay by her side—for as long as possible, the longer the better.

This feeling couldn’t be dodged or unraveled or abandoned.

So what if it was between women? Even if it defied convention, even if it clashed with propriety—liking was liking. An incurable liking.