Chapter 4

Shen Jianqing lived in the residential compound on the old campus.

The year she joined the university, luck was on her side. The school had just finished several new buildings, and any teacher with a formal position was eligible to buy.

The school’s housing came without full property rights, but at three thousand per square meter, prices like that were unthinkable on the open market. She bought a 150-square-meter unit in one go and lived there alone.

On the way back, Shen Jianqing had already turned on the air conditioner remotely. The moment she stepped through the door, cool air washed over her.

She sighed contentedly, kicked off her heels and dropped her bag, and said to Qin Yue, who was closing the door, “I’m going to shower first. Settle in and come find me when you’re ready.”

Qin Yue murmured, “Mm.”

Qin Yue stood at the entryway and watched Shen Jianqing round the corner toward the bedroom. Then she bent to pick up the jacket Shen Jianqing had tossed on the shoe bench and hung it up, straightened the toppled heels, found her usual pair of slippers in the closet, and went to the bathroom by the entryway to shower.

Everything in the bathroom sat in exactly the same place as her last visit, except for the pajamas that had been washed but left in the machine by their owner for God knew how long.

Qin Yue found the detergent, added more, and switched the cycle from “bulky” to “15-minute quick wash,” one of the functions Shen Jianqing rarely noticed in her busyness.

Shen Jianqing’s apartment was north-south through with a clean, modern décor. The location was good too. From the living room balcony, you could see the tree-lined promenade and green lawns that were the most popular spots for young couples at Jiangping University. Even past ten o’clock at night, the place was lively.

After hanging Shen Jianqing’s pajamas to dry, Qin Yue leaned against the window in idle boredom, watching boys and girls in the thick of love embrace and kiss. She watched until they left hand in hand, sweet as candy.

Qin Yue closed the window and turned back to the living room.

Shen Jianqing’s living room was spacious, outfitted with all manner of high-tech furnishings. Near the balcony stood an upright piano with its dust cover kept open.

Qin Yue walked over, right hand in her pocket, and tapped a few keys lightly with her left index finger.

“You play?” Shen Jianqing’s lazy voice came from behind.

Qin Yue curled her fingers and turned. “No.”

Shen Jianqing casually swept her long hair off her shoulder, walked to the dining table, poured herself a glass of water, tilted her head back, and sipped. The elegant tendons of her neck appeared and disappeared with each swallow.

Half a glass later, her parched throat soothed considerably, and the exhaustion of the day seemed washed away by the cool water. She felt light all over.

She leaned sideways against the table and watched Qin Yue, who had wandered to the balcony to admire the potted plants.

From the side, she really did look a bit fierce. Just not the commanding kind of fierce.

Shen Jianqing’s gaze lingered on Qin Yue’s bloodless face for a few seconds. She held her glass and said, “Qin Yue, come here.”

Qin Yue’s finger, resting on the jasmine, paused. “Mm.” But she didn’t leave right away. She mischievously bent the stem and watched it spring back, wobbling and trembling in the air after her fingers let go, before turning the corner of her lip and heading over to Shen Jianqing.

Thud! Shen Jianqing set a glass of juice in front of Qin Yue. “Drink it.”

The juice was fresh from the refrigerator. Condensation coated the glass in a thick mist.

Qin Yue stared at a single bead of water rapidly forming and said, “I’m not thirsty.”

Shen Jianqing shot her a look. “Your lips are cracking and peeling. How is that not thirsty?”

Qin Yue pressed her lips together.

A tiny motion, but Shen Jianqing caught it. She took a sip of water, her voice smooth. “Is your boss inhuman? Every time I see you, you look like you’ve been abused. Either your mouth is bone dry or your face is ghost-white. Today you’re coughing too.”

Qin Yue said, “No. Workshop rules say we can’t bring cups inside. Out of sight, out of mind. It has nothing to do with the boss.”

Shen Jianqing raised her voice. “Drinking water requires thinking?”

Qin Yue met Shen Jianqing’s dangerous gaze. Calmly, “Busy.”

Shen Jianqing smiled. “You’re not busy now. Drink. If you leave even one sip, don’t bother coming to my room later.”

With that, Shen Jianqing turned and went straight to the bedroom.

Qin Yue stood at the table for a long while and took only a token sip.

She’d eaten a huge plate of chow mein near the school that evening. Her stomach was still packed. That one sip was already pushing it. Any more and she’d vomit.

Literally. Not an exaggeration.

Five minutes later, after rinsing the water glasses they’d both used, Qin Yue knocked on Shen Jianqing’s bedroom door.

Only a desk lamp was on in the room. The curtains were half-drawn. A wisteria-blue aromatherapy diffuser puffed out white mist.

Shen Jianqing leaned against the headboard, a laptop balanced on her raised legs.

The moment Qin Yue entered, Shen Jianqing’s first words were, “Finished the juice?”

Qin Yue answered honestly. “No.”

Shen Jianqing closed the laptop and folded her hands on top. “Qin Yue, if you were my student, I’d have scolded you to tears by now.”

Qin Yue walked to Shen Jianqing’s side of the bed and sat down. “I’m not your student.”

“But I always keep my word.”

“……”

Qin Yue looked at Shen Jianqing through the soft lamplight. Shen Jianqing had lowered her head to her phone.

Silence seized the opening.

Before it could stretch, Qin Yue turned sideways, her right hand gently lifting Shen Jianqing’s chin and trailing down her arm to catch the wrist holding the phone. “Teacher Shen.” When Shen Jianqing looked up, Qin Yue tilted her head and kissed her rosy lips.

Shen Jianqing paused, then accepted willingly.

The whole juice thing had been a spur-of-the-moment decision after seeing how pale the girl looked. Quite unnecessary.

If she didn’t want it, fine.

Still, she’d been a teacher long enough that the urge to discipline anyone who displeased her seemed to be getting worse.

“Hiss!”

A sharp sting bloomed on the tip of her tongue, which until then had been treated with unbroken gentleness. She recoiled in pain. “It’s only been a week. Have you forgotten how to kiss?”

“No,” Qin Yue said. Her still-dry fingers slowly traced Shen Jianqing’s full lower lip. “You’re distracted. This is your punishment.”

“Punishing me?” Shen Jianqing huffed a laugh, an air of the pride she carried in professional settings unconsciously seeping through.

Qin Yue was undaunted. Her fingers slid from Shen Jianqing’s lip to the seam still tangled with traces of desire and pressed gently against the soft lower lip. “Yes. Punishing you. And now I’m going to kiss you.”

Qin Yue’s slender, even fingers rolled over Shen Jianqing’s damp lips, parting them inch by inch, lingering at the entrance before retreating with reluctance and pressing in with her own.

Shen Jianqing tilted her head back with a soft sigh. The laptop was lifted from her lap, and the woman with faint traces of fruit on her breath sat in its place. She kissed Shen Jianqing with tenderness, carefully brushing the hair from her shoulders, then cradled the back of her head and claimed, inch by inch, the lips and tongue that had only just begun to stir.

The diffuser’s scent spread, mingling with the warmth growing between their breaths from restraint to openness.

Shen Jianqing lay back. Her shimmering eyes closed, then opened. She gazed at the newly softened curve of Qin Yue’s lips, then raised her hand and slowly drew out the flawless jade hairpin fastened in her own dark hair.

Ink-black tresses spilled down, framing a woman whose skin gleamed like jade, her cheeks flushed like sunset clouds on snow.

Shen Jianqing gathered Qin Yue into her arms, rubbing a fingertip against the silky ends of her hair, and whispered, “Enough.”

Enough. They could begin.

The bed and floor were a tangle. Shen Jianqing lay on her side, long hair fanned across the wrinkled sheets, languid and alluring.

Fully dressed again, Qin Yue set out the bathwater and emerged from the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the bed. “Shower now or later?”

Shen Jianqing’s breathing was slow, her reactions sluggish. “Later.”

Qin Yue said, “Alright.”

Almost the instant the word left her mouth, a blade of white light slashed across the sky outside the window.

Soon, thunder rolled in on cue.

Qin Yue’s hearing was wrapped in the silence after the boom, and suddenly she recalled something Guan Xiangchen had said once when mooching a meal at her place: rainy days were days for keeping guests.

What kind of guests were kept, generally?

Or did every kind get kept?

“Qin Yue.” Shen Jianqing’s voice broke through Qin Yue’s thoughts.

Qin Yue turned. Shen Jianqing had propped herself up against the headboard, a lighter turning over in her hand. She gazed at the utterly dark window. “Head back soon. The rain’s coming.”

As she spoke, the rosy marks on her knees from kneeling so long hadn’t fully faded, and her lashes were still damp from crying.