Chapter 91: An Adult’s……Desires…

Shen Jia Yan sat on the sofa, holding the cola in both hands, her peripheral vision drifting toward Wen Wan Ning from time to time.

Wen Wan Ning wore glasses as she lowered her head to organize the contract. Her profile appeared exceptionally clear in the sunlight, with a high bridge of her nose, eyelashes casting faint shadows on her eyelids, and the corners of her lips still retaining that gentle curve from moments before.

It wasn’t as if she had never been alone with Wen Wan Ning before, but in the past, they had been classmates, friends. Now, however, they were “partners,” “reacquainting” old acquaintances, separated by five years of silence and a reunion she still didn’t dare to think too deeply about.

She lifted the cup and took a sip.

The cola was no longer cold, but the sweetness was more pronounced, like some kind of metaphor—the cold would warm, the bitter would fade. And that emotion in her heart, suppressed for five years and thought to have long settled at the bottom, was now surging back up bit by bit with this lukewarm cola.

She set down the cola, and her hand unconsciously reached into her pocket, touching the earring.

Last night’s “dream” resurfaced in her mind: the rough kiss, the slipping shoulder strap, the slight tremble of Wen Wan Ning beneath her fingertips…

She quickly picked up the water glass, wanting to drink some water to suppress her wandering thoughts.

“Cough cough cough…” She had just taken a sip when she choked, her chest heaving, the corners of her eyes rapidly turning red.

Wen Wan Ning immediately stood up, crossed over in a few steps to sit beside her, handed her a tissue, and gently patted her back one by one. “How could you be so careless? Did you choke on the water?”

Her palm was warm, her touch light and gentle, but each pat struck at Shen Jia Yan’s chaotic heartbeat.

Shen Jia Yan merely nodded. She didn’t dare look up, afraid of meeting those eyes that seemed to see through everything.

After calming down a bit, she slightly turned her body and said to Wen Wan Ning, “I’m fine now, thank you.”

Although she said “thank you” again, Wen Wan Ning didn’t emphasize it this time.

She knew that what they needed between them was time, habit, slowly peeling away the shell of their working relationship layer by layer to reveal the unchanged selves beneath.

She stood up, preparing to return and handle the unfinished work.

“Wan Ning.” Shen Jia Yan called out to her.

Her footsteps halted, her heart suddenly contracting.

Since their reunion, Shen Jia Yan had never addressed her this way. She had always kept them at the level of lawyer and client, strictly business, deliberate distance in their greetings.

But at this moment, the two words “Wan Ning” broke free from the old days, gently landing by her ear, carrying a long-lost warmth and weight.

She slowly turned around. There was no lawyerly calm, no distant smile—only those eyes, suddenly brimming with emotions she didn’t dare to look at deeply.

“I’m here.”

Shen Jia Yan repeatedly rubbed the earring in her pocket before slowly handing it to Wen Wan Ning. “This… is yours, right?”

Wen Wan Ning looked at the earring lying quietly in her palm, her breath hitching slightly.

After returning home last night, she had discovered that one earring was missing. She thought it had fallen somewhere on the road, but it turned out to be with Shen Jia Yan.

She wasn’t sure where she had found it.

But since she had realized it was hers, Wen Wan Ning couldn’t deny it.

“Mm.” Wen Wan Ning said softly, reaching out to take it. She then asked, “Where did you find it?”

Shen Jia Yan looked at her steadily, a faint, almost imperceptible question in her eyes. “You left it in my room.”

Wen Wan Ning’s heart trembled as she lifted her gaze to meet hers.

“Last night…” Shen Jia Yan’s voice lowered, carrying a hint of hoarseness. “You and Chu Nian sent me home?”

“Yes, I thought it would be inconvenient for her to handle you alone, so I helped her bring you back together.” Wen Wan Ning’s voice was calm, but her fingertips curled slightly, hiding that instant of panic.

Shen Jia Yan raised her eyes, her gaze like a spotlight shining straight onto Wen Wan Ning’s face, as if trying to pierce through that calm facade. “Chu Nian told me that after they put me on the bed, she had something to attend to and left first, but you… didn’t leave.”

Wen Wan Ning’s breath caught, her eyes flickering slightly behind her glasses. She neither denied it nor responded immediately, simply slowly removing her glasses.

She hadn’t expected Shen Jia Yan to ask in such detail.

“Mm.” She finally spoke, her voice a few degrees lower than before. “Yes, I didn’t leave.”

With that, she smoothly sat down on the sofa.

In the instant she bent down to sit, Shen Jia Yan caught sight of a faint red mark peeking from under the collar of her shirt, extending from above her collarbone and hidden at the edge of the fabric.

Her mind went blank in that moment, blood rushing to her head only to freeze in the next second.

It was the mark she had left.

Not a dream, not an illusion, not a drunken misperception.

It was the mark she had left—the uncontrolled kiss, the trembling fingers, the possessive bite on her neck when she had pressed herself over Wen Wan Ning, laced with pain.

She remembered, in her haze, turning over, her arm unconsciously pressing down on the warm body beneath her, her lips and teeth lingering on the neck, like a beast finally breaking free from its cage—greedy, out of control, almost cruel.

She remembered that Wen Wan Ning didn’t push her away. Instead, she gently lifted her hand, hugged her, and then let her take what she wanted.

“But I didn’t stay too long. I was just worried you might feel unwell, so I waited a little while longer,” Wen Wan Ning explained.

After a moment, seeing no reaction from Shen Jia Yan, she continued, “If you—”

“I’m sorry.” Shen Jia Yan’s sudden apology interrupted Wen Wan Ning’s words.

Her voice was soft, yet it struck like thunder in the stagnant air between them.

Wen Wan Ning froze, lifting her eyes to look at her.

Her head hung very low, her fingers digging tightly into her palm, as if only this could suppress the surging shame and panic within her.

But that red mark was right there before her eyes—the imprint she had left, the undeniable “evidence” of her crime.

“I’m sorry.” She said it again, her voice trembling. “I… I had too much to drink then. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done that to you. I…” She was incoherent, like a defendant crumbling in court. “I shouldn’t have… been so rough, shouldn’t have… done those things.”

“If… if you can’t accept it and want to sue me, I’m willing to take responsibility.” She didn’t know what else to say, just blurted out every possible consequence, as if using the most absurd method to atone for her loss of control. “I can sign any agreement, bear all responsibility, as long as… as long as it makes you feel better.”

After she finished, her eyes reddened slightly, her throat choked, almost unable to breathe.

Wen Wan Ning quietly watched her—the Shen Jia Yan who commanded the stage, fearless in her creations—now like a child who had done something wrong, head bowed, flustered as she spoke the most words since their reunion.

In that moment, her heart felt tightly gripped, then slowly released. She didn’t speak but gently stood, walked to her side, and sat down. “Jia Yan, I’m not the plaintiff, and you certainly won’t become the defendant I’m suing.”

“If you think you did something wrong, then the mistake I made is the same as yours.” She paused, withdrawing the hand she had wanted to place over Shen Jia Yan’s, and continued, “I could have woken you up, pushed you away, but I didn’t. So, in this matter, there is no right or wrong.”

She understood Shen Jia Yan too well.

She knew she was kind, responsible, and once she realized she had “hurt” someone, she would do everything to make amends, even at the cost of her own heart.

If she took advantage now, while she was guilty, soft-hearted, eyes still red-rimmed, and said, “Jia Yan, let’s start over,” she knew Shen Jia Yan wouldn’t even ask why she had given up on her back then or why she wanted her back now. She would nod directly, say “okay,” and spend the rest of her life “compensating,” even if her heart wasn’t ready, even if she was still afraid.

But she didn’t want that kind of “together.” She didn’t want a Shen Jia Yan who stayed out of guilt, who said “I love you” to atone for sins.

She wanted her to be by her side because she loved her; to hold her because she wanted her; to call her name in drunken dreams because she dreamed of her…

So she couldn’t say it now.

She could only suppress the surging emotions in her eyes, hiding “I want to be with you” and “I was willing” behind that light “no right or wrong.”

She stood up, walked to the window, and turned her back to Shen Jia Yan, letting the sunlight mask the wetness in her eyes.

“We’re all adults with desires. It’s understandable; no need to take it too much to heart.” She spoke calmly, as if summarizing an ordinary social obligation, but her voice tightened slightly, betraying that momentary tremble.

This sentence was like a basin of cold water poured over the lingering warmth in the air between them.

Shen Jia Yan abruptly looked up, remnants of unshed tears in her eyes now veiled with a layer of hurt coldness.

“Desires?” Her voice was hoarse as she gave a bitter laugh. “An adult’s……desires?”

Wen Wan Ning kept her back turned, her fingers gripping the window frame tightly. She didn’t turn around, didn’t dare to.

She knew this would hurt her, but she had to say it.

She couldn’t let her stay out of guilt, couldn’t let her respond to what she thought was mere “impulse” with “making amends.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes, her voice cold as iron. “We all have emotions, memories, unresolved knots. What happened last night was just an accident; no need to elevate it.”

The office fell into dead silence, only the sunlight quietly falling on the empty cola cup, its bubbles long dissipated, like a drumbeat abruptly cut off.

After a long while, Shen Jia Yan finally stood up.

“Okay.” Her voice was calm, yet frosty.

She then walked lightly to Wen Wan Ning’s side, stopping behind her, leaning in slightly close to her ear. Her breath brushed her hair as her low, husky voice carried a hint of cold mockery. “Since Lawyer Wen has such an open attitude toward adults’ desires…”

She paused, her lips nearly brushing her earlobe. “Then… if you have needs in the future, you can come to me.”

Each word was like a knife, slicing through the air and into Wen Wan Ning’s heart.

A frivolous invitation, a cold promise—but only Shen Jia Yan knew that when she said “you can come to me,” her heart was shattering.

She couldn’t accept Wen Wan Ning’s attitude toward this— so casual, so rational and restrained, as if her scorching kisses, trembling hands, and aching heart were merely an adult’s momentary emotional release.

So she chose frivolity to mask vulnerability, coldness to counter gentleness.

If you think this is so insignificant, then of course I can make it even more insignificant.