Xie Yingnian said, “Then let’s give it a try.”
It was an answer that couldn’t exactly be called good or bad. “Give it a try” came down to two possible outcomes—either they weren’t suited for each other and would naturally drift apart, or they were and would naturally end up together.
A fifty-fifty chance. If she truly liked her that much, she would have sounded more resolute, setting aside any unstable factors for later instead of letting them spoil the good mood right now.
To put it plainly, Xie Yingnian wasn’t quite as smitten with Zhong Jia—at least not to the same extent as Zhong Jia was with her. Zhong Jia had fallen first, been tamed first, which made her more passive as a result.
Zhong Jia’s tears had gradually receded after Xie Yingnian said she wouldn’t kiss her if she kept crying. Upon hearing the response, she froze for a moment, but she didn’t show any discouragement or disappointment. Instead, a spark of joy gradually emerged in her brows and eyes, as if this somewhat ambiguous direction had far exceeded her expectations.
“You’re not even a little upset by that?” Xie Yingnian laughed helplessly.
She released her grip on Zhong Jia’s chin. The girl’s face, where she sat astride her lap, bore the marks of her touch.
There was no mirror to check in, and the light was dim and hazy, but Zhong Jia knew those marks had to be beautiful. She loved them because they were from Xie Yingnian.
“Way better than I expected,” Zhong Jia said. “You just gave me a chance.”
The legs she was straddling were firm and strong, reminding her of the videos Xie Yingnian’s fans had dug up from old forum archives. It must have been from high school. Xie Yingnian had already quit sports by then, but she still participated in class events. She’d cleared the high jump with effortless dominance, using the Fosbury Flop. With her ponytail tied high, she wore a white tank top and shorts. As she sprinted and leaped, the lines of her muscles flexing were stunningly beautiful.
She was the object of Zhong Jia’s longing and admiration for so many years, so even a simple “let’s give it a try” from her sounded incredibly moving.
In Zhong Jia’s eyes, Xie Yingnian saw a brilliant spark of light—something similar to what she’d seen amid throngs of fans, countless beams all at once, accompanied by deafening cheers. But Zhong Jia’s was a little different.
It wasn’t the kind of gaze overflowing with desire, like “I want to do this or that with you.” It was simply “I want to be good to you.” Being stared at by those eyes made Xie Yingnian’s heart soften. It felt like she was being cherished in the most heartfelt way. For the first time in ages, she even felt a flicker of happiness.
“Don’t you think I’m being too aloof?” Xie Yingnian smiled, her palm pressing against Zhong Jia’s waist, wrapped in that coarse-knit sweater. She’d already begun mulling over how to reciprocate.
Zhong Jia took Xie Yingnian’s other hand and tilted her head slightly, rubbing her cheek against it greedily. “Isn’t that just your persona?”
Her eyes curved into crescents as she laughed. “Nah, I’m kidding.”
“You’re not aloof. You’ve always been good to me, from back then until now. Saying ‘let’s try’ is responsible of you. You’ve dated before; I haven’t. If you wanted to toy with my feelings, you could have made all sorts of flowery promises—and I’d have believed them, true or not.”
Xie Yingnian’s features were shrouded in the dim light, somewhat blurred, but her gaze seemed to flicker.
The hand Zhong Jia held brushed against the fuzzy edge of her sweater sleeve now and then, sending faint tingles through Xie Yingnian’s skin.
“But when you say ‘let’s try,’ it actually makes me feel guilty. Have I put you in a tough spot?” With her tears stopped but her nose still stuffy, Zhong Jia lowered her head. Her eyelids, puffy from crying, drooped as she continued, “I’m thrilled for every extra second of your affection, but you don’t have to compromise for me. I know that because of my mom, you always feel like you have to look out for me, treat me like a kid sister.”
Zhong Jia let go of Xie Yingnian’s hand. “I’m not trying to act all lowly or anything, but when you like someone this much, you can’t help it. It’s like with my mom—she didn’t do anything humiliating, right? But because she showed her devotion more openly in the relationship, even after all these years dead, people still say she was too clingy to you and Zhong Kefei.”
“If you didn’t say yes tonight, I’d be sad, but I wouldn’t beg you to like me or cling to you forever. Like I said earlier, I’ve waited thirty years for you—not standing still, but getting better year by year. That way, maybe you’ll end up liking me? I want to be someone worth your affection.”
As she spoke, her lips parted and closed repeatedly, the color of her lipstick igniting Xie Yingnian’s long-parched heart like wildfire spreading across dry plains.
“No need for ‘maybe,'” Xie Yingnian said. “I like you right now, so it’s no pressure at all.”
Zhong Jia was still about to say something when Xie Yingnian’s direct admission stunned her into silence. Xie Yingnian leaned in close, bringing with her the scent of alcohol that Zhong Jia recognized on herself too. Their breaths mingled. Someone brushed Zhong Jia’s bangs aside, and she instinctively closed her eyes. The next moment, in the darkness, she felt a warm, soft touch at the corner of her eye.
Xie Yingnian had kissed her.
In that instant, her heartbeat seemed to stop, then raced to catch up, flooding her brain with oxygen again. But the words she’d been about to say slipped away entirely.
They’d kissed several times on screen, even gone to bed together. With their figures and looks, and the extent they revealed, shot by a team that had won major film awards, the visuals were breathtaking—fan service for general audiences, and a source of envy for their respective fans toward each other.
But that was fiction, no matter how passionate. It was Ruan Ting and Kong Can’s romance, not hers and Xie Yingnian’s.
This kiss gave Zhong Jia a real, tangible sensation. She had to admit words paled next to actions, though she was still a bit confused because Ruan Ting had been just as gentle.
“Can I have another kiss?” Zhong Jia opened her eyes to ask. The smile on Xie Yingnian’s face inexplicably made her cheeks burn.
She was so hopeless, phrasing it like a request. But that very innocence made her inexperienced heart seem even more pure, exposed, capable of scalding anyone it touched.
“This time, savor it properly,” Xie Yingnian said. “After all, you said I’m not great with stamina, and kissing takes it out of me too.”
“You’re so petty,” Zhong Jia muttered, calling her sly in a deadpan way.
One kiss was one kiss. She’d only hoped for a single second of reciprocation anyway—no matter what the future held, this was already more than enough.
Scattered fireworks popped outside the window. The plants on the balcony rustled in the breeze. Time marched on unhurriedly. Zhong Jia took a deep breath and leaned her face toward Xie Yingnian.
The wild jasmine scent she always wore drew near. Xie Yingnian didn’t kiss the corner of her eye or her forehead. Instead, as her hair fell forward, her lips brushed Zhong Jia’s earlobe, trailing slowly downward until they settled softly on the girl’s lips.
Just a light touch before pulling away again.
Now Zhong Jia understood why Chen Kuang and Ju Zai were always so inseparable. In this moment, with Xie Yingnian offering a taste of sweetness, she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to leave her side.
She licked her lower lip, savoring it, then remembered the song from earlier that day and Shi Cainran. Unable to hold back, she asked, “When I was washing dishes earlier, I saw you followed her on Weibo. Are you two close?”
Xie Yingnian had anticipated the question and wasn’t surprised. She nodded along with Zhong Jia’s assumption. “Yeah, we’re close.”
“Like, really close?” Zhong Jia didn’t realize how much she cared—or rather, how jealous she felt.
Xie Yingnian took in her expression, barely holding back laughter to the point of internal injury. She gripped Zhong Jia’s thighs, straddling either side of her. “Hold on to me.”
Zhong Jia obeyed in a daze.
The moment she was lifted, she panicked a little and instinctively hooked her legs around Xie Yingnian too. She figured the other woman wasn’t that strong— she’d struggled to carry her before, and even when she managed, she panted heavily.
Just like that, she was set down on the table by the window, like a reenactment of that failed rehearsal scene on set.
The window was cracked open, letting in a gust of wind.
The clutter piled there was shoved aside, some tumbling to the floor with a dull thud.
“You…” Zhong Jia started.
“A whole day of it,” Xie Yingnian said. “Time to air out the jealousy.”
“What jealousy?” Zhong Jia still hadn’t caught on, even sniffing the air like a fool.
Xie Yingnian held up the palm Zhong Jia had rubbed her cheek against several times and brought it to her face. “Smell this.”
Nothing there. Zhong Jia looked puzzled, then slowly pieced it together amid Xie Yingnian’s half-smile.
“I wouldn’t get this worked up over just a song…” Zhong Jia paused, cheeks puffed in denial, but finally admitted it with a huff. “Okay, fine, I really do care about you.”
Xie Yingnian reached out and ruffled her hair. She was being so good; it was time to stop teasing. “She’s my little sister. Of course we’re close.”
Zhong Jia thought that would ease her worries, but she’d forgotten the other woman studied art—her thought process wasn’t exactly straightforward. “Little sister isn’t safe either. Some people think siblings are even hotter,” she shot back, leaving Xie Yingnian equal parts speechless and amused.
Before Zhong Jia could finish, the mouth that had just sown future headaches for itself was sealed by a kiss. This one was different from the last; she could clearly feel Xie Yingnian’s emotions spilling over.
She didn’t close her eyes. Neither did Xie Yingnian. As she gazed at her, with all Zhong Jia’s words blocked and only her expressions left to convey her feelings, Xie Yingnian’s eyes roamed invasively over every inch of her face, as if comparing the subtle differences in her reactions from before.
It wasn’t just a kiss—she even bit down. Zhong Jia let out a muffled groan, squinting her eyes in discomfort, but she made no move to stop it. She simply let Xie Yingnian have her way with her body.
Xie Yingnian thought to herself that Zhong Jia was seriously underestimating her. Why did she think today’s confession would yield nothing? The one who couldn’t hold back was her.
Their breaths intertwined as Xie Yingnian finally released her lips. She spotted the clear gash on Zhong Jia’s lower lip, the sight of blood drawing her brows together in a tight frown before she quickly turned her face away.
But her mind was filled with images of Zhong Jia—her voice breaking into fragments from the teasing, her head thrown back, that utterly willing expression on her face. She stirred up such a powerful urge to bully her, like a pristine sheet of white paper; the cleaner it was, the more one itched to scribble all over it.
“I… I didn’t mean that being with you isn’t enjoyable…” Zhong Jia silently licked at the wound, hissing sharply as she sucked in a breath through her teeth. She had no clue why Xie Yingnian had suddenly turned like this. Was it because of her careless slip with that word “shuang”?
Someone gently tugged her hand back. Xie Yingnian slowly turned her head, her expression urging her to go on.
At some point, Zhong Jia’s sweater had bunched up halfway, exposing her midriff. She tugged it back into place and cleared her throat lightly. “Your health hasn’t been great these past few years, right? I’m not too hung up on that sort of thing—cough, you know… it doesn’t matter. As long as the two of us are together and happy, whether it’s satisfying or not isn’t the point. If you can’t bring me to climax, I… mmph…”
She had meant to say she could work hard to learn, but even for someone with her personality, voicing these words wasn’t easy. Halfway through, her un-kissed ears flushed red as well.
As she went on, Zhong Jia fell silent on her own.
Xie Yingnian stood by the table, staring at her in perfect stillness. This silence felt different from her usual ones, leaving Zhong Jia’s palms slick with nervous sweat.
In the end, Xie Yingnian said nothing. She simply crossed her arms, a deep smile glinting in her eyes.
