Wen Zenian gazed at Meng Ning cradled in her arms.
Meng Ning’s skin was strikingly fair, a cool shade of white that even the scorching beach sunlight couldn’t warm. Her features were delicately pretty, her nose tip pert and refined. Only her eyebrows were thick and untamed, carrying a hint of sharpness that lent her an air of stubbornness.
As she spoke, her eyelids drooped halfway, perhaps fixed on her own drawn-up knees.
Wen Zenian could have teased her, but she didn’t. Instead, she simply said, “Okay.”
Meng Ning squirmed uncomfortably. What kind of “okay” was that? It was too straight-laced, too much like the poised female manager striding through the resort’s grand lobby amid South Seas breezes, drawing admiring glances from all.
And that was indeed one facet of Wen Zenian.
Yet as she bent at the waist, her crisp uniform gathered into soft folds around her hips.
Meng Ning tilted her chin up to meet the kiss. In that moment, Wen Zenian bore no resemblance to the decisive manager; her lips were soft and yielding, melting sweetly under pressure, laced with the delicate floral-fruit notes of Riesling.
Meng Ning pressed her toes into the sofa, propping herself up to deepen the kiss. Her tongue explored Wen Zenian’s mouth boldly, and Wen Zenian offered no resistance, yielding entirely to her whims.
The contrast between Wen Zenian’s daytime poise and her current submission wove a tantalizing contradiction that Meng Ning found irresistible.
By then, the rain had truly begun to fall outside the window, drifting lazily across the terrace in a poetic veil that defied easy description.
They kissed amid the patter of the night rain, their entwined breaths as soft and silken as the rain itself.
Only when a faint “mm” escaped Wen Zenian’s lips did Meng Ning pull away.
It was her time of the month, and she hadn’t steeled herself to remove her Buddha beads for a proper counterattack. To keep going would be impolite.
Though, in retrospect, the intimate sounds of their kiss had little to do with politeness.
The thought amused Meng Ning, even as it brought a flush of embarrassment, leaving her expression oddly split—her eyes softening while her lips pressed into a tight line.
She felt Wen Zenian’s gaze settle on her alongside the warm glow of the lamp and quickly composed herself. “What’s wrong?”
Wen Zenian’s hand drifted downward, seeming headed for her cheek before veering aside to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Meng Ning’s ear. Her voice was languid. “Nothing.”
With that, she resumed reading the story.
Meng Ning closed her eyes once more. When Wen Zenian’s voice finally faded, she rose from her embrace and smoothed her hair.
Wen Zenian twisted halfway around, her elbow propped on the back of the sofa as she cradled her head and watched.
“We have to overcome our human flaws,” Meng Ning said. “We must conquer this inexplicable possessiveness.”
Wen Zenian let out a laugh.
Teasingly, she asked, “Are you an anthropologist? Or a philosopher?”
Meng Ning ignored the jab and pressed on. “It’s a perfectly normal reaction, really. Our bodies are so intimate, so perfectly matched.”
Wen Zenian arched a brow, her smile playful. “Oh? Matched, are we?”
Meng Ning faltered for a moment, but mercifully, Wen Zenian let it drop.
Emboldened, she continued. “Once you understand it, it’s nothing at all. Possessiveness is just a shared human response, triggered by our physiology.”
Wen Zenian fell silent, her lashes lowered as she pondered something.
Meng Ning thought to herself: Her eyelashes are so lush.
Her own were long but fine and delicate.
Wen Zenian’s were different. She wore eye makeup, but from what Meng Ning could tell, no mascara—just a natural allure that cast delicate shadows beneath her eyes, like petals heavy with dew.
When Wen Zenian finally looked up, she neither agreed nor disagreed. Instead, she said, “You just talked about overcoming human flaws.”
“You said ‘we.'”
Meng Ning froze.
“So all these days you haven’t come to see me… it’s because you feel it too? This flaw of ours?”
There had been no lovemaking that night, yet a warm flush prickled along Meng Ning’s spine.
What a knack for zeroing in on the heart of the matter.
No wonder she managed the administration so well. Or, if she ever quit, she could always pivot to playing Sherlock Holmes.
Wen Zenian tilted her head. “No one was chatting me up. So what sparked this possessiveness of yours?”
Meng Ning’s inner reply was blunt: Because you’re too damn good at it.
Even at the height of bliss, I couldn’t help wondering about your exes.
But she could never say that aloud. Her face, so earnest when the smile faded, turned cool and serious. “I mean, if I were in the same situation, I’d feel exactly the same.”
“It’s normal. Once we understand why, overcoming it is easy.”
Wen Zenian drew out a soft “Mm,” her tone giving nothing away.
Meng Ning stood. “I should go.”
Wen Zenian picked up the letter from the sofa and handed it over. “Goodbye.”
Meng Ning folded it neatly into the envelope and slipped it into her pocket. Wen Zenian rose, rummaged in the closet, and produced an umbrella. “I like lending you my umbrellas.”
As Meng Ning took it, her eyes lingered on the strap—the spot where Wen Zenian had once tied her room key, now safely tucked in the pocket of her uniform.
“Because when you borrow an umbrella,” Wen Zenian said, “you always bring it back.”
“Every time I lend you one, even the rain starts to feel a little charming.”
Meng Ning opened the umbrella and made her way back to the dorm.
The chill of the rain quickly made her yearn for the lingering warmth of that kiss.
She walked slowly through the misty downpour, reflecting on it.
She still couldn’t fathom why she’d impulsively asked for that kiss.
Perhaps it was the soft lighting, the plush cushions, the sheer curtains swaying gracefully in the breeze—everything conspiring to create the perfect mood.
Or maybe it was Wen Zenian’s words that had pleased her so, confirming that this possessiveness wasn’t one-sided.
Her steps slowed further as she admired the fresh green sprouts along the roadside, washed clean by the night rain, and the squat statue nearby, its origins lost to some half-forgotten myth.
A kiss was just a kiss.
She’d gone to visit during her period, unable to do much else, and scored a page from the sci-fi story for free. A kiss was fair trade.
So why the nagging unease in her chest?
She returned to her room for a shower and bed. The next morning, when the alarm blared, she roused Qi Xiao.
Qi Xiao’s shoulder-length hair was a tousled lion’s mane, her eyes barely cracked open amid yawns, yet she broke into giggles.
Meng Ning shot her a glance on her way to the bathroom.
After training, they headed to the beach control room. Female lifeguards’ cycles weren’t a secret—they had to log them for scheduling. Qi Xiao was eyeing Meng Ning fill out her form when she let out a dramatic “Ah!”
Her teammates turned. Qi Xiao waved them off hastily. “It’s nothing! Just stubbed my toe on the cabinet. Absolute agony, haha!”
Once the others had dispersed, she yanked Meng Ning close and whispered, “You logged yours yesterday too, right?”
The day before, the captain had assigned her beach vehicle maintenance, and she’d only peripherally noted Meng Ning’s slender frame at the form station.
Now it clicked. “You were on your period yesterday—why’d you go see her?”
“Chat.”
Qi Xiao clapped a hand over her face. “I thought my Thousand-Year Goji Berry Essence had worked! I bought more!”
Meng Ning fixed her with a serious look. “How much did it cost?”
Qi Xiao named a figure. Meng Ning stared, stunned.
“Tell you tonight back at the dorm,” she said, then headed to work.
After her shift, back in the dorm, Meng Ning commandeered Qi Xiao’s phone to haggle a refund from the seller. Qi Xiao curled up on the bed, on the verge of tears.
Even in her misery, she couldn’t help thinking how stunning Meng Ning looked, leaning against the wall with her head bowed, neck elegantly arched, brows furrowed in concentration without a trace of her usual smile.
It made perfect sense why someone like Wen Zenian—a bona fide Lesbian Circle Hottie—would dream of a night with her.
A moment later, Meng Ning handed back the phone. “All set. Seller’s refunding it.”
She’d considered reporting the shop but, seeing the monthly sales, figured it wouldn’t last the week anyway.
Grinning, she teased Qi Xiao. “Buying something that pricey for me—if we weren’t on the same wavelength, I’d think you had a crush.”
Qi Xiao waggled a finger. “We’re not on the same wavelength anymore. I gave you the study materials, but who knows how quick you’ll catch on. Or when we’ll sync up again.”
Meng Ning: …
A ding from the phone. Qi Xiao checked the bank app—refund received—and exhaled in relief, patting her chest. “But don’t worry, you’re not my type. I shelled out that much because…” She clenched her fist with grave intensity. “No Lesbian Circle Hottie suffers on my watch!”
Meng Ning: …
How was Wen Zenian suffering? Her words from last night—”Seeing you frown is enough for me…”—still echoed.
Fearing Qi Xiao might spot her unease, Meng Ning ducked her head slightly.
That evening, she took a solitary stroll along the coastline. After showering and collapsing into bed, her gaze fixed on the umbrella Wen Zenian had lent her the night before, propped against the wall. Its silhouette blurred in the dimness, save for the pale, moonlit script of a “C”—the lone focal point in the shadows.
In that instant, she pinpointed the source of last night’s lingering discomfort after leaving the Administrative Suite.
Qi Xiao’s reaction today had spelled it out.
Knowing it was her period, Qi Xiao’s first question had been: “Then why go see her?”
To anyone watching, she and Wen Zenian were just bedmates.
But the scene last night—Wen Zenian holding her close on the sofa, reading stories, followed by that kiss—it had been far too tender.
Too much like… lovers.
No matter how she rationalized the kiss afterward, it had crossed a line.
In solemn reflection, she resolved to steer clear of Wen Zenian for the next few days.
She had no idea if she’d ever finish that sci-fi story at this rate.
Time dragged on until her next day off. The umbrella stayed propped by the dorm wall—she hadn’t returned it.
They were set to leave the island early the next morning, but Qi Xiao had a movie premiere she was dying to catch that night. They skipped dinner, dashed off their shift reports, and planned to catch the last speedboat out.
Normally, Qi Xiao dragged Meng Ning along for such outings, but this time she’d invited Song Xiao instead.
With earnest concern, she told Meng Ning, “Your body’s been through enough. Rest up, nourish yourself—don’t go fainting again.”
She patted Meng Ning’s shoulder. “I snagged you some Live Pearl Balls from a livestream. You have to try them.”
