Hua Xiangrong

Every talented man desires to have a tender and loving beauty by his side. Even if the stars fade and their affections wane, they would still be a pair of intoxicated mandarin ducks in a simmering pool.

Lying on the cool, soft couch, one's thoughts drift so far, so freely, as if they were about to fly to the vast horizon at any moment.

On the wall opposite, there was a soft paper painting of a fairy-like young woman with a limp body, which reminded me of the fleeting glimpse of Liu Ren'er that afternoon.

Xu Sheng turned over and gently stroked a small, slightly cracked patch of skin along the wall. His mind was still wandering, thinking of his beautiful Yu Ning.

The candlelight at dusk cast a slanted glow on my face, a numbing and strange sensation.

Xusheng rolled over, put his hands together on his stomach, and lay flat on his back.

His bedroom was only a short distance from hers, yet it felt like the north and south sides of the earth, never having a chance to meet, no matter how far apart they were.

Looking at that painting, I couldn't help but recall the scene of Liu Mengmei hanging Du Liniang's portrait on the wall, gazing at it with longing and yearning.

"My sister, my beauty."

Suddenly, it sounded as if the melodious sound of drums and strings could be heard.

A man in his early twenties is restless. His family had already arranged a proper fiancée for him, surnamed Yan, who was also a young lady who had studied abroad. They addressed each other as "Miss Yan" and "Mr. Hua" all day long.

Miss Yan's smile was not very revealing; it was extremely refined and composed.

He used to be quite fond of M. Yan, because the two had a lot to talk about. Whenever they were together, he would often tell stories of his embarrassing and strange experiences studying abroad, while M. Yan liked to talk about glamorous people and how he traveled to those countries with high noses and strange eyes.

I do like it quite a bit.

Miss Yan works at a newspaper. On Fridays, he often waits for her to get off work. The two walk along the street lit by golden lamps to the movie theater entrance, their shadows almost touching, sometimes holding hands, but Miss Yan is never very proactive.

Although they were formally engaged and both had studied abroad, they had never been intimate. Miss Yan, despite having studied abroad and had boyfriends herself, remained reserved in this regard, retaining the traditional demeanor of a young lady from a traditional family. She was very self-disciplined, often with her brows slightly furrowed. At that time, thin, hooked eyebrows were fashionable, and since she was born with them, she didn't need to groom them.

Once, while discussing the newspaper situation at home, a heavy rain began to fall, the raindrops pelting down like knives, making an exaggerated clatter on the bluestone pavement of the yard. Suddenly, Miss Yan stopped and gazed out the window.

"Damn it, how did it suddenly start raining so heavily?"

After making a phone call home, he prepared to stay at his place.

Xu Sheng asked the maid to prepare a bedroom with a Western-style open balcony for her, and she heated up some milk for her and brought it in.

Miss Yan came out of the shower and was sitting on the edge of the bed drying her hair. Her face was pale, and a few strands of wet bangs were stuck to her forehead. Her eyebrows were delicately arched at the ends, making her beauty even more dignified.

A sudden impulse struck him, and he instinctively reached out to embrace her. The tall figure pressed down on him, catching Miss Yan off guard and pinning her to the bed. He didn't mince words, haphazardly searching her lips, eyes, and straight nose through her wet hair. When her warm lips touched his, Miss Yan shivered and tried to push them away.

"Please let me have this one time."

His pale, handsome face was damp with water, making him appear somewhat delicate and youthful. Miss Yan remained still, letting him pull down her silk nightgown, their necks intertwining. She hated herself for giving herself so easily. But after all, she was still his future wife, and thinking this, she didn't care much anymore.

With a relaxed attitude, the body appears even more supple and delicate.

The rain was still falling like razor blades. She returned from that deathly regret and deepened her kiss with him. Her face was indistinguishable between tears and sweat. A drop of hair fell and slid into her chest. She trembled involuntarily and he licked it away.

The two embraced under the covers, and he whispered in her ear, "I want to marry you right now."

Miss Yan chuckled and said, "You only have fleshly thoughts anyway, do you love my soul?"

"Flesh and soul together."

She didn't want to know what he was thinking anymore. She leaned her head slightly against his chest, her damp hair brushing against his hot skin like a clump of drifting seaweed. She fell asleep soon after.

The next day, he woke up with a headache and body aches, and upon examination, found he had a fever. He then took meticulous care of him throughout the day.

Once a man has succeeded, he's like a child who's eaten candy; if you tell him to go east, he won't go west.

After her fever subsided, Xu Sheng took her home. They said goodbye reluctantly at the door.

He watched her get into the chartered car, gave him a faint smile, still without showing her teeth, and looked somewhat forlorn.

He loved her deeply. But whenever he thought of that ancient beauty, a part of his heart would itch—a primal longing and a deep, unwavering love.

He was certain that he loved both of them, two women who were completely different.

She turned over again and fell asleep.

He dreamt that he was Liu Sheng, but he could not clearly see Liniang's face.

Good times come too quickly, fleeting moments of joy, leaving one unsure of what the future holds.

Yiling's maid, Muye, slightly lifted the window and peeked out. Seeing that the light in the third room was off, she turned around and said, "Grandma, please rest early."

Yi Ling leaned against the pillow, reading a book, and replied without looking up, "You can go now, I'll go to sleep soon." In the old days, young ladies valued "virtue in ignorance." The eldest and third mistresses were illiterate, though the eldest mistress, who managed the household accounts, was quite fluent in arithmetic. Yi Ling, however, had been tutored since childhood and used to write, but stopped after marriage, finding her life stagnant. Now she was alone, crossing a precipice; one stumble and she would be smashed to pieces. The Yuan family didn't like women borrowing their books; hers were all secretly brought from the past, sometimes hidden among the books when Mu Ye went shopping.

She was probably a careless woman, unwilling to abide by the rules of dying and prolong her life.

Such a careless woman was like a rat crossing the street in the old days, with countless desires quietly hidden in her heart.

It is decay in the heart, a plant, flesh, or an object with internal rot, outwardly beautiful but inwardly corrupt.

Sitting quietly for a moment, she suddenly remembered the young master she had met during the day yesterday. A bright feeling welled up in her heart, like a lively flower bud stirring restlessly, and that strange desire crept up again. Startled by this unbridled fantasy, she paused slightly, her mouth agape, as if he could truly save her. She then found it all rather ridiculous.

Such a complete stranger...

The window was slightly ajar, and all the lights around had already dimmed.