Chapter 38 For the stars On you...

The man came closer little by little, and Wen Mu did not dodge.

The moment when the two lips are about to touch.

"I didn't see anything. I didn't see anything," the old lady said as she trotted back to the terrace, her pearl earrings flickering in the moonlight. "Go on, go on."

Song Xingran held his forehead with his hand: "Grandma."

Wen Mu pursed his lips and smiled, caressing the newly acquired jade bracelet on his wrist. The emerald green jade felt cool to the touch, and the pattern of intertwined branches and flowers on the inside was clearly visible.

"What a shame."

"I'll give it to you on the wedding day?"

The man's eyes darkened, his Adam's apple rolling: "Keep your word."

*

February 10, Ningchuan International Airport, cloudy.

Wen Mu curled up in the leather seat of her private jet, her forehead pressed against the cool window. The tinnitus from takeoff hadn't completely subsided, and the churning discomfort in her stomach forced her to close her eyes.

"Have some of this." Song Xingran handed over a cup of steaming ginger tea, the rim of which was thoughtfully padded with a heat-resistant mat. "With honey."

She sipped, the sweet, spicy liquid sliding down her throat, warmth spreading through her limbs. The man's fingers threaded through her hair, gently massaging her temples. He was wearing a dark blue shirt today, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his well-defined forearms.

"Sleep for a while?" he whispered, his fingertips applying just the right amount of pressure.

Wen Mu mumbled a response, letting him adjust the seat back and spread out the soft cashmere blanket. Before her consciousness sank into darkness, she vaguely heard the soft sound of turning pages in a book.

When I woke up again, the scene outside the window was completely different.

Across the auroral belt's characteristic blue-gray sky, fluffy clouds resembled torn cotton wool, icy blue light filtering through the gaps. Beneath the wings stretched a series of snow-capped mountains, their peaks gleaming like diamonds in the sunlight. Beyond, winding fjords crisscrossed the dark green carpet like silver threads.

Wen Mu propped himself up and found a book titled "Macroeconomic Theory" spread out on the bedside table, with a Montblanc fountain pen tucked between the title pages.

The densely packed annotations on the edges of the pages are written in sharp and powerful handwriting. There is even a sticky note at the corner of a chapter with a simple supply and demand curve drawn on it.

She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

The young master actually started reading?

"woke up?"

The man walked in with a glass of water, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his collarbone faintly visible. He bent down to hand her the water, a cool aura about him.

"If you don't understand something, you can ask me." Wen Mu took the cup of water with a serious look on his face.

Song Xingran chuckled, knelt on one knee on the edge of the bed and leaned forward: "Teacher Wen, I didn't finish college, but that doesn't mean I'm a fool."

He pulled the book away and tapped the gold-embossed title on the cover with his knuckles. "I dropped out of school for my career. It's called giving up economics for racing, giving up literature for martial arts. Do you understand?"

"Well, it fits the character of Young Master Song very well."

"A reckless man."

Song Xingran reached out and took off her gold-rimmed glasses, and a hazy halo suddenly covered his eyes. He raised the corners of his mouth as if he had succeeded in a prank, but was stunned when he saw her slightly narrowed eyes.

Without the obstruction of lenses, the pair of eyes that were always calm and composed now had slightly red corners and their long eyelashes trembled slightly, like obsidian suddenly exposed to the sun in the snow.

"Give it back to me." Wen Mu reached out to grab it, but he easily dodged it.

"No." Song Xingran put the glasses on his nose and frowned exaggeratedly, "How can you wear them when you're so dizzy?"

Wen Mu didn't bother arguing and stood up to reach for the spare glasses case on the bedside table. As she moved, the straps of her dark blue slip dress slipped off, revealing a large expanse of snow-white skin. The man's breathing visibly hitched for a moment, and his Adam's apple rolled as he looked away.

"It's over." She suddenly froze.

"What?"

Wen Mu looked at the clothes neatly hung in the closet and was silent for a moment: "Nothing."

She thought of the box of condoms forgotten in her bedside drawer, the ultra-thin ones she'd bought specifically for him, with the sardonic slogan "For those who think size matters" printed on the box.

When checking out, Yu Mo laughed so hard that she couldn't straighten her back. She said that if your racing driver saw this, he would probably prove it with his actions.

"Is it very important?" Song Xingran tilted his head to study her expression.

Wen Mu shook his head.

The hotel should have the regular size. I just don't know if he can buy one in a convenience store in Norway.

The man gave her a suspicious look, then turned to prepare for landing. Wen Mu took the opportunity to put his glasses back on. The view outside the window had transformed into a vast coniferous forest, with the outline of Tromsø gradually becoming clear in the distance.

As night fell, the car drove into the castle hotel's private driveway.

The hotel, converted from a 12th-century castle, stands surrounded by snow-capped mountains, its Gothic spires piercing the indigo sky and its stained-glass windows emitting amber light.

Ice sculptures line the driveway, and each sculpture base is embedded with star-shaped light strips, illuminating the lawn covered with fresh snow.

"Are you cold?" Song Xingran put the cashmere coat on Wen Mu's shoulders.

In the cold wind, his body temperature came through the clothes, mixed with the scent of cedar and leather.

Wen Mu shook her head, but he held her hand and put it in his pocket, stroking her slightly cool skin.

"Mr. Song, Ms. Wen." The manager, dressed in traditional Sami attire, came over and said, "Welcome to the Aurora Palace."

The moment he stepped into the castle hall, Wen Mu unconsciously held his breath.

A crystal chandelier hangs from the seven-meter-high dome, its light refracted by hundreds of prisms, casting a star-like pattern on the ancient stone walls. The central staircase's handrail is wrapped with fresh edelweiss, and each step is covered with a Persian carpet embroidered with constellations.

"Your bedrooms are on the top floor of the tower." The manager handed over two brass keys. "As requested, we've prepared a stargazing terrace and..."

Song Xingran suddenly coughed and the manager immediately fell silent.

Wen Mu looked at him suspiciously. The latter was pretending to be very interested in the reindeer specimen on the wall.

The elevator went up to the top floor, and behind the oak door was a suite of nearly 200 square meters.

Dark blue velvet curtains drape to the floor, a starry sky canopy hangs over the four-poster bed, and astronomy-themed night lamps are placed on the bedside tables.

But the most amazing thing is the extended glass terrace, which is fully transparent and looks like a crystal box floating in the night sky.

Wenmu trotted to the terrace. The nightscape of Tromsø stretched out beneath her feet. Colorful wooden houses scattered on the hillside like Lego blocks, and the yachts moored in the harbor glowed with warm yellow lights.

Farther away, the surface of the Arctic Ocean glowed with a cold metallic light, blending into the skyline.

"Do you like it?" Song Xingran put his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder.

Wen Mu nodded, and the back of his neck felt slightly hot where his breath brushed against it.

"Eat first?" He bit her earlobe gently. "Aren't you hungry?"

As if in response to his words, Wen Mu's stomach protested slightly.

The dining table had been set on the terrace at some point, with aurora-shaped candlesticks standing next to the crystal glasses and silver cutlery gleaming in the starlight.

"Don't you think," Song Xingran pulled out a chair for her, "this is very similar to our first date?"

Wen Mu took the lemonade he handed over and asked, "Is that considered a date?"

"Why not?" The man frowned and placed a whale steak on her plate. "Someone stared at my face for three whole minutes."

Wen Mu almost choked on the water: "I was looking at the tattoo on your neck."

The star she noticed the first time she saw him.

"You mean this star?" He pulled the collar of his shirt wider. "Isn't it handsome?"

In the candlelight, the cuffs of his blue shirt reflected tiny rays of light, and the line of his collarbone was lost in the shadow of his collar.

"Mom and Dad haven't arrived yet?" Wen Mu picked up a piece of cod.

Song Xingran shook his red wine glass, a dangerous arc on the corner of his lips: "They won't be here for a few days."

He leaned across the table and brushed his fingertips against the sauce on her lips. "Now, this is our secret world."

The aggression in the man's eyes was too obvious, like a beast that had finally torn off his gentlemanly disguise.

The cod melted in his tongue with a sweet taste, and Wen Mu slowly licked the remaining sauce from his fingertips.

"Then you better hide well."

Outside the glass terrace, the first ray of aurora is quietly spreading over the top of the snow-capped mountains.

*

"Wedding photos?" Wen Mu raised his head from his coffee cup, his eyes slightly widened.

Song Xingran leaned against the door frame, wearing a simple white T-shirt and black casual pants, his muscle lines faintly visible under the fabric.

"Yes, we'll be shooting today." He shook his phone. "The photographer will be here in half an hour."

Wen Mu put down the cup, frowning slightly: "Do we have to take a picture?"

She has never liked taking photos, and she is not used to posing in front of the camera.

"You don't want to take a picture?"

"Not really," Wen Mu stirred the coffee in his cup, "it doesn't matter whether I take a picture or not."

The man stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly strode over and grabbed her wrist: "You must take the picture."

His tone was too firm to be refused, but his eyes betrayed a hint of hurt.

Wen Mu then realized that his attitude might have hurt him. Before he could explain, he was dragged towards the cloakroom.

Five outfits hung in the cloakroom. The most striking was a silver-white fishtail dress with tiny starburst embroidered on the hem; next to it was a dark blue velvet suit with a planet-shaped brooch pinned to the collar.

In addition, there are several sets of couple outfits that look more everyday: sweaters with starry sky patterns, down jackets in the same color, and even hoodies printed with constellations.

The stylist smiled and explained, "These were all personally selected by Mr. Song."

Wen Mu's fingers gently stroked the silver-white dress. The fabric was cool and smooth, like touching real starlight.

"Your vision isn't that bad."

After changing into her first dress, she stood in front of the floor-length mirror and pulled at the hem of her skirt uncomfortably.

The dress has a backless design, exposing a large area of ​​snow-white skin to the air, and her slender legs are faintly visible under the slit skirt.

"Wow--" Song Xingran's voice came from behind, and the long tail tone was full of surprise.

Wen Mu turned around and saw the man leaning against the door frame in his dark blue suit. He was incredibly handsome.

His eyes lingered on her without hesitation, and his Adam's apple rolled unconsciously.

"Don't look at me like that."

Song Xingran walked closer and gently stroked her bare back with his fingers.

"Teacher Wen, you'll distract me."

The first shooting location was in the hotel's castle lobby.

The photographer, a bearded Norwegian and ISPWP Photographer of the Year, directed them to pose on the spiral staircase.

"The lady is leaning on the railing, and the gentleman is holding her waist from behind. Yes, that's it!" the photographer shouted in accented English. "Look at the camera, not her!"

Song Xingran ignored him, nuzzling the side of Wen Mu's neck, his breath hot. Wen Mu could feel his heartbeat through the thin fabric, fast and heavy.

"Focus." She reminded quietly.

"I'm concentrating." Song Xingran retorted confidently, his fingers gently stroking her waist.

After shooting the indoor scenes, they changed into warm couple outfits and headed to the pier.

Various ships are moored in the port of Tromsø, and the snow-capped mountains in the distance are sparkling in the sun.

The wind was so cold that Wen Mu's nose tip soon turned red from the cold.

"Are you cold?" The man took off his down jacket and wrapped it around her.

She shook her head, but he pulled her into his arms.

The photographer took the opportunity to capture this natural and intimate moment.

"Perfect!" He checked the photo excitedly. "Now change the pose. The lady sits on that wooden box, and the gentleman stands behind her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head."

Song Xingran did as he was told, but his lips deliberately slid to Wen Mu's ear: "You smell so good."

Wen Mu pinched his arm and said, "Be serious."

"I'm being serious," he said innocently, "I'm just praising my wife."

After filming the dock scene, Wen Mu's fingers were numb from the cold. Song Xingran noticed this and without a word, he picked her up and walked back.

"Put me down," Wen Mu struggled, "There are people watching."

"Let them see." Song Xingran hugged her tighter. "Is it illegal for me to hug my wife?"

Back at the hotel, they changed into their final outfits: Wen Mu's silver-white mermaid dress and Song Xingran's dark blue suit. The shoot took place in the hotel's Royal Suite, which boasted a medieval-style throne room.

"This pose will be very powerful," the photographer gestured. "The lady is sitting on the throne, tugging at the gentleman's tie. The gentleman, his suit half-undone, kneels at the lady's feet, looking up at her."

Wen Mu held his forehead, but Song Xingran's eyes lit up: "This is good."

However, when Wen Mu wore a slit dress, his long legs elegantly crossed, and his fingers gently hooked around Song Xingran's tie, the usually flamboyant racer's ears turned red and his eyes avoided.

Wen Mu gently fanned his face and looked down at him:

"Look at me."

Time froze gently the moment he looked over.

The woman's gold-rimmed glasses reflected the light of the crystal chandelier, her red lips slightly parted, her coldness mixed with an unconscious temptation; the man's suit jacket was half hanging on his arm, revealing the tight white shirt underneath, his muscles clearly defined.

The photographer frantically pressed the shutter: "Great! Keep that look!"

Song Xingran's Adam's apple rolled and his voice became hoarse: "Wen Mu."

"Hmm?" She leaned forward slightly, revealing a glimpse of her neckline.

"You did it on purpose." He gritted his teeth.

Wen Mu chuckled, his fingers sliding along his tie to his Adam's apple: "You just found out?"

The last photo was taken at the moment when Song Xingran couldn't bear it anymore and kissed her wrist. Wen Mu tilted her head back and smiled softly, with red at the corners of her eyes.

The photographer exclaimed repeatedly: "Perfect! This is the most dramatic wedding photo I've ever taken!"

After the filming, Wen Mu finally couldn't hold on any longer and curled up on the sofa, shaking.

Song Xingran knelt on one knee in front of her, holding her cold hand and breathing on it, his eyes full of self-blame: "I'm sorry, I didn't think it through."

Wen Mu looked at his annoyed expression, and his angry heart softened: "Let's go back after the shooting. I want to take a bath."

"I'll ask them to get ready." Song Xingran immediately called to make arrangements and brought a thick blanket to wrap her up.

Wen Mu leaned in his arms and suddenly remembered something: "When can I see the photos?"

"The photographer said the sample photos will be out in three days." Song Xingran bent down and kissed the top of her head. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Wen Mu closed his eyes, "I'm just a little curious."

I am curious about how I look in his eyes, how those frozen moments will be presented, and how this marriage that started with an exchange of interests will look like under the camera.

The man seemed to see through her thoughts and whispered, "You will definitely like it."

In his heart, she is the most beautiful scenery in the world.

*

Wen Mu pushed open the bathroom door, and hot air mixed with a faint fragrance hit him in the face.

A uniquely shaped aromatherapy lamp sat at the edge of the tub, its warm yellow glow illuminating white camellia petals floating on the surface. Unidentified spices slowly dissolved in the water, emitting a refreshing scent resembling a blend of cedar and bergamot.

She untied her bathrobe, letting the silky fabric fall to the floor. She stepped into the tub, the warm water immediately enveloping her tired body.

The woman sighed contentedly, resting her head on her folded arms and leaning against the edge of the pool. Her black hair spread out like seaweed on the surface of the water, a few strands clinging to her flushed cheeks.

In the mist, she half-closed her eyes, tiny water droplets hung on her long eyelashes, and her whole body exuded a lazy beauty.

The footsteps were getting closer and closer, but Wen Mu was too lazy to look up.

There was a sound of splashing water, and a solid body approached from behind, with strong arms wrapped around her waist.

"Are you tired?" Song Xingran's voice sounded in his ears, with a damp feeling unique to water vapor.

Wen Mu nodded slightly and let him turn her around, almost leaning against him. The water level in the bathtub rose, pushing a few camellias to the edge.

The man scooped up some water and poured it over her shoulders, having a lot of fun.

"Childish." Wen Mu snorted.

Song Xingran moved his waist slightly: "Teacher Wen, are you sure, am I childish?"

Wen Mu slapped his restless hand away: "Stop making trouble and chat with me for a while."

"You talk, I listen." He really stopped moving, but his fingers were still lingering on her waist.

Wen Mu leaned on his shoulder: "Were you prepared for the first night?"

Song Xingran: "Yeah. I prepared it before you went to bed."

"How did you think of it there?"

"I'm worried you'll be embarrassed," he said, drawing circles with his fingers underwater. "The water can block out the noise."

Wen Mu looked up at him: "You're lying."

The man's high-sounding excuse was exposed, and his ears blushed slightly. He had no choice but to confess honestly: "It's more exciting, isn't it?"

It will create ripples and make sounds as it moves, making people imagine what the scene is like underwater.

Wen Mu thought about it and it seemed to be true.

The slightest movement would cause ripples on the water, creating a sound that would mask their breath. Under the water, his palm firmly gripped her vagina, leaving one red mark after another.

The man suddenly said: "You didn't like it that night?"

There was a rare hint of uneasiness in his voice.

He had indeed been too reckless that night. He was an inexperienced young man, acting on instinct. He clearly wanted to make her feel good, but her frown only made him lose control, demanding without a care in the world.

This was not his intention. Their first time together was supposed to be unforgettable and beautiful.

Wen Mu lowered his eyes: "Does it matter whether I like it or not?"

"Of course it's important." Song Xingran tightened his arms, "I hope you're happy."

"As happy as I am."

Wen Mu was helpless: "I'll be happy if you come less often next time."

"Okay," he kissed the top of her head, "I'll try."

The water surface became quiet, with only the camellia flowers floating gently.

Wen Mu: "What did you post on WeChat Moments the day I went to see you?"

Song Xingran's hand that was stroking her waist suddenly stopped.

"I went to check it later and you had deleted it."

Wen Mu turned her head to look at him, her long wet hair stuck to her neck, the corners of her eyes were still slightly red from bathing, and her eyes were as charming as silk.

"Why, is there something you can't show me?"

Song Xingran couldn't help but lean over and kiss the corner of her eye: "It's just a photo. A photo of the two of us."

"I didn't take pictures of people, I just clapped my hands. You were wearing a ring that day, so I wanted to take a picture of it."

“Why delete it?”

"Because I'm afraid you'll be unhappy. I'm afraid you'll think I'm too high-profile. I'm afraid you'll hate me."

Wen Mu sighed in his heart.

Normally, he looks fierce and brute, and you would think he is reckless, but it turns out that he is also such a cautious person.

But why is it used in this kind of place?

"You can send it." She whispered, "We are a legal couple, why can't we send it."

Song Xingran's eyes lit up for a moment, then dimmed again, as if he was afraid that he had heard it wrong.

"I feel a little dizzy." Wen Mu frowned and held his shoulders.

"I'll carry you out."

Song Xingran picked her up from the water directly, splashing water everywhere.

He casually pulled out a towel and spread it on the marble washbasin, then put her on it. He then took a dry towel and wiped her body carefully.

The water droplets slid down the graceful lines of the woman's back and were wiped away one by one by him with a towel.

Wen Mu was dazed, his eyes inadvertently swept over, and then looked at the man's forbearing face, and still asked kindly: "Do you need help?"

Song Xingran suddenly stopped wiping her hair and asked, "Are you sure?"

"What should I do?" She teased him deliberately, her voice still cold, "There are no condoms here."

He frowned: "How do you know?"

"I flipped it over last night." Wen Mu remained calm. "You can't wear it."

A low laugh escaped the man's throat, and he grasped her ankles and wrapped her legs around his waist.

"It's okay, wife."

"I brought it myself."

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The author has something to say: This man is scheming!