Chapter 59 I'm not hungry right now...

This sentence was his deepest secret. He dared not kiss her because he knew that kissing was something between lovers, and he dared not say aloud about their current relationship.

Xia Zhiyao didn't answer immediately, but just looked at him quietly, her eyes calm to the point of being provocative, as if to say, "You set the rules of the game yourself, and now you can't accept them?"

Zhou Yue's throat tightened, and his heart pounded like a drum. He had seen her cold demeanor before, but tonight, she was so composed that it was maddening. Even though she was standing in his arms, it felt like there was a thin layer of ice between them, making him anxious to break through it, yet afraid that there was an abyss beneath the ice.

Anxiety crawled like ants through his bones, spreading from his heart to his limbs. His fingertips trembled slightly, but he still tried to maintain a calm demeanor. However, the oppression and frustration rising from the depths of his chest were gradually tearing away his last bit of restraint.

His mind was filled with the image of her tilting her head back, clutching him, biting her lip and enduring the pain that night. But what he found most unbearable was that she hadn't even given him a kiss, as if she was using him to vent her emotions instead of getting close to him.

He finally spoke as if pushed to his limit, his speech noticeably faster, his voice low, hoarse, and trembling: "Every time you climax, you desperately hold me and kiss me... Why didn't you last time? What were you afraid of?"

His eyes were like a long-suppressed fire, dangerous and chaotic, yet fragile to the point of despair. That emotion seemed to burn through her bones and blood. He was afraid, terrified, yet he still cornered her in the sharpest way possible.

She remained silent, leaving him trapped like a caged beast, panting heavily, yet stubbornly refusing to yield.

The next moment, he kissed her. It wasn't a gentle kiss, but a predatory one, as if to shut her mouth and also to shut his own heart that was about to break down. Between their intertwined lips and teeth, there was an intensely suppressed desire and an unspeakable hatred.

But just as she suddenly grabbed the back of his neck and bit his lips, the string that had been hanging in his chest for so long finally snapped to its limit.

It was a confirmation of being flirted with and responded to, which allowed him to find a unique stepping stone in the abyss of losing control.

As if afraid she would slip away, Zhou Yue picked her up and pressed her down onto the bed. The kisses continued relentlessly, urgent and greedy, each breath seeming to etch her into his very bones.

"You dare say..." His whisper was both a question and a plea, "...you don't want me at all?"

The anxiety in his eyes was almost overflowing, so deep it seemed to engulf him completely. His unease, vulnerability, and longing were mixed together, as if he would completely collapse if he didn't get an answer soon.

She didn't look at him, but stared at the wall behind her, her tone calm: "You wanted me to come, so here I am, right? The process went smoothly, and no one lost out."

Zhou Yue's expression froze, as if something in his eyes shattered instantly. "The process went smoothly?" He chuckled coldly, his laughter carrying a bloody sharpness and mockery. "You're really something, Xia Zhiyao."

"You just walk away so cleanly and unscathed? You always manage to extricate yourself completely, don't you?"

She didn't respond, but simply closed her eyes gently, as if retreating to her familiar defensive line—unresponsive, unwavering, and unwilling to admit defeat.

But he knew her too well; he knew that her silence was not heartlessness, but rather an escape.

So he leaned down, his lips almost touching her earlobe, his voice low and trembling: "It's okay, you don't have to say it. If you don't dare to say it, I'll say it for you."

His breath was hot, his lips brushed against her skin, and his whisper carried a sharp certainty: "You couldn't kiss me that day because your mind was in turmoil, right?"

Her eyelashes trembled slightly, but she remained silent.

“You’re afraid that once you kiss me, you’ll have to admit that it’s not over between us.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his voice was so low and hoarse that it was almost breaking. “You’re afraid… you don’t want to leave me at all.”

She finally opened her eyes, which contained both ice and fire, a chaos and restraint pushed to the extreme.

Zhou Yue looked at her and suddenly smiled softly, a smile that was both cold and weary: "Xia Zhiyao, you are so heartless."

A fleeting moment of hesitation crossed her eyes, a vulnerability that vanished in an instant, but it did not escape his notice.

His voice deepened, becoming even lower: "What exactly are you trying to push me to?"

The next second, she suddenly grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him fiercely. It wasn't a response, but a counterattack. She had finally abandoned all pretense and retaliated in a moment of overwhelming force.

Her kiss was not gentle; it was even ruthless, as if punishing him, and also punishing herself. Her fingertips gripped the back of his neck tightly, forcing him to endure her strength and emotions.

At that moment, all the repression and unspoken words were drowned in uncontrolled lust, leaving no way out.

The bathroom was filled with mist, and the warm yellow light spread a layer of soft ripples on the water's surface. Xia Zhiyao leaned against the edge of the bathtub, her fingertips lightly tracing the water's surface, but her ears had already caught the subtle movements outside.

The moment the door was pushed open, she didn't even look up, only uttering a curt "Is there something you need?"

Zhou Yue leaned against the doorframe, fine water droplets still clinging to the ends of his hair, sliding down his neck and into his loosely draped bathrobe. He exuded a warm, damp scent, his lips curving slightly upward: "What are you afraid of? Is there any part of your body I haven't seen?"

She then looked up, her gaze lingering briefly on his wet hair and loose belt. A slight upturn of her eyes and a barely perceptible hint of coolness appeared on her lips as she tossed the words back at him: "Since we're so familiar, why don't you just not wear any clothes?"

Zhou Yue chuckled softly, seemingly not taking it as a threat at all. He lazily hooked his fingertips around the belt at his waist, his movements slow as if on purpose: "You said it."

Zhou Yue's fingers slowly tightened, and he gently tugged at the belt around his waist, loosening it by half an inch. The collar of his bathrobe slipped down to one side, revealing a section of his shoulder, still damp and warm from his recent bath.

Xia Zhiyao's gaze paused slightly, but she didn't intend to let him see anything amiss. Instead, she slowly sipped her water, put the cup down, and acted as if that glance was unintentional.

"Zhou Yue." Her voice was calm, yet it was like a blade slicing through water, creating tiny ripples. "Don't play these pointless games."

He seemed to be spurred on by this, and slowly walked in, each step accompanied by the sound of water and the dull thud of his footsteps on the carpet.

"Then tell me, what exactly constitutes 'interesting'?"

Xia Zhiyao's lips slowly curled up, as if she were speaking casually, but every word was cold and sharp: "Tell your dad that you just slept with me, that's what's interesting."

Zhou Yue suddenly burst into laughter, his deep voice as if something had been secretly ignited. "Xia Zhiyao, are you trying to provoke me?"

As he spoke, he took a step forward, bracing himself against the edge of the bathtub, his face almost touching hers. The steam and heat forced their breathing to the same frequency.

“If he knew, not only did I not take you home—” The words stopped on his lips. He looked up at her, his eyes slowly rising at the corners, with a deliberate provocation, as if adding the final blow to a knife: “I also slept with you.”

He chuckled softly, a laugh tinged with the dampness and sharpness of her post-bath air, simply enjoying her expression at that moment: "Tell me, did he faint on the spot, or did he have a sudden attack of high blood pressure? Can he be saved?"

She lowered her eyes, her eyelashes trembling slightly in the mist, her lips seeming to be suppressing a laugh, or perhaps coldly mocking.

The next second, she suddenly stood up, the sound of water was soft and rapid, water droplets slid down her skin, reflecting the light.

Zhou Yue's breath hitched for a moment. Just as he was about to get closer, she spoke first, her voice warm yet distant: "I've made it."

As she passed by him, strands of her damp hair gently brushed against the back of his hand, leaving a fleeting, ambiguous warmth.

He reached out and draped the bathrobe over her shoulders, his fingertips slowly sliding down her shoulder blade to her elbow. The movement seemed casual, but lingering on her skin for too long caused his eyes to darken instantly.

She had barely taken a step when he grabbed her wrist. The grip wasn't strong, but it was enough to half-push, half-pull her to the floor-to-ceiling window, where the night outside and the hot steam inside intertwined.

Night spread across the city below, its warm yellow light from the indoor lights casting a soft, deep blue hue, like a dangerously still sea. Their silhouettes were reflected in the floor-to-ceiling windows, so close they almost overlapped, making it hard to even breathe.

She knew what he was going to do, and she also knew that she hadn't really refused.

“You know…” Zhou Yue’s lips stopped near her ear, his breath hot, with an aggressive patience, like a verdict, or an undeniable warning: “I have never done this more than once.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he didn't kiss her immediately. Instead, he slowly tightened his grip on her wrist, as if patiently peeling away the defenses of his prey.

She was forced to turn around, her back pressed against the cold glass. The city lights shattered into countless tiny lights in her eyes. Her eyes were clear and alert, but in a very short moment, he forced a hint of panic into them.

Zhou Yue lowered his head, his fingertips gently tracing her jawline, his breath spreading inch by inch around her ear, carrying moisture and his own scent.

“Xia Zhiyao,” his voice was so low it sounded like it was being ground out from the depths of his throat, “if you don’t say stop, I’ll take that as your consent.”

She didn't respond, she just looked at him, her eyelashes trembling slightly and frequently.

At that moment, his smile deepened. He leaned down, with an irresistible force, and the instant their lips and tongues touched, heat spread rapidly throughout their bodies like a lit fuse, carried by their breath.

She was forced to tilt her head back, her back rubbing against the glass, creating a slight chill; ice and fire intertwined and surged within her nerves.

Zhou Yue seemed to be doing it on purpose, slowly and deliberately lingering on the kiss, the force in his palm gradually tightening from restraint, as if he wanted to nail her firmly between himself and the glass.

Her fingertips unconsciously curled up and pressed against his chest, but she didn't push him away forcefully. Instead, her breathing became more rapid the moment he stepped back slightly.

Zhou Yue stared at her, his eyes so deep they seemed to drag her into a bottomless vortex, a cruel smile playing on his lips: "You see, you've never learned to refuse me."

She chuckled softly, as if trying to hide something, or perhaps as a provocation: "And you? When are you going to let me go?"

The next second, he suddenly leaned down, as if he wanted to envelop her completely in his arms, and the heat and force once again left her with nowhere to retreat.

The city lights outside were blurred into a hazy blur, and the fog on the glass gradually spread, trapping the two figures in this small, isolated space.

They lay on the same bed, separated by a thin gap. Xia Zhiyao had her back to him, her eyes open, her breathing so light it almost blended into the night.

Zhou Yue stared at the ceiling, his gaze unfocused in the darkness. He tossed and turned, a growing restlessness rising in his chest. After a long while, he finally whispered, "Xia Zhiyao."

She didn't answer immediately, as if waiting for his next sentence. After a few seconds, she slowly turned around, her eyebrows and eyes half-hidden, carrying the coolness of the night.

He just stared at her for a long time, and finally, he slowly, almost silently, moved closer, lowered his head, and gently kissed her.

It wasn't a kiss driven by desire or aggression, just a brief touch of lips, warm and restrained. He suppressed all deeper impulses, just to confirm her temperature and that she was still within reach of him in his arms.

Xia Zhiyao neither dodged nor responded, but simply watched him quietly, as if she had been waiting for this scene to happen. She slowly closed her eyes, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the night: "Sleep."

Zhou Yue didn't say anything more, but reached out and pulled her into his arms, just like before, as if they had returned to those unguarded nights long ago. Only the distance in their hearts was harder to cross than that thin gap.

When Xia Zhiyao woke up, Zhou Yue was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back straight, seemingly dealing with some work. The cold light from his phone screen reflected on his profile, his expression calm and unreadable.

She blinked, subconsciously pulled the blanket up, and then belatedly realized that she was naked.

The disheveled sheets and overlapping creases seemed to remind her of everything that had happened last night; even her sleeping posture was so disheveled that it involuntarily evoked a sense of shame and panic.

He heard a noise, his finger paused on the screen for a moment, but he didn't turn around. He simply spoke, his tone as casual as if it were a routine: "Awake?"

"Mmm." Her voice was hoarse, with the huskiness of someone just waking up and a hint of unsteadiness, so soft it was almost inaudible.

A brief silence fell, broken only by the rustling sound of her pulling on her bathrobe belt, interspersed with the faint honking of cars outside the window, sounding exceptionally clear.

"I...I'm going to take a shower first," she said softly. Her feet staggered slightly as the coolness of the floor hit her.

She didn't turn around, but walked quickly to the bathroom, gently closed the door. The moment the door closed, before the steam arrived, the lingering ambiguity and unease in the air were even more palpable through the door.

Zhou Yue rubbed his temples, then pressed his fingertips against his eye sockets for a few seconds, as if forcing himself to wake up.

He walked to the window, pushed it open, and the morning breeze, carrying a faint dampness, blew in.

He bent down and lit a cigarette. The flame flashed between his fingertips, and before the smoke could dissipate, he shoved it into the ashtray, leaving only the lingering smell of unburnt smoke in the air.

The bathroom door closed behind her, and hot water poured down, patting her shoulders, as if trying to wash away the sensations of last night. But the more she closed her eyes, the more she could feel the warmth left deep in her skin by those details, the rhythm of his breathing, the strength of his palm, and those words that she couldn't tell if they were sincere or impulsive.

She tilted her head back, letting the water slide down her cheeks from her hair, trying to clear her mind, but her chest remained heaving. Last night, she couldn't tell if she had let her guard down, or if he had approached her in a way she couldn't refuse.

As her thoughts raced, she raised her hand to wipe the water from her face, her fingertips trembling. It was a feeling somewhere between panic and resentment, a desire to grasp at something, yet a clear understanding that once she reached out, there would be no turning back.

Outside, Zhou Yue's footsteps had faded, leaving only occasional sounds, as if he were tidying up something. She knew he was still there, but wasn't sure if he would wait for her to come out.

She lowered her head, the water splashing against her ears, like a temporary cover, concealing the heartbeats she hadn't had time to process.

When Xia Zhiyao came out of the bathroom, Zhou Yue had already changed into a bathrobe, casually draped his long legs over the armchair by the window, and was absentmindedly scrolling through his phone.

The morning light slanted down his shoulders, outlining the cold, sharp curve of his jawline. His features were clear, yet there was a hint of silence that didn't belong to the early morning.

Seeing her come out, he suddenly looked up and smiled, as if casually starting a conversation: "My dad actually asked me if I took you home last night?"

Xia Zhiyao paused, looked up at him, and asked, "What did you say?"

Zhou Yue blinked, then added in a nonchalant tone, "Of course, we said we'd send them back properly. Otherwise, we'd tell them we were in front of the hotel's floor-to-ceiling windows..."

She couldn't help herself; a smile played on her lips as she leaned against the wardrobe, her retort crisp and decisive: "He'll probably kill me first."

The two looked at each other for a moment, and there was a hint of something they couldn't hide in their eyes.

The next second, they laughed in unison, as if laughing at each other's embarrassment, or as if laughing at this absurd, familiar entanglement. But when the laughter subsided, something unspoken remained in the air.

"Are you busy today? Would you like to have lunch together?" Zhou Yue asked casually, his tone seemingly nonchalant, but the tips of his ears were slightly red.

Xia Zhiyao lowered her head and thought for a moment, then softly hummed in agreement.

Before she could finish speaking, his figure was already close by. Zhou Yue stretched out his broad arms and pulled her firmly into his embrace, his movements natural and undeniably assertive.

Her shoulders tensed slightly, and she instinctively tried to push him away, but she didn't actually push him away. Instead, she was forced close to his chest. Through the bathrobe, she could clearly feel the steady and powerful beat of his heart, as if each beat was telling her not to try to escape.

"Didn't we say we were going to eat?" She leaned on his shoulder, her tone tinged with helplessness, but she couldn't suppress the hint of panic in her voice as he moved her.

“I’m not hungry for that right now,” he whispered in her ear, his voice low and tinged with amusement, as if he were carrying a long-planned desire to possess her.

The heat brushed against her earlobe, slid down her neck, and made her tremble slightly.

The next second, his lips were kissed.

This intimate moment was almost a tacit agreement, without any probing or words, only the interplay of breath and heartbeats, like a delayed release extending from silence.

His lips were hot, carrying the scent of the morning and the lingering warmth of last night's stubbornness.

Her response was unhurried, as if confirming something, or as if she was stubbornly refusing to back down first. Her fingertips unconsciously climbed onto his shoulder, and she felt his breathing suddenly become heavy.

The sunlight shone brighter and brighter, slanting across their shoulders and backs as if to expose the secrets of last night.

In this small space, they seemed to be both escaping and confirming each other's existence. No one said, "We've made up," and no one asked, "Do you like me?"

On such a morning, in such a silent dependence, desire has become the only way to speak, replacing all the words that should have been spoken but dared not be spoken.