Chapter 63 Late September, autumn's chill deepened. ...
In late September, autumn was deepening. Ren Xiyao had finished her training camp, and the selection trials were next week. This weekend was a good time to relax and unwind. Instead of going home, she returned to her apartment near the ice rink. When she bought the place, she thought it would be convenient for both relaxation and training.
When the apartment door opened, Kwon Ji-yong was sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet, with an old-fashioned film camera in front of him.
Hearing the sound of the door lock turning, he looked up sharply. His eyes lit up instantly when he saw it was her.
"You're back?" A bright smile immediately spread across his face.
"Mm." Ren Xiyao's tone was calm, but the corners of her mouth curved slightly upward. Seeing him appear in her home in such a relaxed manner, a warm feeling welled up in her heart.
"Where did you get this camera?" she stood up.
"I bought it." Kwon Ji-yong put down the camera, a hint of pride on his face: "To commemorate our one-year anniversary."
"One year anniversary?" Ren Xiyao raised an eyebrow, walked up to him, and sat down next to him. "Isn't the one-year anniversary the day after tomorrow?"
"Let's celebrate early today," Kwon Ji-yong said with a smile, reaching out to grab her wrist and gently pulling her: "Come here."
Ren Xiyao was pulled onto the carpet by him, and Quan Zhilong wrapped his arms around her waist, looking up at her: "Is training over?"
"Okay, I'll rest and recuperate for two days." Ren Xiyao rested her hands on his sides, feeling the warmth emanating from his body. The intensive training before the selection competition had indeed exhausted her. Every time she saw him, it was a rare moment of relaxation for her.
"How do you plan to celebrate your birthday?"
Today is September 22nd, her birthday. She herself had almost forgotten, but he remembered.
"sleep."
Kwon Ji-yong narrowed his eyes: "Sleep with me?"
Ren Xiyao chuckled, reached out a finger to press against his forehead, and pushed him back: "Dream on."
Kwon Ji-yong laughed and fell backward, pulling her down with him. Ren Xiyao was caught off guard and fell onto his chest, her hand supporting her on his ear, her long hair falling down and brushing against his face.
His voice lowered, carrying a barely perceptible hoarseness and a hint of grievance: "I flew all this way to see you, I haven't even adjusted to the time difference yet, and this is the treatment I get?"
Ren Xiyao looked into his eyes, which were so close to hers, and saw her reflection in them, clear and focused: "There's a time difference between South Korea and here."
"Ren Xiyao!"
She suddenly lowered her head and gently kissed his lips. Then, she quickly propped herself up and climbed off him: "Are you hungry? I'll go to the kitchen and see what I can make."
Kwon Ji-yong lay there, stunned for two seconds before realizing that she had "teased" him.
He sprang up from the carpet with a nimble leap and strode to the kitchen door.
"Ren Xiyao!" he called out with a hint of accusation.
Ren Xiyao didn't even turn her head. She took out a bag of frozen dumplings and some vegetables from the refrigerator: "There are only frozen dumplings in the refrigerator. Shall we make do with these?"
Kwon Ji-yong walked up behind her, hugged her from behind, rested his chin on her shoulder, and said in a muffled voice, "You did it on purpose."
"Hmm." Ren Xiyao readily admitted, "Your reaction was amusing."
Kwon Ji-yong smiled, opened his mouth and gently bit her ear, with a hint of threat and doting: "I'll get my revenge sooner or later."
Ren Xiyao shrugged and remained silent.
The kitchen was filled with the subtle aroma of food, and the atmosphere between them was relaxed and warm. No matter how noisy or complicated the outside world was, returning here made everything simple and peaceful.
It was late at night. When Ren Xiyao came out after taking a shower, Quan Zhilong was already leaning against the headboard, holding a flat, rectangular wooden box in his hand. When he saw her come in, his eyes shone with a gentle light.
"Happy birthday." He handed her the wooden box.
Ren Xiyao took the box. The wooden box felt warm and smooth to the touch, possessing a simple yet refined texture. She opened the lid and found a black vinyl record inside. The record cover had no fancy design, only a simple white background and a line of words handwritten in black ink: "To XY." 'XY' was the initials of her name in pinyin.
Her heart skipped a beat. She looked up at Kwon Ji-yong: "What's this?"
"It's a song I wrote." Kwon Ji-yong sat up straighter, a rare hint of trepidation and anticipation on his face, typical of a creator: "It hasn't been released yet, there's only one copy in the whole world."
Ren Xiyao carefully took the vinyl record out of the box, her fingertips gently tracing the words on the cover. His strokes were fluid and powerful, each letter seemingly carrying warmth.
"When was it written?" she asked softly.
“During the tour,” he looked at her, his eyes so tender they could drown her, “I wrote a little when I couldn’t sleep, and I saved up seven songs. They’re all for you.”
Ren Xiyao fell silent. Seven songs. Images of his sleepless nights, his lonely times in foreign lands, traveling between different cities and stages, flashed through her mind. Perhaps the weariness and pressure he didn't tell her had transformed into the melodies and lyrics of these seven songs.
She looked down at the record in her hands, a feeling of indescribable emotion welling up inside her. She knew his talent, knew how popular his music was, but this music, which belonged only to her and had never been released before, moved her more than any of his published works.
She looked up at him, her eyes serious: "Do you have the lyrics?"
"have."
Sing it to me.
Kwon Ji-yong paused for a moment: "Now?"
"Um."
He reached for the guitar on the bedside table, the one he had brought specifically to find her. He tried a few chords, and a simple melody filled the room, carrying a warm and languid tone. Then, he began to sing softly.
His voice, unlike its explosive and captivating power on stage, was now deep and gentle, like a whisper in the night, or a sweet nothing in one's ear. The guitar melody was simple, yet brimming with emotion. He sang of those moments only they knew, of the longing and love hidden deep in their hearts.
Ren Xiyao sat cross-legged opposite him, listening quietly. She understood the story in the lyrics, the bitterness and sweetness that only the two of them could experience, the distance and longing, the understanding and support.
Halfway through the song, Kwon Ji-yong suddenly stopped. The guitar music abruptly ceased.
"...I forgot the rest." He scratched his head somewhat awkwardly.
"..."
Kwon Ji-yong put down his guitar, leaned closer to her, and his face regained its expectant expression: "Do you like the gift?"
Ren Xiyao looked into his eyes and nodded seriously: "Mm."
That's it?
"Otherwise what?"
Kwon Ji-yong sighed, reached out and pinched her cheek, his tone filled with a helpless yet doting tone: "Ren Xiyao, can't you have a little bit of a romantic side?"
Ren Xiyao thought for a moment, then suddenly reached out and grabbed his collar, pulled him closer, and kissed him.
Kwon Ji-yong was stunned for a moment, then took the initiative, holding the back of her head and deepening the kiss.
When they parted, both of them were breathing somewhat erratically. Ren Xiyao's cheeks were flushed with a faint blush due to lack of oxygen and shyness.
She looked at him, her voice low and slightly hoarse: "Is this... romantic?"
Quan Zhilong's Adam's apple bobbed, his eyes deep and burning. He raised his hand, gently tracing the corner of her lips with his thumb, his voice low and husky, carrying an indescribable satisfaction and love:
"……Calculate."
On the banks of the Songhua River in the early morning, the air is fresh and cool, carrying a hint of river moisture and the fragrance of earth.
Ren Xiyao ran along the riverside path. It was an unwavering commitment. When she returned from her morning run, Quan Zhilong was sitting on a bench downstairs in the apartment building, drinking coffee, with an orange cat squatting beside him.
She stopped and wiped her sweat: "You're up so early?"
Kwon Ji-yong looked up and raised his coffee cup: "My biological clock hasn't adjusted."
The tabby cat rubbed against his trouser leg, and Kwon Ji-yong bent down and scratched its chin, making the cat purr.
Ren Xiyao raised an eyebrow: "When did you become so popular with cats?"
“It’s a charm issue.” Kwon Ji-yong smiled smugly, “It’s followed me half a block.”
Ren Xiyao sat down next to him and reached out to stroke the cat's head. The tabby cat squinted its eyes and rubbed against her fingers.
"What are the plans for today?" Kwon Ji-yong turned his head and looked at her, his eyes asking.
"No." Ren Xiyao shook her head.
"Really going to sleep?"
What do you want to do?
Kwon Ji-yong smiled, leaned forward slightly, and whispered something in her ear in a voice only the two of them could hear.
Ren Xiyao's ears instantly turned bright red. She pushed his face away abruptly and muttered, "...Don't go crazy in broad daylight!"
Kwon Ji-yong leaned back in his chair with a smile, in a good mood: "And tonight?"
Ren Xiyao neither answered nor refused.
The tabby cat looked at her, then at Kwon Ji-yong, as if it understood something. Suddenly, it meowed, stood up, flicked its tail, and walked away with elegant cat steps.
Kwon Ji-yong watched the cat's departing figure, feeling both amused and exasperated: "...Was it looking down on me?"
Ren Xiyao finally couldn't help but laugh out loud: "Mm."
The sun grew stronger, and the fog gradually dissipated. They spent the entire day cooped up at home, enjoying this rare moment that belonged to them.
Night fell, and the apartment was dimly lit. When Kwon Ji-yong came out of the shower, his body was still damp, and his hair wasn't completely dry. He wore simple loungewear and walked into the bedroom.
Ren Xiyao leaned against the headboard, reading her textbooks. The bedside lamp cast a warm glow on her quiet profile.
He casually raised an eyebrow: "You're looking at this?"
Ren Xiyao closed the book, placed it on the bedside table, and looked up at him: "What else should I read?"
Kwon Ji-yong laughed, snatched the thick textbook, and casually tossed it aside. He braced himself against her side with one hand, leaned down, and trapped her between the headboard and his body: "Watch me."
Ren Xiyao looked up at him, but didn't move.
Kwon Ji-yong lowered his head and kissed her. This kiss was slow, gentle, delicate, and careful. Ren Xiyao's hands rested on his shoulders, her fingertips unconsciously tightening their grip on the fabric of his robe. Her body gradually relaxed, allowing him to guide her.
When they parted, both of them were breathing heavily. Kwon Ji-yong pressed his forehead against hers, his voice low and husky, carrying a cautious question and expectation: "Is it okay?"
Ren Xiyao looked at him, and her eyes, which were usually full of confidence and arrogance, now showed a hint of vulnerability and nervousness.
She didn't answer, but suddenly reached out and grabbed his waist, flipping him over and pinning him beneath her. Her body was toned and powerful from years of training; though not heavy, her explosive strength was astonishing. Kwon Ji-yong was startled by her sudden movement, but quickly recovered, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, which was then replaced by a stronger sense of interest and desire.
Ren Xiyao looked down at him, a hint of cunning and provocation on her face that she only showed in front of him: "You shouldn't need to adjust your biological clock tomorrow."
Kwon Ji-yong looked at her, his deep eyes seemingly burning with fire. He paused for a moment, then laughed, a laugh filled with excitement and anticipation at accepting the challenge.
"Provoking me?" He grabbed her waist with his back.
Ren Xiyao leaned down and gently bit his sexy collarbone, a gesture that carried a hint of punishment and invitation: "Want to try?"
Kwon Ji-yong's eyes darkened instantly. Without hesitation, he used his waist and abdomen to swiftly flip her over, pinning her beneath him once more. His voice was deep and husky, carrying a domineering and lustful air of certainty: "...You're finished."
The bedroom lights were turned off, and darkness descended. Only the faint moonlight streamed in from the window, outlining the two figures entwined on the bed. The air gradually warmed, breathing became heavy, and low gasps and passionate moans echoed in the silent room.
Tomorrow they will return to their respective battlefields, facing different troubles and another long separation. But love between them is not a grand, dramatic affair, but rather flows quietly, warm and enduring, in the ordinary days, in mutual understanding and support, in every unintentional glance and touch.
Their love was mostly characterized by waiting. But they knew that every wait was only for a better encounter next time. As September drew to a close, their story together came to a temporary halt. Meanwhile, the battles in their respective worlds had begun.
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