Chapter 73
Paris's schedule was as tight as clockwork. Ling Yao was busy traveling between major fashion shows, brand events, and media interviews, the cameras never stopping. Su Rui, on the other hand, was crisscrossing backstage, on the streets, and on location, capturing every moment of Shen Qingyuan. Though they shared the same city, they were like two parallel lines, each traversing its own trajectory at high speed. Even keeping track of each other became incredibly difficult, requiring careful consideration of time differences and each other's possible work schedules.
The more he suppressed his desire, the more searing it became. Finally, late on the third night after arriving in Paris, Ling Yao returned to his hotel after attending a lavish designer dinner. Standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, he gazed at the sleepless Parisian streets below. A profound sense of loneliness and a yearning to touch reality consumed him.
He took out his rarely used personal cell phone and sent a short message: [Are you asleep?]
Almost immediately after the message was successfully sent, a message popped up at the top of the dialog box: "The other party is typing..." [Not yet. Just finished importing the photos.] Ling Yao's heart skipped a beat, and his fingers quickly typed: [I want to see you. Now.]
After the message was sent, there were several long minutes of waiting. Every second felt like torture. He knew how willful and dangerous this request was. Finally, the screen lit up: [Location.]
Ling Yao quickly shared a location—it wasn't his hotel, nor was it Su Rui's residence, but rather a relatively secluded observation deck on the Seine River, located between the two, sparsely populated at night. He quickly changed into a minimalist black tracksuit, put on his hat, pulled it down, and slipped out through the hotel's security exit like a shadow, avoiding all possible sight.
The cold wind of Paris late at night blew on his face, carrying with it the moisture of the Seine River. He lowered his figure and walked quickly on the dim street, his heart beating violently with nervousness and anticipation.
When he arrived at the agreed viewing platform, another figure, also wearing a dark coat, hat and mask, was already waiting there, looking around anxiously. It was Su Rui.
When the two saw each other, without saying anything, they walked towards each other quickly almost at the same time and suddenly hugged each other tightly in the dim light.
The force was astonishing, as if he wanted to rub the other person into his own flesh and blood, to confirm that this was not a dream. Ling Yao buried his face deep in the crook of Su Rui's neck, greedily breathing in his familiar scent, a mixture of the cool Parisian night breeze and the hint of the metallic smell of a camera. Su Rui hugged him back tightly, her fingers tightly grasping the clothes on his back, her body trembling slightly with nervousness and excitement.
"I miss you so much..." Ling Yao's voice was muffled, with a barely perceptible sob. He had stripped off all the halo and disguise he wore in front of the camera, leaving only the most primitive longing. "I miss you too..." Su Rui's voice was also trembling, and she hugged him tighter.
They didn't kiss, just held each other tightly, in the quiet and deserted Paris night, relying on each other's body warmth to dispel the loneliness and coldness that had penetrated their bones. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower twinkled brightly at the top of the hour, briefly lengthening their shadows, overlapping them, and then quickly fading.
Time felt like stolen treasure, every second a luxury. They didn't even dare to talk much, only exchanging fragmented sentences in low, rapid voices. "Are you cold?" "No." "Are you tired today?" "Not bad. How about you?" "I'm used to it."
Most of the time, they just hugged silently, feeling each other's real heartbeat and presence. Their eyes met eagerly in the dim light, greedily tracing each other's eyebrows and eyes, which were mostly obscured by hats and masks, trying to deeply imprint the impression of these few minutes in their minds.
Ten minutes later, Ling Yao's phone vibrated ever so slightly. It was Xiao Chen's warning. His body stiffened, and he reluctantly let go of her arm. "I have to go," he said, his voice hoarse and filled with resignation. "Yeah." Su Rui also let go, her eyes filled with complete understanding and reluctance.
Ling Yao gave his hand a final, firm shake and looked at him deeply, as if to carve his current appearance into the depths of his soul. Then he resolutely turned around, lowered the brim of his hat, and quickly disappeared into the thick night fog and shadows of the streets of Paris, as if he had never appeared.
Su Rui stood there alone, looking in the direction he had disappeared. The warmth and scent of that embrace seemed to still linger in the air. He slowly raised his hand and pressed it against his still-beating heart.
This late-night date, so brief that it seemed like an illusion, was like a diamond carefully treasured.
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