Not enough, I want to kiss you too.
The wind atop Victoria Peak still carried the dampness of the typhoon. Ning Zhichu had just raised her camera to her chest when Wei Ting pulled her into a tight embrace. His camel coat enveloped them both, his palm pressed against her lower back; through the thin cashmere sweater, she could clearly feel the warmth of his fingertips. "Don't stay out in the wind too long," he said, his breath brushing against her ear as he looked down. "I'll take you to Kau Kee Beef Brisket when we get down the mountain. I ate here many years ago; it was delicious."
The moment she nodded, Wei Ting's phone suddenly vibrated. The "Urgent from New York Headquarters" message flashing on the screen made the smile in his eyes vanish instantly. He answered the phone, his fingertips unconsciously stroking Ning Zhichu's wrist, his voice as deep as a Wall Street trading line at dawn: "I understand. Send the data report to my email. We'll have a video conference in half an hour."
After hanging up the phone, he looked at Ning Zhichu's slightly stunned expression and gently brushed his fingertips against her cheek. "Sorry, I have to go back to the hotel to take care of some things." She stood on tiptoe and straightened his tie, which had been ruffled by the wind. She deliberately ran her fingertips lightly across his Adam's apple. "Mr. Wei, please go ahead with your work. I can go eat beef brisket by myself and bring some back for you."
She had intended to appear mature and considerate, but before she could finish speaking, Wei Ting grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. His lips were only half a finger's distance from hers, his eyes filled with an unfathomable undercurrent: "You're not allowed to go alone. Hong Kong's old alleys are winding; I'm worried about you." He took out his phone and sent a message to his assistant, "Have them postpone the meeting by an hour. Let's go eat beef brisket first, then we'll go back to the hotel to handle the work."
The small beef brisket shop, Jiu Ji, was tucked away in an alley. Wei Ting pulled out a plastic stool for her and pushed the menu in front of her: "Clear broth or curry?" She was looking down at her choice when she suddenly felt his leg lightly brush against her knee. Looking up, she saw him casually flipping through the menu, his fingertips tapping on the words "beef tendon brisket," as if the touch had been unintentional. But when the waiter brought the beef brisket noodles, he naturally picked up some beef tendon from his bowl and gave it to her. When his chopsticks touched the rim of her bowl, his fingertips inadvertently brushed against the back of her hand, burning her fingertips.
As they walked back after finishing their noodles, the lanterns in the alley were just beginning to glow with a warm yellow light. Wei Ting walked on the outside, his arm loosely protecting her. When they passed an old record store, she suddenly stopped: "Can I go in and take a look?" He smiled and nodded, leaning against the door frame to wait for her, his gaze following her as she moved among the record shelves, as if looking at a lost treasure that had been found again.
Ning Zhichu found a Leslie Cheung vinyl record and was about to turn around and share it with him when she saw him looking down at his phone, his brows slightly furrowed. She walked over and gently pressed her fingers against his furrowed brow: "Is it difficult to solve?" He looked up and turned his phone screen towards her—it showed a sudden fluctuation in the New York stock market, and one of the tech stocks he held had experienced an abnormal drop. "I have to go back to the hotel to monitor the market," he said, taking her hand and gently squeezing her knuckles with his fingertips. "If you're tired, rest in the hotel room first. I'll come find you after I've finished dealing with this."
Back at the hotel, Wei Ting went straight to the temporary office area in the living room and opened his laptop. Ning Zhichu made him a cup of hot milk and handed it to him. Just as she was about to turn around and go back to the bedroom, he grabbed her wrist. He didn't look up, his eyes still fixed on the K-line chart on the screen, but his fingers slid up her wrist and gently squeezed her forearm: "Sit with me for a while, no need to talk."
She sat down on the sofa next to him, gazing at his focused profile. The light from the desk lamp fell on his eyelashes, casting soft shadows. His usually sharp eyes were now filled with calm calculation, his fingers flying across the keyboard, every movement exuding an aura of complete control. But the next second, he suddenly reached out and placed her legs on his knees, his palm gently massaging her ankles through her pajama bottoms: "Are you tired? You walked for so long."
It was meant to be a sweet gesture, but his fingertips traced up her ankle and gently pinched her calf. She tensed her leg, but he looked up at her with a smile in his eyes: "What's there to be nervous about?" His fingers continued upward, almost touching her knee, but then he suddenly withdrew them, picked up the milk from the table, and handed it to her: "Drink it while it's hot; it's bad for your stomach if it's cold."
This push and pull made Ning Zhichu's heart pound so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. She drank her milk, but her gaze couldn't help but fall on him—he turned back to the computer screen, but his fingertips were tapping lightly on his knee, the rhythm exactly the same as when he had massaged her calves earlier.
At one in the morning, Wei Ting finally shut down his computer. He rubbed his temples and turned to see Ning Zhichu asleep on the sofa, still clutching the pearl necklace box he had given her earlier that day. He went over and gently picked her up. She groggily opened her eyes and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck: "Finished?"
"Hmm," he lowered his head and kissed her forehead, his footsteps extremely light. "Go to sleep, I'm going to take a shower." But when he came out of the shower, he saw Ning Zhichu still sitting on the bed, her hair loose over her shoulders, wearing his white shirt with the collar loose, revealing the pearl necklace around her neck.
When she saw him, she deliberately moved closer to the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to her. "Mr. Wei, would you like to come over and chat for a bit?" She had intended to flirt with him, but as soon as she finished speaking, she saw him walk over, his knees against the edge of the bed, his hands supporting him on either side of her. His hair was still dripping wet, and water droplets landed on the back of her hand, making her shiver slightly from the coolness.
"What do you want to talk about?" He lowered his head, his nose brushing against hers, his breath carrying the scent of cedarwood from her shower gel. "Shall we talk about the way you looked at me in the record store during the day, or the little thing you did when I was massaging your calves earlier, the way you gripped the sofa towel?"
Her ears burned instantly, and she tried to pull away, but he held the back of her head. He didn't kiss her, but gently brushed his lips against hers, his voice low as a whisper: "Ning Zhichu, don't pretend to be mature, I know you're nervous." His fingers traced down the collar of her shirt, gently touching the pearl: "But I like seeing you nervous, I like seeing you want to flirt with me, but are afraid of being exposed."
Just as her heart was pounding so hard she felt like she could breathe, he suddenly stood up, grabbed the hairdryer from beside him, and said, "You're sitting here without drying your hair? Want to catch a cold?" He pulled her into his arms, the warm air flowing through her hair as his fingertips gently combed through it. Amidst the hum of the hairdryer, he suddenly spoke, "How about coming to New York with me next week? There's a financial summit going on; you can interview some big shots, and I'll take you to see the Statue of Liberty while we're at it."
She looked up at him, meeting his earnest gaze. "But my work..." Before she could finish, he interrupted, "I've already spoken to your editor-in-chief, and he said he'll approve a week's leave for you, as a government-sponsored interview." He turned off the hairdryer, his fingers gently pinching her chin. "What, don't you want to come with me?"
“Yes,” she nodded quickly, afraid he would change his mind, “but I haven’t packed my luggage yet.” He chuckled and kissed her lips: “No rush, we’ll go back to Shanghai tomorrow and fly to New York the day after.” His fingers slid down her back and gently stopped on her waist: “But now, my little girl should go to sleep, otherwise she won’t have the energy to catch the plane tomorrow.”
He tucked her in and was about to turn and go to sleep on the sofa in the living room when she grabbed his wrist. "Wei Ting," she said softly, still sleepy, "could you stay with me?" He turned around and saw her bright, sparkling eyes, like a pleading kitten. "Okay," he lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms, "I'll stay with you."
Ning Zhichu woke up groggily in the night, feeling Wei Ting's hand still on her waist, the warmth of his palm seeping through her pajamas. She stirred slightly, but he tightened his arms, pulling her closer, his voice hoarse from just waking up: "Sleep a little longer, you were too noisy last night." Ning Zhichu blushed as she thought of the scenes from last night.
On the plane back to Shanghai the next day, Ning Zhichu leaned on Wei Ting's shoulder while watching a movie. When the male and female leads kissed on a New York street, she suddenly looked up at him. He was looking at her too, a smile in his eyes: "What are you thinking about?" She didn't answer, but simply leaned in and gently kissed him on the lips. This time, she wasn't nervous, nor did she pretend to be mature; she simply followed her heart and acted with genuine sincerity.
Wei Ting paused for a moment, then cupped the back of her head and deepened the kiss. The plane pierced through the clouds, sunlight streaming through the window and falling on their clasped hands. Ning Zhichu closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his lips, and suddenly realized that adult love is never about grand declarations of love, but rather this kind of subtle tug-of-war hidden in the details—it's that he remembers all her little habits, that he sees through her nervousness when she tries to act mature, that he always makes time for her to eat a bowl of beef noodles, no matter how busy he is at work, and that they are both willing to let go of all pretenses and be their most authentic selves in front of each other.
That evening, Ning Zhichu received a call from Lin Man, who told her that her interview with a hedge fund tycoon in Hong Kong had become the company's most-read article. Excitedly, she rushed into the study, wanting to share it with Wei Ting, only to find him sitting in front of the computer, looking at her interview transcript. "Well written," he looked up at her, his eyes filled with pride, "My little girl is getting more and more impressive."
She walked over, hugged him from behind, and pressed her face against his back: "It's all thanks to President Wei's excellent teaching." He turned around, pulled her into his arms, and gently pinched her lips with his fingers: "So, do I have a reward?" She smiled and nodded, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him on the lips: "Is this reward enough?"
“Not enough,” he lowered his head and gently bit her neck, “I want an even more special reward.” His fingers traced down her back, pausing lightly on her waist, the undercurrent in his eyes making her heart race. “For example…” his voice was low, almost a whisper, “when you come with me to New York, wear the red dress I bought you.”
Her ears burned, but she still nodded. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her lips: "My little girl, you've finally stopped pretending to be mature."
The Shanghai cityscape outside the window was dazzling, while the study was bathed in warm yellow light. Ning Zhichu leaned against Wei Ting, listening to his steady heartbeat, and suddenly realized that the best kind of love is when two people strive to shine in their respective fields, yet remain true to each other. Their relationship wasn't filled with dramatic, melodramatic events, but rather with tenderness and subtle tension hidden in the details—a romance unique to adults, a tacit understanding born from the resonance of their hearts, and a commitment to each other for the rest of their lives, sharing every ordinary day.
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