Chapter 15
"Good boy, open your mouth..."
A gentle evening breeze caressed the bamboo curtains, causing them to sway softly.
A melodious tune of "High Mountains and Flowing Water" echoes through the air.
An elegant and exquisite round gauze lantern hangs above the dining table, painted with a landscape painting. When the light is on, the distant mountains appear like dark eyebrows and the nearby waters are shrouded in mist, showcasing the classical and grand beauty of Chinese style to the fullest.
On the solid wood dining table sits a famille rose orchid and butterfly vase, filled with lilies and jasmine.
Since jasmine flowers are small and not aesthetically pleasing when arranged alone, I paired them with a few pink lilies.
The four dishes and soup, with their vibrant colors and fragrant aromas, looked even more enticing under the soft, hazy lighting, making one's mouth water.
In this elegant and beautiful environment, Cheng Jiamo gradually relaxed, her originally tense body softened into a pool of water, and she gently leaned against He Qingzhao's chest.
He Qingzhao lifted his head from her neck, panting, his voice hoarse and restrained: "Let's eat."
Cheng Jiamo was forced to pull herself away from the surge of passion, and breathed a soft sigh of relief: "Mmm, okay."
The two sat facing each other, eating dinner to the sound of the guqin.
Although He Qingzhao's movements were elegant, he ate quite quickly. Perhaps he was really hungry, as he had a great appetite and was putting large mouthfuls into his mouth.
Cheng Jiamo was already a slow and delicate eater, and now she ate even slower and more delicately. She picked up three grains of rice with the tip of her chopsticks and slowly put them into her mouth. She chewed very lightly and slowly, so slowly that you could hardly see her mouth moving. Rather than chewing, it was more like she was smacking her lips, using the heat of her mouth to melt the rice grains.
He Qingzhao glanced at her and asked with a smile, "Not to your liking?"
Cheng Jiamo pursed her lips, shook her head, put down her chopsticks, and replied softly, "No."
He Qingzhao raised an eyebrow: "You want me to feed you?"
"No, no." Cheng Jiamo hurriedly waved her hand, bit her lip, and lowered her head shyly.
He Qingzhao pulled out a chair, spread his legs, and said to her, "Come here."
Cheng Jiamo stood up abruptly and walked over under his intense gaze.
He Qingzhao put his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, then picked up a piece of lobster meat with his chopsticks and fed it to her.
Cheng Jiamo tensed up, held her breath, and looked at him with her watery eyes, which were filled with shyness, unease and anxiety.
He Qingzhao patted her waist and coaxed her in a low voice, "Be good, open your mouth."
Cheng Jiamo blushed and whispered, "I... I'll eat it myself."
He Qingzhao's attitude was assertive: "I'll feed you."
Under his powerful aura, Cheng Jiamo slowly opened her mouth, her pink tongue trembling slightly inside.
He Qingzhao looked at her slightly parted red lips and the trembling pink nipple inside, and his throat tightened as he roared, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly.
Instead of feeding her with chopsticks, he put the lobster in his own mouth and then held her chin to feed her with his mouth.
Cheng Jiamo's eyes widened suddenly, and she tried to push him away by pressing her hands against his chest, but he held her even tighter.
He Qingzhao wrapped one arm around her slender, soft waist and cupped her face with the other, kissing her lips gently and restrainedly.
He fed her lobster meat, sucked on her soft lips, and reluctantly released her.
After the meal, Cheng Jiamo's lips were almost swollen. Although they weren't completely swollen, they were bright red, a red that exuded sensuality.
He Qingzhao went to the restroom, and she sat in the restaurant sipping water.
The cool water slid down my throat, spreading a refreshing coolness throughout my body and gently suppressing the internal heat.
He Qingzhao came out of the bathroom, hugged her from behind, and nuzzled her neck with his chin: "Are you sleepy?"
Cheng Jiamo replied softly, "I'm not sleepy."
He Qingzhao tilted his head and kissed her fair ear: "At a time like this, you should say you're sleepy."
Cheng Jiamo's body went limp under his kisses, and she could barely sit up, so she had no choice but to lean against him.
An adult man's body is upright and tall, full of power, with a broad and hard chest like a wall.
She leaned softly against his chest, breathing gently and charmingly, her eyes sparkling and captivating.
Unable to restrain himself, He Qingzhao lowered his head to kiss her, sucking heavily on her lips, prying open her tongue and pressing it into her mouth to entwine.
Cheng Jiamo tilted her head back, her eyes glazed over from his kiss, her breathing rapid, and an indescribable surge of emotion coursing through her body.
She felt like she was suffocating and pushed him away, sobbing.
He Qingzhao stepped back, panting heavily, his eyes deep and dark as he looked at her, gently wiping the drool from the corner of her lips and chin.
Are you afraid like this?
Cheng Jiaming surrendered to his gentle and deep gaze, shook her head, and said softly, "I'm not afraid." She reached out and hugged his lean waist, rubbing her face against his chest. "He Qingzhao, I'm not afraid."
He Qingzhao lowered his head to kiss her shoulder and neck, bit her narrow bra strap and pulled it down, then looked up at her: "How about this?"
Cheng Jiamo's eyelashes trembled, and she visibly tensed up, but she still shook her head: "I'm not afraid."
He Qingzhao chuckled softly, pulled up her shoulder strap, sat down next to her, and looked at her with gentle eyes.
"I heard you like calligraphy, specifically the styles of Yan Zhenqing, Liu Gongquan, Ouyang Xun, and Zhao Mengfu. Who do you like?"
Looking at his refined and elegant appearance, Cheng Jiamo seemed to see the handsome and noble young man from three years ago again.
She was completely powerless against He Qingzhao.
"Yan Zhenqing," she whispered.
Because she knew that he was writing in the Yan style.
She stayed at his Pattaya estate for more than half a month that year. One evening, in the banana grove, she saw him writing calligraphy in his study through a half-open window.
Because of the distance, she was hiding under the banana leaves outside the window and couldn't see what he was writing at all. She could only see that he was wearing a linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a section of his muscular arm. He was holding a brush in his right hand and writing characters in a flowing, dynamic style on the spread-out rice paper.
A few days later, while helping the manor's servants clean the study, she found a crumpled piece of discarded Xuan paper in the trash can and saw that it contained a line of poetry by Huang Chao.
If I become the Green Emperor in the future, I will make the peach blossoms bloom together.
There was no signature or stamp on the paper, indicating that he had just written it casually for fun and then carelessly threw it into the trash can.
She secretly kept that piece of Xuan paper, and later brought it back to China, where she had it framed at a calligraphy and painting framing shop.
The owner of the calligraphy and painting mounting shop was a calligraphy enthusiast and quite knowledgeable about calligraphy and painting. When he saw the calligraphy, he kept praising it, saying that the characters on the paper were genuine Yan style, and that it showed seven-tenths of Yan Zhenqing's skill, so it must have been written by a great calligrapher. He then asked who wrote it.
She gave a few perfunctory words, secretly hiding the calligraphy and the girl's secret feelings deep in her heart.
Later, she also learned to write calligraphy and practiced the Yan style.
However, what she wrote could only be called "characters" because she completely lacked knowledge of brush and ink techniques and could not be described as calligraphy at all.
When He Qingzhao heard her say that she liked Yan Zhenqing, her brows relaxed: "What a coincidence, I happen to know a little bit of calligraphy." He took her hand, "I'll go with you to practice calligraphy."
The quiet and elegant study is filled with the rich aroma of ink.
On the sandalwood desk were two pots of delicate-leaved Cymbidium goeringii, in turquoise green pots with lotus patterns, which looked very stylish and expensive.
On the two walls of the study hung a calligraphy piece and a painting, respectively. The calligraphy was Yan Zhenqing's Preface to the Orchid Pavilion, and the painting was Wang Hui's Spring Mountains and Flying Waterfall.
Cheng Jiamo immediately recognized that the calligraphy was written by He Qingzhao himself, but she didn't know about the painting, as she had never seen He Qingzhao paint before.
She walked up to the painting of spring mountains and waterfalls and saw the name on the seal—He Qingzhao.
"Did you draw this?" She turned her head in surprise.
He Qingzhao chuckled lightly: "Just drawing for fun, nothing more."
Cheng Jiamo smiled gently and said, "You're too modest. If it weren't for your name on the painting, I would have thought it was an authentic work by Wang Hui."
He Qingzhao smiled faintly: "The originals are all in museums."
As he spoke, he stood gracefully by the window, the moonlight and shadows illuminating him, making him appear as elegant and beautiful as a gentle breeze and the bright moon.
Cheng Jiamo stared at him blankly, slightly lost in thought.
He was handsome and refined, exuding an air of scholarly elegance.
She really couldn't resist He Qingzhao like this.
He Qingzhao looked at her intoxicated eyes, a slight smile playing on his lips, and pulled her to the desk, standing behind her as he spread out the Xuan paper.
He picked up a wolf and sheep hair brush and taught her how to hold it.
"Since you are a beginner and your pen control is not good enough, a wolf and sheep brush pen is the most suitable and easy to master."
Cheng Jiamo tilted her head and asked him, "And what about you?"
He Qingzhao said, "I will use a wolf-hair brush."
Cheng Jiamo felt as if the hand he was holding no longer belonged to her.
The pen in her hand seemed to come alive, writing a line of poetry with vigorous strokes.
The wind and rain are dark and gloomy, but the rooster crows incessantly. Now that I have seen my lord, how can I not be happy?
How could I not be happy to see you in the midst of wind and rain?
Cheng Jiamo's heart skipped a beat, feeling a sense of shame and embarrassment that her secrets had been exposed.
Just as her mind was racing, He Qingzhao held her hand and wrote another sentence.
What a night this is, to meet such a wonderful person.
Cheng Jiamo's heart was pounding, her cheeks were burning hot, and the hand that He Qingzhao was holding felt even hotter, as if it were melting, her palms were covered in sweat.
He Qingzhao didn't stop, but held her hand and continued writing.
If we were not destined to be together in our past lives, let us wait to renew our bond and make a vow in the next.
As he wrote, he moved faster and faster, his arm taut, his wrist sharp, his pen wielding the brush with the force of a knife, writing a poignant love poem.
The exquisite dice are inlaid with red beans; do you know how deep my longing for you is?
The moment Cheng Jiamo put down the brush, she felt completely exhausted, her back slumped, and she slumped back into the chair.
Her palms were soaked with sweat, and her forehead was covered in a fine layer of perspiration. She was looking up and breathing heavily.
He Qingzhao lowered his eyes, grabbed the collar of her light green knitted sweater and pulled it outwards, the buttons scattered all over the ground, revealing her snow-white body.
He changed his brush, mixed the paint, squatted down in front of her, and looked at her with deep eyes.
"How about I draw you a picture?"
Cheng Jiamo's chest heaved violently as she spoke in a trembling voice, "Okay."
He Qingzhao hooked his fingers around the white silk hem and pushed it up. He dipped his thumb in some red paint and dabbed it on the hem, then gently rubbed it to spread the paint, creating a peony bud. Next, he used a brush to dip in green paint and painted green leaves and branches.
The brush swept across my body, causing an indescribable itch that seeped into my bones.
Cheng Jiamo kept biting her lip tightly, until her lips turned white and were almost bleeding.
He Qingzhao put down his pen, bent down and kissed his masterpiece. The peony, its paint still wet, trembled and bloomed beneath his lips.
He raised his head, grabbed Cheng Jiamo's slender, fair neck, and kissed her lips passionately, while pulling her hand to unbuckle her belt.
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