Chapter 51 Chapter 51 “The other party is typing…”
The two walked one after the other into the private office specially prepared for Yu Sixie by the school.
The only sounds in the office were the low breathing of the central air conditioner and a tense silence that was almost condensed into substance.
The last rays of the setting sun passed through the gaps in the blinds, casting golden streaks on Yu Sixie's well-defined profile and Xi Tong's trembling eyelashes, like silently burning fire marks.
His eyes were fixed on her, and all the previous coldness and arguments in his deep eyes had evaporated, leaving only an almost scorching concentration and an undisguised, naked desire.
That gaze seemed to have substance, passing over her lips, her neck, and her chest that rose and fell slightly due to her rapid breathing. Every inch of it seemed to be declaring ownership, igniting clusters of invisible flames.
Xi Tong was exposed by Yu Sixie, her cheeks flushed, and she wanted to say something.
But he didn't give her a chance.
The man took a step forward, his movements swift as the wind, yet maintaining a strong sense of control.
The tall figure instantly enveloped her, blocking out the last rays of light outside the window and all escape routes.
One hand had already wrapped around Xitong's waist like an iron hoop, pulling her towards him without a doubt.
The other hand precisely grasped the back of her neck, his fingertips caressing the rapidly beating pulse beneath her delicate skin.
“Hmm…”
All of Xitong's sounds were blocked.
Yu Sixie's kiss fell.
It was not a temptation, nor a gentle request, but a direct and ferocious plunder.
The hot lips and tongue, with a long-suppressed, almost violent desire, pried open her teeth, penetrated deeply, entangled, and sucked, as if wanting to devour her completely through this kiss and make up for all the time and distance wasted in the cold war.
The air was instantly filled with blushing, heart-pounding wet sounds and the chaotic intertwining of hot breaths.
Xitong's mind went blank, the oxygen was rapidly drained, and every limb went limp. She could only instinctively grab the fabric of Yu Sixie's shirt on her chest, her fingertips turning white, like a drowning man grabbing a piece of driftwood.
The expensive fabric wrinkled in her hands.
Feeling her softness and obedience, he let out a low and satisfied sigh from his throat, and the arms around her waist suddenly exerted force -
The world was spinning.
Xi Tong let out a soft cry and was easily picked up by Yu Sixie.
The next second, what touched her buttocks was no longer his strong arms, but the slightly cool wooden surface of the large and heavy mahogany desk in the office.
The documents were swept away by the arm and scattered aside, and the pen rolled onto the carpet with a dull sound, but no one paid any attention.
She was placed on the edge of the table, and the height forced her to tilt her head back slightly to endure his increasingly deep kiss.
This position put her completely under his control, vulnerable and with nowhere to escape.
Squeezed between her legs, Yu Sixie's strong thighs pressed tightly against both sides of her body, his body temperature burning her through the thin fabric.
The kiss finally withdrew slightly, leaving behind an ambiguous silver thread.
Their foreheads were pressed together, their noses touching, and they were both breathing heavily, their chests heaving violently, as if they had just experienced a run.
The air was filled with the sweet and fishy smell of pheromones secreted during arousal, so strong that it made people dizzy.
Yu Sixie's eyes were terrifyingly dark, filled with an undisguised storm of desire.
His thumb caressed Xitong's lower lip, which was red, swollen and wet from being kissed, with a hint of caress, and his voice was hoarse: "...So many hurtful words have been said here..."
Before he could finish his words, Yu Sixie continued his actions.
His lips moved down along her sensitive jawline, leaving a hot and wet kiss.
The teeth bit the fragile skin on the side of the neck neither lightly nor hard, leaving red marks that were about to become marks, causing tremors like shivers.
The hand that was originally clasped at the back of her neck quietly slid down, with a burning temperature, stroking along the groove of her spine all the way to her lower back, and even further downward, pressing, making her body stick closer to him.
The slightly calloused fingertips, with amazing heat, drew circles slowly and extremely teasingly on her delicate skin. Every touch caused tiny particles in her skin and a deeper shudder.
The fingers seemed to have their own will, greedily measuring the curve of the woman's waistline, sometimes kneading it hard, and sometimes just stroking it very lightly with the fingertips, bringing waves of fine and unbearable itching, all the way up to the scalp, making the toes curl up involuntarily.
The heat from his palm almost burned her, and he was still exploring upwards slowly and unwaveringly.
She bit her lower lip, but still couldn't suppress the slight sob that escaped from her throat.
A strange and surging feeling of emptiness welled up deep within my body, longing for a fuller, more intense filling.
Her rationality had long been torn to pieces by this intensive sensory impact, leaving only the most primitive instinct driving her - getting closer and closer to him.
Yu Sixie's scorching lips returned to her ear again, holding her sensitive earlobe, and breathed out a hot and explicit command. His hot and humid breath penetrated into her ear canal, directly hitting the deepest part of her soul -
"...Say you're mine alone."
…
The cold light of the phone illuminated Wen Yanming's chiseled face. He had just finished a cross-border video conference, and there was still a hint of fatigue between his brows.
Out of habit, he clicked on the familiar WeChat avatar, wanting to see what she had done today.
Refresh the short loading time of Moments.
Then, two status messages posted almost simultaneously caught his eye unexpectedly.
First it was Yu Sixie’s.
The cleverly composed photo, with its dappled light and shadow, captures the autumn scenery of Yangming Lake, renowned for its beauty. A corner of the marble boat bathes in the warm afternoon sun, the lake shimmers, and the ginkgo leaves on the shore shimmer in golden yellow.
The caption is simple: [Autumn is better than spring, revisiting the old place has a special flavor]
Wen Yanming's fingers slid almost subconsciously.
The next one is from Xitong.
The photo was of the silhouette of the Peking University Library, with red windows and gray walls covered with the vines of time, solemn and quiet.
The accompanying text is even shorter, with only two words: [Pure]
There were no photos together. No @ing each other. Not even appearing in each other's shots.
But Wen Yanming's heart suddenly sank at this moment, as if he suddenly lost weight and fell into an ice cellar.
It's too obvious.
That kind of tacit understanding that is ready to burst out, that kind of companionship that does not require words.
On the same day, at a similar time, both were released with a relaxed and familiar tone. How could there be so many coincidences in this world?
They reconciled.
This realization was like a burning flame with thorns that instantly swept through his chest, burning his internal organs and twisting them, accompanied by sharp, stabbing pain.
A surge of rage suddenly rushed to the top of his head, and his temples throbbed.
He could almost imagine them walking side by side on Ginkgo Avenue, Yu Sixie's annoying expression of always being confident of victory, and Xitong's eyes that glowed when she looked at him.
With a dull "bang", Wen Yanming slammed the phone hard onto the expensive desk. The screen hit the hard black walnut tabletop, making a teeth-grinding sound.
The body bounced a little, and the screen fortunately did not shatter, but the invisible crack had already spread beyond his trembling heart.
He stood up suddenly and paced back and forth in the empty and silent office like an anxious beast trapped in a cage.
His tie was pulled loose by him, his breathing was heavy, and his chest was heaving violently.
Why? That bastard Yu Sixie had made her so miserable before, why did she always forgive him so easily?
And what about me? All the time I'd spent with her in Europe, those morning coffees, evening strolls, late-night talks...couldn't that compare to an autumn trip?
Resentment, jealousy, anger, and a fear of being abandoned and forgotten, these emotions intertwined into an impenetrable web that tightly wrapped around Wen Yanming, almost suffocating him.
He was so angry that he wanted to call her immediately to question her, wanted to book the fastest flight back, wanted to stand in front of her and let her see who really cared about her!
But the last bit of sanity, like a thin but tough thread, held him tightly.
cannot.
He can't lose control.
He has worked so hard for so long, he can't let all his efforts go to waste because of a momentary emotion.
He had to maintain the image of a gentle, considerate and always-side-the-side "good friend" in front of Xitong.
He couldn't let her think he was petty, jealous, or aggressive.
Wen Yanming stopped and took several deep, continuous breaths, trying to suppress the roaring beast in his chest.
He walked back to the table and picked up the phone with trembling fingers. The screen lit up and the two photos were still dazzling.
He opened the dialog box with Xitong.
The last time they chatted was three days ago. He sent her information about a European art exhibition, and she only replied with a "thank you" emoticon.
Further up, the large expanses of green dialog boxes were all sent by him, and her replies were brief and spaced out.
This is completely different from before.
At that time, they would share every interesting cloud they saw and every good song they heard. She would chatter a lot, complain about her studies, and share interesting things.
At that time, he was the person she depended on the most.
The huge sense of gap was like ice water poured over my head, cooling my anger but bringing deeper chill and grievance.
Wen Yanming pursed his lips tightly, tapping his fingertips on the screen, deleting and revising, and finally sending out: [Xiao Xi, I saw your Moments. Autumn in Beijing is still so beautiful. When I get back, when will you be free to go out and pick autumn leaves together?]
Followed by an expression of falling leaves.
The tone was gentle, normal, and even contained just the right amount of concern and curiosity.
It was as if he just happened to see it and asked casually.
God knows how much self-control he must have exerted to pretend to be calm and kind.
Message sent successfully.
Wen Yanming stared at the screen intently, but there was no prompt saying "The other party is typing..." on it.
One minute, two minutes, five minutes...
Time flowed slowly in silence, and every second seemed to be torturing his expectations.
The screen gradually dimmed, reflecting a tense and ugly face.
Did she see it? Why didn't she reply? Was she still hanging out with Yu Sixie? Or...did she see it but thought it was insignificant and didn't bother to reply?
In the past, when they were in Europe, she would reply to his messages almost immediately.
The cold screen and the long wait were like silent mockery, mocking his self-conceit and his bitter repression.
The forcibly built dam began to shake violently again, and the suppressed anger and jealousy mixed with bitterness attacked the nerves even more violently.
The office was still luxurious and eerily quiet, with only Wen Yanming's heavy and suppressed breathing as the sound.
Outside the window was the dazzling night scene of the city, but he seemed to be trapped on an isolated island, looking at the warm light he longed for in the distance, but unable to get close to it.
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