Chapter 14: For the stars is a bit too much...
"This is……"
Wen Mu's fingertips pressed against the depression of the man's collarbone, and he felt the trajectory of blood rushing under his skin, like a violent nuclear fusion reaction inside a star.
Song Xingran leaned over her, his Adam's apple rolling heavily: "Isn't it obvious enough?"
A drop of sweat slid down his forehead, passed through his tense jawline, and finally landed on Wen Mu's collarbone.
A ray of moonlight leaked in through the window of the wooden house, just lying between the two of them, like the Milky Way.
Wen Mu stared at the man's sweat-soaked forehead. The black hair that always stood out prominently now lay softly against his skin, appearing unexpectedly fragile.
"But," she raised her hand to brush away the hair stuck to his brow, "you said you've never been in love before."
The fabric rubbed against each other making a crackling sound.
"Please, just because I haven't had a conversation doesn't mean..."
The person under him looked straight at him, his eyes, without the obstruction of lenses, surprisingly clear in the night.
"So, I can understand that you are like this because of me."
It's not a question, it's a statement.
Depend on!
How could he know such a thing?
He could clearly remain calm even when facing the most dangerous turns on the racetrack, but now, just because he stayed close to her and smelled the jasmine scent for a while, he lost control like a young boy who had tasted the forbidden fruit for the first time.
The physiological reactions that made him sneer when listening to his teammates' bragging in the locker room were now growing wildly in his body, and every nerve ending was screaming for more contact.
"no."
He turned his face away, but his Adam's apple moved again as if in betrayal.
"Get up first," Wen Mu pushed his shoulder and ordered softly, "You're pressing on me."
Song Xingran suddenly turned over and sat on the edge of the bed, his back muscles bulging out like a ridge under the thin white T-shirt.
He grabbed the mineral water on the bedside table and drank half the bottle. The water droplets rolled down his chin into his collar and formed a small puddle in the depression of his collarbone.
Wen Mu sat up and looked at him, and inexplicably thought of the young stars in the observatory that were eager to release energy, showing astonishing brightness in the X-ray band.
So what kind of energy will erupt from this young man's body?
She suddenly became curious.
How about inspecting the goods?
The kerosene lamp cast the shadows of two people on the rough wooden wall, one sitting and the other lying, as still as an oil painting.
Occasionally, the wick would emit tiny sparks, and the shadow on the bed would tremble.
Until Wen Mu's fingertips touched the back of Song Xingran's neck. The skin there was burning hot, and when the slightly cool fingertips touched him, he shuddered as if he had been electrocuted.
"Turn around," she said.
The man adjusted his posture little by little, and his hands instinctively supported her waist.
His presence was terrifyingly strong.
Wen Mu frowned slightly and moved his knees gently.
"like--"
"The docking track is off."
The man's breathing hitched.
What's the point of using terminology at a time like this?
Song Xingran warned again: "Don't move."
Wen Mu placed her hand on the back of his. Her fingers, like white jade, gently traced his veined wrist. "You are the one who shouldn't move."
"Listen to the teacher."
"Why?" Song Xingran gritted his teeth, almost reaching his limit of patience.
Wen Mu leaned over, her hair falling on his neck, and the scent of jasmine brushed against his earlobes with her breath.
"Because I'm a doctor."
"You're a poor student."
The man's voice was hoarse and his temples were throbbing. He tried to struggle, but the man's movements were like a spell, holding him still.
"Shhh."
Wen Mu pressed his wet index finger against his lips.
“Top students need to concentrate on taking notes.”
"Next, study hard."
…
"Surveying Project One: Low Hill Observation."
…
"Surveying and mapping project two: crustal movement monitoring."
Her breathing began to become unstable and her cheeks turned slightly red, but her eyes were still clear, with a kind of academic concentration.
Song Xingran felt like he was going crazy.
How could this woman do something like that with an expression like she was doing an experiment while still giving him an astronomy lesson?
"Depend on!"
He cursed softly and pulled the quilt over her, locking it like a dangerous item.
"You win," the man said through gritted teeth. "I give up."
Wen Mu stretched his hand out from under the quilt.
Song Xingran glanced at her and said fiercely: "What are you doing?"
"Don't you want to hug me?"
"You treat me like a child!"
Wen Mu said nothing, just looked at him.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
The man lowered his head.
Wen Mu hugged him and stroked his sweat-soaked black hair, slowly stroking from top to bottom, with a cold tone:
"Okay, you did great."
"I'll teach you the practical operation of track docking next time."
After an unknown amount of time, Song Xingran suddenly rolled over and got out of bed, his wet gray skin visible in the moonlight. He grabbed the remaining half bottle of mineral water and poured it over his head, letting the water flow down his muscles and into his waistband.
Wen Mu wrapped in the quilt looked at him like a sated cat.
"Wenmu."
It was the first time he called her by her full name.
"You wait."
He stared at her intently, with water dripping from the ends of his hair.
When he got home, he wanted to get it all back bit by bit.
Wen Mu glanced at him calmly: "Well, I'm waiting for Master Song."
"Make-up exam."
*
The sky on the plateau always gets bright early.
Wen Mu opened his eyes dazedly, and what came into view was the man's face close to him.
He didn't know when he landed on her pillow, but slept a little lower, with the tip of his nose touching her chin.
Song Xingran was very quiet in her sleep, even well-behaved. Her lips were slightly parted, a strand of black hair draped over her forehead, and her usual arrogance was completely gone.
Wen Mu vaguely recalled the man with his body tense and veins bulging in the moonlight last night, and bit his fingertips silently.
What on earth did he grow up eating? How could he be so...
The face and body are really different, there is no negotiation at all.
Memories gradually returned, and Wen Mu'er's heart began to burn belatedly.
She was teasing him last night.
But it seems a bit too much.
His fingertips unconsciously clutched the sheets tightly, and Wen Mu lowered his eyes.
Does this mean she is disrespectful to her elders?
He was obviously in such a bad mood, but she added fuel to the fire.
But he should also feel comfortable.
"What are you grinning about?"
A low, hoarse voice sounded.
Wen Mu raised her eyes and met Song Xingran's sleepy ones. The man, who had woken up at some point, was staring at her, his gaze sliding from the tips of her red ears to her fingers clutching the sheets.
"I'm not laughing," Wen Mu retorted subconsciously, "You're wrong."
Song Xingran reached out and pinched her cheek, rubbing his thumb across the corner of her lips: "Here, it's upturned."
The sound of the man just waking up was grainy, like sandpaper grinding on wood, which made people feel itchy.
Wen Mu slapped his hand away, but he grabbed his wrist with his backhand.
Song Xingran's palms were warm and dry, and there were thin calluses on his fingertips from years of holding the steering wheel, caressing her delicate skin on the inside.
"Brother, were you happy last night?" Wen Mu asked him.
Song Xingran's face darkened instantly: "Don't call me brother."
Wen Mu blinked.
Isn’t this fun?
When she was in Zurich, she had a colleague who was in a relationship with a younger man. She said that her younger boyfriend liked being called "brother" the most.
But since Song Xingran doesn't like it, forget it.
"Okay, Young Master Song." She changed to a more respectful address and drew circles on his palm with her fingertips. "Are you satisfied with last night's teaching?"
Song Xingran's breathing became noticeably heavier. He rolled over and trapped Wen Mu beneath him, his knees wedging between her legs. "Teacher Wen's teachings are too superficial."
"Why not take an advanced course now?"
Wen Mu put his hand on his chest: "I have to go out at eight o'clock."
"Tsk." The man reluctantly stood up, but suddenly lowered his head and bit her collarbone.
"Put it on the account and make up for it when I get back."
By the time the sunlight had completely flooded into the room, the two had already finished packing.
Wen Mu was sitting by the window combing her hair when the man came up from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder: "What else are you going to do today?"
How come this man always hugs her so naturally?
Have you really never talked about it?
Wen Mu couldn't help but feel a little suspicious.
"One last equipment check." She pulled her long hair back, revealing a small patch of skin at the back of her neck. "You can follow along, but it'll be boring."
Song Xingran rubbed his nose behind her ear and played with the ends of her hair with his fingers: "Anywhere is better than this shabby wooden house."
"The bed is too small and too hard. It's so uncomfortable to sleep on."
Wen Mu slapped his hand away: "You can sleep on the floor tonight."
"I don't want to. I want to sleep on you." The man dodged her elbow with a wicked smile.
"When will you be back tomorrow? I've been delayed from training."
Wen Mu was stunned for a moment, a trace of guilt welling up in his heart: "The flight is at 8 o'clock in the morning."
She turned around and found that the collar of his T-shirt was askew, and subconsciously reached out to adjust it. "We'll probably arrive in Ningchuan around noon--"
Before he could finish his words, Song Xingran grabbed his wrist.
He pulled her closer in this position, his breath spraying on her lips: "Let's go back to class?"
Wen Mu glanced at him speechlessly: "That depends on you, whether you have completed your homework well."
"What homework?"
Wen Mu pulled his hand back, stood up and distanced himself: "Think for yourself."
She picked up her coat and looked back at him at the door: "Are you leaving or not? Professor Gao must be getting anxious."
She changed into a light blue shirt today, with the top two buttons undone, faintly revealing the light red marks he left last night - although they would be covered by her coat in a while.
The man grabbed the mineral water and took a big gulp, and the tips of his ears felt very hot.
"Wake up, Song Xingran, and stop thinking about it!"
*
The early morning in Lenghu is like a sapphire washed by water. The sunlight pours down unhindered, giving the temporary astronomical observatory a golden edge.
Wen Mu squatted in front of the spectrometer, the blue light of the data screen reflected on his glasses, and his fingertips tapped quickly on the control panel.
"What is this iron rack used for?" Song Xingran came over and asked.
Wen Mu's hands trembled and he almost entered the wrong parameters.
She looked up and saw the man bending over, almost touching the priceless spectrometer, as curious as a big dog that had discovered a new toy.
"This is the solar telescope mount." She gently patted the man's hand as it tried to touch it. "Don't touch it. It will take three hours to calibrate it."
Song Xingran curled his lips and withdrew his hand angrily.
"Why build it here?" He walked around to the other side and asked, "Can't Ningchuan be built here?"
"Atmospheric stability, light pollution index, water vapor content." Wen Muto recited a string of terms without even looking up, and finally added, "In short, it's clearer here."
Song Xingran said "Oh", but her eyes were glued to her hands. Wen Mu's fingers were long and white, and there was a wonderful sense of rhythm when she manipulated the knobs, like a pianist playing a familiar piece of music.
"Xiao Wen!" Gao Chonghua called from a distance, "Come and confirm the site coordinates!"
Wen Mu responded, but just as he stood up, Song Xingran grabbed his wrist and said, "I'm going too."
The ultraviolet rays on the plateau were extremely strong, and Wen Mu squinted after just a few steps. Song Xingran suddenly pulled out a vinyl umbrella from his backpack like magic, and opened it with a "swish" to cover her head.
"Where did you get the umbrella?"
"I saw you weren't wearing a hat yesterday." Song Xingran said nonchalantly, but his ears were slightly red. "You're sunburned and you're humming again."
Wen Mu was about to retort when Gao Chonghua came over. The old professor looked at the umbrella, then at their shoulders, which were so close together, and smiled, his eyes wrinkling. "Xiao Song is very considerate."
"It's my duty." Song Xingran looked righteous, but his fingers secretly hooked the corner of Wen Mu's clothes.
The site was located on an open lawn, where several professors gathered around a total station for a discussion. Wen Mu quickly got to work, taking the data tablet and checking the numbers, occasionally squatting down to tap the rock with a geological hammer to collect samples.
Song Xingran followed closely, asking questions one after another:
“Why do we need to check the stones too?”
“Will the water table affect the telescope?”
"What does this disc measure?"
"Are you asking a hundred thousand questions?" Wen Mu finally couldn't help but turned his head.
The man grinned, his fangs gleaming in the sunlight: "I am your student, Teacher Wen."
"Ouch!" Professor Zhang beside him laughed out loud. "Xiao Wen, you have a heavy teaching load! After teaching at school, you still have to teach at home."
The other professors also laughed.
Wen Mu forced herself to remain calm, but her hand holding the pen was trembling slightly. She lowered her head and continued to record the data, the pen tip making a scratching sound on the paper.
During the lunch break, the team spread out their picnic mats in the open space next to the observatory.
Song Xingran took out several food boxes from the thermal box. The dishes were exquisite, and even the after-meal fruit was cut into star shapes.
"When did you prepare it?" Wen Mu picked up a piece of cantaloupe star.
"When you were putting on makeup in the morning." He deliberately emphasized the word "putting on makeup", and sure enough, he was met with a roll of the eyes.
In fact, Wen Mu only applied sunscreen, but he just liked to see her look irritated.
The afternoon's work was to install test equipment.
Wen Mu donned thread gloves and skillfully assembled the precision parts, occasionally issuing clear and concise instructions to the technicians. Song Xingran was assigned to the side, handing tools like an apprentice.
"Hexagonal wrench." Wen Mu stretched out his hand.
Song Xingran quickly took it out of the toolbox and handed it over, deliberately lingering for half a second when his fingertips touched.
"A vernier caliper."
"Give."
"No, I want the one with a digital display."
Song Xingran searched frantically, sweat oozing from his forehead.
As the sun sets, the work comes to an end.
Wen Mu took off his glasses and rubbed his nose. The man was staring blankly into the distance. Following his gaze, he saw several workers tamping the foundation.
"Tired?" she asked.
Song Xingran shook his head, his eyes a little vague: "I just think you are quite amazing."
Wen Mu raised an eyebrow.
I only now realize that it is true.
If it were her previous suitors, they would have praised her to the skies.
"These," he gestured around the observatory, "and the formulas and parameters. You remember them all."
After a pause, he said, "I can't even remember racing car tuning data this smoothly."
Wen Mu hadn't expected to hear such a comment. The setting sun shone obliquely on the man's face, outlining the lines of his superior nose and his eyes filled with a rare seriousness.
"It's okay." She finally chose to be humble.
A whistle for assembly was heard in the distance.
On the way back, Song Xingran was much quieter. Wen Mu walked in front of him, and he could feel his gaze on his back, like a warm weight.
When they turned a hill, she deliberately slowed down and waited for him to be side by side with her.
"I'll be back tomorrow," she said.
"Yeah." Song Xingran's hand brushed against hers. "How are your students doing?"
Wen Mu pretended to think, then replied, "About 60 points."
"Just barely passed?" Song Xingran's eyes widened. "I didn't even hand over the wrong tools!"
"But you ask too many questions." Wen Mu's eyes flashed with a cunning light, "It shows that you are not self-aware enough and have no awareness of self-study."
"Forty points deducted."
Song Xingran suddenly grabbed her and approached her in the afterglow of the setting sun. "So, how do I sign up for the make-up exam?"
Wen Mu gently pushed him away and took a few quick steps to catch up with the team.
Behind her, she heard the sound of a man's footsteps, brisk as a large dog. She didn't turn around, but the slight smile on her lips remained.
The snow-capped mountains in the distance were dyed pink by the sunset, just like the tip of someone's ear at that moment.
*
As night fell, the expedition team returned to the base one after another.
Wen Mu was sorting data in a temporary wooden house when suddenly the whole room fell into darkness.
"Is there a power outage?" Gao Chonghua's voice came from next door.
Wen Mu took out his cell phone to light up the room, and just as he pushed open the door, he bumped into a wall of people.
Song Xingran held her shoulders and said, "Be careful, there's a toolbox on the ground."
It was a mess outside.
Several graduate students frantically searched for candles while Professor Zhang yelled into his phone, "Generator malfunction? When can it be fixed? It's minus five degrees Celsius here!"
Wen Mu frowned.
The temperature drops sharply at night on the plateau, and it is easy to get hypothermia without heating equipment.
She was about to go over and ask, but Song Xingran had already strode towards the back of the base: "Where is the generator?"
"In the tin house at the back." A student answered stutteringly.
He turned to Wen Mu and said, "Bring me a flashlight," and his figure disappeared into the darkness.
Wen Mu hurriedly caught up and saw him squatting in front of the old diesel generator, his ear close to the machine casing, and his fingers tapping on various parts.
"Do you have any tools?" he asked without turning around.
Wen Mu handed over the emergency tool kit.
The man's movements were incredibly precise. He unscrewed the protective cover like he was disassembling a racing engine, his fingertips skimming over every connection as he inspected the wiring, his brow furrowed slightly.
"The fuel pump is clogged and the spark plugs are rusted." Song Xingran took off his coat and handed it over, and Wen Mu took it.
"Help me keep an eye on it."
Under the light of the mobile phone, the slender fingers were covered with oil, but they were as flexible as if they were playing a musical instrument.
Wen Mu unconsciously moved closer and saw fine beads of sweat oozing from his forehead, sliding down his jawline and disappearing into his collar.
"Do you racing drivers also learn this?" she asked curiously.
Song Xingran raised the corner of his mouth: "I used to work in a car repair shop."
The wrench made a beautiful circle in his palm. "Teacher Wen, racing is more than just stepping on the accelerator."
"I'm not a playboy who only knows how to eat, drink and have fun."
"There are 360 professions, and every profession has its top talent."
There was a soft click, and the generator suddenly roared. The entire base was instantly as bright as day, and the heater started working again.
The professors gathered around, and Gao Chonghua patted Song Xingran on the shoulder and praised him repeatedly: "Great, Xiao Song! You've been a great help!"
Song Xingran casually wiped the oil off his face, looked at the woman holding her coat, and reached out to grab her hand: "Why are you so cold?"
He frowned at her thin jacket and said, "Go back and put on more clothes."
Wen Mu stared blankly at his oily palm resting on the back of her hand. Those hands, which had just been deftly repairing complex machinery, now touched her lightly.
A strange heat spread from the point of contact, completely different from the warmth brought by the heater.
"Thank you," she said softly.
The man was stunned for a moment, then he leaned closer with a wicked smile: "How do you thank me?"
The distance was too close and the oil touched the tip of her nose.
Before Wen Mu could react, Professor Zhang came over with hot tea. "Xiao Song, drink something hot. We are so grateful to you today, otherwise our old bones would be frozen."
Song Xingran instantly regained his harmless demeanor: "As I should."
When he took the teacup, he deliberately used the hand that was not stained with oil.
After returning to the boarding house, Wen Mu handed him a wet towel and said, "Wash your hands."
Song Xingran obediently stretched out his hand: "The way you looked at me just now was like you knew me for the first time."
Wen Mu unscrewed the mineral water and helped him flush, and admitted generously: "I really didn't expect that Young Master Song had this skill."
"I know a lot." Song Xingran shook off the water droplets on his hands and suddenly leaned closer. "Teacher Wen, do you want to learn more about me?"
Wen Mu slapped the towel on his face: "Wipe the oil off your face first."
"Little flower dog."
*
After the generator was repaired, peace returned to the base.
The night wind blew across the iron roof, making a slight hum, and occasionally the barking of wild dogs could be heard in the distance.
Wen Mu stood in the shower, the hot water washed away the fatigue of the day, and the steam blurred the mirror.
When she returned to the cabin, drying her hair, the kerosene lamp had already dyed the room a warm honey color.
Just as I untied the belt of my bathrobe, the door hinge squeaked.
Song Xingran stood at the door, his eyes sweeping over her body.
The water droplets slid down the collarbone to the snow-white undulations, the waistline was tightened into an alluring arc, and further down were straight legs.
His Adam's apple rolled heavily.
Wen Mu turned his back to him, his hands covering his chest, his voice still calm: "Remember to knock on the door next time."
The door was closed and the sound of the lock was particularly clear.
The man leaned against the door panel and smiled maliciously: "Why are you covering it up now?"
He stepped closer. "Didn't you use this as a teaching material last night, asking me to look at it all and memorize it bit by bit?"
"That's different."
Wen Mu slowly buttoned up his pajamas, starting with the top button. The silk fabric gradually covered his skin, which was even more suggestive than being naked.
She huddled in the corner of the bed, leaving most of the space for Song Xingran.
The mattress sank immediately, and the familiar scent of cedar enveloped her. A strong arm was placed across her waist.
Wen Mu struggled slightly but to no avail: "Why do I feel like you need the pillow more than I do?"
Song Xingran chuckled, nuzzling the back of her neck: "Having you is enough."
His palm slowly moved up along the fabric of his pajamas, stopping abruptly just as it was about to touch the soft edge. His fingertips hovered there, feeling the slight undulations beneath the fabric.
Wen Mu held his breath.
The heat from that hand almost burned through the silk, and she could even feel the rhythm of his pulse through their skin.
Ridiculously fast.
The man spoke in a low voice: "Don't you wear anything when you sleep?"
Wen Mu closed his eyes and replied softly, "It's uncomfortable to wear it."
"So squeamish."
"I'm not as delicate as you." She rubbed his chest with her arm meaningfully, "You don't wear it either."
Song Xingran laughed out loud: "Teacher Wen, this joke is very dull."
"But you still smiled."
Silence spread in the darkness.
The man's hand still remained in that dangerous position, stroking the edge of the clothes from time to time.
"Don't you ever eat well?" he asked suddenly.
"It looks very pitiful here."
Wen Mu held down the restless hand and said, "If you feel sorry for them, Master Song will let them go."
"Um?"
"I didn't do anything to them," Song Xingran held her fingers in his hands, "Why did you let them go?"
Wen Mu asked, "Don't you listen to me?"
"You really treat me like a child," he rubbed her earlobe with his canine teeth, "and you expect me to be obedient."
Wen Mu slowly turned around in his arms, so they were facing each other, their noses almost touching.
The halo of the kerosene lamp stained Song Xingran's eyelashes, casting fine shadows.
Wen Mu looked into those beautiful eyes and said softly, "Even if you are my husband, you have to listen to me."
The man's expression changed.
His usual ruffian air faded away, revealing a rare bit of grievance, like a big dog whose bones were taken away.
But Wen Mu didn't think he had gone too far.
This is how you raise a dog. You need to teach and reward it little by little to form a habit.
If you give him the best food right away, he will become very picky later.
Dogs, it’s better if they are easily satisfied.
Wen Mu softened his voice: "Unhappy?"
"No." The answer was stiff.
"Master Song, why are you so superficial?"
"You miss me so much?!" Song Xingran suddenly stood up.
"Then tell me," Wen Mu stroked his face, "Why are you unhappy?"
The man stared at her resentfully, as if he was angry and aggrieved.
After a long while, he managed to utter: "You snatched me away to marry me."
"I went to your house the other day and told you about this, but you didn't say you didn't want to." His voice was getting lower and lower. "Now you keep rejecting me and think I only want that. I don't understand what you mean. I don't understand whether you are willing to marry me or not."
"Or, you have other motives in marrying me."
Wen Mu remained silent.
What else could she say? She couldn't force the third young master to get married just for two buildings and an observatory.
Song Xingran looked at her, aggrieved: "If you hate me and still want to marry me, that would be boring."
"Anyway, I feel..."
"I was fooled."
The last four words were almost in his mouth, causing Wen Mu's heart to tremble.
So, what he cares about is her attitude?
"I don't hate you." She traced the man's brow with her fingertips. "It's just that the bed here is too small and the soundproofing is poor. I don't want others to hear."
Feeling the body beneath him gradually relax, Youyou continued: "And..."
"And what?"
"I want to prepare well." Wen Mu leaned close to his ear, "For your first night."
The man's ears turned red at a speed visible to the naked eye.
"Who, who asked you to prepare!"
"You're the same as me, aren't you? If anything, I should be the one preparing it."
Wen Mu coaxed him along: "Okay, okay, you get ready."
He closed his eyes, his hand slid back to her waist, and pinched it retaliatoryly: "You're so skinny."
"It's not comfortable to hold."
Having said that, his hands didn't stop for even a second.
Wen Mu felt the tingling sensation on his waist, and said helplessly, "Actually, you don't have to hold me."
"I want to hold you." Song Xingran pulled her into his arms.
"I also want to try the feeling of sleeping with a doll."
Wen Mu chuckled: "Thank you for your help tonight."
"Hmph, I can't bear it."
After a moment of silence, she asked softly, "Do you want a reward?"
The man suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils bright in the dark.
After a while, he said "hmm" awkwardly, with the ending tone rising.
"It's not convenient here." Wen Mu gently pushed away the hand on his waist.
"After we get back."
The man's breathing became noticeably heavier.
He opened his mouth and bit the fingertips that were resting on his lips, mumbling, "Teacher Wen, you must keep your word."
The tip of the tongue swept across the fingertips, leaving a little wetness.
"Otherwise, I'll be very angry."
Wen Mu raised his eyebrows: "When have I ever lied to you?"
"You've lied to me so many times." Song Xingran released her fingers and began to count. "We agreed to do it four times a day, but you went to work on your first night in your new home. You agreed to come here and send messages every day, but every time I was the one asking what you were doing..."
Wen Mu reached out to cover the man's eyes: "Close your eyes."
"Why?" Song Xingran grabbed her wrist and clasped it against his chest, his eyes widening deliberately. "Are you afraid that I'll eat you?"
He moved closer again, shortening the distance between them.
"Or are you afraid that you can't control yourself—"
Delicate fingertips pressed down the chattering mouth.
"Don't talk."
The man expressed his dissatisfaction with his eyes.
She leaned forward and, in the dim light of the dying kerosene lamp, gently pressed her lips against his.
"I'm going to kiss you."
-----------------------
The author has something to say: I tried to use astronomical terms to describe something that can only be understood intuitively [transformed]
I didn't eat it, I didn't eat it, let Master Song be greedy for a while
The first time was more of an angry sex [shy]
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