When I heard this, I was furious. Otherwise, why would the front desk be so nosy? I couldn't help but complain: "This crappy hotel is too illegal! Can you just give out room cards to people casually?"
"It's not the girl's fault," she retorted immediately, with a matter-of-fact tone, "I told her the room number, and she said the lady who brought you here is a VIP with high permission, so she gave me the card." As she spoke, she paused, as if she had suddenly grasped a key clue, and turned around sharply, her expression becoming unusually serious: "By the way! Who is the woman who brought you here?"
At this time, she still wants to dig deeper? I waved my hands in annoyance, like chasing away flies: "Hurry up! Why are you talking so much nonsense!"
Seeing my bad attitude, she pouted her lips in an exaggerated manner, snorted heavily, snatched the room card on the table, turned around and walked out in big strides.
However, just as she took the first step, a short cry of pain escaped from her tightly bitten lips. Her body suddenly stiffened, and she instantly hunched over. The blood on her face faded, and her brows twisted into a ball of pain. The arrogant look just now was gone, and only the rational pain was clearly visible.
I was the culprit, feeling guilty as if I had been burned. I didn't dare to say a word, and almost instantly, I pulled the thin blanket over my head and face, as if this could isolate me from all embarrassment and guilt.
In the darkness, I could only hear her suppressed gasps, and then she tried to slow down her footsteps, but still with a sluggish sound, and moved towards the door step by step. It was not until I heard the slight sound of the door closing that I felt as if I had been granted amnesty, and carefully poked my head out from under the quilt.
After making sure she was really gone, I immediately grabbed my phone - the screen showed it was already seven in the evening.
I opened WeChat, eager to find out the source of this mistake. My eyes fell on the chat history, and my heart sank suddenly, and a chill rushed into my lungs. It was absolutely true that I sent it to the wrong person. At that time, my eyes were blurry, and I mistook "Peng Xiaomin" for "Peng Xiaohui". What's even more ridiculous is that the twin sisters stubbornly used their real names as their WeChat names.
My heart is filled with sadness. Could this be the doomed fate?
Then, a huge sense of uneasiness surged into my heart like a tide. How should I report this to Xiaohui? I had physical contact with her, but now I was with her sister... This undoubtedly touched her bottom line. What's more, twin sisters... both of them... Just the thought that this relationship might be spread would be enough to ruin my reputation and leave a stain on my back that could never be washed away.
Forget it! The matter is done, and there is no going back. When a car reaches a mountain, it must go on; when a boat reaches a bridge, it will naturally go straight. Now all I can do is grit my teeth and move forward.
As my mind was swirling and all kinds of thoughts were coming to my mind, the phone screen lit up. It was Xiao Min's message. A photo popped up, a men's shirt. Then her voice:
"Can you see it?"
I tapped my fingertips on the screen: "You really have this habit? Why buy men's clothes?"
She quickly replied: "I bought it for you! The one you're wearing is too dirty, I'll wash it when we get back to the hotel."
I replied briefly: "It's up to you."
I put my phone aside and walked straight into the bathroom. I turned on the cold water tap and the cold water poured over my head, causing my skin to tighten. I closed my eyes and let the cold wash over my body, hoping in vain that it would extinguish the burning fire in my heart.
When I came out of the bathroom, she had already returned to the room. Seeing me naked, she quickly turned her face away and said with a hint of urging in her voice: "I bought you new underwear, change into it quickly." Before she finished speaking, she took out a brand new pair of shorts from the shopping bag and handed it to me with her back to me.
I took it silently, tore off the label and put it on.
"It's my turn now," she turned around and said with an imperative tone, "Don't look."
I turned my back as he said. The only sound in the room was the rustling of fabrics rubbing against each other, so clear that it made my heart ache.
As soon as the voice stopped, a pair of arms came up from behind without warning. Her cheek pressed against my back, bringing a warm and moist touch. This sudden intimacy made me stiffen all over, and I stood there in a daze, unable to move.
"I'm hungry." She buried her face in my back and mumbled muffledly, instantly breaking the sticky ambiguity between us.
This jump in her thinking left me completely confused, let alone guessing what she was going to do next.
"Shall I ask the waiter to bring the food up?" I suggested tentatively.
She was obviously dissatisfied: "The food in the hotel is not tasty." Her voice returned to its previous cheerfulness, even with a hint of coquettishness, "I want to eat spicy crayfish."
An indescribable warmth instantly enveloped my heart, as if it was about to melt in a second. At this moment, no matter what she asked, I think I would agree without hesitation.
"Okay," I heard a hint of barely perceptible indulgence in my voice, "Then go eat."
She seemed to immediately sense my compromise, happily loosened her arms, and swiftly took out the new clothes she had just bought from the shopping bag and handed them to me.
Only then did I really see her appearance after she changed her clothes. She was wrapped in a floral dress made of gauze. The scarlet background was full of flowers, which made her skin look whiter than snow. There was a thrilling charm flowing between her eyebrows. Her face was a strange combination of the brightness of a young girl and a hint of shyness of a new wife, which made me fascinated.
She caught my absent-mindedness accurately. She raised the corners of her lips slightly, and spun lightly in front of my eyes, with her skirt drawing a graceful arc like a petal.
"Does it look good?" she asked, her eyes full of smiles.
"She looks beautiful," I exclaimed sincerely, "like a bride waiting to be married."
Before she finished speaking, the light in her eyes suddenly lit up, her body paused, and she looked at me steadily: "I am finally... your bride."
My heart was shocked and I was speechless. How much unspoken expectation and weight are hidden in the word "finally"? How could I not understand it?
She suddenly smiled softly, breaking the moment of stagnation: "Look how scared you are," her tone was relaxed and a little cunning, "Don't worry, I won't rely on you."
This familiar promise was very similar to what her sister said that night. These two sisters with the same face, in the same bitter childhood given to them by fate, had already tempered their own strong character and were used to being independent rather than relying on others.
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