Chapter 15 But if she leaves again, ...
The water gurgled softly, and warmth slowly spread through the rising steam. Xia Zhiyao leaned against the edge of the bathtub, a few strands of wet hair clinging to her face, soft and messy, adding a touch of lazy and casual beauty.
Zhou Yue leaned against her back, his fingertips gently lifting a strand of pale pink hair. He spoke, his voice low and hesitant: "When did you dye it?"
She didn't move, just stared at the water's surface, the bubbles rising and falling as if they had nothing to do with her.
He added, "You always had black hair before."
Xia Zhiyao was silent for a moment before slowly saying, "People always have to change. If they never change... that's scary."
Zhou Yue chuckled softly, his tone gentle: "It looks quite nice, but... it doesn't look like you."
"Dye it pink, make it more eye-catching," she said softly, her tone casual. "That way, no one will ask any more questions."
She added, "It's like wearing a protective layer. It's quite convenient." She spoke casually, yet there was a familiar sense of detachment about her.
Zhou Yue loosened his grip, and a strand of hair slowly fell along her collarbone. He lowered his eyes, his voice low and husky: "Zhiyao, with me... you don't need to pretend."
He paused, his tone calm yet remarkably firm: "If you want to dye it, then dye it; if you want to do something, then do it. I have no objection. But don't use this... as a shell to hide your emotions."
He moved closer, his breath brushing against her ear: "The way you are now..." But his eyes darkened: "You can't hide it even if you want to."
"Why are you taking this so seriously?" Her voice was slightly hoarse, with a hint of irritation in it. "If the water is too clear, there will be no fish... You know the next line, right?"
Zhou Yue narrowed his eyes, looking at her with a half-smile, his voice slow and deliberate, as if coaxing her, yet also teasing her: "Oh, are you lecturing me again? I don't care whether I take it seriously or not..."
He suddenly stood up from the water, water droplets sliding down his shoulders and back, wetting the water around her. He seemed to have shed all his gentle pretense, his gaze fixed on her, a long-planned approach.
He leaned down, his tone unhurried yet carrying a suffocating pressure: "The key question is, are you doing well?"
If you're not doing well—that's my problem.
Xia Zhiyao's smile paused for a few seconds, and after a long while, she spoke softly, "I'm fine. I don't need anyone to worry about me."
"Is that so?" Zhou Yue didn't press further, but just smiled lightly. He leaned down to look at her, his eyes hiding a subtle sharpness, but his tone was like a casual joke: "Then I'll have to take a good look... at how exactly you're 'good'."
Steam filled the air, as if the entire bathroom was filled with his emotions. His figure swayed in the mist, with an irresistible pull. The next second, he bent down and picked her up in his arms, almost losing control.
The dim light spilled down, swallowing the night and also the boundaries of her reason. Xia Zhiyao was about to prop herself up when he lowered his head and covered her lips with his.
The kiss was intense, almost violent, and he wasn't kissing her; it was more like he was grabbing her tightly, trying to escape some kind of unbearable fear. His embrace was burning hot, his breath was ragged, and every movement was filled with an almost anxious stubbornness.
A sense of unease rose in her heart, and she subconsciously tried to push him away, but he grabbed her hand and held it so tightly that she could hardly breathe. His kisses fell one after another, without any pattern, only instinct and desire, pouring out all his regrets, pain and obsessions to her.
“Zhiyao…” he called her softly, as if murmuring to himself, his voice choked with sobs, “You promised me… don’t leave me.”
His tone carried an almost hysterical control and dependence; it wasn't a request, but a desperate demand.
Xia Zhiyao was held tightly in his arms, making it difficult for her to breathe. She subconsciously called out to him, her voice filled with panic: "Zhou Yue..."
But he seemed not to hear her, his forehead pressed against hers, his gaze intense and almost obsessive, as if he were looking at her with his whole heart.
"Don't run away." He said each word clearly, his voice low and hoarse but resolute, "From childhood to adulthood, you've been the only person I've ever wanted."
As soon as he finished speaking, he leaned down and kissed her again, a kiss so deep and long, as if he wanted to pour out all his vulnerability and loneliness. Between his lips and teeth, his whispers lingered in her ear again and again: "You can only be mine."
She closed her eyes, wanting to say something, but ultimately didn't.
He was too close, too hot, surrounding and engulfing her like a runaway fire, burning away all her escape routes.
The night was so gentle it was almost intoxicating, but they were like two flames burning to their limits, tearing and scorching each other without end.
It's impossible to tell who succumbed first, but he whispered her name, as if it were a confession, or a curse, over and over again.
Love, obsession, longing, dependence—none of it was said. They all knew this wasn't salvation, but fire, an abyss, a conspiracy to willingly sink into ruin.
After the passion subsided, the room quieted down. Xia Zhiyao leaned against the headboard, a lazy smile playing on her lips, tinged with a hint of coquettishness: "I'm hungry." Her voice was slightly hoarse, the last syllable still damp with moisture, softly touching one's heart.
When Zhou Yue came out of the shower, his gaze fell on the spot where he had kissed countless times. Now it was a pale red, like clusters of embers after a fire had burned out.
He chuckled softly, his voice low and husky with a hint of mischief: "Hungry? Looks like I didn't feed you enough earlier."
Xia Zhiyao rolled her eyes, too lazy to pay him any attention. Her gaze was languid yet chilling: "Don't you know how much trouble you cause yourself? And you dare to let me go to bed hungry?"
"Of course I wouldn't dare." Zhou Yue surrendered with a smile, got up to pick up the shirt he had thrown on the sofa and put it on, asking as he buttoned it, "What do you want to eat?"
"Whatever." She snuggled back into bed, her hair slipping down her shoulders, looking like a cat that had just been fed, languid yet with a sly glint in her eyes. "New York, you know, it has everything, doesn't it? Take me somewhere special."
As the night deepened and the two emerged from the hotel, the city was enveloped in the stillness of a winter night. The air was as cold as silk, clear yet not harsh.
The taxi stopped at the entrance, its headlights illuminating the snow-covered street, a silvery white scene tinged with pale gold.
Xia Zhiyao shrank into her down jacket, put her hands in her pockets, turned her head to look at him, her eyes still carrying a hint of weariness from the lingering passion: "So? Where exactly are you planning to take me?"
Zhou Yue didn't answer immediately, but chuckled and looked ahead, his tone as if he were hiding a little secret: "Don't worry, I can't bear to sell you. Besides..." He paused, turned his head to look at her, his gaze gently sweeping over the tip of her nose, which was slightly red from the cold, "You'll know when we get there."
Outside the car window, snowflakes clung to the glass, melting silently and sliding slowly down the glass, blurring the neon lights and casting a hazy, soft glow over the Manhattan night.
As the taxi drove down to the East Coast, the silhouettes of high-rise buildings were gradually replaced by old red-brick buildings, and the streets transformed from modern to weathered and worn, as if the city had shed its exquisite exterior to reveal its true character and warmth.
Finally, the car stopped under a retro red neon sign: KATZ'S DELICATESSEN.
Xia Zhiyao got out of the car, looked up at the old signboard with a faint glow, raised an eyebrow, and teased with a hint of amusement in her voice: "You didn't bring me here in the middle of the night to eat American roujiamo, did you?"
Zhou Yue had already reached the door. The moment he pushed it open, a smell mixed with the aroma of meat and warmth wafted out, like the most unguarded secret corner in the city late at night.
He turned his head to look back at her, his tone unhurried: "Don't tell me you haven't eaten it before."
“You’re absolutely right.” She sniffed the salty aroma in the air and slowly raised the corners of her lips. “I’ve passed by this place countless times, but the lines are always too long, so I never go in. It has a really lively atmosphere.”
The shop wasn't very bright; a warm light shone on the worn wooden tables and chairs and the shiny counter. The walls were covered with old black and white photos and yellowed movie stills. The air was filled with the smells of pepper, yellow mustard, and time, like a hidden passage through time.
They chose a table in the corner against the wall and sat down. Zhou Yue flipped through the menu with practiced ease, bent down to straighten the crooked tissue box for her, and casually introduced, "This restaurant opened in 1888, so it's considered a semi-old landmark in New York. The corned beef sandwich is their signature dish, and the chicken soup is also good."
Xia Zhiyao propped her cheek up with her hand, her fingers gliding casually across the menu, while her gaze swept around the restaurant. Her tone carried her characteristic teasing: "Judging from how familiar you are with it... you're not one of those lonely New Yorkers who works overtime until midnight and comes here to eat alone, are you?"
Zhou Yue looked up at her, a half-smile in his eyes, and said slowly, "So now you've become the companion for Lonely New Yorkers to eat with?"
She didn't reply, but just smiled, her eyes holding a hint of warmth and drowsiness.
“If you really want to understand a city,” Zhou Yue suddenly said in a low voice, his gaze falling on her face as if he were looking at her casually, yet as if he had already seen her many times before, “you have to start from the dead of night, from places like this.”
After a moment, she clicked her tongue softly and tossed the menu back onto the table: "We might be the last two customers today. Corned beef sandwich with chicken soup."
Zhou Yue nodded, and then chose a smoked beef sandwich and a hot coffee for himself.
Soon, the meal was served, steaming hot, with a rich aroma of beef and soft bread soaked in juices—it was like a comforting treat in the dead of night.
Xia Zhiyao took a bite, her eyes brightening slightly, and whispered, "...Not bad."
Zhou Yue took a sip of coffee, turned to look at her, and said in a light tone, "I knew you would like it."
She smiled, her tone light, but her eyes swept over him: "Such a nice place, not many people have come here with you... right?"
Zhou Yue stared at the old photos on the wall for a moment, as if recalling something, yet also as if he wasn't recalling anything at all: "You're the first one to come after we've slept together."
She paused, lowered her eyes, and smiled, "Then I am truly honored." Her tone was joking, but both of them knew that there was a ripple behind that smile.
The snow outside hadn't stopped, and the streetlights cast soft, shimmering glows on the snow. Inside the shop, the air was warm and golden, and their table was quiet, restrained, and comfortably cozy.
Zhou Yue looked at her, drinking his beverage with his head down. The restlessness and throbbing in his chest were much harder to control than he could outwardly show.
The silence that followed intimacy was merely a soft facade. He knew all too well why he had been so hasty and forceful tonight, almost to the point of losing control.
He wasn't unaware of boundaries; he simply couldn't control himself. Whenever anxiety struck, he craved closeness and physical touch to confirm the reality of her presence. Only by holding her tightly could he barely suppress that uncertain sense of panic.
But she didn't notice, or rather, she sensed that he was different, but she didn't ask, and he didn't intend to explain.
He simply watched her silently, as if as long as she sat across from him, even though his heart was still restless, he could find a little bit of peace and stability.
The two walked out of the restaurant. The streets were already covered with fine snow. The neon lights reflected on the snow, and the halo was like a sky full of out-of-focus stars. The city was so quiet that it seemed to be asleep, leaving only them walking on this street gently covered by snow.
Zhou Yue put his hands in his coat pockets, glanced at her sideways, a slight smile playing on his lips, a hint of amusement in his eyes: "Did you see those old photos on the wall just now?"
Xia Zhiyao pulled her down jacket tighter and replied lazily, "I saw it. What, you want to be remembered in history too?"
He chuckled, then suddenly stopped, turning to stand before her. Snowflakes fell on his shoulders, but he seemed oblivious, adjusting his cuffs with his habitual composure. Yet his voice was lower, earnest as if making a vow: "It won't be on the wall, but... I can take a picture."
He paused, his gaze falling on her face, his voice so soft it was almost carried away by the wind, yet unusually firm: "Keep it as a memento."
Xia Zhiyao raised an eyebrow at him, "Commemorating what?"
Zhou Yue didn't answer immediately, but just looked at her quietly. "In memory of tonight," he said slowly, "in memory of you by my side."
The unspoken words he kept hidden deep within him meant that if she were to leave again one day, at least he would have left behind a winter night, proof that she truly belonged in his arms.
Zhou Yue reached out and hugged her, raised his phone, and snapped a photo with a soft "click," freezing the moment in time.
She stood in the snowy night, her pink hair streaked with snowflakes, the lights and neon casting dappled shadows on her eyelashes. A thin layer of snow covered her shoulders, her expression aloof, yet a faint smile lingered in her eyes. He turned his head and lowered his head to kiss the tips of her hair.
Zhou Yue didn't rush to look at the photo. He just stared at the screen for a long time, as if he wanted to see her deeply into his life through the photo.
At that moment, his anxious nerves finally relaxed a little. Taking a picture of her was like a temporary "possession," proving that she was still there and confirming that she hadn't left.
He put his phone away, and before he could say anything, Xia Zhiyao leaned over to take a look, glanced at him sideways, and scoffed, "The photos are really mediocre, aren't they? With this level of quality, you still want to keep them as souvenirs?"
Zhou Yue chuckled, lazily putting his phone into his pocket, his tone revealing both his stubbornness and gentleness: "Whether the photo is good or not is not important."
He paused, his gaze lingering slowly on her face, settling deep and quiet: "The important thing is the person, the one and only." His voice was soft, as softly as the falling snow, but his tone held an unwavering conviction, steady yet with a hint of madness.
Xia Zhiyao gave a soft hum and didn't say anything more. She just turned around and continued walking forward without looking back.
Zhou Yue watched her retreating figure. Her steps were light yet carried an innate aloofness. She was like a fox walking in the snow, draped in wind and snow, free and beautiful, elusive and unpredictable.
He slowly caught up, reaching out to put his arm around her shoulder. As long as she was by his side, he could keep himself steady, but if she left again, he would definitely go crazy.
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