Chapter 4 From what you're saying, you weren't asleep...
In the early hours of the morning, Zhou Yue was awakened by a very slight noise. He subconsciously reached out, but his palm only touched a bed sheet that was still warm.
He sat up abruptly and rushed out of the living room. He only breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the familiar figure in front of the French windows.
Xia Zhiyao sat on the bay window, wearing his T-shirt, barefoot and dangling quietly out the window. Her long, light pink hair was casually draped over her shoulders, and the moonlight fell on her shoulders, making her look unreal.
Zhou Yue tiptoed into the kitchen, rummaged through the cocoa powder, and poured in hot milk. "Can't sleep?" He walked over, his voice low and hoarse, like a breeze in the dead of night.
Xia Zhiyao turned around, took the cup, and smiled faintly: "I haven't adjusted to the time difference yet."
She took a sip: "There are still some things I'm thinking about."
Zhou Yue didn't ask, but simply sat down beside her, keeping her company as she looked out the window at the night. Distant lights twinkled like the heartbeat of a city, floating on the snow-covered landscape, serene and beautiful.
After a while, he reached out and hugged her from behind, resting his head on her shoulder and burying his nose in her neck. Then, he lowered his head and placed a very light kiss on her cheek.
Xia Zhiyao didn't move, holding the mug. Ripples spread across the mug, reflecting the lights outside the window, making one's heart burn.
"Stop fooling around," she scolded, her voice unusually soft. "The milk is going to spill."
Zhou Yue didn't stop; instead, he laughed, the sound rolling softly from his throat, a hint of mischief and a touch of stalking.
She glanced at him and said lazily, "Are all virgins this unrestrained after losing their virginity?"
Zhou Yue raised an eyebrow, lowered his head and gently bit her earlobe, his voice low and husky: "From what you're saying, you've never slept with a virgin?"
Her fingers, which were holding the cup, paused slightly, and her expression changed for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and smiled faintly: "Hmm? Why do you care so much?"
Zhou Yue stared at her, catching a fleeting flicker in her eyes. He leaned close to her neck, his voice laced with anger: "I'm jealous, okay?"
Xia Zhiyao chuckled softly, "Jealous?" She repeated softly, "Then you can eat slowly, otherwise there are too many people in line and you won't get a turn."
Zhou Yue's eyes darkened, as if a nerve had been touched, and he said in a low, hoarse voice, "Then how about this, give me another chance, and I'll do my best."
As he spoke, his lips were almost touching her shoulder, his breath hot, his voice low as if pressed up from the deep sea, carrying a hint of obsession, a hint of desire, and a burning heat that had been suppressed for too long.
Xia Zhiyao didn't dodge; instead, she tilted her head slightly and rubbed her cheek against his, tacitly allowing him to get closer. Her fingertips then slipped into his slightly damp hair and gently brushed it aside, her movements slow and deliberate, clearly carrying a hint of malicious teasing.
She lazily raised an eyebrow, her tone tinged with a teasing smugness: "You haven't even shown your skills yet, how many times have you done this already..."
Zhou Yue's eyes lit up at her words: "What do you mean by that, hmm? Are you questioning my abilities?"
Xia Zhiyao leaned against him, then suddenly seemed to remember something and chuckled softly, "When you were little, you were like a puppy, always following me around, I could never shake you off."
She paused, then slowly drew out her words, with a hint of something tantalizing: "Now she's even more like him, more clingy than when she was little."
Zhou Yue, who was already nestled behind her, was provoked by her words. He lazily raised his eyes to look at her and snorted, "You are the one."
He pointed to his neck, then to the corner of his lips, complaining and whining at the same time, "Look at me like this... Why do you bite people so much? You've bitten my lips until they bleed, how am I supposed to go to work tomorrow?"
Xia Zhiyao, who had been looking quite relaxed, immediately blushed when she heard him say that. She bit her lip, ignored him, and turned her head away, pretending to be calm.
Zhou Yue, however, had no intention of letting her off the hook. He whispered close to her ear, "But... leaving a mark is also a good thing."
His voice suddenly lowered, his tone lost its joking tone, slowed down, and his eyes became calmer: "At least I can be sure... this is not a dream."
He paused, his voice low and husky, as if afraid of disturbing the tenderness of the moment: "You don't know, I have so many dreams where you are standing in front of me, and I just want to speak when I wake up."
He whispered in her ear, his voice softening little by little: "Last night... was the first time in years that I felt like I was still alive."
After a moment, only the sound of their heartbeats and the distant car lights outside the window remained in the room.
Zhou Yue suddenly spoke, his voice still very low, as if afraid of disturbing this hard-won tenderness, "The Christmas holidays are just a few days away."
He whispered in her ear, his voice low and husky, with a hint of cautious expectation, "I can ask you to stay a few more days... to be with you."
He paused for a moment after speaking, then mustered his courage to continue: "Where do you want to go? Let's... go together."
Xia Zhiyao didn't answer immediately. She looked out the window, where the lights were like a tapestry, reflecting in her eyes. Her thoughts drifted away. After a few seconds, she softly hummed in agreement, her tone indifferent and devoid of emotion: "Anywhere is fine."
Zhou Yue's heart warmed, and he tightened his arms around her, holding her even closer. He spoke a beat faster, suppressing his barely suppressed excitement: "Really? You said it? Don't go back on your word."
Xia Zhiyao didn't turn around, but just smiled lightly. She raised her hand and grabbed his hand that was resting on her waist, their fingers intertwined. She said lazily, "What's there to regret? I've been playing with you for more than ten years, it's time for you to play with me."
Zhou Yue was about to ask, "How long do you plan to stay this time?"
But the words stuck in my throat, and I couldn't say them.
He looked down at her slender fingers, tightly clasped in his own, and suddenly he didn't dare to ask.
She said nothing, yet she understood everything; that was the gentlest answer she could give.
The New York sky was clear in the early morning, and the sunlight, like a thin veil, covered the unmelted first snow. The whole city seemed to have just awakened from a long night's dream, and everything quietly stretched out.
Xia Zhiyao stood on the street, wrapped in Zhou Yue's down jacket. The jacket, which originally belonged to men, looked a bit too big on her shoulders, but instead made her originally neat and cold temperament more vulnerable and languid.
Her long pink hair was casually tied into a ponytail, with a few strands falling beside her cheeks. When the sunlight shone down, her hair shimmered with a soft, warm glow.
Zhou Yue turned his head to look at her, a smile playing on his lips, his voice tinged with a hint of teasing: "That's rare. Aren't you the most particular about your outfit? This one... makes you look like a college student skipping class."
Xia Zhiyao snorted, too lazy to respond, and buried her face in the high collar of her down jacket, her voice muffled, with a hint of awkward stubbornness: "It's fine, it's warm."
She took a deep breath, her nostrils filled with his scent—clean, warm, mixed with the smell of his skin and the coolness of tobacco, familiar and addictive. She closed her eyes, letting that sense of peace seep into her bones in the morning light.
Zhou Yue stood beside her, his gaze falling on her slightly red ear tips. His eyes were so gentle they could melt snow. He thought that at this moment, she was the most tender person he had ever seen in his life.
The cold wind continued to blow, sweeping across the street and lifting a few strands of hair from her temple. He didn't speak, but took a step forward and quietly took her hand in his palm. He lowered his eyes, and his voice also became soft: "Don't go out dressed so lightly next time."
Xia Zhiyao smiled slightly, didn't look up, and just gave a soft "hmm".
The wind was still blowing, and the snow on the street was slowly melting. The sunlight shone on them, gradually dispelling the remaining chill.
They stood in the morning light of the city, just like the unfinished farewell three years ago, only this time, they finally drew closer again.
The Apple Store lights fell on Xia Zhiyao's profile, outlining her clear and soft facial features. She stood quietly in front of the display stand, looking down and scrolling through the screen, as always creating her own quiet space, remaining unmoved despite the surging crowd around her.
That sense of alienation was innate, but it was also cultivated within her.
Zhou Yue stood beside her, his gaze gentle. The tenderness from last night's snowstorm still lingered on his fingertips, but she seemed to have sealed away that warmth, withdrawing all remaining heat, without even letting out a breath.
Her calmness at that moment gave him a sudden, unsettling feeling: Had he ever truly possessed her? Or was it just a series of attempts to get close, only to be gently rejected time and time again?
He stood beside her, yet it was as if he stood outside of time, watching her serene, independent, and distant, like an illusion too beautiful to be real.
Just then, Xia Zhiyao suddenly looked up, raised an eyebrow, and waved her phone in front of him. Her tone was casual, yet contained a hint of probing: "White or pink?"
Zhou Yue was slightly taken aback, then took half a step closer, his body subtly tilting as he looked down at the two phones in her hand, one white and one pink.
"Everything is fine. But... pink goes with your hair."
Before he could finish speaking, a female shop assistant who was tidying up packages nearby suddenly leaned over with a smile, her tone light and cheerful, joking with a typical New York accent: "Girl, that pink phone was made for your hair. You'd be a walking Instagram post."
Xia Zhiyao was taken aback when someone interrupted her. She turned around instinctively and saw the girl smiling at her. The smile was sincere and natural, as if she were praising an acquaintance.
Before she could react, Zhou Yue had already taken out his credit card from his coat pocket, handed it to the clerk, and said crisply, "We'll take this one. Please put it on my card."
Xia Zhiyao paused for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly, and blurted out instinctively, "Wait a second, I'll pay for it myself."
Zhou Yue raised an eyebrow, his expression unchanged, but a half-smile appeared on his lips: "By yourself? You don't have any cash or cards on you right now."
She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but then suddenly choked up and could only mutter softly, "I have it in my hotel room."
Looking at her awkward yet stubborn expression, Zhou Yue's eyes welled up with laughter like a tide. He didn't respond, but turned to instruct the clerk to settle the bill. His movements were swift and efficient, and he had no intention of letting her pay at all.
After signing, he took back the card, casually tucked it away, and then reached out to ruffle her hair. It was a natural familiarity, unassuming yet carrying an irresistible intimacy.
"Can you live without a cell phone?" He paused, his tone nonchalant, but with a hint of barely concealed smugness: "No big deal. I'm a Wall Street elite, I can afford an iPhone."
His tone was too relaxed and casual, making buying a phone sound like a trivial matter, even with a hint of doting pride, proud that he was taking care of her at this moment.
Xia Zhiyao lowered her head, remained silent for a moment, and finally said softly, "I'll give you the cash when I get back to the hotel."
Zhou Yue chuckled upon hearing this, leaned closer to her, and whispered in her ear, "Do you really have to be so calculating with me?"
His tone was extremely soft, with his usual slow cadence, yet every word pierced to the bone, like a hand tentatively pulling down the defenses in her heart to see if they had loosened even an inch.
She didn't answer, but turned her face away, bit her lip, her eyes still stubborn, but the uncontrollable curve of her lips... ultimately gave her away.
Zhou Yue stared at her and said softly, "I'll pick you up after get off work tonight, and we'll have dinner."
He paused, then added casually, yet with an understated yet unquestionable line drawn in his gentle tone: "Remember, don't mention paying me back again, okay?"
Xia Zhiyao softly said "Okay". As soon as Xia Zhiyao entered the hotel, the receptionist greeted her with a smile and handed her a crumpled plastic bag.
"Ms. Xia, a Chinese lady brought in this coat for you last night. She left a note, in Chinese."
(Ms. Xia, a Chinese lady found your coat last night and left a note in Chinese.)
Xia Zhiyao took it subconsciously.
“She said she found it nearby, and there was a hotel business card in the pocket, so she brought it straight here for you,” the waiter added.
She looked down at the dress; it was indeed hers, crumpled into a ball, its edges wrinkled and covered in dust, as if it had been abandoned in some corner of the street for too long, losing its shape and dignity.
Her throat tightened, but she still managed to ask, "What about the phone?"
"Sorry, she said she only found the coat. The phone might still be somewhere else."
She nodded without saying anything more and took the note:
I've delivered your coat to the hotel reception, but I can't find your phone; it might still be somewhere else. I'm sorry I couldn't help you further. You can contact me on WeChat: xxxxxx —Lydia Lin
Xia Zhiyao stared at the line of text, still wondering to herself: How did she figure out that this coat was Chinese? There was no name or tag.
As she was thinking, she subconsciously rummaged through her pockets, and the next second, a pack of Heart-to-Heart tissues slid out from it.
She paused for a moment, then chuckled softly, a hint of self-mockery mixed with a touch of ironic fate. Well, now it makes sense.
“It seems that what I’ve lost…” she murmured, as if talking to herself, or as if trying to convince herself, “is at least one thing that will come back on its own.”
She pushed open the door, stood still for a moment, as if slowly withdrawing from the snowy night and the noise, until her breathing became steady, before turning and walking towards the bathroom.
As soon as the light came on, the tiles reflected a cold white light, making the whole space bright yet silent, so quiet that you could almost hear your own heartbeat. She stood in front of the sink, her gaze passing over the clean mirror and fixed on her slightly pale face.
Familiar yet strange, the woman in the mirror seemed to have changed her appearance; several faint red marks suddenly appeared on her neck, standing out starkly against her fair skin.
She paused for a moment, then slowly raised her hand, her fingertips gently touching the marks. The instant her fingertips brushed against them, the heat, the panting, the uncontrolled force seemed to awaken all at once, as clear as if it had just happened.
His kiss last night carried an almost suppressed desire, like a caged beast breaking free of its restraints—fierce, real, and undisguised.
She didn't dodge; instead, she hugged him. That action, now that she thinks about it, is almost unbearable to look at. How could she have responded to him so unreservedly?
She closed her eyes, but couldn't stop the images from flashing through her mind. She should have turned and left long ago, but at that moment she succumbed so completely.
She shouldn't be like this.
She was used to precise calculations and to assessing all risks in advance, but last night, she went crazy and tore up all the rules she had set for herself.
Now, the night has faded, and reason has returned, but her heart feels as if a piece has been hollowed out.
She looked at herself in the mirror; the glaring red mark was like evidence of a dream she couldn't wake from. Her fingertips pressed against her neck, and she whispered, "Zhou Yue..."
But the next second, she suddenly remembered three years ago, also in New York.
A note from the author:
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