Chapter 115: 039 Ah Zheng 6
After gently touching her lips, she heard him whisper in her ear, "Do you know what this means?"
She was stunned.
Then he said, "What about this?"
Then she felt a soft, cold sensation coming over her, slowly, slowly, gently, slowly kissing her lips. She knelt on the quilt blankly as he leaned over her. She still kept a distance from him, but she could clearly feel the warmth of his palm and fingertips touching her cheek, which was slightly colder than his lips. When his eyelids drooped and he tilted his head slightly, his eyelashes gently scratching her cheek, she suddenly realized -
He is kissing her!
Her body stiffened, and like a wild animal instinctively resisting the invasion of a strange species into its territory, she also instinctively wanted to avoid his kiss.
Sensing that she was trying to resist and pull back, he put his right arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards his body; his left hand supported her neck, which was cold because her hair had just been shaved, and his fingertips dug into her soft hair. He applied a little force with his palm to deepen the kiss.
Leaning forward, she had to rest her hands on his shoulders for balance. In this strange, almost kiss-seeking position, Xie Zeyi pressed down on her again and again, lightly, then hard; unquestionable, leaving no room for negotiation, with the tyrannical, overbearing aggression of a male. Everything she wanted to say was muffled in the kiss, the only sound she could make barely audible, as soft as a mosquito's. Her mind went blank, her heart pounded, and her breathing became increasingly erratic.
She pushed his chest with her elbow; the disparity in strength made her almost spasm.
After a long time, Xie Zeyi's lips left her cheek, his left hand still naturally supporting her back and neck; he lowered his head slightly, rested her forehead on his forehead, and rubbed her nose with his nose with great affection.
She had been kissed so hard that her head was dizzy. The night wind, with a hint of moisture and the scent of plants, rustled into the house and onto the two of them.
His lips were pale, his eyes were downcast, and his expression was either indifferent or lonely. She heard his voice echoing in the room, like a low and lonely cello.
"Miss San, you don't know how much I like you."
As he spoke, his fingertips gently stroked the strands of hair on her head and the outer shell of her ear.
Xie Zeyi stared into her eyes, his fingers sliding down her earlobe to her lips. He used his thumb to gently caress her lips, which had turned slightly red from his kiss. A clear light in his eyes flickered slightly with his serious gaze, and he whispered to her, "How much do you like me?"
She looked into his eyes. They reflected a faint, not-too-bright light, like a few stars on a midsummer night, leaving her momentarily bewildered. She couldn't understand when he had, as he claimed, come to like her so deeply. Was it even possible? Even if it were, she couldn't find a suitable explanation to justify his affection. She should have dismissed these words as a illogical plot point in a relationship, a casual quip from a playboy; but now, she was seriously searching for the possibility, trying to convince herself to answer him.
She must have liked him a little, right? This little bit of affection made her let down her guard in front of him, made her angry and regretful about what he was about to face, made her not resist even the slightest contact with him that went beyond the norm... But when she realized that this affection and dependence had already sprouted, all the efforts she could make for him were not enough to compete with the fate he was about to face.
Let him have his way, time is running out, she thought.
Is it like? Suddenly she was confused again.
"Mr. Xie..." She had just opened her mouth when Xie Zeyi's grip around her neck and back suddenly tightened with immense force. He slipped his hand through the blanket beneath her calves, lifted her up, blanket and all, and placed her on his lap. He lowered his head and kissed her fiercely. She could smell his scent, tinged with the familiar aroma of white orchids. This time, she could feel his lips and teeth forcefully asserting his sovereignty. He didn't have time; he didn't want to hear a disappointing answer from her, so he silenced her with his actions.
She was kissed unconscious and felt the light outside the window flickering. She didn't know if it was because of the cloudy sky that the moonlight could not appear often. She felt as if there was a naughty lamplighter who was playfully playing with the street lights of the entire city.
——
Gradually, she fell asleep in his arms, and after he stopped, he seemed to have been sitting there, holding her in his arms with excessive tranquility and affection, watching over her sleep all night. When the sky was slightly bright in the east, he heard very light footsteps outside the door, so he gently put her on the bed with the quilt, pushed the door open and left without waking her.
A young man was already waiting on a wooden chair in the corridor outside the ward.
The sound of a car parking upstairs came from downstairs. He paused, turned toward the young man, and asked, "Can I borrow a light?"
Yan Sang took off the slightly rusty lighter, handed it to him, and then looked up and asked, "Can I borrow a cigarette?"
Xie Zeyi lit a cigarette and held it between his lips, then returned the lighter and the remaining bag of cigarettes to him. He turned around, opened the corridor window, and looked downstairs. Zhu Ercha was getting out of the Ford car and looking up at him.
Yan Sang also stood beside him, looked at Zhu Ercha for a while, and said, "You can't take good care of her."
"Miss San can live well on her own." Xie Zeyi took a long drag on his cigarette, slowly exhaled, and turned to ask, "When did Mr. Si's ship leave?"
"I can't find any reason to give up on her," he said. "Until then, I won't leave."
Xie Zeyi burst out laughing, "I actually envy you so much."
Two people, one is too persistent and lives in a poetic kingdom of his own creation.
The other was too lucid.
Because of this sentence, Yan Sang stared at him intently until the British troops came up from downstairs, watching everything this soldier loyal to imperialism did in those few minutes.
He first took out a letter from a pocket on his military uniform - when she was angry, he left the hospital and returned to Ferguson Road, where he laboriously wrote the letter for several hours - folded it and placed it at the head of her bed.
Then he picked a still fresh white orchid from the vase - when he came back at night, he was lucky enough to meet an old lady selling white orchids on her way home from the market at night, so he bought all the remaining flowers; some of them were placed in the living bone china plate on Fu Kaisen Road, and the others were placed in her ward - one of them, which had not yet bloomed, was placed on the letter to her.
His superior had already arrived on the third floor and was waiting for him outside the ward with a solemn expression.
He only glanced back.
Then, Yan Sang witnessed with his own eyes the "Bai Hua," disrespected by his father, the Zoetse of uncertain lineage and identity—he removed the epaulettes and imperial medals that symbolized military honor, unbuckled his uniform belt, and removed his army jacket. Then, he took off Febeda's golden key and gently placed it around her neck. After this series of actions, he had nothing left. He knelt on one knee beside her bed and bent down to kiss the back of her hand.
This scene suddenly shocked Yan Sang and was deeply engraved in his mind for many years.
He couldn't bear to watch any longer.
The officers waiting outside seemed moved by the scene as well. However, it seemed as if everyone subconsciously remained silent, no one urged them, and no one interrupted them.
He turned around and stood in the corner, lighting a cigarette Xie Zeyi gave him, but did not smoke it.
The ashes slowly fell from his hands.
Xie Zeyi walked out of the ward without hesitation and handed the military uniform and instructions to the lieutenant he was most familiar with.
The lieutenant finally called him with red eyes: "Sir."
Watching Xie Zeyi leave with that group of soldiers, it seemed like a century had passed for him.
Yan Sang suddenly came to his senses and ran after him. Before they got in the car, he called out Xie Zeyi's name in Chinese.
Xie Zeyi turned around and looked at him, waiting for him to speak.
He recalled the look Chu Wang had given him in the Cathay Hotel. She, someone so slow-witted, could one day become as sharp as he was, shaken to the point of losing her soul by a glance...
"Mr. Xie," Yan Sang looked at him steadily and said firmly in Chinese, "I'm afraid you've made a mistake."
Everyone looked at him in confusion.
He took a breath and continued, "Even if you bear the sin and are condemned by the souls of yourself and your compatriots for the rest of your life, you must continue to live, Mr. Xie. Because apart from you, no one else can take good care of her in this life."
After saying this, he saw Xie Zeyi's expression, which changed from confusion to emotion, then shock to red eyes. He stared at him for a while, then turned and got into the car.
Yan Sang finally breathed a sigh of relief.
These words were not spoken to Xie Zeyi, but to himself.
He still didn't give up on her, but he knew that he had lost to Xie Zeyi.
The moment he saw Xie Zeyi kneeling down in front of her bed, he almost understood that this Baihua soldier would never give up on her.
This is a poem that others cannot see.
Only her, only her.
He is indestructible and his tenderness is like water.
It is his continent, his fascination.
He is her city fortress: he is willing to die for her on the battlefield, and he is also willing to live for her and accompany her into the next century.
How do you tell him to give up on her?
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