A Tattoo That Can't Be Removed - Chapter 2

“What are you thinking about?”

Warm steam enveloped me, and I felt a gentle nip on my earlobe.

“Are you part dog?” The sudden noise of the hairdryer drowned out my words.

Wei Yan hadn’t put on a shirt yet and was looking at me with a triumphant expression.

I couldn’t help but glance at the tattoo again, pondering for a moment before asking him,

“When did you get it?”

The hairdryer was loud, but he must have heard me. He glanced my way but didn’t answer.

I raised my voice and asked again.

This time, he turned off the hairdryer, walked over to the sofa to grab a T-shirt, still vague in his response.

“Do your parents mind that I have a tattoo? I can get it removed over the weekend.”

Yes, Wei Yan and I were at the stage of discussing meeting the parents and marriage, but that wasn’t what I wanted to know.

“You’re acting strange today.”

He hugged me from behind over the sofa, the scent of lemon shampoo filling my nose, masking the faint tobacco smell he sometimes carried.

I didn’t like the smell of smoke, so he never smoked in front of me.

We were silent for a while, and I was the first to look up.

I loved his eyes, like obsidian, dark and deep. I could see myself clearly in them, and then he leaned down to kiss me.

Our breaths mingled, the atmosphere turning intimate.

The phone rang, breaking the romantic moment.

It was his phone, ringing persistently. Without looking, he silenced it and pushed me onto the sofa, ready to continue.

The phone rang again.

“You should answer it,” I suggested, worried it might be work-related.

He clicked his tongue softly, reluctantly pinching my chin for a quick kiss before picking up the phone.

Sometimes, it’s strange how accurate a woman’s intuition can be.

The moment he answered the call, I knew the person on the other end was someone different, someone significant to him.

Even though his demeanor turned icy, even though he displayed a mocking expression I’d never seen before.

The person on the other end seemed to be talking incessantly, while he listened quietly, eventually spitting out a curt “Get lost.”

He hung up, eyes downcast, leaving us in a silence that made it hard for me to find the words.

“Get some sleep.”

He ruffled my hair and headed towards the balcony.

That meant he was going to smoke.

He probably didn’t realize that after that, I watched him through the glass door of the balcony for a long time.

The cigarette glowed red intermittently as he leaned against the railing, his silhouette tall and slender.

The city’s lights flickered in the distance, and I guessed he was nearly through a pack before I turned back to the bedroom.

Not long after, he came in.

He seemed to lean down towards me, and I opened my eyes to look at him.

He was close, the warm yellow of the bedside lamp softening his sharp features, his amber eyes like the hues of a sunset.

“Not asleep yet?”

His voice was a bit hoarse, more alluring than before.

“You smell like smoke, Wei Yan.”

“Does it bother you?”

He seemed to twitch his nose slightly, then moved a bit further away from me.

I nodded, and he quietly lowered his gaze to me.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

It was odd; he wouldn’t usually ask such a question.

I tried to attribute it to him worrying that I might mind the smell on him.

But there was another suspicion, lurking deep within my heart, that suddenly made me wary.

Tentatively, I told him, “No.”

It was followed by a long silence.

“Alright,” he finally said, gentle yet restrained.

I couldn’t decipher the emotion in his words, but suddenly felt a void inside me.

His action of turning off the light was decisive, plunging the room into darkness, my heart sinking with his footsteps.

Until finally, he reached the door.

As he closed it, he took away my only source of light.