Chapter 11: A Kiss That Stirs the Soul

Zhang Cheng’s heart hammered as though it might burst from his chest. His feet seemed nailed to the floor.

Should he go to her?

Reason told him no. Zhou Mingyuan’s brutal warning still rang in his ears. Yet desire kept pulling him forward. Su Qing was right there in her black silk nightdress, her eyes full of teasing invitation, even her breath sweet.

In the end, desire won. He lifted one foot, then the other, and made his way to the bed. His legs felt weak, and sweat gathered in his palms.

Su put down her phone and looked up at him. Her expression held amusement, helplessness and a trace of anticipation. “Sit down. Let’s have a proper talk.”

He sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. She leaned closer and asked, “Do you want to share the bed with me?”

“No. I came in for bedding. The blanket in the living room is thin, so I thought I’d make a warmer bed on the floor.”

“I was going to let you sleep here, but if you don’t want to, go and make your bed.” She sounded a little regretful.

His eyes lit up. “I-I do want to sleep here…”

“If you only want one night, you can come to bed with me now. We can enjoy a wonderful night together.” Her voice grew softer, her eyes full of anticipation. She couldn’t forget the hotel either. Remembering his warmth and embrace made her heart beat faster.

Then she changed course. “But if you want more nights—a month, six months, even a year—you’ll have to wait tonight.”

“Why?” Zhang frowned and looked into her eyes. “After what happened last night, what difference would one more time make?”

“This is our first night living together. If we can’t resist on the first night, we won’t be able to resist later.” Su sighed. “It would be hard to hide in the way we spoke and behaved. Zhou Mingyuan is shrewd and observant; he’d find out. We’d both lose our jobs. If he got angry enough, he might punish us even worse, and these good days would be over.”

“Su Qing, what if we found jobs somewhere else? Could we be together?” Zhang’s eyes shone with hope. “I was your first. In my heart you’re pure and wonderful. I really like you. I’ll love you and treat you well.”

She was a gifted graduate of Huaqing University. He thought she could find another job paying thirty thousand yuan a month, while he could continue earning six thousand as a driver. Together they’d have nearly forty thousand: enough to rent a better place in the city, save for a few years and perhaps buy a small home and a car on credit.

“Men as innocent as you are exactly what I’m afraid of.” She gave him a vexed, helpless look. “If you were a playboy who wanted only a physical relationship, I wouldn’t worry about living with you. You wouldn’t fall in love or let anything show, and I’m confident I could fool Zhou.”

She didn’t bother arguing with his naive hopes. A driver earning six thousand could barely support himself. How could he give her the life she wanted? What she desired was his good looks and his extraordinary talent in bed. Since she had given him her first time, she was willing to spend longer with him. Otherwise, she would have resigned rather than move into this old apartment.

I was too naive, Zhang thought, his chest heavy with hurt. The woman he admired was willing to remain intimate with him, but not to become his girlfriend, much less marry him. He blamed himself for being unable to provide what she wanted: a house, a car and savings. He had none of them.

Forcing down his disappointment, he put on a grin. “I’m a playboy. A terrible one. I definitely won’t fall in love with you. I just want to sleep with you.”

Su couldn’t help laughing. “You think saying so makes it true? You’re twenty-eight, but you’re innocent and honest. You can’t even look me in the eye when you lie. You’re nothing like a playboy.”

“I really am! I’m not lying!” Zhang raised a hand as though taking an oath.

“Then tell me how.”

“I… I like several beautiful women at once. I want to sleep with all of them, including you.”

“You have the thoughts, but not the ability. A real playboy can lie without changing expression or missing a beat, and he doesn’t get jealous. If you can watch Zhou Mingyuan and me being close without acting differently or feeling hurt, then come tell me you’re a playboy. You’re not there yet.”

Zhang wanted to insist that he wouldn’t be jealous. But he knew how it had felt whenever Zhou brought Su flowers or took her to dinner: something heavy had lodged in his chest. Now that he’d been her first, he felt even more possessive. Seeing them together would hurt more, and he couldn’t pretend otherwise.

“I’ll make your bed.”

Seeing she’d convinced him, Su got up, walked barefoot to the wardrobe and took out bedding and blankets. She crouched and carefully spread them on the floor.

“In the bedroom? Not the living room?” Zhang stared.

“The living room is too small. And the door is broken anyway, so there’s no difference. We’ve already slept together. I’m not worried.”

Only a small night-light remained on, filling the room with warm yellow light. Lying on the floor, Zhang could hear Su’s breathing, softer now, and smell the faint scent of her hair. When he turned his head, he could see her on the bed, dark hair spread over the pillow, the curve of her shoulder gentle in the light.

Desire still churned in him, but reason held it back. If he had a home, a car and savings—if he were rich and powerful like Zhou—could he stand beside her openly, hold her and tell everyone she was his? Could he have the tenderness that didn’t belong to him?

But he had nothing. He couldn’t even offer her a secure home.

He tossed and turned, unable to sleep, Su filling his thoughts. Finally he sat up, reached for her on the bed and kissed her passionately.