"Again and again, youth's last gossamer threads drift free...
"Quiet thoughts stir as leaves scatter and frost and snow hurry on..."
Only a sliver remained of the waning crescent. From the second floor, it seemed to hang above the persimmon tree.
Chen Shu hummed a song whose name he had forgotten, one with a touch of opera to it. He thought he sounded wonderful, full of feeling. Reveling in his own voice, he lit candles around the room, his good mood plain on his face.
Thump...
A stack of freshly washed bath towels landed on the bed.
Plop~
A small packet of slippery liquid followed.
Ning Qing sat at the edge of the bed, expressionless, stealing glances at him.
"You say longing~~
"Belongs to whom~~"
A shower of petals scattered across the bed, bringing a gentle fragrance.
Ning Qing glanced at them in silence. Those were flowers she had grown.
"Don't be nervous."
Chen Shu turned to her. "I'll be very Gentleness."
Ning Qing pressed her lips together. At last, she spoke, her voice as steady as ever. "You seem very practiced."
"That won't work."
As if he had seen through her little scheme, Chen Shu smiled and shook his head. "No matter what you say, I'm sleeping with you tonight."
Ning Qing pressed her lips together and fell silent.
Then Chen Shu pointed a finger—
With a click, the lights went out.
Only the Candlelight remained, flickering and casting indistinct shadows across the walls and curtains, wavering without end.
The residential complex was so quiet in the early morning.
The cicadas had yet to begin their song, and the city's noise could not reach this place. There was no clamor at all. The only sound was birdsong.
The room was chilly.
Chen Shu lay in bed, every inch