Chapter 427 - 241: Yixia: Next year, will I be celebrating the New Year at the manor too?

Chapter 427: Chapter 241: Yixia: Next year, will I be celebrating the New Year at the manor too?

The lamps on the lawn lit up one by one, casting an amber glow that draped over the grass like a thin veil.

A night breeze drifted over from the lake, carrying with it a hint of moisture and the lingering scent of fireworks. It was cool and crisp, but not biting.

Jiang Sifan and Wen Wan walked side by side, their hands still linked.

It wasn’t a tight, interlocking grip, but a loose hold—fingers resting on fingers, palm pressed to palm.

His palm was large enough to envelop hers completely. He could feel its warmth seeping through, gentle and steady, like cupping a mug of hot water in the winter.

Wen Wan kept her head down, watching the path at her feet as she walked with slow, deliberate steps.

Her heart was racing—THUMP-THUMP-THUMP—sounding exceptionally loud in the quiet of the night.

She was afraid he would hear it, yet she was also afraid he wouldn’t.

She stole a glance at him. The lamplight softened the lines of his profile. He had long eyelashes, a high-bridged nose, and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

She quickly lowered her head again, her face burning.

Neither of them spoke, but neither wanted to let go.

Jiang Sifan’s thumb brushed lightly against the back of her hand—an unconscious, unintentional movement.

Her skin was smooth as silk, and as his finger grazed it, he could feel the fine, downy hairs on the back of her hand.

Her hand was so small, holding it felt like grasping a tuft of cotton—light and incredibly soft.

His heart hammered a little faster. He swallowed, wanting to say something, but swallowed the words back down before they could escape.

He didn’t know what to say.

’Your hand is so soft’?

’Too forward.’

’I like you’?

’He didn’t dare.’

Jiang Sifan had just made a promise to He Lingyi. He couldn’t.

When Wen Wan felt his thumb brush against the back of her hand, it was as if a jolt of electricity shot through her, a tingling numbness that traveled from her fingers all the way to her shoulder.

Her fingers curled instinctively, closing around his.

It wasn’t intentional, just a physical instinct.

She felt his fingers tighten in response, his grip becoming firmer.

Her eyes began to burn, but she held back the tears.

She didn’t want to cry, didn’t want him to see her cry.

She was afraid he’d think she was too fragile, afraid he’d see her as a burden, afraid he’d let go of her hand.

They walked most of the way around the lawn, and when they passed by the lake, its surface was a bright mirror reflecting the moonlight.

Wen Wan stopped and looked out at the lake, letting out a soft breath that bloomed into a small white cloud before her eyes.

"Class President," she said, her voice so soft it was as if she were afraid of startling something.

"Hm?"

"Your... your hand is so warm."

Jiang Sifan paused for a moment, then smiled. "Your hand is so cold."

Wen Wan lowered her head. The corners of her mouth tilted up for a second before she quickly forced them down.

She didn’t dare let him see her smile, afraid he would think she was too easily pleased.

But in her heart, it felt as if flowers were blooming, one after another, blossoming from her chest to her fingertips, and from her fingertips to her cheeks.

She didn’t know what this feeling was, but she knew she liked it.

She liked the feeling of him holding her hand, of him walking beside her, of him saying her name.

They walked a while longer, and the lamps on the lawn began to go out one by one.

In the distance, Old Luo pressed a remote, leaving only the two large lamps at the entrance to the main building on.

As the surroundings darkened, the moon seemed to grow even brighter.

"Class President," Wen Wan said again.

"Hm?"

"Will you... will you hold my hand like this in the future, too?"

Jiang Sifan faltered in his step and turned to look at her.

The moonlight fell upon her face, and her eyes were shining, as if waiting for an answer.

His heart softened, as if something had gently nudged it.

"I will," he answered.

Wen Wan lowered her head, saying nothing more.

Her hand stirred in his palm. She slid her fingers between his, lacing them together.

His heart began to race again.

He didn’t let go, nor did he speak.

He simply tightened his grip, holding her hand a little more firmly than before.

Inside, Liu Shiting stood before the floor-to-ceiling window on the second floor, a glass of water in her hand. It had long gone cold, but she hadn’t taken a single sip.

Her gaze was fixed on the two figures on the lawn.

Jiang Sifan and Wen Wan. Holding hands, walking slowly across the lawn.

Her fingers tightened around the glass, her knuckles turning white.

They were holding hands, strolling under the moonlight, walking so slowly, standing so close.

A sudden panic seized her heart, like something inside her was plummeting down, down, down, with no end in sight.

She set down the glass and took a deep breath.

’I can’t panic.’ She’d known since she was a child that panic was useless.

Her mother had taught her to stay calm when things went wrong, to find a solution, never to panic.

Her mother also said a girl needs to have a sense of decorum—never be too forward, but never too passive, either.

’Let him see your good qualities, but don’t let him think you’re just trying to flatter him.’

She thought for a moment and decided she would go to him.

Not now. After he came back inside.

Jiang Sifan and Wen Wan walked on the lawn for a long time, strolling from the lake to the main building and back again.

They held hands the entire time, neither letting go.

Wen Wan’s hand gradually grew warm, no longer cool to the touch.

Her fingers shifted slightly between his, and he squeezed her hand a little tighter.

She shifted them again, and again he tightened his grip. She suddenly felt an urge to laugh, but suppressed it.

When they arrived back at the entrance of the main building, Wen Wan stopped and looked at him.

"Class President, let’s go back inside. It’s cold out here."

Jiang Sifan nodded. "Okay."

He released her hand, and she tucked it into her pocket, her fingertips still holding the warmth from his palm.

She kept her head down and followed him into the house.