Chapter 238: Stay In Your Room

Qinghe had to let go of Zhiyi’s hand to stand, and she watched him cross the sitting room with a smile that made him want to hurry back.

He closed the door gently, leaving the sounds from the corridor on the other side, then turned to find her moving the book off the sofa.

She placed it on the table and tucked the bookmark farther between the pages. The familiar care she took with it steadied him.

This was still Zhiyi, who had spent weeks arguing with him about a fictional detective and stealing the cushion he preferred whenever she arrived first.

Only now she was waiting for him to kiss her.

When Qinghe sat down, she turned toward him and rested her hand against his chest. He covered it with his own for a moment, feeling her fingers move beneath his.

"You’re smiling," Zhiyi said, looking up at him. Her own smile grew when he tried and failed to stop. "I like it. You usually look away before I can see properly."

"I’m finding it difficult to believe I get to do this again," Qinghe admitted. He brushed her hair back from her cheek, letting his fingers linger near her ear. "I thought about kissing you for so long that I’m still catching up."

Zhiyi leaned into his touch. She didn’t tell him he should have asked sooner or try to explain what had changed for her.

Instead, she moved closer until her knee pressed against his thigh and lifted her face toward him.

Qinghe kissed her without the hesitation that had held him back before. Her hand curled into his shirt, and he slipped his arm around her as she settled against him.

He had held her through examinations and helped her move when pain made every change of position difficult. He knew the weight of her hand on his shoulder, but he had never felt her draw him closer simply because she wanted him there.

He lost track of how long they stayed that way.

When she shifted, he moved with her, following the gentle pull of her fingers until she was comfortable against the cushions. Her hair caught beneath his hand, and he stopped to free it, apologizing softly against her cheek.

Zhiyi laughed and reached behind her head to help him.

"You can put your hand back," Zhiyi told him once her hair was clear. She guided his arm around her again, then rested her palm against his jaw. "I liked where it was."

Qinghe kissed the corner of her mouth before returning to her lips. This time, she met him eagerly enough that he forgot what he had meant to say.

They never finished the next Chapter that afternoon.

When they finally opened the door, Zhiyi took the book with her and left Qinghe standing beside the sofa, touching his mouth and smiling like a fool.

Over the months that followed, he learned that she would sometimes kiss him in the middle of a sentence.

She did it when he arrived with their book, when he found her alone in the kitchen, and once while he was explaining why he couldn’t possibly skip ahead to see whether her guess was right.

He also learned that she liked being kissed without having to ask.

By the time they reached their second year at Xiling, she had a shelf of books in his room and a habit of leaving her cardigan across his chair.

Qinghe stopped putting it away after the third time she went looking for it. He liked finding it there when he came back.

The anniversary of her wedding fell shortly before the first full year of Heat ended.

They celebrated in the dining room, where Zeyu had spent the afternoon insisting that nobody look at the cake until he was finished.

Qinghe helped carry the dishes through and found Hanchuan standing behind Zhiyi’s chair, fastening the clasp of her necklace.

She wore a dress Qinghe hadn’t seen in months, and she tipped her head forward while her husband freed a strand of hair from the chain.

"You caught it again," Zhiyi told Hanchuan, reaching back to show him where. There was laughter in her voice, and Hanchuan bent to kiss the place beneath her ear before trying once more.

"Hold still and let me finish," Hanchuan murmured. His smile was visible when he straightened. "You keep turning around to check on me."

Qinghe set down the bowl he was carrying and watched Zhiyi turn anyway, lifting her face for another kiss.

Hanchuan gave it to her with one hand resting beneath her chin. He looked rested, his shoulders loose beneath his shirt, and Qinghe realized how long it had been since he had seen him fall asleep in a chair because he couldn’t bear to leave her bedside.

The meal lasted well beyond the time they usually finished.

Shichen brought out a drawing of the wedding reception, and Zeyu objected to the size of his ears until Jingwei leaned over to compare them.

Zhiyi laughed hard enough to put down her glass. Qinghe watched her wipe beneath one eye, then reach for Hanchuan’s hand beside her plate.

For a while, the only mention of the world outside came when Zeyu suggested they should have celebrated somewhere with a view.

Jingwei offered to put the entrance camera on the wall display, and Zhiyi told him she preferred looking at them.

After dinner, Qinghe carried plates into the kitchen while Hanchuan and Zhiyi remained at the table. He left them talking quietly, their hands still joined beside the folded drawing.

The cake had left crumbs across the counter, and he was wiping them into his palm when Zhiyi came in. She picked up a towel and began drying the glasses without asking whether he needed help.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" Qinghe asked. He passed her another glass, smiling when she inspected it for water spots. "Zeyu was worried you’d notice that the icing kept sliding."

"I noticed," Zhiyi replied, setting the glass aside. "I liked the cake anyway. I liked all of it."

She finished drying before putting down the towel, but she stayed beside him while he rinsed his hands. When he turned off the water, her fingers caught his sleeve.

"Hanchuan and I talked about something," Zhiyi said. She waited until Qinghe faced her fully, then took his damp hand between hers. "I wanted to ask you myself, but I wanted him to know first."

Qinghe looked toward the dining room, where Hanchuan was putting Shichen’s drawing back into its folder. His friend glanced up and met his eyes before returning to what he was doing.

Zhiyi drew Qinghe’s attention back with a gentle squeeze.

"I’d like to sleep beside you sometime," Zhiyi told him. Her voice was quiet, though she didn’t look away. "Would you want me to stay in your room tomorrow night?"