Book 2: The Infinite Heart
Chapter 7 – My Longing Heart
Everything was spinning.
The dark red curtains were spinning, the ivory bed was spinning, the flying dragon and dancing phoenix caisson[1] was spinning, the dimly flashing pearl drapes were spinning.
Yuan Zhaoxu’s beautiful face that would make both gods and men angry, was also spinning.
Meng Fuyao squinted her eyes, attempting to grasp that most beautiful thing in the turbulently spinning pile of random chaos, yet her whole body was limp and unresponsive. She grabbed a couple times but failed to hold onto anything. Regretfully sighing, she muttered, “… fuck, it’s like this every time.”
The vague sound of shifting robes came from nearby, and a light fragrance floated over. It seemed as if a person sat down beside her, his voice deep yet warm. “Every time like what?”
A finger like slightly cold jade extended out, little by little brushing away the strands of hair stuck on her face. Following that a lightly aromatic piece of washcloth, moist with warm water, gently rubbed and wiped on her face. The temperature was just right, and the originally sticky skin from her sweat after drinking turned fresh and clean. Chilly midnight wind blew past, and every pore on her skin comfortably opened wide, enjoying the soothing feeling. Meng Fuyao let out a satisfied sigh, grabbing onto the hand that was just about to move away with some clinginess. She affectionately rubbed the palm while whispering, “… what I want, I cannot want …”
“What do you want?” The sound was steeped inside a blurry dreamscape, even more entrancing than the dream, making one want to wallow inside it.
“I want …” Meng Fuyao softly said something. She was extremely sleepy, while her drunken mouth also whispered unclearly. Those words were said with indecipherable vagueness, making the person beside her have no choice but to lean his body down by her ear, wanting to hear more clearly.
With this leaning down, he would have come close behind her ear; yet just as he did so, the originally sideways Meng Fuyao who was facing the inside suddenly turned her body. Her face turned over, precisely delivering up a pair of delicate and beautiful red lips.
Lips and lips connected, rubbed together, in that unwitting instant. It was as if the sky suddenly rumbled with stunning electric arcs – lightning flashed in that moment, crossing thousands of years crossing time and space crossing life and death, arriving at a silent lake that had long before been buried inside the heart. Like a pearl dropping into a rippling heart, that flash created crystal clear, jade-like waves.
That kind of flavor, soft, wavering, calm yet tempestuous at the same time.
Yuan Zhaoxu was frozen for a second, but then slightly relaxed. Smiling he leaned down and extended his finger, lightly stroking Meng Fuyao’s exquisitely smooth yet burning hot cheek. His fingertip lightly traced her pretty appearance, outlining her delicate contours, eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips …
The girl below was still unconsciously murmuring. That moment of lip contact just now made her feel seemingly warm and pleasant, while Yuan Zhaoxu’s lightly stroking fingers made her feel slightly ticklish. Suddenly, she gave out a light laugh while extending her two arms. With a grab she pulled on Yuan Zhaoxu’s neck, and her pearly teeth closed down on his lips, softly biting.
After biting she was still not done. She stretched out her hand to pinch Yuan Zhaoxu’s face, closing her eyes while pulling. As she pulled she muttered, “Hey … why do you always win? How boring, why can’t you lose something to me for once?”
Yuan Zhaoxu, being bitten and pulled on by her, suddenly had rippling shadows fluctuate through his eyes. His jade white finger touched near the side of his mouth, where his lips were bitten red, and the contrast made his lips seem even more alluringly red like early cherry blossoms. Only, because his cheek was being stretched by this girl, his appearance was ruined a little. With a half-smile he glanced at the drunk and gullible Meng Fuyao. After a while he softly said, “I can.”
“What …?”
Yuan Zhaoxu’s smile deepened, yet he only smiled and didn’t respond. Lightly pulling off Meng Fuyao’s demonic claws, he covered her with a blanket, stared at her for a while, then softly opened his mouth.
Outside the window were scattered plum flowers and the faint moon. From the top of the fake mountain flowed down gurgling spring water, pouring into the crushed jade pond, while moonlight hovered inside the rippling pool, beautiful like a serene woman.
The night was tranquil like so. The night was pure like so.
Yuan Zhaoxu’s voice was quiet like the midnight breeze that whistled through the window gaps, yet was soft as well.
“One day, you will know the answer.”
Footnotes Caisson ceiling, a type of ceiling mural or decoration common in temples or palaces. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caisson_(Asian_architecture)