Chapter 16
After sending the message, Ji Ting informed Zhang Yang and grabbed her car keys, heading out. She drove to the supermarket downstairs from Tan Yucheng’s apartment complex, bought some meat and vegetables, and went upstairs to his place.
His apartment was mainly styled in shades of gray, with a cool tone and a faint scent of ebony wood. The balcony allowed the sunset to cast its light onto the floor as Ji Ting entered the kitchen.
She pushed a large bag of groceries onto the counter and absentmindedly opened the refrigerator. Not even a single egg was there this time; it seemed Xiao Yi knew he was busy and hadn’t bought groceries for him.
Ji Ting closed the refrigerator and started preparing the meal.
From sunset to darkness, Ji Ting cooked three dishes and a soup, placing them neatly on the dining table. She also took a bottle of whiskey from his wine cabinet and poured two glasses. While pouring, she heard a sound at the door. Tan Yucheng walked in, his arm draped in a black casual suit jacket, loosening his tie with his hand. He looked a bit tired around the eyes.
It seemed he had been busy these days.
He pulled off his tie and tossed it onto the sofa, casually unbuttoned his collar, revealing his Adam’s apple as he shrugged off his jacket.
Ji Ting glanced at him. “We can start eating.”
Tan Yucheng walked over, his long legs hooking a high stool as he sat down. “Smells good,” he remarked.
Ji Ting pushed the whiskey towards him and took a sip herself. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”
He picked up the whiskey, glancing at it. “Are you sure you want to drink?”
Ji Ting picked up a piece of beef with her chopsticks and put it in her mouth, teasingly raising an eyebrow. “Why can’t I drink?”
Tan Yucheng took a sip, giving her a sidelong glance. “You can drink. I’ll drink with you.”
Ji Ting smiled. “Who’s accompanying whom isn’t certain yet.”
Tan Yucheng snorted lightly.
They started eating under the halo of light above. Ji Ting lifted the bowl to drink soup, observing him through the faint steam. He ate steadily, and his expression was calm.
As he drank, his Adam’s apple moved slightly.
Ji Ting wondered.
He was dressed so neatly in a suit and tie; he probably hasn’t checked his Moments today.
After dinner, it was Tan Yucheng who tidied up the mess.
Feeling a bit full, Ji Ting sat cross-legged on the carpet. She picked up the remote and turned on the projector in his home. The projection slowly descended. Ji Ting leaned against the sofa, casually pressing buttons, watching the screen flicker.
Tan Yucheng dried his hands and walked out, sitting opposite her, while scrolling on his phone.
Ji Ting sat up straight, picked up two glasses, and brought over the whiskey they had earlier. She poured a glass for each of them.
Tan Yucheng didn’t look up. “We didn’t clear that level last time. You go online.”
He was referring to the game.
Ji Ting took a sip of her drink. “I’m on it.”
The whiskey at his place was from Ireland, smoother in taste with fruity aroma. Ji Ting was getting a bit addicted, one glass after another. Tan Yucheng glanced up, seeing her take another sip under the dim light, a subtle glint in her eyes.
“Getting drunk?” he asked.
Ji Ting swallowed and shook her head. “No.”
Tan Yucheng lazily leaned back on the single sofa, his tone playful, “Your tolerance has dropped quite a bit lately.”
Ji Ting paused, catching his drift.
He subtly teased her about the last time she got so drunk at the bar she almost threw up. She waved her hand lightly, “Nonsense, last time doesn’t count.”
Tan Yucheng’s eyebrow raised slightly.
Soft light from the projection behind them cast a gentle glow. Ji Ting raised the whiskey again, in the dim light pouring herself another glass. Seeing this, Tan Yucheng reached out and held her glass, saying, “Take it easy, it tastes good but it’s got a kick.”
Ji Ting couldn’t lift her glass, her tongue tingling with the fruity taste, urging her on, pulling her in. She looked at Tan Yucheng, pressed his shoulder, and said, “I haven’t had enough.”
Tan Yucheng raised his eyes.
Ji Ting almost half-kneeling, pressing him down, creating a kind of overbearing posture. Tan Yucheng stretched out a long leg, squinting slightly.
Their eyes locked.
For a moment, silence fell. There was a sense of tension in his eyes, perhaps due to their position, which created this tension. It was the first time Ji Ting looked at him like this, and because of the lighting, it felt like she had him cornered between herself and the sofa. Her expression was somewhat vacant, with images of Shu Xiao floating in her mind.
Under the influence of alcohol.
She wanted to ask.
Are you still waiting for Shu Xiao?
Are you still waiting?
Are you sad?
“What are you thinking?” Tan Yucheng’s voice came through.
Ji Ting snapped out of her senses, her gaze focusing on him. She pressed his arm back, his hand resting on his knee, his collar slightly open, his posture arrogant, like a wolf ready to pounce. Ji Ting looked at him, her gaze shifting downwards, settling on his nose bridge, thin lips, and then moving further down to his Adam’s apple, collar, and clavicle.
She felt dizzy.
He was in a challenging posture, and Ji Ting wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but she still lowered her head and provoked him. Her soft lips met his thin lips in the dim light.
In almost an instant, as soon as Ji Ting touched him, she felt flustered all over and quickly lifted her head.
Tan Yucheng’s eyes were calm and unruffled. At that moment, Ji Ting seemed to sense that the person who had been blocked had become her. Ji Ting tried to push his shoulder, wanting to leave in panic. Just as she turned around, his large hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her back, face to face. In the entanglement of their breaths, she saw the shadows surging in his eyes, leaving Ji Ting stunned.
Tan Yucheng leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly against hers. With a slight movement of his thin lips, he pried open her mouth and delved deep inside.
Ji Ting became even more flustered, kneeling on both knees.
Trying to breathe, the back of her head was pressed by Tan Yucheng, sealing their kiss firmly.
The man’s hand moved up along the hem of her shirt, pulling off the bow tie with a rustle, revealing her slender waist. Tan Yucheng paused the kiss for a moment, pressing his nose against hers, and asked as she trembled, “Is this what you want?”
Ji Ting trembled as she looked at him, her lips bitten into a messy crimson, everything like an unbridled wild horse, out of control. Her breath carried panic, and her collar was open.
In a daze, she still held onto a thread of reason, gripping his shoulder. “Tan Yucheng, Ι…”
She couldn’t find the words, while meeting his gaze. Her shirt was disheveled. Tan Yucheng looked into her eyes and brows. Even someone as wise as ¹Liu Xiaohui might not be able to restrain himself from seeing her like this.
Ji Ting’s fingertips trembled. She moved slightly, still wanting to leave. She wants to turn back the time. However, Tan Yucheng’s arm remained unmoving, a fragrance drifting between them. Perhaps at this moment, Tan Yucheng was also calculating whether to continue.
Ji Ting’s eyelashes and body trembled. She felt dizzy. Her shirt slipped off one shoulder, and suddenly, a dark shadow pressed forward. Tan Yucheng tilted his head and kissed her neck.
His arm tightened around her. Ji Ting was caught off guard, enveloped in his scorching breath.
Her fingertips unexpectedly gripped his shirt. The man’s shirt wasn’t in much better condition, collar open, revealing taut muscles and a handsome collarbone beneath the white fabric.
He unbuttoned a few buttons and lifted his gaze to bite her earlobe, whispering softly, “I haven’t prepared anything.”
“We can only help each other.”
Ji Ting’s eyes suddenly opened wide, and the next moment, her lips were kissed again. She closed her eyes once more, dazed.
Her senses were filled with him.
It turned out she could accept men’s intimacy, it’s just that not with Lu Hai.
That night, in a corner of the living room, under the cool air conditioner and the faint light from the projector, Ji Ting was like a drowning fish, hanging weakly onto Tan Yucheng. Her eyes, filled with intoxication, were forced to reveal a seductive charm by him. She nestled in his embrace, her voice soft and fragmented. It was an experience that she never knew. She even helped him. He leaned in to kiss her lips.
He bites on her lip, watching it break into a crimson mess.
His large hand held around her waist, whispering softly in her ear.
In a daze, in a tangled and ambiguous state, like a drowning fish flipping in the hunter’s palm, Ji Ting’s smooth and fair skin bore red marks when his hand gripped.
When she woke up, the temperature of the air conditioner in the room had warmed slightly. Cool and quiet, Ji Ting turned to rest her head on his shoulder. Her gaze moved upward; Tan Yucheng was asleep, one arm around her waist. The two leaned against the large sofa, his lips pursed, and one hand covering his eyes. The collar of his shirt casually buttoned up, with tiny bite marks on his neck.
Ji Ting’s heart raced wildly. After the alcohol-induced madness in this corner of the living room, there was a haze of confusion.
They had ruthlessly shattered the balance of their previous relationship, and it was she who had taken the initiative. Like a woman with her face covered, the veil had been lifted, revealing emotions overflowing in her eyes.
Ji Ting gripped her shirt tightly, carefully maneuvering out from his arm and landing on the floor with extreme caution.
She glanced back at the sleeping man. He lay with his arm casually sprawled out, veins running down his forearm to his hand.
The slight movement didn’t wake him, perhaps because he was accustomed to sleeping alone. She was just an unexpected visitor.
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¹Liu Xiahui, also known as Zhan Huo, was a Chinese scholar and official during the Spring and Autumn period. He is famous for his virtue and moral integrity. The phrase “Liu Xiahui sitting in his lap” (柳下惠坐怀不乱) refers to a story where he sat with a woman in his lap to keep her warm on a cold night but remained virtuous and composed, not succumbing to any improper thoughts or actions. This story has made Liu Xiahui a symbol of moral restraint and self-discipline in Chinese culture.