Lisa subtly moved closer to him, her arm almost imperceptibly brushing against his shirt sleeve, her skirt nearly touching his trousers. This was close enough. She looked up with an expression of innocent curiosity and asked, "Teacher Yin, what great work have you been writing lately?"
Yin Feng's gaze fell upon her petite face and slender neck. He thought to himself: Even if I told you what I'm writing, would you understand? He looked down at her, smiled faintly, and said, "Nothing much."
That lazy tone and the slight smile at the corner of his lips made Lisa's heart flutter. She thought, I heard before coming here that Yin Feng was quite the player, and it seems true. With just a few words, he can make a woman's heart tingle with anticipation.
Noticing that the others were eating and probably deliberately avoiding looking in their direction, Lisa stood on her toes, bringing her whole body almost against his chest. Yet her tone remained innocently coquettish: "Teacher Yin won't tell me? I'm truly your fan."
A warm, fragrant presence was already almost in his embrace. Even if he were to wrap his arms around her now, it would seem perfectly natural.
Yin Feng looked at the girl, his fingers tapping lightly on the balcony railing, but he didn't move.
He didn't move, yet he didn't refuse or avoid her either. The girl understood his meaning and thought, what a bad man. But who could blame him when he had the capital to be bad? Once again, the girl's heart trembled at his cold yet wicked demeanor. She looked at him with a gaze that conveyed mutual understanding, then reached out to grasp the shirt over his chest, whispering coyly, "Teacher Yin, why won't you talk to me?"
Yin Feng looked down and chuckled.
Just then, footsteps sounded from the balcony—someone was coming.
At that moment, Yin Feng finally moved his hand to wrap around the girl's waist.
A glimmer flashed in the girl's eyes.
Right then.
A voice suddenly echoed in Yin Feng's mind:
"Yin Feng, if you so much as glance at another woman again, I'll break your legs. If you dare touch another woman, I'll castrate you."
The voice carried a lazy amusement, so familiar. Yin Feng felt his heart uncontrollably tighten, suddenly flustered and unsettled. His hand froze mid-air.
He tugged at the corner of his mouth: What... the hell is this?
Was he actually... feeling guilty?
Just as he tried to collect himself, before his gaze could fully focus on the woman before him, more images abruptly flashed through his mind—
A dimly lit room, the woman's eyes actually red, as if she had been crying. Would she ever cry?
Yet her body was naked. Her limbs were long, slender, and curvaceous, every inch seemingly brimming with wild energy. Yin Feng suddenly felt his throat go dry, for he saw her long hair, so disheveled, spread across his arm. Yet her gaze was gentle, filled with laughter, as she reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Yin Feng's Adam's apple bobbed.
Then he saw more nights—them tumbling in bed, lost in passion, the sheets in disarray. They laughed and teased each other, caressed and kissed, whispered secrets, and held each other tightly.
"A Xu, don't bite me," he heard himself say plaintively.
Her voice came out breathless, resentful: "You little beast..."
He heard himself laugh again, and he didn't even realize that the corners of his lips had curled up now, because at that time he had coaxed softly, "Open a little wider. A Xu practices judo, so you're naturally amazing..."
She let out a soft hum but still complied with him.
...Yin Feng felt as if his entire chest was stuffed full of something sweet and swelling, almost to the point of bursting. He was still dazed, lingering over the scenes in his memory, when suddenly a voice beside him kept calling, "Teacher Yin? Teacher Yin?"
Only then did he snap back to reality, somewhat impatiently turning toward the source of the voice.
He froze for a moment, realizing where he was and what he was doing.
Lisa, however, was feeling a bit unnerved. She had heard rumors about the famous writer Yin Feng having suffered a brain injury, but since the men had tactfully avoided the topic and Yin Feng hadn't brought it up, she wasn't sure what had actually happened. Just moments ago, the handsome, profound, and seemingly unrestrained man had been about to embrace her when he suddenly froze.
Then, his eyes remained fixed, staring at her yet clearly not seeing her, as if he were looking at something else entirely. Gradually, his breathing grew a bit rapid, and his face flushed. That vacant, dazed expression was almost indistinguishable from that of someone with intellectual disabilities.
Lisa was utterly conflicted, a little afraid of him, and desperately wanted to escape his side immediately. But this was such a rare opportunity—a nearly perfect man, aside from what seemed like a slightly abnormal mind—and she couldn't bring herself to let go. So she still clung to the fabric of his shirt, steeling her resolve, her heart pounding like a drum.
When Yin Feng finally recognized the woman in front of him, he suddenly lost all interest, with not a shred of desire left to play along. Distracted by Lisa, no new images surfaced in his mind, and the sensation felt like taking just a few puffs of opium—far from satisfying his craving, it was gone too soon. He suddenly understood: that kind of joy, the happiness he had shared with her during those nights, was the most extreme and unbelievable kind in the world. He had once been completely unaware of it, even believing it could never exist.
And yet, he had truly experienced it.
So when You Mingxu stepped onto the terrace, this was the scene that greeted her—
Behind the other men and women, Yin Feng stood there. A woman was nestled against his chest, clutching his shirt. From You Mingxu's angle, it seemed his hand was already wrapped around the woman's waist. He was staring at her, his eyes deep and intense, his handsome face even tinged with a faint blush.
You Mingxu steadied herself, thinking, "What was bound to happen has finally come."
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