*Playing It This Wild in Private?*
The moon hung pale and cold, half-hidden behind thick clouds, as if too shy to show its face.
In the stillness of the mountains, a faint, broken sound of breathing threaded through the night. The breeze swept past, scattering it into nothing more than the rustle of leaves.
Song Qingxu’s cheeks burned crimson, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She tried to push away the weight pressing her down, but her strength was no match—her wrists were caught in an instant.
It was always like this. Just when Song Qingxu teetered on the brink, convinced that one more second without air would make her the first person in history to die from being kissed, Yuan Lai would loosen her hold just enough for her to breathe.
Her timing was perfect—too perfect. Song Qingxu couldn’t help but click her tongue; Yuan Lai seemed to know her body better than she did herself.
Watching her gasp for breath, Yuan Lai chuckled. “Still haven’t learned how to breathe properly?”
Not that Yuan Lai was much better off—she’d only just learned herself. But with Song Qingxu as her “practice partner,” progress came quickly.
The glare Song Qingxu shot her only made Yuan Lai smile more wickedly. She leaned in again, but Song Qingxu turned her head away.
Touching her own lips, Song Qingxu didn’t need a mirror to know they must be swollen out of shape.
And the culprit had the audacity to look pleased. Song Qingxu glared again, teeth gritted.
It was only in moments like these that Yuan Lai felt any real warmth or life from her.
Most of the time, Song Qingxu was all distant poise, like a perfect porcelain doll—nothing more than a professional partner in playing the role of her wife.
Now, her lips were parted, her head tilted back against the pillow, long hair fanned out, a sheen of fine sweat on her brow like tiny diamonds set into silk.
Yuan Lai leaned in once more. The other woman’s weakened arms couldn’t stop her.
Cupping that flushed face, she wiped away the delicate beads of sweat. Her fingertips traced along the jawline to her favorite place—the slender neck.
Song Qingxu’s throat bobbed nervously under her touch. Yuan Lai’s thumb began to rub slow circles there.
The skin under her fingers felt like it was on fire, heat spreading outward until everywhere—touched or untouched—was aflame.
Her neck was sensitive, the crawling tickle making Song Qingxu twist to get away.
But there was nowhere to go. The narrow bed left her trapped, and her every movement only made Yuan Lai more attentive, her hands growing surer.
At last, Song Qingxu couldn’t hold it back.
“Mmh…”
Her brows knitted as she murmured, “It… it tickles…”
The words were barely audible, a breath more than a sound.
But Yuan Lai’s ear was right by her lips. No matter how soft, she heard it—and stopped.
The air inside the shelter was saturated with their mingled pheromones. Whether it was that, or simply the pull of the person before her, it was impossible to tell.
Song Qingxu shivered as a heated flush spread to the back of her neck. Her hair brushed the spot, sending another tremor down her spine.
With surprising gentleness, Yuan Lai gathered her long hair aside, baring the flushed, swollen glands beneath. Without waiting, she pressed her fingertips to them.
“Ah…”
The sharp jolt made Song Qingxu’s head tip back helplessly. Before the lingering haze of heat had faded, those warm fingertips were replaced by the hard edge of teeth.
What followed… could never be broadcast without the censors cutting it to shreds.
Outside, the rustle of leaves in the wind fell silent. Inside, so did the two of them.
The tangy citrus scent of Yuan Lai’s pheromones spread quickly, filling every inch of the shelter—and the woman within.
The honeysuckle scent on Song Qingxu’s skin now carried a citrus note. Yuan Lai breathed it in with satisfaction, watching her with closed eyes, unable to get enough of that serene face.
After carefully cleaning her up, Yuan Lai finally drifted into sleep.
________________________________________
The next morning.
At first light, Yuan Lai stepped out of the shelter looking fresh and energized.
Song Qingxu, exhausted from the night before, was still deep in sleep. Yuan Lai made sure to wait until the cameras were running before leaving her shelter.
[What did I miss? Why is she coming out of Song Qingxu’s place?]
[Guest and assistant sharing a room? Isn’t her shelter right next door?]
[Probably just went in to get something—looks like she’s holding a pot.]
[This group wakes up ridiculously early. They’re up before the cameras every day.]
[Wait… where’s Song Qingxu? She must still be sleeping.]
[Her hair’s sticking up—must’ve just gotten off Song Qingxu’s pillow.]
[Or maybe her own pillow? Some people’s hair just curls after a night’s sleep.]
To make sure no one misunderstood, Yuan Lai set the wilderness pot down in plain view, then deliberately went back into Song Qingxu’s shelter. When she came out again, she was holding a toothbrush.
Passing the camera, she rubbed at the corner of her eye as if just awake. She’d thought about faking a yawn, but decided against it—her acting wasn’t good enough to sell it.
In high spirits, she headed to the creek to wash up, savoring the crisp morning air of the rainforest—completely unaware that the livestream chat was in chaos.
[Wait… are they… sleeping together?]
[She’s really not shy about showing it, huh?]
[CP shippers are eating good today.]
[Or maybe all the supplies are in Song Qingxu’s place, so she just went to get something.]
[Still, even a toothbrush? That’s a bit much.]
[I think it’s efficient—keep everything in one place, share as needed.]
[Besides, if she was having an affair with Song Qingxu, would she be so obvious about it on camera?]
[Yeah, no way. If there was something going on, Song Qingxu’s partner would’ve dealt with her already.]
The reasonable viewers soon talked themselves into believing that Yuan Lai and Song Qingxu’s relationship was strictly professional.
Which meant Yuan Lai’s quiet little attempt to flaunt her closeness to her “wife” had failed yet again.
After washing up, she picked a shady spot by the creek and set up a makeshift stove from nearby rocks. She was going to make breakfast for Song Qingxu.
Gathering dry grass and twigs, she also found a good number of edible mushrooms growing in the damp earth beneath tree roots.
She layered dry grass at the bottom, small twigs and bark shavings on top, then larger branches. Striking her flint, sparks caught in the grass, smoke curling upward. She blew gently, coaxing the flames until they licked up to catch the sticks, growing from thumb-sized to fist-sized.
Once the thicker branches were burning, she set a pot of water on top. While it heated, she cleaned her ingredients—a crucian carp from the net Song Qingxu had used yesterday, and the mushrooms she’d just picked.
She fried the fish to a golden crisp on both sides, then poured in the boiling water from the other pot, adding the mushrooms. Soon, the broth turned a creamy white, fragrant and rich.
There were no bowls, so she borrowed one of Song Qingxu’s small pots, putting a portion of mushrooms and broth into it, keeping the rest—along with the whole fish—for herself.
[That’s not even—that’s way more in hers than in Song Qingxu’s.]
[She cooked it, she can have more. Not everyone has to be a saint.]
[She caught the mushrooms, built the fire, did all the work—let her eat.]
Yuan Lai set Song Qingxu’s breakfast inside the shelter where she’d see it upon waking.
Pausing in the doorway, she glanced back.
In the morning light, Song Qingxu’s sleeping face was peaceful, her hair tucked under her cheek, her breathing slow and even. The harsh edges she wore by day had softened into something almost gentle.
Yuan Lai’s lips curved before she slung her backpack over her shoulder and left.
If she could find this many mushrooms while gathering firewood, then there must be more deeper in the forest. If she filled her pack, they’d have variety in their meals for the next few days.
Meanwhile—
Lin Yajie was forced out of bed early by the survival expert, who announced, “We’re heading deeper into the forest today to identify more edible plants.”
She had no complaints—her food supply had depended on her these past days.
The survival expert was explaining a type of edible fungus when Lin Yajie suddenly froze, her gaze fixed behind her.
[She’s here but her mind isn’t—what’s she looking at?]
[Looks like she spotted Song Qingxu’s assistant.]
Indeed, Yuan Lai was approaching. The only reason? A patch of mushrooms growing right where the expert stood.
She needed to pick them before she did.
Lin Yajie’s eyes went wide at the sight. What was she doing here? Was it because of Song Qingxu?
“You’re… that…”
The woman who’d brought jewelry to the set for Song Qingxu—the other woman.
She bit back the rest of the sentence, but the thought was clear.
So the elegant, gentle Song Qingxu was like this in private—bold enough to bring a new lover onto the show without fear of her partner’s wrath.
Yuan Lai only raised a brow in greeting.
After all, they had met before—on Song Qingxu’s set.