When we arrived home, we were greeted by our beloved son, Yi Cheng. My parents were also there, as we all lived under the same roof.
The moment I stepped inside, Yi Cheng came running toward us with an excited expression on his little face.
"Daddy! Mommy!"
His cheerful voice immediately brought a smile to my face. I bent down and opened my arms, ready to welcome my little boy into an embrace.
I immediately scooped Yi Cheng into my arms, while Yue Ran gently stroked his hair. Looking at the three of us together, I couldn't help but feel that this was what true happiness looked like.
As we enjoyed our time together, Yue Ran looked at our son and asked in her usual calm voice, "Have you been troubling your grandparents today?"
"No, Mommy!" Yi Cheng replied innocently, shaking his little head.
Before Yue Ran could say anything else, my mother came out of the living room, carrying a small toy in her hand.
"Really? Then who was the little rascal that covered Grandpa's slippers with stickers this afternoon?"
Yi Cheng immediately buried his face against my shoulder.
My father appeared behind her, holding up a pair of slippers decorated with colorful stickers. "Look at these. Your son has turned my slippers into a work of art!"
I burst out laughing, while Yue Ran raised an eyebrow at our son.
"Yi Cheng, did you do that?"
The little boy peeked at her before answering in a tiny voice, "I was helping Grandpa make his slippers prettier!"
My mother couldn't hold back her laughter. Even my father eventually shook his head with a helpless smile.
Yue Ran sighed, trying to maintain her stern expression, but the corners of her lips betrayed her.
"You're grounded from decorating other people's things," she told him.
"But Mommy, you said I should be creative!"
That time, even Yue Ran couldn't help laughing. I hugged my mischievous son closer, thinking that our home would never be short of laughter as long as he was around.
After spending some time laughing at Yi Cheng's antics, we gathered in the living room to discuss tomorrow's plans. It was the first wedding anniversary of Yue Ran's younger sister, Yi Luoli, and her husband, Duan Hai.
"By the way, have you decided what we're going to bring tomorrow?" my mother asked while pouring tea for everyone.
Yue Ran sat beside me, holding Yi Cheng on her lap. "I was thinking of preparing a gift for both of them. We don't need anything too extravagant."
"What about a gold necklace or a bracelet?" my mother suggested. "It's their first anniversary, after all."
I nodded in agreement. "That sounds good. We can also prepare a red envelope. I'm sure they'll appreciate it."
Yue Ran glanced at me. "Then we'll take care of the gift tomorrow morning. Just make sure you don't forget it when we leave."
I chuckled. "Don't worry. I may forget a few things at work, but I wouldn't forget my own sister-in-law's anniversary."
"That's exactly what I'm worried about," she replied calmly.
My father burst into laughter, while my mother shook her head with an amused smile.
Watching them, I couldn't help smiling. Even a simple discussion about a wedding anniversary could turn into a lively family conversation in our home.
"Mom, what about Luoli? Is she coming with us tomorrow?" I asked.
My mother nodded with a smile. "Yes, she just told me she'll come along. We'll wait for her tomorrow morning before heading out."
After chatting for a while, we took turns showering before gathering for dinner. Once we had finished eating and spending some more time together, we finally headed to bed.
Yue Ran lay down beside me, letting out a quiet sigh as she sank into the soft mattress.
Finally, I can sleep in this comfortable bed.
"Going to sleep already, darling? Don't you think we should have a little fun tonight?" I asked with a lewd grin. "It's been so long since we last had some proper intimacy. Surely, you haven't forgotten how much your husband misses you?"
Yue Ran slowly turned to look at me, her beautiful face remaining as cold as ever.
"Yiluo, I'm tired. If you have that much energy, why don't you use it to help me relax instead of bothering me?"
I grinned. That was Yue Ran—never a direct yes, never a clear no. Everything had to be pried out of her, coaxed out of her, earned. But that was what made her worth it.
"Relax you, huh?" I said, sitting up. "Fine. Then lie on your stomach. Let your husband work."
She gave me a long, measuring look—as if deciding whether I was worth the effort—and then, with a sigh, rolled onto her front.
The moment she did, my breath caught.
The thin silk nightgown she wore had ridden up, exposing the long, pale line of her back. And her skin—God, her skin. It was the color of snow before anyone had ever walked on it. Flawless. Luminous. Like carved white jade, like something too perfect to belong to a living woman.
I straddled her hips carefully and placed my hands on her shoulders.
The first touch made her flinch.
"Cold hands," she mumbled.
"Sorry."
I worked slowly kneading the tension from her shoulders, thumbs digging into the knots beside her neck. Yue Ran made a small sound, almost inaudible, and her body began to relax beneath me. Inch by inch, muscle by muscle, she softened.
"You're tense," I said.
"I'm always tense."
"Because you never let anyone take care of you."
She didn't answer. But she didn't argue, either.
My hands slid down her spine, tracing the ridge of each vertebra through the silk. Down to the small of her back, where two dimples sat like thumbprints in marble. Further, over the swell of her hips, until my palms rested on the curve of her buttocks.
Then my hands slipped beneath the hem of her nightgown and touched bare skin.
Yue Ran inhaled sharply.
Her lower back was impossibly soft—warmer than the rest of her, the skin smooth and unblemished. I pressed my thumbs into the muscle there and felt her hips shift. My hands moved outward, spanning her waist, and then up.
Up, along the sides of her body, until my fingers brushed the outer curve of her breasts.
They were heavy. Full. A generous D-cup that seemed almost out of place on her slender frame, yet somehow perfect filling my palms completely, the weight of them substantial and real even through the silk. When she lay on her stomach, they pressed out to either side, and my hands ached just looking at them.
"Turn over," I whispered.
She hesitated. Then, slowly, she rolled onto her back.
And there she was.
The nightgown had twisted in the process, the neckline slipping down to reveal the upper slopes of her breasts pale, smooth, rising like twin hills of snow. Her collarbones stood out sharp and elegant, wings framing the hollow of her throat where a pulse beat fast and quiet.
Her face was turned to the side, refusing to meet my eyes. Snow-white cheeks. Lips pressed thin. But her ears—her ears were red.
I reached for the straps of her gown and slid them off her shoulders. She lifted her arms, letting me pull the silk down over her chest.
Her breasts spilled free.