“Wife? Wife?”
Wen Lan was sleeping soundly when the familiar voice continued calling softly beside her.
Warm breaths brushed against her ear, bringing an itch that could not be ignored.
Her eyelids fluttered a few times before slowly opening.
Staring at the blurry dark figure before her, she took a long moment before asking, “Zhixing?”
Her voice was even hoarser than usual from the lingering effects of the alcohol, and her throat felt parched.
“Mhm, it’s me. Wife, we’re home.”
Lu Zhixing leaned over and unfastened Wen Lan’s seatbelt.
Wen Lan rubbed her temple.
To be honest, she felt terrible.
After waking from her nap, all she could feel was heat throughout her body, a restless dryness, dizziness, and a splitting headache.
I’m never drinking again, she thought.
As soon as she stepped out of the car, her footing wavered.
When Lu Zhixing came to stand beside her, she instinctively reached out and took his hand.
The cool, soft touch was so comforting that she found herself reluctant to let go.
“Let’s go.”
Wen Lan deliberately slowed her pace by one step.
She was still a little drunk and could barely tell which way to go.
The heat from Wen Lan’s palm seemed to scorch Lu Zhixing’s entire hand, causing his fingers to curl involuntarily.
His throat tightened before he silently led his wife onward.
Leaving the garage, they stepped onto the long garden path.
He walked slowly.
The warmth radiating from Wen Lan behind him seemed contagious, making him feel hot as well.
Soft white crystal lamps cast their intertwined shadows across the flowerbeds.
The rich fragrance of blossoms drifted through the air, every breath carrying a sweet scent.
The summer night had grown deep, and only the occasional chirping of crickets echoed in the distance.
Lu Zhixing walked attentively, completely unaware that Wen Lan behind him had been staring at the back of his neck.
Wen Lan was exceptionally tall.
Even though she intentionally lagged a step behind, her height allowed her to take in his entire figure with ease.
It’s too eye-catching, she thought.
Squinting through drunken eyes at the glowing white stretch of his neck, she felt even thirstier.
It was as if flames were burning inside her.
She licked her dry lips and deliberately shifted her attention elsewhere.
At a glance, she spotted the smoke roses blooming in full glory beside the path.
In the darkness, their pink petals appeared slightly deeper in color, yet they remained impossible to ignore.
The misty clusters of blossoms resembled floating pink clouds.
Suddenly, Wen Lan recalled something from several months ago.
Back then, the bouquet she had carefully trimmed and wrapped had never made it into Lu Zhixing’s hands.
Now, under the influence of alcohol, that forgotten thought flared back to life.
An advertising slogan from television echoed over and over in her head.
“There isn’t a single man who dislikes flowers.”
Then what about Lu Zhixing?
Would he like them?
The idea took root instantly, impossible to suppress.
Looking at the man’s back ahead of her, Wen Lan stopped walking.
Lu Zhixing moved his hand slightly and realized the person behind him had stopped.
Unable to continue forward himself, he turned around to see what was wrong.
The moment he turned, however, he was met with a cloud of misty pink blossoms.
The rich fragrance of flowers enveloped him completely.
Blinking, he looked up into Wen Lan’s eyes, where a faint smile lingered.
“Do you like them?”
Her slightly hoarse voice rang softly, slipping into his ears before spreading through every inch of his body.
Lu Zhixing shuddered uncontrollably.
The indescribable excitement coursing through him made his entire body tremble.
“I like them.”
Looking at the drunken Wen Lan, he gently accepted the bouquet and answered in a husky voice.
It took Wen Lan’s sluggish, alcohol-clouded mind quite a while to process his reply.
Looking at the man holding the flowers, she did not find the sight strange at all.
The flowers were beautiful.
The man was beautiful.
They suited each other perfectly.
Only…
“…Come here.”
Wen Lan beckoned Lu Zhixing over.
Her eyes were unfocused with intoxication.
Why did it feel as though he was standing so far away from her, with the distance of several bouquets between them?
When she called him over, Lu Zhixing froze for a moment. He was already only a single step away from his Wife-Lord. Between them was nothing more than a bouquet of flowers, close enough for him to catch the faint scent of wine lingering on Wen Lan.
“Come here,” Wen Lan repeated, her long brows knitting together. Before any trace of displeasure could appear on her face, Lu Zhixing instinctively stepped even closer. Holding the bouquet behind his back, he tilted his head up to look at her, lips pressed together as a soft blush swiftly spread to the tips of his ears.
They were too close now.
Their clothes brushed against each other, and even their body heat mingled. The fragrance of fruit wine mixed with the scent of flowers, making Lu Zhixing feel as though he, too, had become intoxicated.
Wen Lan lowered her gaze to him and suddenly spoke, startling him.
“Lower your head.”
Lu Zhixing hesitated. He had no idea what Wen Lan wanted to do. His Wife-Lord was drunk now, perhaps she was simply talking nonsense.
Wen Lan flexed her fingers, the itch in her heart growing stronger. She had wanted to touch the back of his neck for a long time. Just as she was about to repeat herself, the man obediently lowered his head.
Wen Lan raised her hand and, at last, touched the back of his neck to her heart’s content.
It was smooth, soft, and cool, like fine jade soaked in water. The sensation was so satisfying that she could not resist applying just a little pressure, gently pinching the soft flesh at the nape of his neck before quickly letting go. She still remembered how delicate his skin was.
Sure enough, the moment she released him, she heard Lu Zhixing let out a muffled groan, his voice restrained and slightly distorted. To Wen Lan’s ears, it sounded like a tiny kitten that had just been stepped on, soft and pitiful.
The thought made her laugh.
She hooked a finger beneath Lu Zhixing’s chin and lowered her head. In the moonlight, she saw that his eyes had grown moist, shimmering with tears as though they were deliberately trying to seduce her.
Something stirred in Wen Lan’s heart.
She leaned forward and kissed the corner of his eye before murmuring what sounded like a complaint, “Why are you so delicate?” Yet the unmistakable laughter and tenderness in her voice betrayed her completely, spilling out without restraint.
Lu Zhixing had never imagined that a drunken Wen Lan could be so uninhibited. She was practically shameless.
His face flushed scarlet. His limbs no longer seemed to belong to him, stiff as wood as Wen Lan held his hand and slowly led him forward.
The warmth of her slightly rough palm still lingered on the nape of his neck. His sensitive skin continued to tremble faintly, and even the thin skin around his eyes had turned pink. Covering his face with his free hand, Lu Zhixing felt utterly beyond saving.
He thought of the astonishing strength Wen Lan possessed. His first reaction was relief that, on their wedding night, she had been completely drunk. If she had only been slightly intoxicated…
Feeling the burning heat spreading across his cheeks, Lu Zhixing took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to calm himself.
I’m completely shameless, he silently scolded himself.
Yet he tightened his grip on the bouquet in his hand.
He could not see the light shining in his own eyes, bright with happiness and contentment.
His Wife-Lord had given him flowers again.
And she had kissed him.
…
What should not have been a particularly long walk dragged on for quite some time because of Wen Lan’s drunken pace. By the time Lu Zhixing had coaxed and guided her back to her room, it was already deep into the night.
Wen Lan collapsed onto the bed. The moment she touched the familiar soft quilt, she wrapped herself tightly in it. Her eyes remained shut, clearly exhausted.
Standing nearby, Lu Zhixing let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Climbing the stairs had been difficult. He had practically half-pulled, half-coaxed Wen Lan upstairs, and even the bouquet in his hand had become slightly crushed. Seeing that she had finally settled obediently into bed, he turned around, carefully placed the flowers on the table, and gently rearranged them. He planned to wrap them properly later and bring them back to his own room.
Only after finishing did he return to the bedside.
Wen Lan had kicked off her shoes earlier. Now she lay curled beneath the blanket, her long frame only half-covered by the black quilt. Her long black hair was slightly disheveled, spread across the bedding. Loose strands framed her flushed cheeks and ears. Her dark lashes rested against her skin as she slept soundly.
Looking at the tangled blanket, Lu Zhixing hesitated before reaching out, intending to cover her properly.
Unexpectedly, the quilt was pinned beneath Wen Lan’s elbow. He gave it a gentle tug, but it did not budge at all.
Frowning, he prepared to pull a little harder.
At that very moment, Wen Lan suddenly opened her eyes.
Her dark, clear pupils stared directly at him, as though she did not recognize him.
That single look startled Lu Zhixing. His hand instantly released the blanket, and an inexplicable sense of panic rose in his heart.
What was wrong with his Wife-Lord?
“Zhixing?”
Only after staring at him for a long while did Wen Lan finally speak. She tilted her head and called his name as if everything were perfectly normal. Yet Lu Zhixing’s heart lurched violently.
He answered with a soft, “Mm,” and cautiously stepped closer.
The moment she saw him approach, Wen Lan did not hesitate. She wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him onto the bed, mumbling softly,
“…If it’s a dream, then let it be.”
Before Lu Zhixing could react, Wen Lan had already pulled him tightly into her embrace, leaving him unable to move.
Only after hearing her words did he realize that Wen Lan believed she was dreaming.
At that thought, the stiffness in his body finally melted away. Blushing, he even raised his arms of his own accord and wrapped them around Wen Lan’s waist.
It doesn’t matter.
Anyway… Wife-Lord won’t remember.
He repeated those words silently to himself.
Wen Lan had terrible alcohol tolerance. She never remembered what happened when she was drunk. Their wedding night had been the same.
So… just this once, let him be greedy.
It had been so long since he had been able to hold his Wife-Lord this intimately.
Burying his face against Wen Lan’s neck, Lu Zhixing breathed deeply of her unique fragrance.
In an instant, his heart felt full.
This is enough.
The room was filled with lingering fragrance. Pale moonlight filtered across the edge of the bed, casting faint shimmering patches upon the floor before gradually fading as time passed.
Morning mist drifted through the open window, brushing against the exposed skin of the person lying on the bed.
Still half-asleep, Wen Lan vaguely sensed a warm, heavy weight resting against the crook of her arm.
She shifted slightly, only to find that she could not pull her arm free. Instead, her hand brushed against the cool bedsheets.
At last, her tightly shut eyes slowly opened.
Staring at the familiar ceiling patterns above, Wen Lan felt a dull ache in her head.
She was just about to get out of bed when she belatedly realized that someone had an arm wrapped securely around her waist.
A tremor ran through Wen Lan’s heart.
She lowered her head and stared at Lu Zhixing in her arms in shock. For a moment, she felt as though her entire world had fallen apart. Her mind went completely blank.
Taking a steadying breath, she tried desperately to recall everything she had done yesterday.
She had driven Lu Zhixing to work, picked him up after work, then they had dinner together. After that, she seemed to have eaten…
The more Wen Lan thought about it, the stiffer her body became.
She did not dare move.
The man in her arms was warm, pressed so close against her that there was barely any distance between them. One of her hands rested on his abdomen, where she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beneath her palm.
What do I do?
Did I… “eat” him last night…?
While Wen Lan’s thoughts spiraled wildly, the man in her arms suddenly stirred. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer, and Lu Zhixing’s sleepy, slightly slurred voice drifted into her ears.
“Good morning, Wife-Lord.”
Wen Lan’s heart skipped a beat.
Did I really “eat” him last night?!