When Lin Wan'er pushed open the door to Shen Ze's apartment, the night was already deep. The city lights reflected on the floor-to-ceiling windows in his living room, blurry like a dream.
He sat on the sofa in the dark, the glass of whiskey in his hand gently swirling, as if he had been waiting for her all along.
"You've been drinking?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer. Instead, he stood up and walked over to her. There was a trace of drunkenness in his eyes, but it only made his gaze more intense than when he was sober.
"You finally came," he murmured.
His hand cupped her face, the warmth of his palm nearly melting her last thread of self-control.
She didn't pull away. He leaned in and kissed her—at first gently, tentatively, his tongue brushing against her lips like he was awakening a memory.
Wan'er trembled slightly. The next second, she responded to him.
The kiss turned quickly from tender to burning. His hand slipped from her neck into the collar of her blouse, fingers tracing her skin as they ventured lower.
Her breathing grew rapid. Her back pressed against the door, the cold wood behind her sharply contrasting with the heat of his body.
He lifted her up effortlessly, as if cradling something long lost and deeply cherished.
The bedroom was bathed in warm yellow light, so soft it was hard to tell reality from illusion.
His lips trailed down her collarbone, her shoulders, her stomach—each kiss like a mark.
When he gently bit the softness of her breast, she let out a soft moan she couldn't suppress.
Her neck arched, fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulder—part resistance, part craving for more.
Clothing fell away piece by piece. Nothing separated them now.
She clung to him, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist.
When he entered her, she nearly bit her lip to hold back the cry, but still, his name escaped her lips in a trembling whisper.
His movements were urgent, yet full of longing, as if trying to reaffirm with every thrust—she was still his.
Wan'er closed her eyes. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks.
He kissed them away.
"I love you, Wan'er. I always have."
She didn't reply. She only held him tighter, as if she could convince herself this wasn't a mistake.
The night stretched long. They made love again and again, until dawn crept in.
When he finally fell asleep, she lay awake, staring at his sleeping face, her eyes hollow.
She knew—this night was an ending, not a beginning.