Landon hesitated no longer, lowered his head, and kissed her soft, full lips.
"Mm..."
Rachel let out a faint whimper, her body stiffening slightly at first, then quickly softening.
She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around Landon's neck, and responded with a clumsy yet passionate fervor.
It wasn't until both of their breaths became shallow that Landon reluctantly lifted his head, leaving her warm, soft lips.
Rachel slowly opened her eyes, a lingering haze in their depths, her cheeks flushed with a natural rosy glow, which looked particularly captivating in the soft light of the streetlamp.
Her lips were slightly parted, as if she was still immersed in the deep kiss and hadn't fully recovered.
But the next second, she felt something warm and hard pressing against her, and her gaze instinctively dropped.
Rachel blinked, a hint of confusion on her face, and asked, "Landon? What's wrong?"
Landon instantly froze, feeling extremely awkward.
He opened his mouth but found himself unable to say a single word. Was this girl doing it on purpose?
As soon as Rachel spoke, she immediately realized what she had said.
She abruptly lowered her head, wishing she could bury her face in her chest, no longer daring to look at Landon, but her peripheral vision stole a glance at Landon, then quickly darted away, her heart pounding like a drum.
Landon watched her shy, embarrassed, and mortified expression, and his initial awkwardness dissipated considerably, replaced by a feeling of exasperated yet amused affection.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm the youthful stirrings in his body, lamenting the astonishing sensitivity of this young physique.
"Cough," he cleared his throat, attempting to break the strange and ambiguous silence, his voice still a little hoarse, "You're too alluring, Rachel. It's normal..."
Rachel still had her head down, nodding almost imperceptibly, her voice like a mosquito's buzz: "...I know."
The two stood frozen for a few seconds. Finally, Landon reached out and gently took her somewhat cool fingers. "Let's go, we're going back," he whispered.
"Mm." Rachel obediently let him lead her, walking silently by his side all the way back to where the car was parked.
Inside the car on the way back, the atmosphere was subtle and quiet.
Soothing jazz music flowed from the radio, but the air seemed solidified, filled with lingering romance and the awkward aftermath of the funny interlude that had just occurred.
Rachel kept her head turned, looking at the night scenery outside the window, only showing Landon a flushed profile and the graceful curve of her neck.
The car stopped on the street below their apartment building.
Landon turned off the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt, and was about to say something.
But Rachel suddenly turned her head. Her cheeks were still flushed, but her eyes had become bolder, as if she had made a decision.
"Landon," she said softly, "I don't want to go back to my place so early."
Landon's hand tightened on the steering wheel as he turned his head to look at her.
The streetlights outside the car shone through the glass, and Landon saw a hint of expectation in Rachel's eyes.
He didn't speak, but leaned over, his fingers first touching the stray hairs behind her ear, then bringing his head closer, and once again puckering her full lips.
Rachel's arms eagerly wrapped around him.
Their breaths mingled at their noses, unable to tell whose breath was hotter.
They only separated slightly when both needed to catch their breath.
Her eyelashes trembled, the corners of her eyes were a light pink, and her gaze towards him seemed veiled with moisture.
Landon asked in a low, hoarse voice, "Shall we go upstairs?"
She didn't answer, just tilted her head slightly, resting her forehead against his, then nodded vigorously, the moisture on her eyelashes shimmering and falling into their intertwined breaths.
The two almost stumbled out of the car hand in hand, then climbed the stairs and quickly entered the apartment building.
The hallway was silent, with only their hurried footsteps and suppressed breathing echoing.
Arriving at Landon's apartment door, he took out his key. His hand was trembling a little, and it took him two tries to successfully open the door.
"Click."
The door opened. He pulled Rachel inside, closed the door behind him, and without even turning on the light, pressed her against the door and kissed her again.
The darkness seemed to fuel courage and desire.
Rachel also cast aside her last bit of shyness and responded actively.
Their breaths, hot with passion, gently rose and fell near their ears.
"To... to the bed..." Rachel murmured indistinctly in a pause, her body already so weak she could barely stand.
Landon complied, scooping her up into his arms... "You... how are you still..." Her voice was hoarse.
Landon smiled helplessly, kissed her forehead: "Or... you're just too alluring."
Rachel gave him a reproachful glare, but there was no anger in her eyes, only endless charm.
She hesitated, a blush again rising to her cheeks, then seemed to make a decision... Landon let out a long breath.
He carried Rachel, who didn't even want to move her fingers, to the bathroom, and they showered together.
Back in bed, they lay embracing.
Rachel, like a small animal seeking warmth, snuggled tightly in Landon's arms and soon began to breathe evenly and deeply, falling into a dream.
Landon held the soft warmth in his arms tightly, the faint fragrance of her hair lingering at his nose, his gaze fixed on the ceiling where moonlight streamed through, casting a hazy, soft play of light and shadow.
His last thought before falling asleep vaguely flashed through his mind, 'This life, with its cheats, is truly exciting!'
---
Landon woke up at first light.
Years as a Stuntman had accustomed him to early rising.
He turned his head to look at Rachel, who was still asleep beside him. Her brown hair spread like seaweed on the pillow, her sleeping face serene, and her long eyelashes cast faint shadows beneath her eyes.
He carefully withdrew his arm, which had gone a little numb from being used as a pillow, and quietly got up, tucking the covers around her and leaving a light kiss on her smooth forehead.
Landon put on his athletic shorts and running shoes, then quietly left the apartment.
In the early morning of Los Angeles, the streets were almost deserted.
After a brief warm-up, Landon began his morning run along the coastal route.
He consciously controlled his breathing—three steps for an inhale, three steps for an exhale—feeling the powerful cardiopulmonary function and endless vitality of this young body.
Landon ran the ten-kilometer distance with ease. Sweat soaked the front of his athletic shirt, but his mind became even clearer.
After his run, he came to a secluded small park by the sea.
Landon slowly assumed the starting stance of Bagua Fist. His feet were neither inward nor outward, and his breath sank into his Dantian.
Although there was a slight incongruity when this Caucasian body initially adopted the posture of this Eastern martial art, the muscle memory from over a decade of immersion in his previous life and the deeply ingrained principles of exerting force quickly took dominance.