Chen Ling lost control, a white light flashed in his mind, he stroked a few more times, rubbed the glans, and pressed his penis against his abdomen.
The white turbid fluid spurted upwards, splattering on Chen Ling's abdomen, like milk spilling from a knocked-over cup.
As he panted, his lower abdomen moved up and down, making his muscles more defined.
Yaxi's throat moved slightly. So obscene.
"Yaxi," Chen Ling's deep, mellow voice still laced with desire, "you promised me, you'll come to my room tonight."
By the time Yaxi had finished freshening up and Chen Ling stepped out of the shower, the clock hands were nearing midnight.
Yaxi grabbed the clothes she planned to wear the next day, turned off the light in her room, and quietly slipped into Chen Ling's space.
Chen Ling was sitting cross-legged against the headboard, engrossed in a book he'd picked from the living room shelf: Manchester and British Rock. He placed the book aside, lifted the blanket, and motioned for Yaxi to join him. Then, reaching for the ointment he'd prepared earlier, he carefully applied it to her wounds under the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
"So you went through all this trouble tonight just to put medicine on me?" Yaxi asked, genuinely perplexed. She wore a loose white nightgown, her long hair hanging freely around her shoulders.
Compared to Chen Ling's tall frame, she looked small and delicate, sitting obediently before him like a porcelain doll.
Chen Ling's gaze flickered briefly over the faint contours visible beneath her thin gown, wondering idly if girls typically skipped bras when sleeping.
But his attention quickly returned to the bruise marring her cheek. "That's part of the reason," he said evenly.
"Mostly, I wanted to figure out who hurt you—and why."
"I already told you, it's nothing," Yaxi insisted softly.
"How can it be nothing?" His fingers moved with practiced gentleness as he continued applying the cream. "If it happens once, it'll happen again."
Yaxi tilted her head back and smiled brightly. "Haha, don't tell me you think I'm being bullied?"
"Aren't you?" The edge in his voice softened slightly.
"Of course not. Why would anyone bully me? I never bother anyone." Her tone carried an air of nonchalance, but Chen Ling studied her face with quiet concern.
In truth, he had known her long before their encounter at the airport.
It started early in their first year of high school, when whispers spread like wildfire through the hallways: A girl from Class 6 had been accused of stealing, rumors fueled by the fact that her father—a gambler—was already behind bars. At the time, Chenling thought to himself, So there are people carrying burdens far heavier than mine.
A month later, during one of his casual hangouts with Lu Ziyang and Xu Xiaoyi, a name began surfacing more frequently: Yaxi. Lu Ziyang, perhaps without realizing it, mentioned her often. He spoke about how the class ostracized her, spreading lies that she stole things. That's when Chen Ling connected the dots between the rumors and the girl they described.
One afternoon, after a soccer game, Lu Ziyang returned to find Yaxi placing his expensive watch—worth nearly $15,000—on his desk. The classroom was empty except for her. Later, passing by the teacher's office, he witnessed her reporting several classmates for bullying.
Her voice was soft yet cutting, each word precise and unrelenting.
Yet somehow, she managed to appear innocent and pitiable in front of the teacher, deflecting any suspicion onto others.
Lu Ziyang shared these anecdotes jokingly with Chen Ling and Xu Xiaoyi, laughing about how this seemingly timid girl actually looked down on everyone.
They were standing on an overpass at the time, and Lu Ziyang suddenly pointed toward a girl walking along the ginkgo-lined avenue below. "There she is," he said.
Chen Ling and Xu Xiaoyi followed his gaze. A breeze swept through, lifting her long black hair as golden ginkgo leaves swirled around her.
She bent down, picked up a leaf, and tucked it into the pocket of her blouse.
When Chen Ling saw her again in the choir, he recognized her instantly.
At the airport, he saw through her lie but couldn't shake the worry that she might spend the night alone, stranded and forgotten.
The suffocating weight of invisibility—the kind where no one remembers your existence—was something Chen Ling understood all too well.
Determined to help, he struck up a conversation and eventually drove her home. In the car, sensing her guarded demeanor, he casually asked, "Which class are you in? I don't think I've seen you around."
But when they crossed paths again in the school office, she didn't acknowledge him.
He assumed she either didn't remember or didn't care, and from then on, he refrained from seeking further interaction.
Little did he know, the muddy path he watched her walk down that night would one day become his own route home.
After being used and discarded by Shen Youqi, then imprisoned by Shen Youning, Chen Ling thought he had escaped death—but in reality, he had already died once.
When he woke up, clinging to life by a thread, a ray of light pierced through the darkness, forcing vitality back into his weary spirit.
Yaxi, who had once been nothing more than a fleeting stranger, now filled every corner of his world.
Without warning, she stormed into his life—and in doing so, gave him a reason to live again.