Chapter 46: He Actually Wanted to Kiss Jiang Ciyou

Bo Jinxiu's lips curled slightly. "That’s just my good acting. If I weren’t well-behaved, how else would you take the bait?"

Jiang Ciyou couldn't help but laugh. This man seemed rather pleased with himself. She tilted her head, propped up on her arm, and lazily watched the man beside her.

He was strikingly handsome, his face flawless, as if he’d stepped straight out of a comic book as the leading man. In his left ear, he wore a tiny blue stud, set with a minuscule sapphire. If one didn't look closely, it would be impossible to notice. Yet from the first day she met him, Jiang Ciyou knew he wore a blue earring—and that he had never taken it off.

His beauty was of that cool, ethereal kind, but paired with the small earring, it lent him an air of devil-may-care recklessness. Cold restraint and unruly charm were opposites by nature, yet in this man, they fused impossibly well, making him all the more captivating.

Suddenly, Jiang Ciyou grew curious. Her slender fingers gently pinched Bo Jinxiu’s earlobe. "You’ve always worn this earring—does it have a story?"

Judging by Bo Jinxiu’s habits, Jiang Ciyou didn’t think he was someone who cared much about accessories. On the contrary, his attire was always impeccable, classic suits with no adornment save for a wristwatch. So she guessed the earring held some special meaning for him.

The ear that Jiang Ciyou touched quickly flushed red. Bo Jinxiu grabbed her hand. "It was a gift. Nothing special."

Jiang Ciyou asked, "From a woman?"

Bo Jinxiu turned to her, seeming amused. "Are you jealous?"

Jiang Ciyou smiled like a cat. "I enjoy all sorts of flavors—except sour."

Bo Jinxiu looked away, muttering, "Boring. When you finally get jealous, I’ll tell you."

Jiang Ciyou shrugged indifferently and glanced out the window again. That woman must be important to him.

True to his word, Bo Jinxiu drove them to the supermarket. She’d only mentioned wanting to eat his cooking in passing, but he took it seriously, carefully selecting pork ribs. When they returned home, he cooked sweet-and-sour ribs for Jiang Ciyou himself.

By the time dinner was over, it was late. Jiang Ciyou curled up in the wicker chair on the small balcony, content as a cat. Bo Jinxiu finished washing the dishes and came to sit beside her.

"Are you full?"

Jiang Ciyou patted her slightly rounded stomach, grinning. "I look about three months pregnant."

Bo Jinxiu glanced at her stomach. She was always slender, her belly usually smooth as silk.

Bo Jinxiu’s large hand covered her abdomen, sliding lower. "Let’s get some exercise and help with digestion."

Jiang Ciyou didn’t refuse. After all, satisfaction breeds desire. She had to admit, being with Bo Jinxiu was an indulgence. Besides, she suffered from insomnia. Only utter exhaustion brought her deeper sleep.

In the days that followed, Yan Feng came to the TV station every day to pick up Xia Ling. He always arrived early, so he and Jiang Ciyou crossed paths often. Yet the two acted like strangers, never exchanging a word.

Bo Jinxiu had gone on a business trip to Japan. At night, when Jiang Ciyou lay alone in bed, unable to sleep, she found herself missing him. The house felt emptier in his absence, and her insomnia worsened.

At half past six in the evening, Jiang Ciyou, freshly made up, dozed off on the lounge’s sofa. When Yan Feng entered, only she was there, lying asleep.

He had been coming every day, supposedly to pick up Xia Ling, but only he knew the real reason—he wanted to see Jiang Ciyou. Fortunately, Bo Jinxiu hadn’t returned since that incident, confirming for Yan Feng that it had been a one-time exception.

Jiang Ciyou valued her position as Mrs. Yan too much; she had once threatened to slit her wrists over it. She would never give it up easily. Everything she was doing now was merely a tactical retreat.

Though he despised Jiang Ciyou, Yan Feng had no intention of setting her free. He wanted to trap her in this role, even if it meant a lifetime of mutual torment; he wouldn’t let go.

The woman on the sofa slept with such purity. Her breathtaking face called to mind the Sleeping Beauty from fairy tales. Yan Feng unconsciously drew closer, half-kneeling in front of the sofa, lost in her features.

He recalled how, in the past, he liked watching Jiang Ciyou sleep—because when she was awake, he rarely dared to gaze at her so boldly. Her brilliance was like the noonday sun: dazzling, but blinding.

Yan Feng admitted that, since childhood, he’d always felt inferior in her presence. She excelled in everything—looks, academics, social skills, talent. He could never measure up. So while he loved her, he couldn’t help but be jealous.

As a man, he didn’t know when he’d started treading carefully around her. In their two years of dating, they’d never kissed—not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t dare. He remembered once mustering all his courage, drawing near, the atmosphere just right, when she burst out laughing. She said they were too familiar, that his face reminded her of embarrassing moments from kindergarten. Deflated, he never tried to kiss her again.

Now, her face was right before him. For some reason, gazing at her stunning features, Yan Feng’s heart surged. A tiny thought sprouted inside him, unstoppable as bamboo after the rain.

Yan Feng’s lips inched closer. His heart thundered; anxiety so intense it curled his fingers into fists. Just as his lips were about to touch Jiang Ciyou’s cheek, the lounge door creaked open.

Startled, Yan Feng’s back went rigid. In his fluster, he forgot to stand. The commotion woke Jiang Ciyou. She opened her eyes to find Yan Feng’s face inches from hers, with Xia Ling standing in the doorway.

The office door had only been ajar. Xia Ling had lingered there for quite some time, watching Yan Feng approach Jiang Ciyou, seeing him attempt to kiss her. At last, she couldn’t bear it and pushed open the door.

"What are you doing?" Xia Ling tried to restrain herself, though rage churned inside; her face showed only wounded innocence.

A fleeting look of guilt flashed in Yan Feng’s eyes. At that moment, he and Jiang Ciyou locked eyes, and neither knew what to say.

Jiang Ciyou frowned. She’d barely slept the night before, and had finally fallen into deep slumber. The atmosphere was tense.

Yan Feng’s face flushed, looking every bit the guilty thief. His posture and his crimson cheeks said it all.

Jiang Ciyou suddenly laughed, her eyes full of mockery and irony. "Yan Feng, were you about to kiss me?"