When Ning Shangyu told her to raise her hand,
Lin Zhishui closed her eyes, but her mind was racing wildly like a miniature universe exploding.
She knew her lack of experience had revealed a flaw.
The breath she had just drawn into her chest froze instantly.
She forced herself to stay still, determined to keep up the pretense.
Ning Shangyu’s gaze slowly drifted from her trembling eyelashes down to the hands resting on the blanket—slender, clean knuckles, nails rounded and smooth, as if carved from flawless white jade.
He lowered his eyes and admired them for a full minute or two, savoring the moment.
For Lin Zhishui, this was the darkest, most unbearable moment of her life.
As she debated whether to pretend the sedative’s effect had worn off and subtly regain consciousness…
The strong, lingering gaze finally shifted away.
Ning Shangyu suddenly rose and walked toward the bathroom to take a shower.
Lin Zhishui’s breathing immediately became shallow and rapid.
She didn’t move for a long while. Although the robe’s fabric at the back of her neck was dry, she had the illusory sensation of sweating profusely.
That imaginary sweat seemed to cling stubbornly to her skin, refusing to evaporate.
Sounds came again from the bathroom.
Ning Shangyu appeared to have just rinsed off with cold water, and the approaching footsteps broke the room’s silence.
This time, when he bent down to lift the blanket, he switched off the only light.
The darkness actually gave Lin Zhishui a faint sense of security.
Though her hearing sharpened, she subtly noticed how close his chest was to her back.
She could almost feel the contours of his muscles through his skin.
Then, with her eyes still closed, her imagination seemed to be manipulated by his movements.
Suddenly, she felt her slender waist press down—Ning Shangyu’s hand caressing her.
He didn’t undo the tightly tied butterfly knot on her robe but instead slowly traced upward along the embroidered silver thread of the silky fabric, inch by inch.
Lin Zhishui was initially confused.
Her lowered eyelashes blinked involuntarily, unsure what was happening. Because he didn’t remove the robe she wore, and the pressure was gentle, it felt like a soft caress.
Until Ning Shangyu’s long, sinewy fingers slipped into the increasingly disheveled collar.
The next moment, Lin Zhishui felt as if an invisible hand gripped her heart.
Her body curled instinctively, pressing her back against his chest.
With one hand, Ning Shangyu idly traced her snowy form, making her entire body feel soft and pliant, like snow about to melt.
Her eyelashes and pale eyelids began trembling.
She could feel the pounding of her heart, even the faintest signs of life, completely under Ning Shangyu’s control.
She didn’t know how she silently and chaotically responded, only that she wished she could embed herself inside his chest.
Unconsciously, she even rubbed against him, separated only by two thin layers of fabric.
But it wasn’t enough.
Deep in her marrow, she yearned for that scent of fir.
Suddenly, Ning Shangyu’s grip tightened around the back of her neck, as if one harsh snap from his finger joints would break her.
Near her ear, she heard him laugh in the darkness, his voice low and husky: “Aren’t you asleep?”
Lin Zhishui immediately held her breath.
Under his control, she almost forgot that she was supposed to be deeply asleep after taking sleeping pills.
Despite the obvious flaws, Ning Shangyu didn’t expose her.
But now, Lin Zhishui could no longer keep pretending.
The place under Ning Shangyu’s hand felt strange—warm, perhaps even flushed red—a feeling unfamiliar and almost too embarrassing to admit, yet she wanted him to continue.
Yet if he did, she feared experiencing what had happened yesterday again, and that sudden impulse vanished.
She collapsed limply back under the blanket.
Ning Shangyu caught her subtle reaction and casually asked, “Are you not awake, or are you afraid of me?”
Lin Zhishui pressed her face into the pillow, cheeks faintly flushed, and whispered, “You…”
Ning Shangyu abruptly withdrew his hand.
But the moment his strong finger joints left the robe’s collar, an inexplicable emptiness crept into her heart.
He hesitated for a moment, then finally opened his clear eyes, peering through the dark night to look at her.
His handsome, sharp eyebrows and facial contours were shrouded in shadow, his true expression indistinct.
But Lin Zhishui’s imagination ran wild.
The detailed research report she had memorized sprang to mind.
She recalled Ning Shangyu’s rare genetic constitution, and though not his own choice, this sexual addiction constantly compelled him to control his body.
Ning Shangyu, known for his arrogance and ambition, who always bent power to his will—how could he possibly bow to mere physical desire?
The subtle emotion in Lin Zhishui’s eyes gradually solidified, covered by pity.
She briefly reflected that maybe she had overstepped tonight.
She wished she had swallowed those two sleeping pills for real.
Though she knew whatever she said now would sound insincere, she still tried to explain gently: “You woke me up… I guess it’s normal for me to be scared of you.”
Ning Shangyu’s tone was calm: “Did I wake you up?”
“Yes.”
Lin Zhishui’s soft voice listed his transgressions: “I was sleeping soundly, but you came in, played with my eyelashes, and put your hand inside my robe. Which naughty hand did that? It deserves a severe punishment.”
Speaking, she didn’t wait for Ning Shangyu to surrender his hand but adjusted her position slightly to face him.
Feeling justified, she chose the arm with the black minimalist linear tattoo and bit it lightly with her pearly teeth.
A pink tooth mark instantly appeared on his pale skin, like the soft pad of a kitten’s paw.
Lin Zhishui admired her own handiwork, her delicate fingertips lingering there a moment.
But when she felt Ning Shangyu’s arm muscles tense beneath her touch, she pulled back from indulging in her “art.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper: “Ning Shangyu, let’s sleep… Experts say doing intense exercise late at night harms sleep quality.”
Ning Shangyu’s gaze stayed quietly fixed on the “Little Lin Expert” beside the pillow.
After a while, he gave a perfunctory “hmm.”
Lin Zhishui didn’t catch it clearly but guessed he wasn’t planning to continue tonight.
Otherwise, given his usual forcefulness, it wouldn’t have been just a gentle caress.
So, with guilt and pity combining to soothe the anxiety that had plagued her all night, Lin Zhishui turned over and nestled close, taking up half the space in his arms.
Her voice softened: “That naughty hand of yours, give it to me. Hold me all night.”
Ning Shangyu asked quietly, “Little Lin Expert, are you taking advantage of me?”
Lin Zhishui leaned in closer, as if to squeeze him into the ground.
The spacious bed wasn’t big enough for the two of them to play this way.
Ignoring the new nickname, she declared before sleep overtook her: “That’s not taking advantage; it’s just friendly spousal bonding. But no further bonding allowed.”
“All right, goodnight!”
After saying goodnight, Lin Zhishui fell into a deep sleep, sleeping soundly.
Because Ning Shangyu had fulfilled his duty as fiancé all night, holding her, his warm body temperature transmitted through the robe clearly to her heart, giving her subconscious comfort.
Although she could fall asleep independently at home, deep down she never quite broke the habit of wanting to be held and cuddled.
From childhood, Lin Zhishui loved relying on Sheng Mingying’s embrace.
But her mother, busy with the Lin Family’s urgent affairs, had little time for such a high-maintenance child.
Later, Lin Zhishui clung instead to Lin Xiguang, her older sister, who was also young but busy running between various elite lessons and social obligations of the wealthy family.
Whenever Lin Xiguang was home, no matter where she was or what she was doing, she always kept Lin Zhishui in sight.
Lin Zhishui only needed to obediently lie on the soft handmade wool blanket like a doll, waiting for her sister to have a free moment to hold her.
Late at night, Lin Xiguang would place her in a specially made large baby cradle, stuffed with exquisite plush toys, and situate it by the desk.
Warm yellow light poured down, illuminating Lin Zhishui’s exquisitely carved face—more beautiful than any doll—with large, pure, glassy eyes filled with innocence and curiosity.
As Lin Xiguang grew older, her outings gradually stretched from every two or three days to once every ten days, then even longer.
Lin Zhishui’s frail health prevented her from accompanying her sister.
Her activity range shrank from the cradle to the confines of the Lin Family estate—a transparent glass box.
Eventually, she learned to handle many things independently.
Except for physiology class, which she didn’t understand, she absorbed much knowledge, especially from the rare editions on the three classical bookshelves in the west study on the second floor, which she had pored over countless times.
Dreaming of her childhood past, she woke, still faintly feeling the lingering warmth on her body—like sunshine scorching her thin shoulder blades, leaving them damp with sweat.
She lazily turned over, falling back onto the spot where Ning Shangyu’s presence had vanished, then resumed her nap.
Unaware, she missed the phone on the bedside table silently lighting up.