Zhi Jiu couldn’t focus on the movie at all—his mind kept drifting toward Mu Fu, captivated by her every move. For a moment, he thought to himself that just sitting there in silence like this… wasn’t so bad.
Mu Fu, on her end, was fumbling in the dark. The room was nearly pitch black, and she had just misplaced the bag of chips she liked. Her hand was searching blindly across the coffee table, crinkling plastic wrappers with each movement.
Zhi Jiu leaned down and whispered, “What’s wrong?” He couldn’t help but treat the place like a real movie theater, automatically lowering his voice.
“I want the tomato-flavored chips,” she replied, “but I can’t tell which one’s which.”
“I’ll find it for you.” Using the dim light from his phone screen, Zhi Jiu quickly picked out the right bag and handed it over. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Mu Fu placed the chips in front of her, within easy reach, so she wouldn’t have to fumble again.
Watching her munch away with such satisfaction, Zhi Jiu suddenly felt tempted himself. He reached into the bag—only to graze her hand. Their fingers touched lightly, and he immediately pulled back. He could still feel the warmth of her skin lingering on his fingertips. In the dark, every little sensation felt amplified.
He swallowed hard, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. He hadn’t eaten anything, but his throat was parched. Feeling oddly flustered, he grabbed his juice and took a large gulp. Gulp, gulp. The sound echoed unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
Mu Fu heard it too. She figured maybe he didn’t have enough to drink, so she held out her own cup. “Here, I’ve got more.”
The sudden gesture startled him. He choked on his juice and started coughing violently. Mu Fu jumped in surprise, realizing she’d probably scared him. She quickly tried to pull her hand back, but in the chaos, Zhi Jiu’s arm knocked her cup—and the juice went spilling all over him.
Mu Fu knew she’d messed up. She completely forgot about the movie and scrambled to find tissues to help Zhi Jiu clean up.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” Zhi Jiu managed between suppressed coughs, struggling not only with the irritation in his throat, but also with Mu Fu’s soft hands fussing all over him, unintentionally setting off sparks wherever they touched. His body felt like it was on the verge of combustion, every breath he exhaled hot enough to burn. He was holding himself back—barely.
But Mu Fu mistook his restraint for politeness. “It’s my fault, I was too clumsy. Let me help, or I’ll feel terrible.” She kept dabbing and fussing, unaware that a moment later, her hand brushed against… something. Zhi Jiu gave a muffled groan.
“Mmm…” It was a sound laced with both pain and a jolt of something… electric.
Mu Fu froze. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where’s the remote? Let’s turn on the lights—”
“No.” Zhi Jiu caught her hand just as she reached for the remote. His voice was low, husky, and magnetic, pulling her in like gravity. In the darkness, his eyes were pools of midnight. That voice alone made her ears go warm.
Mu Fu hadn’t expected someone four years younger to make her knees feel this weak. She blushed and nodded shyly, “Mm… okay.”
The way they were positioned was anything but innocent—Zhi Jiu had one hand pressing hers against the back of the sofa, the other gripping her wrist, his body holding her firmly in place. Neither of them cared what part of the movie was playing now.
Zhi Jiu couldn’t take his eyes off her face. Her wide, blinking eyes sparkled even in the darkness—almost too bright to look at. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. His throat felt parched.
Seeing the way he looked at her, Mu Fu knew exactly what was coming next. And she didn’t resist. In fact, she wanted it too.
But in a small whisper, she reminded him, “The cameras are still on.”
Zhi Jiu’s eyes darkened. He might be younger, but he wasn’t naive. He understood exactly what she meant—and everything that came with it. He stood up and calmly turned off the surrounding cameras. They’d filmed enough footage by now anyway. And besides, he trusted the production team to know what should—and shouldn’t—be aired.
After switching off the cameras, the heat in his chest cooled slightly. With it, a bit of reason returned as well.
He was still young, impulsive, and brimming with restless energy. These past few days, Mu Fu’s unintentional teasing had taken root in his thoughts, haunting his nights. His emotions had gotten the better of him, and now that clarity crept back in, he felt nothing but embarrassment.
Mu Fu, noticing how he froze in place without moving for a long while, immediately understood what was going on. But seriously—she was already halfway undressed, and now he wanted to back out? Absolutely not.
She rose from the couch, strode over to Zhi Jiu with a commanding aura, and pushed him back down onto the cushions. Caught off guard, Zhi Jiu didn’t resist her strength—he hadn’t expected it. And before he could sit up again, she was already straddling his lap, smooth and confident.
She placed a firm hand on his chest, stopping his attempt to get up. “Don’t move.” Her eyes glinted with dissatisfaction.
Licking her lips slowly, she murmured, “Tell me…” Her gaze drifted down his tense body, “…what exactly are you trying to do here? You’re the one who started this, and now that I’m ready, you want to quit?”
Zhi Jiu stiffened, a faint blush creeping over his fair cheeks. He had no idea what gave him the courage earlier to even try and kiss her.
Mu Fu leaned down, her soft, red lips brushing almost against his.
“A-Fu…you…can you get off me first?” Zhi Jiu turned his head aside, his voice jittery and unsure.
Mu Fu raised a brow. Get off him? Not a chance.
“In your dreams,” she declared, voice firm. Her breathy tone sent shivers up his spine. He was losing the fight fast.
And just as his mind was caught in the tug-of-war between hesitation and desire, her lips found his. Soft. Warm. Her playful tongue gently traced the edge of his lips—and in that instant, Zhi Jiu’s remaining restraint completely unraveled. His dark eyes burned, and reason vanished into the heat of the moment.
Under the intensity of his smoldering gaze, Mu Fu’s heart fluttered. Why did it feel like this man in front of her was about to devour her whole?
Her body felt soft, powerless, and every inch of Zhi Jiu radiated masculine energy that made her pulse race. There was something thrilling, something secretly electrifying about it all.
He leaned in slowly, like a scene unfolding in slow motion on screen, and finally pressed his lips against hers. But Zhi Jiu had no experience. He kissed her with the clumsy boldness of someone who had never done it before.
“Ow…” she gasped, unable to hide the pain. Her hand flew to her lips, blocking his next kiss.
Startled, he gently grabbed her wrist to see what had happened. A few spots on her lips were broken—tender skin scraped raw, a faint trace of blood blooming red against the pink. No wonder their kiss had tasted faintly metallic.
Panic flickered across Zhi Jiu’s face. He cupped her cheeks with both hands, staring at her lips like he’d shattered something priceless. “I’m so sorry…” His voice was filled with regret.
But Mu Fu just smiled at him sweetly, her eyes soft with affection. “It’s alright. Let’s keep going.”
The light in his eyes flared—like she’d just given him permission to breathe. He looked at her with a depth of emotion that said everything. Then, without another word, he suddenly flipped her over, reversing their positions in one fluid move. His answer came not in words, but action.
Dizzy from the sudden shift, Mu Fu found herself lying back on the sofa, her breath catching as her mind tried to catch up. Zhi Jiu looked down at her, eyes swirling with emotion, unsure of what to say. There was something innocent in the way he hesitated—shy, yet smoldering.
And whatever restraint he had left? It was slipping. Desire surged through him, and his hands clenched her shoulders with a force he couldn’t quite control.
His lips landed softly on Mu Fu’s smooth, fair cheek. The gesture was tender, his eyes filled with emotion as he looked at the girl in front of him—eyes that shimmered unmistakably with love.
They had spent a romantic afternoon together.
Now, Mu Fu leaned against Zhi Jiu’s chest with a lazy, contented expression. Her fingers laced with his as she idly played with them, slowly tracing the shape of each one. His hands were cool to the touch, smooth like polished jade—not at all like the calloused hands of other men she’d known. She couldn’t get enough of them.
But Zhi Jiu caught her wandering hand before it went any further. If she kept playing around like that, things would quickly spiral into another round of… indescribable activities.
“A-Fu…” His voice, low and husky from their earlier intimacy, carried a touch of shyness despite everything they had just shared. Even now—after everything—he was still endearingly bashful.
Mu Fu couldn’t help but chuckle. Her A-Jiu was just too adorable. She felt like her heart might burst with love for him.
Hearing her soft laugh, Zhi Jiu buried his face in the curve of her neck. He took in the subtle scent that was hers alone, and the hard edges in his expression melted away.
For a moment, time slowed. They both sank into the warmth of that quiet peace.
Until someone’s stomach gave a loud, hungry growl—neither of them could tell whose. They looked at each other and laughed.
“Rest for a bit,” Zhi Jiu said, getting up smoothly. “I’ll cook. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.” He moved gracefully as he got dressed.
“Mhm,” she murmured, her voice lazy and soft.
Once he’d straightened up, he reached over and gently ran his fingers through her silky hair. Mu Fu responded by rubbing her cheek against his warm palm, affection radiating from every small touch.
“I’m heading downstairs. Just rest a little more. If you need anything, call me,” Zhi Jiu said, pausing at the door to remind her once again—ever thoughtful.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Mu Fu replied lazily.
Once he left, she closed her eyes, a sleepy look on her face. Then, for no clear reason, she let out a little giggle.
Flashes of their time together played through her mind—how awkward things had been at first, the silly moments, the laughter… and now, the easy closeness between them. Each memory felt like a little gem, belonging only to the two of them. She even started imagining their future—growing old together, still this close, still this in love.
Before she knew it, sleep overtook her. After skipping her afternoon nap for their “romantic escapade,” she was simply too exhausted to keep her eyes open.
When Zhi Jiu came back, the first thing he saw was Mu Fu’s angelic sleeping face—soft, peaceful, still carrying traces of the passion from earlier. He knew she was completely worn out from the afternoon.
Gently, carefully, he bent down to pick her up. As he lifted her, the blanket slipped from her shoulders, revealing her smooth, pale skin. His gaze darkened slightly at the sight, but then he remembered the security cameras outside the hallway. He set her back down cautiously, not wanting her exposed to the lens even for a second. In that brief movement, Mu Fu didn’t stir—not even once.
With the utmost care, Zhi Jiu dressed her, fingers working quickly and gently. By the time he was done, a fine sheen of sweat dotted his forehead. He hadn’t even dared to look directly at her delicate skin the whole time.
Only once everything was properly covered did he lift her again, this time securely in his arms, like a princess. He carried her to the starry-sky room nearby—a room with a soft, comfortable bed, and more importantly, a space where they could be alone on camera, with a justifiable excuse to lie side by side and fall asleep together, toes touching, hearts aligned.
Axolotl Translations 
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