Fatal Desire

Chapter 114 Hot spring bath

"It's nothing." Song Xi lowered her eyelashes, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the tassels of the cashmere blanket.

Her long, thick eyelashes were still trembling slightly.

Zhao Yansen's eyes darkened: "Now you won't even tell me this?"

Song Xi looked up, her peach blossom eyes, misty with moisture, reflecting the dappled light from the overhead lamp.

Their eyes met, their gazes locked, and even the dust floating in the air seemed to freeze in a silent struggle.

Suddenly, she threw herself into Zhao Yansen's arms. Her slender arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her nose pressed against his prominent Adam's apple, and she said in a muffled voice:

"Brother, I'm so afraid you'll die."

Zhao Yansen's body stiffened visibly for a moment. His large hand slowly caressed her slender back, and through her clothes, he could feel her prominent shoulder blades, like a butterfly with broken wings. He suddenly tightened his arms, almost kneading her into his ribs.

"I dare not die." Her Adam's apple bobbed at the corner of her lips, her tone casual yet inexplicably solemn. "If I die, who will take care of you?"

Hiding in his own little world, Song Xi's dormant heart began to beat again, giving him a startling feeling of being instantly brought back to life.

Like a medical miracle.

She is a patient suffering from a rare disease, and he is the only doctor in the world who can cure her... Love itself is a disease, causing fever, disordered heartbeat, and inescapable pain.

In the past, Song Xi would have asked in return: "Are you going to take care of me for the rest of your life?"
But now, she simply rested her head on his shoulder, her voice as soft as a snowflake falling on a lake: "I'm all grown up now, I can take care of myself."

She can live without him. Just like those four years.

Zhao Yansen suddenly tightened his arms, pulling her deeper into his embrace, his voice low and chuckled: "All the pets I raised are gone, and this is what you call taking care of me?"

"Why do you have so many complaints about me?" Song Xi was unhappy, but she didn't let go of Zhao Yansen. Hugging him wasn't illegal, so she would just hug him for a while... just a little while.

"No objection." Zhao Yansen gently stroked her slender back with his palm. "How could I possibly have any objections to such a wonderful princess as Xixi?"

—My sister is so good to you, what is there to be angry about?

He returned it to her almost exactly as it was.

Song Xi pouted, too lazy to ask what was so good about herself, and simply buried her face in his neck, her breath filled with his scent.

She embraced Zhao Yansen silently and contentedly for a moment, then raised her hand to push him away.

Can't push it.

"Let me go," she protested.

"Tired?" Zhao Yansen's arms were still tightly wrapped around her.

"It's alright," Song Xi replied truthfully.

The next second, the man's large hand gripped her waist, and his other hand supported her buttocks. With a little force, he lifted her onto his lap, and they sat facing each other, intimately straddling each other.

Caught off guard, Song Xi instinctively braced her knees against the sides of the seat, almost sinking into his arms.

She blinked blankly, her long eyelashes trembling slightly, like a squirrel suddenly being lifted up.

Zhao Yansen held her by the back of the neck, hugging her like a child, and said gently, "We'll be there soon."

"Where to?" Song Xi was exhausted and had no strength left to struggle. "Home?"

"A place to eat."

"Oh."

After a moment of silence, Song Xi slowly spoke again: "Does Aunt know?"

Not wanting Song Yunyu to worry, she concealed the truth about the bombing. Her aunt believed it was an accident and was unaware that it was deliberate.

Zhao Yansen nodded and said, "She's fine. We'll see her when we get back."

Song Yunyu called Zhao Yansen to inquire about the truth behind the bombing.

After Zhao Yansen informed her, he told her not to call Song Xi for the time being, so as not to remind Song Xi of that memory.

So today, Song Xi only received the routine message from Song Yunyu, telling her to eat on time, and did not see any content related to the bombing.

"Okay." Song Xi yawned, tilted her head, and rested her cheek on Zhao Yansen's shoulder for a short nap.

A black sedan drove into a secluded courtyard with gray bricks and tiles on the outskirts of Beijing. Two old locust trees stood silently in front of the gate in the twilight. Song Xi opened her eyes sleepily and was greeted by lush greenery, a tranquil and pleasant sight.

She gazed at the familiar scenery outside the window and remembered that this was a private kitchen courtyard, complete with hot springs, suites, a chess room, a tea room, and more—it was even better than a mountain resort. Usually, only important figures came here for recuperation.

The driver brought the car to a smooth stop.

Song Xi got off the car first. She glanced at the dark blue sky and stood under an ancient locust tree to wait for Zhao Yansen.

Zhao Yansen strolled over, his Beijing accent languid: "What, still want to climb up?"

Song Xi looked up: "Is it this one?"

When she was a child, she was mischievous. Before Zhao Chengyou was born, Zhao Zongting and Song Yunyu brought them here to eat.

After dinner, on a whim, Song Xi quietly climbed a tree and played hide-and-seek with Zhao Yansen.

Zhao Yansen gestured to the two cuts on the tree trunk.

That was Song Xi's absurd idea: to write down the heights of the two people and then compare them years later.

He fulfilled every wish she made.

The lanterns under the eaves suddenly lit up, and the warm light dappled through the leaves onto the two people.

Song Xi blinked her long eyelashes very slowly.

If we could go back to how we were in the beginning, that would be wonderful.

The dining area is located in an open-air courtyard.

The suspended chandelier casts a soft halo, giving the entire set of rosewood Chinese furniture a warm, glazed appearance. The wood grain lines are simple and clean, gleaming with a serene, muted light under the lamp, exuding the solemnity and elegance of Eastern aesthetics.

Waiters dressed in cheongsams pulled out chairs for them.

The manager, a woman, spoke in a pleasant voice: "Mr. Zhao, dinner is ready. Please enjoy."

On the rosewood square table, the dishes were laid out in a neat and orderly fashion.

Song Xi sat down and sipped the soup from the Shaoxing wine-infused chicken stew. The amber-colored broth was rich and flavorful, and a warm feeling spread from her stomach.

Zhao Yansen sat opposite her, slowly and meticulously picking the fine bones from the steamed cod. The fish meat was snow-white, and with a gentle flick of his chopsticks, he peeled it off completely, placing it steadily into the bone china dish in front of her.

Song Xi likes to eat fish, but doesn't like picking out the bones.

She put a small piece of fish in her mouth, then looked up and saw that Zhao Yansen hadn't eaten a single bite of food and was drinking white wine.

"I want to drink too." She reached for the bottle.

"Drink the soup." Zhao Yansen tapped the table with his finger, his voice low and authoritative.

Song Xi pursed her lips, withdrew her hand, and lowered her head to continue drinking her soup. The silver spoon touched the rim of the bowl, making a very soft "clink".

Zhao Yansen used a knife and fork to cut her steak and placed it in front of her. Song Xi looked up and smiled at him, her eyes crinkling.

"Thank you, brother."

His gaze lingered on her smiling face for a moment, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly: "If you really want to thank me, then get well soon."

"Then I won't thank you." Song Xi immediately withdrew her thanks.

*
After the meal, Zhao Yansen received a business call and had to leave temporarily.

Song Xi sat alone in a wicker chair in the courtyard, playing a game. Her fingertips tapped lightly on the screen, and the copper bells hanging from the eaves tinkled in the night breeze. A moment later, a waiter led her through the corridor to the hot spring pool in the backyard.

The bamboo curtain was half-rolled up, and the hot spring steam rose in the air. Moonlight, like shattered silver, floated on the surface of the pool, and the mist swirled around like gauze.

Song Xi walked in on the bluestone slabs and heard the soft sound of water coming from inside.

She suddenly stopped in her tracks.

In the damp mist, Zhao Yansen leaned against the pool wall, water droplets sliding down his sharp jawline, lingering briefly at his collarbone, and finally disappearing into his firm and sexy chest.

The humid heat gave his pale skin a glossy sheen, exuding a wild, masculine aura.

"Aren't you coming down?" he asked with his eyes closed, his voice low and hoarse from the steam.

(End of this chapter)