Although she said she was angry, Jiang Ran wasn’t really that mad. It was just that she felt momentarily lost in this situation: what should she do when her apprentice didn’t listen to her?
Lin Shuang hadn’t listened to her either back then, and she had always indulged her. But later, things hadn’t gone well for Lin Shuang…
Now that she had another apprentice, Jiang Ran didn’t know what to do anymore.
She had a terrible headache.
She couldn’t have missed Bei Jiao’s pitiful, cowardly eyes filled with malice pretending innocence—
Yes, probably in the morning he was still like a puppy, a stray dog, a vicious dog, an illegal breed…
But by nightfall, hugging the snowboard that had been shredded by a giant rockslide, his eyes sparkled with stars as he looked at her pitifully from start to finish.
She really wanted to make a simple comment on the matter, something like how this RX must have been cursed for eight lifetimes to have ended up with him, getting injured gloriously the day after the shrink wrap was torn open, and then the next day on the slopes it was scratched into this pathetic state…
However, under these circumstances, she swallowed those words back into her throat.
Mainly because she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, he really might cry for her.
Not knowing what to say, she decided to say nothing at all, and thus the awkward silence lasted until the next day.
Before heading to the slopes, she deliberately lingered in her room for a while, fully expecting not to see the familiar figure who had knocked on her door and squeezed into her room over the past two days, pleading to go together.
Sighing, Jiang Ran thought to herself that he probably wouldn’t even bother to come skiing today—
Just as she was pondering, she opened the door and saw the very person she had just been thinking about, hugging his battle-damaged snowboard, squatting right at her doorstep.
Hearing the door open, he seemed startled and quickly lifted his head.
“…” Jiang Ran’s expression was blank. “What are you doing here?”
Looking up with his handsome face, the boy hesitated, his narrow eyes flashing with a certain bright light. He blinked, pursed his lips, and obediently said, “Waiting for you.”
“…”
Suddenly, she remembered what Zhao Keyan had said about Bei Jiao beating someone up in high school, not only avoiding punishment but also becoming the pet of the director of student affairs, and walking around the school like a big shot ever since.
Jiang Ran turned around and closed the door. “Waiting for me to do what?”
Bei Jiao said, “To go skiing… duh!”
Jiang Ran glanced back at him. “How are you going to ski with your board in that condition?”
At the moment those words left her mouth, she felt as if she had seen a sunflower blooming toward the sun—originally golden and brilliant, but due to the sun shining too intensely, the sunflower was suddenly overwhelmed by the sunlight and drooped entirely…
Now the sun was trying hard not to feel guilty.
After all, she had just spoken the truth.
…
When they arrived at the ski resort, Jiang Ran didn’t forget to fulfill her duty as a master and didn’t completely abandon Bei Jiao. She helped him find a ski shop to do a temporary repair on the bottom of his board…
It wasn’t much better, but it could barely last a few days.
The technician at the ski shop was quite adept at adding insult to injury. He sincerely asked Bei Jiao if he disliked the board so much that he had treated it this way.
Jiang Ran, standing nearby, twitched her lips in envy of Song Die, who could rudely laugh out loud and mock, “Dislike it? He’s practically sleeping with this board.”
Bei Jiao, immersed in grief, didn’t have the time to respond to him.
Fortunately, carving mainly relied on the edges of the board rather than the base contacting the snow. It just needed some wax to prevent snow and water from getting into the core. After this simple treatment, he still took the board and boarded the lift.
Today, Song Yan didn’t come at all, probably because after making bad friends at the slopes yesterday and dragging Bei Jiao into trouble, she had been explicitly forbidden by Song Die from stepping foot at the ski resort today…
That was probably the only good news.
The rest of the experiences were quite unpleasant.
For example, aside from the brief conversation in the morning and the moment when the board was being repaired, Bei Jiao noticed that Jiang Ran had stopped paying attention to him again, so he became listless once more.
That gloomy atmosphere infected many people, including Qiu Nian, who had the misfortune to step onto the same lift cabin and found himself surrounded by familiar faces.
Holding his board, Qiu Nian sat opposite Jiang Ran and next to Bei Jiao. He watched the tattooed guy and the guy with dyed yellow hair sandwiching Jiang Ran in the middle, one on each side.
The lift cabin was packed, exactly six people.
“Hey,” Qiu Nian said, “Is this lift going to the crematorium? Otherwise, why is it so quiet?”
After he spoke, he noticed that the three people sitting directly opposite him—including Jiang Ran—didn’t even lift their eyelids. Not a single person wanted to respond to him.
He turned his head to the left, where Song Die smiled at him politely… Song Die didn’t know who Qiu Nian was, but he vaguely knew that she used to know Jiang Ran and now hated Bei Jiao—that was enough. The enemy of his enemy was his ally.
“I remember you, buddy. I saw you skiing yesterday,” Qiu Nian said to Song Die. “You skied pretty well!”
When Song Die softly said “Thank you,” she turned her head to her right.
“And you look obedient too, always following behind Jiang Ran. When she’s not there, you just ski on your own. Unlike some people who like to hang out with shady friends and won’t even listen when called.”
The person being referred to twitched his ears but didn’t lift his head, continuing to focus on his phone—early in the morning during the National Day holiday, the bar owner who had lost his workers was busily sending him crazy messages, asking in an unnecessarily hysterical tone which cabinet he had put the toilet paper in…
Bei Jiao was typing a reply.
Feeling someone’s head leaning over, Bei Jiao assumed there was nothing private in his conversation with the boss, and originally didn’t want to respond. But then, suddenly recalling something, he quickly covered his phone.
He turned his head and stared warily at Qiu Nian.
The latter was raising her eyebrows at him—nothing unusual about that—until her gaze shifted to Jiang Ran.
Bei Jiao: “Shut up!!”
Qiu Nian: “…I didn’t even say anything.”
Jiang Ran: “?”
…
Once they reached the slopes, today’s lesson began, and Jiang Ran didn’t have much to say to Bei Jiao.
She briefly explained how to perform a switch edge to him.
As mentioned earlier, experienced skiers can tell if a pro has passed by just by looking at the snow tracks. Their basis for judgment is the switch edge.
During a regular S-shaped turn, for instance, when switching from front edge to back edge, the board leaves a thin, deep carved line while carving. Then, during the edge switch, the bottom of the snowboard will briefly make full contact with the snow surface before flipping from front edge to back edge and entering the next carved turn.
The snow tracks of such a smooth S-shaped turn would appear as “carved line + short flat section from the board bottom + carved line.”
However, when a skier is extremely skilled, the flip between edges is so fast that the board leaves the snow surface entirely during the flip due to the powerful inertia and force, completing the flip mid-air.
The tracks of such an S-shaped turn would then appear as “carved line + sudden disappearance of tracks mid-air + reappearance of carved line along the original S-shaped path.”
This is known as a switch edge.
Jiang Ran briefly explained this theory to Bei Jiao and Song Die and then demonstrated it for them.
On the snow, wearing the stiffest and heaviest carving board, the Red Tree (Gray Type-R), the woman’s skiing was fast and stable. To make sure the two on the mountain could see the technique clearly, she put extra effort into her switch edge, jumping so high that she cleared the snow by nearly three or four centimeters.
Not only did the newbies on the slopes watch in awe, but even the seasoned carvers couldn’t help but stare in astonishment, exclaiming, “Wow!”
“She can even handle the Red Tree like that. Jiang Ran really skis like a beast,” Huang Mao sighed beside Qiu Nian. “Almost like a man.”
The tattooed guy bent down and clicked his bindings. “She’s improved again.”
Qiu Nian: “Don’t flatter her. Just look at how intense she’s skiing—she’s obviously in a bad mood. She’s taking it out on the slope like it’s her apprentice’s face!”
After she finished speaking, she tightened her boots and stopped paying attention to her two companions, chasing after the direction Jiang Ran, Bei Jiao, and the others had gone.
Not long after, she caught up with the master and apprentices.
At this moment, Jiang Ran was on her front edge, facing uphill, while the two boys sat below her feet, heads bowed as they were scolded.
From afar, Qiu Nian could already hear her cold voice saying, “Switch edge is just one way to show fast edge transitions. I told you to add force to your ankles during the edge switch, not to interfere before the edge has completed its carve—how many times have I said this? How did you lose the Guangrong competition? Have you even listened to a single word I’ve said?”
At first, she was addressing “you all,” but finally, her deep brown eyes locked onto the boy who was scratching his snowboard with his head down, and it became “you.”
Qiu Nian slowed her pace and casually slid over.
Jiang Ran caught sight of her approach in her peripheral vision, her expression was unpleasant, but she clamped her mouth shut with a hint of restraint.
“You should at least have a valid reason before getting angry. If you’re going to teach, teach properly. Why bring in personal emotions and mix them into class?”
With a calm demeanor, as if she were speaking from an equal footing, the woman with long black hair approached and said, “It’s just some backcountry skiing. Haven’t you skied big mountains before? Back then, when you jumped out of a helicopter, did you ever get angry at yourself like this?”
Her words were shocking, and Jiang Ran unusually fell into silence directly.
Song Die naturally didn’t know what had happened either.
The only one who reacted was Bei Jiao, who was stunned by the information in her words and lifted his head—
Looking from her to Jiang Ran, he asked in confusion, “What helicopter?”
Unfortunately, no one answered him.
The tense atmosphere in the air was ready to ignite—only between Jiang Ran and Qiu Nian.
“Before forbidding others from doing something, at least you should explain why it’s wrong. Your apprentice has only been skiing for two months. How much does he know?”
She raised her hand and patted the top of Bei Jiao’s helmet, like patting the head of a large dog.
“Jiang Ran, are you going to keep pushing away everyone around you just by keeping a cold face and being forceful? What’s the point of that?”
She paused for a moment.
“Especially since this guy even has your photo as his WeChat background.”
Bei Jiao: “……………………”
Forget the incomprehensible nonsense from earlier—
What was that last sentence!
Damn it!
Bei Jiao: “Don’t make stuff up! Who asked you to say that? Who the hell are you?”
Qiu Nian: “Okay, I made it up.”
She turned to Jiang Ran.
Qiu Nian: “I made it up. Don’t believe me. He didn’t set your photo as his WeChat background.”
Bei Jiao: “…”
Song Die: “…”
Jiang Ran: “…”
Qiu Nian dropped a bomb of information and didn’t care whether the people on the scene could process it. She turned her head and skied away.
Then she disappeared without a trace.
Judging from Jiang Ran’s expression, she clearly didn’t believe what Qiu Nian had said. Because for the rest of the day, her teaching attitude didn’t change in the slightest because of this incident.
All day long, aside from getting scolded, Bei Jiao didn’t manage to exchange more than three casual sentences with her.
…
That evening, back at the accommodation, Bei Jiao didn’t go inside but instead sat cross-legged on the swing outside the cabin. In the freezing cold, he seemed impervious to the chill, mechanically tilting his head to gaze at the sky, letting snowflakes fall on his face…
The entire scene was painfully poetic, enough to make Hana no Hana no Hana (Hanazawa Tsukasa from Hana Yori Dango) shout in admiration, “My respects!”
The boy had a blank expression on his face, seriously considering whether he should dismember himself first and then hang himself on Jiang Ran’s door.
While he was lost in these thoughts, he suddenly heard a soft “plop,” and everything around him suddenly went dark.
He looked around in confusion for a few seconds before the entire cluster of log cabins suddenly became restless, and someone pushed the door open with a “creak” and stepped out…
Soon after, someone shouted into the open space, “F***! The power’s out! This is ridiculous!”
“…”
Everything was great in Xinjiang—close to nature, vast territory, pleasant temperatures.
Except that infrastructure hadn’t quite kept up in recent years, and power outages could happen anytime.
Bei Jiao jumped off the swing, shaking snow off his body like a drowned dog. Instinctively, he looked in the direction of Jiang Ran’s cabin—
Pitch black.
He wondered what that woman was doing inside, how she was coping with the darkness, if she was scared.
As he pondered, he reflexively took a couple of steps in that direction. As he got closer and closer, he suddenly stopped dead at the foot of the stairs, unable to bring himself to step up.
…How could he be so scared?!
For twenty years, the word “cowardice” had never existed in his dictionary, yet now every pore in his body seemed filled with it. He was beginning to question his very existence.
His fingers fidgeted, brushing snow off the stair railing. In a daze, he thought back to this spot—it was exactly here, earlier today, when she had been leaning here waiting for him.
“…”
—If a male creature cares about you even slightly, when he makes a mistake, you don’t even need to scold him. He can mentally destroy himself all on his own.
“I should just die.”
This was Bei Jiao’s umpteenth sigh of the day when his phone buzzed in his pocket with a message notification.
Normally, his notifications were on silent, but this time he had deliberately turned the sound on—not truly expecting anything, yet still clinging to a sliver of hope for a miracle.
And at this very moment, had a miracle really arrived?
The boy hurriedly took out his phone. In the darkness caused by the power outage, he saw a line of text glowing on the screen—
【Whose Ranran Goose: Come in.】
……………………………………
Holy light bathes the earth.
He was alive again.
…
Dying in Jiang Ran’s house was better than dying in the freezing cold outside—
That was what Bei Jiao thought before opening the wooden door and entering the cabin.
After entering, surrounded by her familiar light fragrance, he changed his thoughts—
Because he suddenly realized he had forgotten how to breathe. Just inhaling her scent made his head buzz, completely losing all basic human functions.
He leaned against the door, afraid to move.
Amidst the chaos, he recalled a little dirty story Zhang Liang had invited him to read, where there was a special setting—instead of being divided into males and females, the world was divided into Alphas, the dominants, and Omegas, the breeders. At the time, he thought even in such a world, he, Bei Jiao, would definitely be the Alpha of Alphas, the King of A’s.
He was wrong.
Utterly wrong.
About the scenario of one’s legs going weak upon smelling someone else’s scent—Omegas might even ask, Are you okay?
But at this moment, Bei Jiao dared not make a sound.
The wooden cabin was pitch black, nothing visible except for Jiang Ran’s scent and the warm, humid fragrance mixed with shower gel. The bathroom door was open, and warm steam rushed out from inside…
She must have just taken a shower.
The heating in the house was on high, and she was wearing her favorite spaghetti strap nightgown… In the darkness, Bei Jiao could only see the white hem of her nightgown swaying slightly as she walked, and her arms, white as if glowing faintly—
She walked around the house in slippers, making soft noises.
Jiang Ran lifted her makeup case, blindly grabbed a skincare product that was probably toner, poured it into her palm, and finally spoke, “How long are you planning to stand at the door? If you haven’t decided whether to stay or leave yet, at least close the door first. You’re letting all the warm air out.”
Bei Jiao first took a step back, instinctively making a move as if he wanted to rush out.
Three seconds later, he realized he had worked hard to get inside and couldn’t just leave, so he hooked his foot and slammed the door shut with a “bang,” instantly separating the howling cold wind and snow outside. The cabin became even quieter.
Suffocating.
“No words?”
“…”
“So what were you pacing back and forth like an anxious groundhog for outside just now?”
“…”
She heard that?
Bei Jiao was bewildered, but Jiang Ran’s voice came from the bed. She had never been the type to dig for answers, and since he didn’t want to talk, she didn’t press him, “If you have nothing to say, then get to work. Go find the emergency light; the landlord said it’s in the cabinet next to you, covered in dust… I just showered, so I don’t want to touch it.”
She commanded him matter-of-factly.
Coincidentally, he had already gotten used to obeying her orders.
He turned around, silently pulled open the old storage cabinet beside him, and finally found the so-called emergency light deep inside… It was a hand-crank model, for crying out loud. Holding this ancient device, he struggled for quite a while, almost breaking a sweat, before finally figuring it out.
A few minutes later, the cabin was finally faintly illuminated by a light source—
Outside the cabin, probably other tenants had also received the landlord’s message about the emergency lights. Faint cursing could be heard from nearby.
Bei Jiao carried the light, using the source that could barely illuminate a one-meter radius around him. Finally, he could clearly see Jiang Ran sitting on the edge of the bed nearby—
She was bending over, picking through her skincare case.
Her wet hair was draped down her back. She had thick hair, which took time to dry, so right now, the ends were silently dripping water droplets.
“Your hair is still dripping.”
That was the first sentence he had uttered since entering the cabin.
And upon speaking, he immediately realized how hoarse his voice sounded.
He placed the emergency light he was carrying on the only table in the cabin—the wooden floor creaked with each of his steps. He stretched out his long arms, grabbed another dry and warm towel from the rack, and approached her from behind.
Carefully, he gathered her long hair with the towel.
Jiang Ran didn’t move, her back to him.
His broad shoulders blocked the only source of light in the cabin. Jiang Ran looked at the wall, watching the shadow cast by the boy behind her completely covering her own. Instinctively, she turned her face slightly.
She felt the boy behind her freeze in his hair-drying motion, as sensitive as if her slightly heavier breath could scare him to death…
Jiang Ran said indifferently, “You should start drying from the roots. What you’re doing now—just the ends—will just get wet again from the water dripping down.”
After a long silence, he finally said, “Oh.”
Actually, he hadn’t heard a single word she said. Mechanically, he moved the towel slightly, covering her head and blocking the sight of her delicate nose peeking out from her slightly turned face—
There was a benefit to this.
Without seeing her face, his chaotic emotions calmed a bit.
The boy’s strong fingertips gently rubbed through her hair under the towel, carefully and meticulously, as if afraid of irritating her with even a single strand out of place.
Amidst the soft rustling sounds, she lowered her head and said, “What’s wrong with you?”
“Hmm?” Bei Jiao said, “Huh?”
Is the scolding about to start?
Can you wait a bit?
He hadn’t mentally prepared himself yet… maybe another ten thousand years would do?
“You act like a frightened bird,” Jiang Ran’s reply surprised him completely, “Didn’t I scold you?”
“…”
Oh, he understood that sentence.
Didn’t she scold him?
What about those words like “even a pig would remember, but you won’t” during today’s snowboard lesson? Wasn’t that scolding?
“Go ahead and scold me,” he said gloomily, “Please, just scold me.”
Anything but her sarcastically thanking him every time he farts or not even looking at him.
He sounded a bit self-destructive and irritable.
He didn’t notice the pressure he applied with his hands. He pulled a strand of her hair, actually hurting her. In the darkness, she frowned but didn’t tell him, fearing that if she said anything more, he might drop the towel and run away in fright.
“How about we talk about what happened these past few days?”
“…I don’t want to.”
He protested softly.
“Then why did you come in? To discuss your WeChat background?”
“…”
He fell silent again.
What a bother. Why did she bring this up now!
Would she ask to check his phone and see for herself—
He hadn’t changed it back yet!
Luckily, she didn’t.
“What are you afraid of?”
“…Afraid of you.”
“What for? Aren’t we having a normal conversation now? This morning, Qiu Nian wasn’t lying. Off-piste skiing is indeed a part of skiing. Among all the styles, the most advanced one is backcountry skiing—previously, when we were abroad, we would charter helicopters to the mountain tops in winter and then ski down.”
Her voice was slow.
“No one avoids this style like it’s a plague, and I’m not stopping you from off-piste skiing either. With your current skill level, skiing through a place like Yelang Gully is nothing. You’d be out in an hour and a half at most.”
Bei Jiao paused in his movements. As her calm words continued, he suddenly felt confused.
Jiang Ran sensed the atmosphere and briefly chuckled, “Qiu Nian also got one more thing right. The root of your reckless decision to go off-piste skiing was actually my fault—on the first day in Altay, you wanted to go off-piste skiing with Song Die. I simply told you not to go without explaining why. That kind of blunt refusal might have made you think I was being unreasonable and overly strict.”
“…”
Well said.
Because he truly hadn’t understood—
Even after realizing he had messed up this afternoon, he had only been immersed in the fear of being expelled from Jiang Ran’s tutelage, deliberately ignoring the brief moment of confusion that had surfaced in his mind: Why?
He was afraid to ask, so he didn’t even think deeply about it.
Now she had brought it up herself…
Understanding was indeed a beautiful virtue.
“I didn’t think you were being unreasonable at all… Please continue,” he said in a low voice, “This hair can be dried for a while longer.”
The towel slid down, from her head to around her shoulders.
“Going off-piste means leaving the ski resort’s management. In off-piste terrain, there might be boulders, unfrozen streams, and complex, vast mountainous landscapes that could lead to getting lost… All of these could be dangerous, even life-threatening,” Jiang Ran said. “Just like carving turns require carving skis and bindings, backcountry skiing requires completely different equipment and preparation than on-piste skiing—appropriate cold-weather gear, satellite positioning devices, sufficient food, water, and even more warm clothing… All of these should be prepared thoroughly to handle any unexpected situations in the wild.”
She paused briefly.
“Do you know why professional ski jackets, like Burton’s AK457, are so expensive?”
“Brand premium, right?”
“No,” Jiang Ran said. “Burton makes truly professional ski gear. Their top-tier jackets are waterproof against powder snow—uncompacted snow found off-piste—and even have a disposable GPS signal transmitter in the hood for emergency location in case of danger. That’s what makes them expensive, not the misconception some people on groomed slopes have, thinking they’re just a symbol of wealth.”
She paused and turned her head, “Skiing is an extreme sport; you should hold it with respect—respect for the mountains, and for life.”
Bei Jiao was caught off guard by her deep brown eyes. Under the emergency light, they looked moist and clear, shadowed by him, yet her pupils were unusually bright.
His mind went blank.
He let out a confused “Hmm” from deep in his throat.
“You went to Yelang Gully this afternoon with just one snowboard and not even a single cookie in your pocket. What would you have done if you got thirsty, hungry, or exhausted halfway?” Jiang Ran said, “I was just worried you might encounter danger.”
Her final sentence was almost a sigh.
Since they met, she had scolded him, mocked him, teased him—these were daily occurrences—
She had never spoken so much, so patiently explaining things he didn’t know due to his lack of experience.
These were things he should have taken the initiative to ask her about beforehand…
But he hadn’t, and he had made her worry.
The worst part was, after that, all he did was crouch outside her door trembling, waiting for her to open the door, let him in, and even apologize first before comforting him.
Throughout it all, he had been a useless loser.
“I’m sorry.”
His voice was very hoarse.
Unconsciously tightening his grip, he forgot that her hair was still in his hands, so the towel wrapped around her hair pulled at her strands. He heard her softly hiss in pain…
Jiang Ran turned her head, tilting her face up, smiling at him, “Gently, don’t pull my hair.”
The soft ending made his whole body stiffen.
Even though he had already looked away, he still seemed to see her gentle almond eyes gazing at him.
At this moment, the emergency light flickered due to insufficient power and then went out.
The entire wooden cabin was plunged into darkness once again.
…
Everything in front of him suddenly became blurred due to the dim light.
The sounds of people moving, talking, and cursing about the damn electricity not coming yet from the neighboring rooms were amplified. Besides that, there was only the soft and heavy sound of breathing in the room.
By the faint light of the snow through the window, he saw her back facing him, sitting with her head slightly lowered. Her pale shoulders formed a straight line, ending in a smooth curve. The thin spaghetti strap of her nightgown hung in the middle, crossing the shadow of her collarbone…
She usually wore thick, fully-covered pajamas at home.
Coming to Xinjiang, she probably never expected that he would be allowed into her room at night, so she had let her guard down.
But who could have predicted everything happening right now—
Scold me.
Bei Jiao thought expressionlessly.
Maybe scolding or even hitting him would make everything follow the usual routine.
Why are you speaking to me with a smile?
He couldn’t figure it out.
“Jiang Ran.”
“What?”
“…Something feels off. Aren’t you supposed to be angry? I was prepared for that before entering the room.”
“Are you asking for a scolding?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you mean by ‘yeah’?”
“I still think I should apologize—”
The coarse towel slipped from his fingers, and his fingertips easily touched her slightly damp hair.
“I made you worry.”
His dark pupils deepened, and his fingers gently lifted, parting her long hair.
“I’m sorry.”
Jiang Ran only felt a warm breath suddenly blowing onto her cool shoulder in the darkness before she could even react…
The next second, a soft sensation landed on her shoulder and back.
The sound stopped there.
He closed his eyes, his lips pressing against her smooth, pale shoulder. His long lashes trembled slightly from extreme nervousness, brushing against her skin, causing a faint tickle.
The towel slid down and pooled at her waist.
It became the only barrier between the two sitting closely together.
His palm was hot and dry, gripping her shoulder. As she inhaled sharply and tried to shrink away, he tightened his grip, pinning her in place—
In the darkness, he heard her quickened breathing.
His five fingers on her shoulder subtly tightened, leaving a faint pink imprint on her flawless skin…
His lips greedily brushed against that smooth skin, then with his canine teeth, carefully and half-suckling, half-biting, left a small mark that was his.
“Mm.”
He heard her whisper softly, “What’s wrong with you… It hurts, don’t bite.”
The blood throughout his body seemed to surge from his heart in an instant, like a tsunami crashing into his abdomen with intense force.
He held her shoulders, turning her around so that she faced him. In the darkness, he couldn’t even see her facial expression, only feeling her slight trembling beneath his presence.
He didn’t know whether it was from cold or something else.
He hugged her tightly around her slender waist, pulling her into his arms. She seemed to curl up into a ball, soft and yielding in a way that was almost unreasonable…
She stood there dazedly, letting him do as he pleased.
His hand gently brushed across her cheek, pushing aside the slightly damp strands of hair from her face.
He keenly noticed her breath catch, as if she knew what was coming next. So he leaned down and captured her lips with his.
Author’s Note:
Little Brother: I’m an A!!!!!!!!!
(Ten minutes later)
Little Brother: Okay, turns out I’m actually an O :).
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