Sensing someone approaching from behind, Cecilia Ye turned around in alarm—only to meet those cold, jet-black eyes head-on.
Her petite frame was caged in, surrounded by glass, and when Cecilia Ye tried to leave, the man before her refused to budge.
She dropped her gaze, her field of view filled with Fu Zhiyé’s chest in a cream-colored sweater, rising and falling ever so slightly with each breath.
Her cheeks flushed pink.
"I… I’m going to go change clothes now."
"Mm," Fu Zhiyé replied, but he didn’t move at all.
Cecilia Ye bent down, trying to slip out under his arm. The minute she moved, Fu Zhiyé’s hand wrapped firmly around her waist.
Outside the glass, fat snowflakes tumbled from the sky, striking the windowpane and leaving a myriad of crystal-clear traces.
Under the dim, amber light, a gentle warmth gilded the young woman’s blushing face. Her long lashes trembled; she dared not look at him.
Like a big bad wolf, Fu Zhiyé braced one arm against the glass, gazing down at the little white rabbit caught in his arms, then lowered his head.
His cool lips met her soft ones—a gentle brush at first, then, as if unsatisfied, his strong arms hoisted her up and crushed her into his embrace with a deep, lingering kiss.
His grip at her waist was so firm that Cecilia Ye had to rise up onto her toes. Her hands had nowhere to go, so she hooked them around Fu Zhiyé’s shoulders.
Outside, the world was an icy snowfield; inside, the air seethed between the two of them.
The kiss didn't cease until Cecilia Ye’s legs turned to jelly. Only then did Fu Zhiyé finally let go, running his tongue across his lips as if savoring the taste.
His voice, low and hoarse, sounded in her ear: "Go change clothes. I’ll take you to the hot spring in a bit."
Cecilia Ye wanted to refuse, but the words stuck in her throat. After playing outside all day, she did want to soak in a nice, relaxing bath.
She hadn’t hurt herself falling in the snow, but her stomach was acting up a bit—probably just caught a chill. Maybe a hot spring would help.
She headed to the bathroom to change, emerging with a towel wrapped around her, a little tank top and shorts underneath. Her slender, pale legs stuck out from under the towel.
Fu Zhiyé was already in the hot spring, reclined against the edge, lean limbs stretched, his well-defined abs and narrow waist on full display. Wet droplets slid from his hair down his neck and chest before sinking into the water.
The swirling mist made his handsome face look a bit hazy. Cecilia Ye shuffled slowly over to the spring—the cold had tinted her delicate toes a soft pink.
She slipped in on the far side, as far from Fu Zhiyé as possible.
From the moment Cecilia Ye walked to the opposite edge, his eyes never left her. He watched as those dainty, pale feet dipped into the water, followed by the line of her calves.
She took a step onto the submerged ledge, unfurled the towel, letting dark, silky hair tumble over snowy skin, her delicate shoulder blades moving under the shifting light—a sight that made Fu Zhiyé’s throat tighten.
She held onto the side and slid into the water. The warmth enveloped her, coaxing every pore of her body to relax. A languid, contented sigh slipped from her lips, long hair waving through the surface and revealing a glimpse of the white tank top beneath.
But before she could settle in, a strong hand shot out from under the water, yanking her over.
Cecilia Ye stumbled, crashing into a solid chest, water droplets splattering across her face.
Now, with nothing to lean on in the middle of the pool, she could only cling to Fu Zhiyé’s forearm for support.
He leaned in, his voice low and sexy: "Why are you hiding all the way over there?"
"I… I wasn’t…" Cecilia Ye’s heart thumped wildly.
He pulled her close to the edge, wrapping her small form securely in his arms.
Occasionally, a snowflake would drift beneath the umbrella, landing with a cold touch on her cheek.
Cecilia Ye tilted her head to look—the snow spun and danced against the inky night sky, catching the light from the eaves like glittering feathers.
"Fu Zhiyé, it’s so beautiful," Cecilia Ye couldn’t help but whisper.
A snowflake landed atop her long lashes. She blinked, and it melted. The tiny mole on her nose twitched, and her eyes sparkled like stars.
Fu Zhiyé stared, entranced, his gaze wandering along the elegant line of her neck, as graceful as a swan’s.
He yearned—couldn’t help himself.
"Yeah. So beautiful…"
His little wife was breathtaking.
He kissed the graceful curve of her neck, softly and tenderly at first, then with a hint of sharpness.
Fu Zhiyé just wanted to mark her as his own, to leave his brand on such beauty.
The warmth of his breath and his lips on her neck made Cecilia Ye’s toes curl in the water.
She shook her head. "Fu Zhiyé, don’t…"
He seemed not to hear—her arms were pinned; every touch left a mark.
A ripple of fear passed through Cecilia Ye. After what had happened before, she dreaded such kisses, hated exposing her neck, hated those pink scars lingering there. Every touch brought back bad memories.
"Let me go, please…"
Her voice trembled as she hugged herself, shivering.
Hearing the fear in her tone, Fu Zhiyé grit his teeth and forced himself to stop. His ragged, suppressed breaths brushed against her ear.
He pulled Cecilia Ye tightly into his chest, trying to quell the heat flushing through him.
A long silence hung between them. Then, quietly, he spoke: "Forget it. I never meant to bully you."
He released Cecilia Ye and leaned back against the pool’s edge, letting cold snowflakes land on his face.
They bathed in uneasy peace. Eventually, Fu Zhiyé got up to leave, tossing, "Wait for me."
Cecilia Ye leaned docilely against the edge, waiting, catching a glimpse of his long, toned legs dripping with water.
Today, Fu Zhiyé was different—he hadn’t bullied her at all. Cecilia Ye decided maybe she ought to be a little more obedient.
Soon, he came back in a robe and a thick towel in his hands. He scooped Cecilia Ye up from the water, wrapped her snugly in the towel, and, seeing the cold floor, picked her up in his arms and carried her back to their room.
The hot spring left her totally relaxed; Cecilia Ye changed into her pajamas and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Her breathing quickly evened out.
But Fu Zhiyé was wide awake and agitated. Last time had been an accident, but now, since he’d promised divorce, he refused to force anything on Cecilia Ye.
Yet the heat churning in his body was impossible to ignore. He went outside multiple times during the night to cool off, sighing that the hot spring soak had gone to waste.
In the morning, the snow had stopped and clear skies shone overhead.
Mia Moore scoffed at Fu Zhiyé for switching Cecilia Ye’s room. As soon as he arrived, he monopolized her—annoying!
As the two walked ahead, Mia Moore nudged Cecilia Ye's arm. "Cecilia, he didn’t bully you last night, did he?"
Cecilia Ye hesitated. Well, kissing shouldn’t count as bullying…
She shook her head. "Nope. We just slept, that’s all."
Seeing Mia Moore’s suspicious look, she poked Mia Moore’s nose, "Just sleeping. Don’t let your imagination run wild."
Only then did Mia Moore relax. She was still mad at Fu Zhiyé for how he’d treated Cecilia Ye over Vivian Belle last time. The more she looked, the less she liked him.
Looking back, Cecilia Ye thought, if they hadn’t decided to stay one more day, these memories would be truly beautiful ones.
Seeing Fu Zhiyé’s cool confidence on the ski slopes, the way he patiently taught her, the kiss in the swirling snow...
All of it would be perfect memories to hold onto before the divorce.