Chapter 70
The world was silent, the apartment still. The quiet emptiness stretched time, holding it in a breathless pause.
Autumn in North City was a season of rain, the weather capricious, the air thick with moisture. The gentle drizzle fell, sometimes a fine mist, sometimes a delicate dew, sometimes a torrent mimicking the rising tide, bringing with it the faint, salty tang of the sea.
Raindrops traced paths down the windowpanes, gathering like beads of sweat on the cool glass, then, their weight surrendering to gravity, sliding down the smooth surface, disappearing into the window frames below.
Gradually, the only sounds in the room were the rhythm of their breathing and the soft music of the rain.
A pot of pink roses sat on the balcony, brought home by Xu Jinnan from the office a while ago. Two plump buds, promising a vibrant bloom, had adorned the delicate branches. A gentle touch would send the entire plant trembling, like a shy maiden.
Shen Shu often watered the roses. Xu Jinnan didn’t have a green thumb.
One evening, Shen Shu had returned home late to find Xu Jinnan watering the roses, the plant slightly overgrown, its leaves and petals glistening with moisture. Water dripped from the branches onto the floor, Xu Jinnan’s hands also damp.
“Have you ever watered these before?” Shen Shu had asked, though she hadn’t stopped Xu Jinnan from gently wiping the petals with her fingers. “Be careful,” she’d added.
Xu Jinnan, her head bowed, her mind seemingly elsewhere, had simply murmured, “Okay.”
Then, she had replied to Shen Shu’s earlier question, “I have, but you were watching me. I was nervous.”
“Nervous about what?” Shen Shu had asked, pausing slightly.
“Afraid of doing it wrong,” Xu Jinnan had replied.
Shen Shu hadn’t said anything more, perhaps not wanting to discourage Xu Jinnan, or perhaps thinking she was doing a good enough job.
Xu Jinnan’s fingernails were short, neatly trimmed, her fingers long and elegant, even without the adornment of nail polish.
Good thing I didn’t get a manicure, she had thought. Those acrylic nails would have destroyed the delicate petals.
But she had still been clumsy, accidentally crushing a petal between her fingers, the delicate pink turning a bruised red.
Shen Shu had been immediately concerned, grabbing Xu Jinnan’s hand and exclaiming that she was damaging the flower.
Xu Jinnan, looking at Shen Shu’s flushed face, her eyes slightly red-rimmed from the fever, her lips and nose warm to the touch, had simply said, “Okay,” wanting to appease her.
But she had still finished watering the roses, as if knowing Shen Shu’s concern had been more of a gentle reprimand than a genuine protest.
Sometimes, you couldn’t take a girl’s words too seriously.
And besides, how could she leave all the chores to Shen Shu?
She had only put down the watering can after making sure the roses were thoroughly soaked, their petals now a vibrant, almost crimson, red.
For a moment, Shen Shu had thought the plant might drown.
But tonight, the roses were safe, having been brought inside by Xu Jinnan earlier.
And inside the apartment…
Clothes lay scattered on the floor by the bed.
Inanimate objects, unable to impede the rising tide of passion.
Like a sudden downpour, the sounds of their lovemaking filled the room, drowning out all other sounds, even Shen Shu’s soft cry, “Nannan…”
Xu Jinnan’s eyes darkened, her voice husky, almost a growl. “What did you call me?”
“Nannan.”
Xu Jinnan felt herself losing control, the insistent throbbing in her scent gland a constant distraction, but she pushed it aside, her focus solely on Shen Shu, her touch far gentler than it had been with the roses.
Their breathing gradually slowed, the waves of passion receding, leaving them tangled in the sheets, the blanket barely covering them. Xu Jinnan tried to calm her racing heart, while Shen Shu’s body still trembled slightly, like someone rescued from drowning.
The sweet scent of Shen Shu’s pheromones, intensified by the lingering warmth of their bodies, filled the air.
“Are you okay?” Xu Jinnan whispered.
Shen Shu: “…”
Xu Jinnan’s fingers tightened around hers. “Why are you holding my hand so tight?” she asked, a chuckle escaping her lips.
Shen Shu didn’t reply, her face still flushed as she nuzzled against Xu Jinnan’s shoulder, her forehead resting against her neck.
After a moment, she whispered, “And you? I…”
Her voice was hoarse, the words barely audible, even in their close embrace.
Xu Jinnan’s heart pounded, her body damp with sweat. She leaned in close to Shen Shu’s ear, her voice low. “Don’t worry…” Even though they were alone, she still whispered, as if sharing a secret.
Shen Shu’s body flushed at her words, her usual composure shattered.
“Are you tired?” Xu Jinnan asked.
“A little.”
Xu Jinnan carried her to the bathroom, placing a chair inside for her to sit on, worried she might be too weak to stand.
As she closed the door, she noticed a missing button on her shirt, then remembered the soft patter of rain against the windows, and the way her heart had pounded as she held Shen Shu.
She leaned against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall, the coldness a welcome contrast to the heat that had been building within her, helping her regain control, suppressing the almost overwhelming urge to return to Shen Shu.
She looked down at her hands, remembering the tingling in her scent gland, the several times she had almost lost control, the urge to surrender to her instincts.
She had been so close to losing herself when Shen Shu had whispered her name.
She hadn’t dared to push it any further, afraid of triggering a full-blown rut.
She had never hated this unpredictable body, this volatile sensitivity, more than she did today.
She went to the sink and washed her hands, the simple act a torment, a reminder of what she had almost done, yet also a source of strange, unsettling satisfaction, especially the memory of Shen Shu’s soft moan, her body limp against Xu Jinnan’s shoulder, her whispered endearment…
Nannan.
—
Twenty minutes later, Shen Shu emerged from the bathroom, freshly dressed, holding onto the doorframe for support.
“Does it hurt?” Xu Jinnan asked, walking over to her.
Shen Shu glanced at her. “A little…” Mostly her legs.
The lingering soreness from horseback riding.
Her face was still flushed, so Xu Jinnan couldn’t tell if she was blushing.
Neither of them specified what hurt, but they both understood.
Xu Jinnan helped her to the guest room. The sheets in the master bedroom were damp, and she tossed them into the washing machine, too tired to change them, then retrieved a clean set of pajamas from the guest room and saw Shen Shu asleep on the bed, her breathing even.
Xu Jinnan went to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Shen Shu’s discarded strawberry-print pajamas lay in the laundry basket, a damp spot visible on the front.
She covered them with her own clothes.
With Shen Shu asleep, she took a long, slow shower, the water almost scalding, as if trying to wash away the lingering heat, the memories of their embrace.
—
While Xu Jinnan often made breakfast, Shen Shu usually woke up first, enjoying the quiet stillness of the morning, lying in bed with her thoughts.
It was her favorite time of day, along with her late-night reading before sleep.
She was in a good mood, her eyes, though slightly puffy, sparkling with a quiet joy as she opened them and saw Xu Jinnan beside her.
Xu Jinnan, for once, had slept soundly, the blanket still covering her, their bodies facing each other, a small distance separating them.
Yet, she didn’t feel the distance.
Xu Jinnan’s eyelashes, though not as thick or curled as Shen Shu’s, were long, casting shadows on her cheeks as she slept, a subtle intensity that had always intimidated Shen Shu slightly.
Whenever Xu Jinnan stared at her directly.
Or when she wasn’t smiling.
But now, Shen Shu knew she wouldn’t feel that way anymore. She reached out and gently touched Xu Jinnan’s eyelid.
Xu Jinnan frowned in her sleep, turning her head slightly, her eyes still closed.
Shen Shu didn’t try to wake her, simply watching her for a moment before closing her own eyes.
The memory of the Alpha in the alleyway, the woman with the mirrored visor, was a dark shadow, a lingering nightmare.
She had once hated Alphas, instinctively recoiling from anyone she knew was one.
The aversion had gradually faded after returning to the Shen family, navigating the complexities of the business world, and undergoing therapy.
She hadn’t seen a therapist in almost a year, her last appointment scheduled just before her marriage to Xu Jinnan.
But the appointment slip was still in her drawer; she hadn’t gone.
Because shortly after scheduling it, Xu Jinnan had told her she was an Omega.
And later… when she had suspected Xu Jinnan might be an Alpha, she had been worried, but not afraid.
It had been more of a lingering unease, a shadow from the past, than a genuine fear of Xu Jinnan.
She didn’t even care whether Xu Jinnan was an Alpha or an Omega.
Xu Jinnan had said she was special.
And in truth, Xu Jinnan was special to her too.
Perhaps there would never be anyone else like her.
But there was one thing she didn’t understand.
She could sense Xu Jinnan’s desire, but…
Last night, she knew Xu Jinnan hadn’t reached her peak, had stopped before then, out of consideration for Shen Shu. But why had she held back?
Shen Shu opened her eyes, a silent question forming in her mind.
You said I didn’t have to hold back in front of you. Then why did you hold back?
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