Jiang Wanju remained in her relaxed position, leaning slightly as she asked Chen Zhouren, “Do you have another cigarette?”
Chen Zhouren asked, “You want to smoke now?”
As he spoke, he naturally reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack, and took out a cigarette.
Jiang Wanju leaned forward to take it. She was wearing a rose-red dress tonight, velvet-like in its richness. The deep red hue flashed before Chen Zhouren’s eyes as she took the cigarette from his fingers.
Her perfume was subtle and delicate—not the usual sweet floral or fruity scent but carrying a hint of oakmoss, like a forest draped in light rain.
“I drank too much tonight,” Jiang Wanju said as she rubbed the cigarette between her fingers. Her movements were still a little unpracticed, her tone soft. “I don’t want to drink anymore. Sorry.”
Chen Zhouren remained unhurried. “That’s fair. Have fun, but take care of yourself.”
The dim light inside the car accentuated the advantages of his well-defined features. No matter how one looked at him, he was undeniably handsome, his expression always warm and composed.
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Ohld obld Kkydt Eydfw vwadle esod bkp kdhkvyvksd, bl pbsole ds ekprzlypwal. Tl eked’v pvsr bla qasx pxsjkdt kd vbl nya, lhld vbswtb kv oypd’v lmynvzu rasrla. Rdpvlye, bl vssj swv bkp zktbvla.
Kkydt Eydfw eked’v vyjl kv. Fbl vwadle bla qynl pzktbvzu, bszekdt vbl nktyalvvl clvolld bla zkrp, vypvkdt kv caklqzu okvb vbl vkr sq bla vsdtwl clqsal alxshkdt kv.
Mbld pbl zlydle qsaoyae ytykd, cakdtkdt vbl nktyalvvl—dso vswnble cu bla zkrp—vs Ubld Hbswald’p xswvb. Tl xlv bla tygl, pxkzle, yde ckv esod sd kv.
“Sktbv dso, R’e ayvbla byhl psxl vly,” Kkydt Eydfw pyke. “Ya. Ubld, es usw byhl vly kd uswa assx?”
Ubld Hbswald zssjle yv bla qsa y xsxldv clqsal zywtbkdt.
—Xq nswapl, bl eke.
Kkydt Eydfw bye ds kely oblal bl xydytle vs tlv ps xwnb vly. Gqvla yzz, vbkp oypd’v vbl xykdzyde; vblu olal kd y qsalktd rzynl. Gde vbkp oypd’v lhld Ubld Hbswald’p bsxlvsod.
G vayhlzla zkjl bkx—oblal eke bl qkde kv yzz ps iwknjzu?
Chen Zhouren called his assistant, and by the time the two of them returned to the hotel, the tea was already prepared.
It wasn’t the trendy fruit tea or ginger tea found in stores, nor was it Japanese mushroom tea, plum tea, or matcha powder.
Instead, there was aged Pu’er from Yunnan, verbena flower tea, and Wang Dechuan’s osmanthus Pu’er—lined up in an orderly fashion, like an emperor selecting his favored concubine for the night.
Jiang Wanju examined them one by one until her gaze landed on a simple white porcelain jar—plain and unadorned, without any markings.
She pointed at it. “What’s this?”
Chen Zhouren took a closer look. “Biluochun. I got it from a tea farmer in Xidongting Mountain. Processed it with some friends—but unfortunately, we didn’t fry it well.”
Jiang Wanju made a decisive choice. “This one, then.”
Drinking tea in the middle of the night—she figured she might be the first to do something so absurd.
Now, though, she had Chen Zhouren indulging her whims, even ordering tea snacks to go with it.
The osmanthus cake was translucent and fragrant, the red bean cake had just the right amount of sweetness, the almond crisps melted in the mouth like clouds, and the cashew cookies were perfectly crisp. A small dish, no bigger than a palm, held an assortment of candied fruits.
The boiling water bubbled softly, steam rising in a misty haze.
A small glass tea table, two soft cushions—they sat across from each other on the floor.
Different teas and tea cakes were stored in glass jars, porcelain canisters, and wooden boxes. Chen Zhouren poured Jiang Wanju a cup, the portion small and delicate. She cupped it in her hands, examining the cup from different angles before taking a tentative sip.
She didn’t find it much different from the tea she usually drank. She looked up and met Chen Zhouren’s gaze.
He asked, “You don’t like it? I have some camphor-aged tea as well—”
Jiang Wanju shook her head and told him, “I can’t tell good tea from bad. Maybe my tongue just isn’t sensitive enough.”
Perhaps alcohol really did lower inhibitions. If she hadn’t been drinking with him earlier that night, Jiang Wanju doubted she would have voiced such personal thoughts.
She had always feared being looked down upon. Even when she didn’t understand something, she wouldn’t show it easily. Instead, she would listen carefully and respond at the right moments.
But for some reason, Jiang Wanju felt that Chen Zhouren didn’t need her to do that.
Being with him made her feel at ease.
Chen Zhouren set down his cup and moved to sit beside her. Jiang Wanju straightened her back and shifted slightly to the side.
He said, “Maybe it’s the cup that’s not good.”
Jiang Wanju was surprised. “There are good and bad cups?”
Chen Zhouren nodded. Taking the cup from her hands, he took a sip of the tea and placed it back on the table.
Jiang Wanju watched him curiously. She was exhausted from the night’s activities, so she leaned on the small tea table, half-lying down, observing Chen Zhouren’s face—
He lowered his head and kissed her lips.
Unlike their kiss in the dark alley, this time, under the light, even his advance carried a certain unhurried gentleness. There was no rush, no urgency—just a slow, deliberate kiss.
Jiang Wanju was only wearing a dress. As she leaned against the table, her elbow slid and pressed down, sending a small pang of pain through her arm. She frowned slightly, trying to push herself up, but Chen Zhouren pressed her arm down.
His lips, still faintly carrying the scent of tea, brushed against her cheek. In a low voice, he said, “Do you want to see my health report? It’s clean. No diseases.”
Jiang Wanju took a second to process his words before silently showing him her arm.
Chen Zhouren caught her elbow and kissed it lightly. “Then let’s switch.”
Lifting her into his arms, he carried her effortlessly. Through his black shirt, Jiang Wanju felt the warmth of his muscles.
With both legs suspended in the air, a wave of unease rushed over her. But Chen Zhouren seemed oblivious, carrying her directly to the floor-to-ceiling window.
Below them, the city lights stretched into the distance, and beyond, the sea lay in deep darkness. High above the ground, the cold touch of the glass sent a shiver through Jiang Wanju.
Her dress spread out like a blooming rose, still holding onto a last shred of modesty.
Chen Zhouren was in no hurry to strip it away. Instead, he traced his fingers over it, confirming, “Already?”
Jiang Wanju blushed at his teasing and reached out in return. “You’re not bad yourself.”
Chen Zhouren took a breath, amused. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll break me?”
Jiang Wanju thought, No.
After all, a man like him was already broken—nothing could be more dangerous than him.
She said nothing, her back pressed against the cold glass.
Chen Zhouren wasn’t in a rush. It seemed like he was in no hurry at all. Instead, he simply asked her to help him unbutton his shirt.
Jiang Wanju did it, surprising even herself.
Half pink, half deep purple—a contradiction in colors.
Pink should signify innocence and kindness, while purple symbolized wickedness and corruption. Yet on him, the two merged seamlessly, like a god and a devil residing within the same body.
She whispered his name: “Chen Zhouren.”
There was no room for hesitation now.
His hands gripped her firmly. Suspended in midair, her back against the cold window, Jiang Wanju had only his strong hands to rely on.
With the constant threat of falling, she clung tightly to his neck.
“Weren’t you calling me ‘Cousin’ earlier?” Chen Zhouren whispered in her ear with a soft chuckle. “Why aren’t you calling me that now?”
It was impossible to tell if he was a god or a devil. It felt as if, at any moment, he would tear her open and devour her whole.
Jiang Wanju suddenly realized—he had no intention of being gentle.
She parted her lips, wanting to tell him that she was inexperienced—
Too late.
The devil, disguised as a god, had already stepped through heaven’s gates.
Breaking apart the clouds.
Crushing the roses.
Without hesitation.
Chen Zhouren murmured, “I didn’t tell you earlier, but Biluochun has another name.”
Jiang Wanju exhaled, her breath trembling.
“It’s called—”
The devil invaded heaven.
“Buddha’s Temptation.”
Author’s Note:
Muah~ 💋
The BGM for this chapter and the next is a Spanish song:
“Cuando Me Enamoro” by Andrea Bocelli
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