Lin Wan recognized the flowers.
When she was little, her grandmother often took her back to their rural hometown to visit relatives. Those unremarkable blossoms grew everywhere there—slender lavender petals around a sunny yellow core. They resembled daisies, only thinner, frailer, humbler.
After lunch, everyone returned to their rooms to rest.
Chen Jin showered first, then pulled her into his arms for a nap.
When Chen Xi knocked on the door, Lin Wan woke to find he was already gone.
That afternoon she wandered around again with Chen Xi and finally managed to sketch two landscape pieces. Chen Xi even begged for one "to collect," and Lin Wan laughed, signing it with a neat flourish.
After dinner, the men gathered to drink tea and chat.
Some of the women formed a mahjong table; others headed to the indoor pool.
Chen Xi had to catch the finale of an idol drama and locked herself in early.
Lin Wan, tired from walking all day, also stayed in.
The room had a nice sound system. She slipped in an English album at random, poured a warm glass of milk, and curled up on the sofa by the terrace, hugging her knees, lost in thought.
One song stood out.
Throughout it ran the sound of running water, with occasional rolls of thunder. A soft, melancholy female voice repeated again and again: forever at your feet.
She fell for it instantly.
She ran over to check the title: Forever at your feet, sung by Oh Susanna.
Such a cute name.
She set it on single-track repeat, then curled up again and listened closely.
Forever at your feet.
In Chinese, it meant 永相随, didn't it?
With closed eyes, she imagined a rainy night, a woman standing at the window, waiting for the man she loved to return…
Thunder.
Rain.
Music.
Layering endlessly until she could no longer tell which sounds were from the speakers and which came from the sky.
After a long time, she sensed someone approaching.
A familiar presence.
A faint mix of tobacco and alcohol.
A warm hand touched the top of her head.
She suddenly thought of her grandmother's touch.
Except this hand was much larger, much stronger.
A hand capable of overturning the heavens and earth.
He drew her into his arms.
She leaned her head against him instinctively, breathing in the scent that wrapped around her.
"Raining," Chen Jin murmured, looking into the downpour.
Mm.
Her reply was barely audible.
"You're barefoot? Isn't it cold?"
He finally noticed her bare feet curled up on the sofa and frowned, his voice edged with reproach.
She shook her head softly, rubbing her cheek against the hem of his shirt, making a faint rustle.
He stroked her face.
Dry.
No tears.
Good.
He knew she'd had a decent day, but unease still nipped at him.
Even while chatting with his friends earlier, his mind had wandered towards her over and over. Was she sleeping? Watching TV? Painting? Writing?
He even wondered—
Was she thinking of him?
Then Fang Zheng scoffed,
"You're done for. Body here, heart over there. Let's clear out. Men can make women wait. But a man making a woman wait? That's a crime."
Everyone laughed and scattered.
Returning to the room, Chen Jin had found the lights low, the air thick with wistful music—but no singing by her.
Annoyance flared.
But then he spotted the wildflowers in the vase—
The faint lavender glow—
And his irritation melted.
And on the terrace, her silhouette.
His chest warmed.
He had walked toward her at once.
Now, with her leaning lightly against him, he felt a mix of deep satisfaction and something unsettled. A vague sense of foreboding.
An instinct he couldn't explain.
He cupped her face and turned it toward him.
"Wanwan, what are you thinking?"
"…"
"You can tell me anything you want," he said quietly. "Anything except leaving."
She only shook her head.
A rare sense of defeat prickled through him. He prided himself on understanding people. His success—both in business and in private—came from reading human nature precisely.
Yet he couldn't read this woman.
She seemed so simple, so clear, like a sheet of white paper or a bottle of spring water.
After a long silence, Lin Wan suddenly lifted her face toward him and whispered,
"Can you hold me?"
He slid his arms under her, lifted her the way one lifts a child, and spun her in a circle.
She let out a small laugh—soft, genuine.
He kissed her forehead.
"Do you like that?"
Eyes closed, she nodded.
So he spun her again.
Higher.
Faster.
She shrieked, clinging to him, breathless.
When her feet touched the ground again, she panted, "You scared me. I'm afraid of heights."
Worried she might catch a chill, he lifted her again and set her feet on top of his shoes, holding her steady.
Then he pinched her nose.
"You'll get used to it."
Still shaken, she kept her eyes closed.
Then, softly—
"He used to hold me like this."
Chen Jin froze.
She continued, "My father."
His rigid body loosened instantly.
He touched her back gently.
"You miss him?"
Lin Wan's eyes opened.
She looked at him with weary bitterness.
"Don't talk about him, okay?"
"Fine."
Not my problem anyway, he thought.
He only wanted to comfort her.
He glanced at the untouched milk on the side table.
"Why didn't you drink?"
"It got cold," she murmured.
He suddenly felt thirsty.
He lifted the cup, took a long drink, then cupped her face and pried her lips open, kissing her deeply.
Lin Wan's eyes widened in shock.
Startled, helpless, she could not stop herself from swallowing.
At last, he let her go, wiped the milky foam from her lip, and smiled.
"Now it's not cold."
She scrubbed her mouth hard and glared at him.
"Disgusting."
His eyes widened.
"Oh? You calling me disgusting? You got a death wish?"
He reached for the cup again.
Lin Wan panicked and tried to flee.
He caught her in one pull, locked her in his arms, lowered his head close to her cheek.
"Say it again. Disgusting, was it?"
She dodged weakly.
"So dirty…"
His expression shifted, turning serious.
"All right. So you really don't want to live."
He lowered his head and kissed her again—
Swift practiced, invading her mouth with ease, twisting his tongue around hers, claiming every inch.