"The strongest and most beautiful language is not spoken, it is felt." - Paulo Coelho
Translator: Wuxia Studio, Editor: M.H Lovecraft (Enochian_)
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Yin Guo, gazed out the window as they sped through Philadelphia. In New York, time was a relentless thief.
He glanced at her mid-journey as the train stopped to board passengers. Lin Yiyang was fixated on his phone, navigating with Google Maps. Real-time data streamed distance remaining, estimated arrival his gaze glued even when free.
"Something on your mind?" he asked, catching her eyes.
"You know," she started, "the beard suits you." Her voice was raspy, the remnants of a sleepless night spent explaining, a night that left her feeling like she'd swallowed sandpaper.
He remained youthful despite his age.
Lin Yiyang, seated beside her, reached across with his left hand, his touch brushing against her right cheek. This seemingly casual gesture felt like an embrace, a curious contradiction to his usual aversion to public displays of affection. He had, after all, always disapproved of others engaging in such behavior.
His touch lingered, fingers tracing the curve of her ear. The roughness of his fingertips sent a slight shiver down her spine. "Really?" she murmured, a hint of surprise in her voice.
He met her gaze, his dark eyes unreadable. "The blue one?" he inquired.
Yin Guo's mind raced. Recalling the blue lingerie she wore today, she instinctively reached up and tugged at her collar, the exposed straps confirming his observation. "Can you be any more... mischievous?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
A faint smile played on his lips as he gently pinched her cheek. "Next time," he whispered, his voice a husky promise, "You'll be prepared."
Yin Guo's mind raced. "Next week," she echoed silently, picturing their upcoming reunion in vivid detail. Images of tangled limbs and shared embraces danced in her head. A faint blush crept up her neck as she recalled the previous evening.
She had been hesitant, unsure of where things were headed. But Lin Yiyang, despite his earlier intentions, had respected her boundaries. He kept his word, ensuring she had a peaceful night's sleep.
Now, nestled comfortably beside him, she couldn't help but wonder if next week's encounter would be different. A nervous flutter rose in her stomach, a mix of anticipation and apprehension.
Picking up her book, she attempted to lose herself in the words, but her mind kept wandering back to his playful comment. The lines blurred before her eyes, the story momentarily forgotten.
Suddenly, she broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper, "Are you coming to my game?"
Silence stretched between them, thicker than the air itself. Yin Guo stole a glance at Lin Yiyang, his brow furrowed in concentration. Papers, she remembered, his Ph.D. applications. Guilt gnawed at her for disrupting his studies.
Finally, he spoke, his voice soft and tinged with apology. "I'm swamped with applications right now," he admitted. "Maybe another time?"
YOU ARE READING
During The Blizzard (Amidst A Snowstorm Of Love)
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