Chapter Thirty-Three: This Is What You Call a Dominant Lady?

Autumn nights descend far too quickly. In the blink of an eye, the last glow of dusk faded from the horizon, and darkness crept in. Staring out at the dimming sky, listening to the rustle of leaves, Lin Yang found it impossible to summon the will to get up and leave. Besides, this was his first time visiting Tang Yixue’s home; to pretend he had no ulterior motives would be a blatant lie. He decided to keep lingering. But he couldn’t just keep drinking tea forever, could he? He’d already lost count of how many times he’d visited the bathroom across the hall.

“Xiao Yang, it’s getting late.” Tang Yixue glanced at the darkened sky outside and offered a reminder in a languid tone. The meaning was as clear as day, even a fool could tell she was seeing him off.

When it comes to feelings, someone always has to make the first move. Unfortunately, the two before us, so familiar they were practically sharing a bed, found it difficult to break through that final barrier.

To be precise, Lin Yang was the anxious type. He knew he had a thing for older women, but he couldn’t be sure Tang Yixue had a thing for younger men.

Was he trying to bolster his courage with tea? At the moment, Lin Yang wished he’d been drinking a whole bottle—no, five bottles—of liquor. He’d already had more than five pounds’ worth of tea tonight. Perhaps, with a buzz, he would have gone mad and finally torn through that last layer.

“Yes, it’s late.” Downing the last drop of tea, Lin Yang casually gazed at the brightest star in the sky and answered absentmindedly.

“Are you worried about explaining things tomorrow?” Tang Yixue deftly changed the topic. It would be strange for a woman not to be sensitive to such things—especially a queenly woman like Tang Yixue.

At a time like this, with this kind of atmosphere, a man and woman alone together—the odds of something happening would score a solid ninety-nine percent on any gossip forum.

“No, if it really doesn’t work out, I’ll just hand the prescription to Bai Jing and let her figure it out. Don’t they have a bunch of experts? Should be a piece of cake for them.” He fished out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, hesitated when he looked at Tang Yixue’s alluring face, and finally held it in his hand instead. Lin Yang gave a clumsy but effective answer.

“Then what are you worried about?” Tang Yixue shivered involuntarily, her heart pounding. Her woman’s intuition told her the real drama was yet to come—and it involved the two of them.

Lin Yang didn’t answer. He silently lit his cigarette and took deep drags. In the blink of an eye, half the cigarette was gone. Flicking the long ash into the tray, he used the smoke as an excuse to look at the slightly nervous Tang Yixue and asked, with grave seriousness, “Yixue, we’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we?”

A question loaded with meaning, finally squeezed out from deep in Lin Yang’s throat.

“Yes, a long time. Since you were born.” Her reply was clever, both reminiscence and gentle teasing. As she recalled a moment from their childhood, Tang Yixue mused to herself: the little brat who used to trail behind her calling “sister” had grown up. She sized up Lin Yang’s height—he was now nearly a head taller than her, no longer needing to crane his neck to meet her gaze.

“Is he finally going to confess?” Tang Yixue’s heart fluttered between joy and dread. Joy that he’d finally found the courage, fear of another disappointment. She knew Lin Yang well.

“Then… do you like me?” Lin Yang didn’t even know how he managed to force those two words—like—out of his mouth. It felt as if it took every ounce of his strength. Once spoken, even his posture slumped.

“Of course. How could your big sister not like you, Xiao Yang?” Tang Yixue tried to sound light, but her expression was a little stiff, her slender hands clenching tightly. She, too, was nervous now—but it was the nervousness of happiness.

“Really?” Lin Yang’s joy was boundless. He leapt up, grabbing Tang Yixue’s hands—already damp with sweat from being so tightly clasped—and stared fervently at her exquisite face.

With the two of them alone in a quiet room, the atmosphere ripened to its natural conclusion.

If he didn’t do something now, he could hardly call himself a man.

Though, one could argue otherwise.

As their feelings intensified, so did their heartbeats. Hormones surged. In the stillness of the living room, the thrum of their hearts and the sound of their breathing were vividly clear.

Some things require no teacher. Under the spell of desire, Lin Yang’s lips instinctively found Tang Yixue’s temptingly soft mouth.

Light as a dragonfly’s touch, their bodies jolted as if electrified.

One kiss, and the relationship was sealed.

One kiss, and their passion exploded.

One kiss, and destinies were decided.

One kiss… and more.

It was neither earth-shattering nor tempestuous—just a simple, lingering kiss that lasted a full ten minutes. When they finally broke apart, it was to Lin Yang’s startled yelp.

Inwardly, Lin Yang railed at fate. Damn it, why did I run out of breath? How could this happen? My first kiss, and I didn’t even break a Guinness record! Still, despite his wish to complain, his heart was sweet as honey—even the trickle of blood at the corner of his lips went ignored.

Tang Yixue, meanwhile, had no time for such thoughts. She shot Lin Yang a murderous glare, gulping air greedily. If she hadn’t bitten his tongue just now, she might very well have suffocated.

If someone’s first kiss ended in asphyxiation, she’d go down in history as the first.

She brushed away the hand that had somehow wandered to her chest, but now, even the queenly Tang Yixue couldn’t meet Lin Yang’s gaze for long. In love, she melted into a gentle girl.

“Yixue, from now on, you’re mine.” Victorious, Lin Yang raised his head arrogantly and pulled her into his arms, heedless of her willingness.

To be the first to eat the crab is bold—Lin Yang wholeheartedly agreed. But, he mused, a woman who dares to bite is even bolder. And to bite the tongue? That’s a true tigress.

Who says, “Once or twice but never thrice”? Nonsense. Kissing, once begun, becomes a habit.

Don’t believe it? He’d be happy to prove it.

Practice makes perfect, and Lin Yang learned quickly. With a sly grin, he gently lowered Tang Yixue in his arms, and, with practiced ease, claimed her lips again—until another bite forced him to retreat, clutching his mouth, eyes brimming with wounded reproach.

“Yixue, what was that for?” Lin Yang’s aggrieved tone made him look like a wronged wife, all traces of earlier bravado vanished.

“Who says I’m yours?” Tang Yixue retorted, the kittenlike softness of a moment before replaced by the queen’s sharp edge.

What was this? Old habits die hard? A tigress always bares her claws? No, it wasn’t that.

Lin Yang felt a twinge of defeat, inwardly bemoaning his troubles. Was it easy for him? It had taken a bout of madness and a lion’s courage to act at all.

Fine! So I stole a kiss—what of it? You didn’t object. You only bit me when you ran out of breath, and even then, it was just a little blood—nothing serious. When I held you, you didn’t resist or speak out. When I kissed you, you responded. Isn’t that tacit consent? If you acquiesced, then aren’t you mine? Or must I go further—strip you bare, toss you onto the bed, and join bodies before you’ll admit it?

If that’s what it takes, well, I’ll sacrifice my modesty, sprawl out on the bed, and let you have your way. Some people’s minds, it must be said, are endlessly inventive.

At the sight of Lin Yang’s pitiful, crestfallen face, Tang Yixue couldn’t help but laugh. She reached out, tenderly wiping the blood from his lips. “Does it hurt?”

Sometimes, a single look is enough. Lin Yang timed it perfectly, rolling his eyes with a meaning that needed no words.

“Couldn’t you let me catch my breath? Who kisses like that?” Tang Yixue couldn’t resist a jab. If she hadn’t been suffocating, she wouldn’t have bitten him.

Lin Yang was a little embarrassed. He couldn’t exactly say, “Yixue, your lips are simply too tempting. I just couldn’t stop once I started…”

That was the truth, but he couldn’t say it. Best to play the fool and keep smiling.

“And what do you mean, I’m yours?” Tang Yixue pressed on.

If a woman won’t let go of a question, she’ll dig until she gets an answer. Lin Yang hadn’t explained last time, and here she was, pressing again.

“Well…” Lin Yang was speechless. Women—they really are impossible. After all that kissing and hugging, you’re still not mine? Must we really go all the way?

“What’s there to hesitate about?” Tang Yixue shot back imperiously.

Lin Yang hung his head like a defeated rooster. Fine, whatever you say. Maybe all women these days are tigresses.

“But…” Tang Yixue suddenly smiled slyly, sending goosebumps down Lin Yang’s arms.

“But what?” he asked, half-expecting her to invite him to bed—which he wouldn’t mind at all.

“Heh, from now on, you’re mine.” Tang Yixue, every inch the empress, seemed ready to welcome Lin Yang into her palace.

“I’m yours?” Lin Yang nearly fell off the sofa, muttering to himself, “Damn, and I thought I was the dominant one. What a twist of fate.”