From that moment on, Mu Yang and Jiang Lingxi officially embarked on a sweet journey of love. Every corner of the campus bore the imprint of their closely intertwined figures. By the lakeside in the early morning, they strolled side by side, watching the mist rise gracefully over the water. Along the tree-lined paths in the afternoon, their laughter mingled with the dappled shadows. On the playground at night, they leaned against each other, sharing the tranquility of the moonlight. Naturally, they became the couple that their classmates saw as a perfect match—an enviable pair like lovers from a fairy tale.
Jiang Lingxi had a deep passion for writing novels, and the library became her "battlefield." Mu Yang would always accompany her, following closely whenever she set off for the library. Whenever she found herself stuck in a creative rut, with inspiration drying up like a depleted spring, her brows furrowed and her face clouded with worry, Mu Yang would instinctively mirror her expression—slightly frowning, resting his chin on his hand, lost in thought.
Before long, a spark of light would flash in his eyes. Drawing from his unique perspective, he would either share an amusing real-life anecdote—like the time he witnessed a "symphony of utensils" in the cafeteria—or offer a whimsical flight of imagination, such as pondering what the world would be like if all animals could talk.
He gently wrapped his arm around Jiang Lingxi's shoulders and said softly, "Baby, don't worry. Let's think about it together. I'll tell you something fun—maybe it'll spark some ideas."
Jiang Lingxi looked at him, her eyes filled with trust, and nodded lightly. "Mm, as long as you're here, I feel at ease."
Likewise, whenever Mu Yang endured the grueling intensity of his training, returning home utterly drained, his body heavy as if every ounce of strength had been siphoned away, Jiang Lingxi would, without hesitation, tie on her apron—embroidered with adorable patterns—and dive into the heart of their cozy little kitchen, where the warmth of everyday life lingered.
Her gaze was focused and determined as she navigated the variety of ingredients with practiced ease, her hands moving skillfully and smoothly. The flames on the stove flickered cheerfully, steam rose from the pot, and within the haze of sizzling aromas, she carefully prepared a lavish dinner bursting with color, fragrance, and flavor. With every slice of a knife, every turn of the spatula, she poured her overflowing love and tenderness into the meal, eager to use these delicious dishes to soothe Mu Yang's exhausted body and weary soul.
Jiang Lingxi carefully held the freshly cooked dishes in both hands, gently placing them on the dining table. Swiftly and skillfully, she set the chopsticks and bowls in place before lifting her head, her gaze brimming with warmth. In a soft voice, she said, "Darling, you must be exhausted from training today. Come, try the food I made and replenish your energy."
Mu Yang dragged his feet as he slowly walked over, his body weighed down by exhaustion, yet the love in his eyes remained unmistakable. Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he rested his chin lightly on her shoulder and whispered tenderly, "With you here, no amount of fatigue matters."
On a quiet night, the moonlight, like flowing water, filtered through the gaps in the leaves, scattering a delicate silver glow across the ground. Mu Yang and Jiang Lingxi walked side by side on their way back to the apartment, their fingers tightly intertwined. Though they exchanged no words, their hearts were perfectly in sync.
As they stepped inside and the door slowly clicked shut, the longing that Mu Yang had suppressed for so long surged like an unstoppable tide, breaking free in an instant.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the full moon hung high in the deep indigo sky, its silvery glow cascading down, filtering through sheer curtains, and casting fragmented patterns on the hardwood floor. A faint cedarwood fragrance lingered in the air—Mu Yang's signature scent—now interwoven with the delicate jasmine aroma from Jiang Lingxi's skin, merging into an intoxicating web of desire in the tranquil space.
His knuckles turned slightly pale from the intensity of his grip, his palm pressing against the thin silk of Jiang Lingxi's nightgown, feeling the warmth of her delicate skin beneath. As he lifted her into his arms, the muscles in his arms tensed like a drawn bowstring, each step carrying the weight of twenty years of longing. The glow of the crystal chandelier cast a shadow along the sharp bridge of his nose, while his eyelashes formed a fan-like silhouette beneath his eyes. And within those deep, dark pupils, a fire smoldered—one on the verge of eruption.
Jiang Lingxi's mind was swept away by a sudden, raging storm, plunging into a complete blank. Every neuron seemed to momentarily "shut down" under the overwhelming tide of happiness, all thoughts and awareness vanishing into nothingness in the blink of an eye.
That feeling of bliss was like the first warm ray of sunlight piercing through the thick clouds of early spring, shining straight into the softest part of her heart, so warm it made her dizzy.
Her eardrums ached from the intensity of her own heartbeat—thump, thump, thump—pounding like the frantic beat of war drums, as if it would burst from her chest at any moment. Strangely enough, Mu Yang's steady and powerful heartbeat, deep and resonant like a bass drum, intertwined with hers. One was urgent, the other calm, composing a unique duet in the near-breathless silence of the room. This symphony of heartbeats, as if imbued with magic, echoed through the air, striking every corner of the space—and the deepest part of Jiang Lingxi's soul.
Twenty years of waiting—like an endless marathon, every step laden with hardship and hope. Twenty years of silent endurance—like a dormant volcano, seemingly calm yet surging with suppressed emotions beneath the surface. And now, in this moment, all of it transformed into the warm tears pooling in her eyes. The more they gathered, the closer they came to overflowing, like a long-contained flood finally on the verge of breaking free.
Instinctively, she wanted to reach out, to touch Mu Yang's face—the face she had longed for day and night—to confirm that everything before her was real. But when she tried to lift her arm, she realized her hands had unknowingly clenched tightly onto the hem of his shirt, as if it were the only lifeline keeping her afloat in this vast ocean of emotions.
Her fingertips trembled, a fine, electric-like shiver spreading through her entire body, betraying the depth of her emotions. That tremor was nervousness, excitement, but more than anything, it was the fragile, aching reverence for this love she had lost and regained—a love so precious, yet so uncertain.
His breath, carrying a faint trace of warm alcohol, mixed with the crisp, cool scent of cedarwood, lingering at her neck, wrapping around her like an intoxicating spell.