Shen Lingjun could not articulate his own joy, yet every moment he spent waiting for Xingyu to return felt like savoring a drop of cloyingly sweet honey. Even the drifting clouds of the sweltering noon seemed lazy and leisurely, and in his heart, thousands of biblical lilies bloomed in an instant.
He replayed the way Xingyu had kissed him: her trembling lashes, her translucent skin, and the very moment the highlight in her pupils appeared and then dissipated. His heart fluttered with elation, like a person falling off a cliff who suddenly discovers they are being gently buoyed by the sea. He looked up at the sky, where even the blinding, brilliant light turned soft and blurred, with halos of holy radiance diffusing in his vision.
He had even planned how he would kiss her when she returned and how he would confess his adoration. But when the sound of the keypad lock chiming at noon echoed through the room, he gripped his spoon tightly, feigning composure as he looked back from the kitchen. He intended that the moment she smiled at him, he would drop what he was holding, walk over, cup her face, and press her against the entryway to kiss her. He would even find a perfect excuse for his audacity and madness: it was she who smiled at him, and wasn't smiling at a beast merely an invitation to be offended?
Chapter 143