A guest room, yet it didn’t seem to have ever hosted anyone, or there would have been spare toiletries stocked.
Mu Wan walked barefoot into the bathroom, arms full.
She rinsed quickly, washing away soot and fatigue. When she finished, she felt like her whole world had sharpened into focus. She towel-dried her wet hair, searched, and realized there was no hair dryer.
Water still dripped from her ends. She wiped again, damp hair spilling over her shoulders, then reached for the clothes.
The second she saw them, heat rose in her chest and flooded her face.
They were unmistakably Liu Qianxiu’s.
She’d seen him wear them, a linen long shirt and long pants. Tailored to him, making his lean frame look straight and elegant.
When she lifted the shirt, the fabric felt fine and cool in her fingers. The movement stirred a small current of air, and Mu Wan caught a faint scent.
Sandalwood.
The clothes smelled like him, clean, restrained, cool.
Mu Wan pulled the long shirt over her head like a T-shirt. On him, it fit perfectly. On her, it hung loose and long, falling past her thighs.
The thin fabric slid over her skin, cool and slightly rough. Wrapped in sandalwood, Mu Wan felt as if she were being pressed against something living.
Her body heated in a way she couldn’t stop.
She shoved the sleeves up and scolded herself silently. Too shameless.
She patted her cheeks once, then rushed out.
The bathroom had been warm. Stepping into the hall, the AC swept over her skin, and she heard water running in the kitchen.
“Liu Qianxiu,” Mu Wan called from the doorway.
He stood by the fridge holding two bundles of greens wrapped in white paper, the exposed leaves bright and fresh. He looked up when Mu Wan called.
Mu Wan wore the oversized shirt, sleeves rolled to show two pale forearms. The hem covered just above her knees, leaving her calves slim and straight. Her eyes were bright, mist thinning to reveal ink-dark pupils. A touch of red on her lips. She looked at him and said, “Let me help.”
As she spoke, she walked over and took the greens from his hands, leaving behind a faint, clean lily-of-the-valley scent.
The greens were cold from the fridge. Mu Wan peeled away the paper, and the neatly bundled baby bok choy tumbled out. She turned on the faucet and set the vegetables into the sink.
She wasn’t short, but she was slender, almost small under the shirt. Sunlight filled the windows. Her black hair didn’t dry. The kitchen was quiet except for the crisp sound of running water.
She moved her shoulders lightly. After a moment, she lifted her wet hand and used her still-dry wrist to sweep her hair aside.
It didn’t work.
The hair fell again.
She grew impatient. She pulled her hands out of the sink, about to wipe them on the shirt, then stopped abruptly, remembering the shirt wasn’t hers.
Mu Wan turned to Liu Qianxiu. “Do you have tissue? I want to tie my hair up. It keeps falling. I don’t like it.”
He closed the fridge and walked over. “Give me the hair tie.”
Mu Wan looked up. His face didn’t change at all, calm and matter-of-fact. The tiny frown between her brows eased. She slipped the black hair tie from her wrist and placed it into his hand.
Then, unsure and secretly excited, she asked, “Can you do it?”
Her hair was thick. Even in the damp, it was heavy and dark. Liu Qianxiu glanced at the slightly curled ends and said, “I’ll try.”
Mu Wan’s heartbeat tangled. She turned around and gave him her back.
His movements were neat and efficient. Mu Wan braced both hands on the edge of the sink, cool marble pressing into her palms. She felt him lift her hair, and in the motion, his fingertips grazed the nape of her neck, warm, sharp, electric.
Mu Wan’s fingers curled reflexively.
She was wearing his clothes, the fabric close to her skin. Her thoughts went messy. Head lowered, she tried to distract herself and asked, “Who are you having dinner with tonight?”
“Family,” he replied.
Mu Wan made a small, unreadable sound. Her hair slid through the tie, like something being looped and held in place. She felt him gathering it little by little. Her eyes drifted to the sunlight outside, her vision softening.
This was the first time they’d met this early in the day.
“Liu Qianxiu.” The air felt warmed by the sun. Her voice softened with it.
“Mm,” he answered, low.
“Can I have lunch with you from now on?” Mu Wan asked.
His hands paused slightly. He pulled the last loop of hair through the tie, gentle, clean, no tugging.
Mu Wan turned back. They stood face-to-face, one taller, one smaller. She tipped her chin up, eyes bright, waiting.
He looked down at her, voice deep. “Depends on time.”
“Oh.” The familiar coolness. The breath Mu Wan had been holding slipped out.
With her hair tied up, her face was fully exposed. Everything she felt was written there. Nothing hid well.
Liu Qianxiu’s gaze lingered on the black tie at the back of her head. Then he added, quiet and precise.
“Depends on your time.”
Mu Wan snapped her head up. Air moved between them. She stared at him, calm brows, calm eyes, sandalwood lingering, quiet as distance.
And beneath that sandalwood, she caught something else.
Something she had never smelled on him before.
A faint, almost imperceptible scent of the human world, warm and ordinary.
Like smoke from a kitchen.
The author has something to say:Mu Wan: Then I’ll be staying tomorrow!
Thanks for the chapter! Things are finally starting to move along!
ReplyDeleteStay safe!