"Yes."
"They could be together. Really together. If that's what they both wanted."
After hearing those words from Lin Feng himself, Lin Weiwei stared at him in the darkness, processing the words, searching for the catch or the condition or the escape clause.
There wasn't one.
Then minutes had passed since the last word. Maybe longer.
Her breathing had slowed against his chest. The relief-tears had dried to a faint tackiness on his shirt. Her hand lay flat over his heart, her thumb tracing absent circles on the fabric — slow, and unconscious.
Then her hips shifted, her chest pressed flush against his ribs, her leg sliding between his. She molded herself to him like she was trying to merge their bodies into one.
Soon, she stopped making circles over his shirt. Instead, her fingers tightened in his shirt. It was a small contraction — barely visible.
Her hand left his shirt and found the hem of his sleep shirt. For a moment, Lin Feng was surprised — his stepsister had caught the hem of his shirt, and then, all of a sudden, she lifted it up to his shoulders.
"Weiwei?"
She didn't answer him. Instead, her finger moved across his skin, landing on a spot just below his ribs. Then she stopped there for a moment, only for her finger to trace a line there — slow, precise, and following a path only she could see.
Lin Feng saw himself earlier when he first transmigrated into this body. It was spotless. There was nothing there, just skin. Smooth and unmarked.
But Lin Weiwei touched it like something should be there.
"Weiwei?" Lin Feng called out to her again, only to receive a response from her with her finger moving to another spot.
Then to another.
Her finger moved across his skin like mapping invisible wounds on his body with terrible precision.
It was as if she was reading braille with his skin.
"I memorized them," she finally whispered. "Every single one. While you were in that coma."
What is she doing? Lin Feng watched her as her finger moved from spot to spot.
Lin Weiwei continued; her voice cracked.
"Three weeks. I sat there for three weeks, and I traced them with my eyes. Over and over. The doctors healed everything. They made your skin perfect again."
Her finger pressed a spot above his hip.
"But I still remember where each one was."
"Seventeen," she whispered against his skin. "Seventeen wounds. Four where they stabbed you. The rest from the surgeries."
She had counted wounds that no longer existed. Memorized a map of damage that had been erased from his body before he ever arrived in it.
"All of this happened to you..." her voice went raw. "...because of me."
She leaned down and pressed her lips to the spot.
The kiss was soft. Lingering. Her breath was warm against skin that bore no evidence of what she mourned. As she did, Lin Feng could feel something wet drop from her, splashing on his skin.
"I'm so sorry." A kiss to his ribs. "I'm so sorry." A kiss to his side. "I'm so sorry." A kiss just below his collarbone.
Her tears fell onto his skin — hot and wet, tracing paths down his chest.
He felt the pressure of her mouth, the dampness of her tears. But the skin beneath her lips was just skin. The wounds had healed long before he got here.
---------------------
Lin Feng's hands found her face.
He then cupped Lin Weiwei's cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears, and lifted her head until she was looking at him.
In the darkness, he could barely see her — just the outline of her jaw, the faint gleam of her eyes, the wet tracks catching what little bluish light came through the curtains.
"Stop."
"But—"
"I said stop. No more apologizing for something that happened in the past."
"But these scars—"
"Are just old skin. History. They don't hurt anymore."
She stared at him, her face still cradled in his hands.
"Everything healed a long time ago, Weiwei."
"But I—"
"You've spent six years punishing yourself." His thumbs traced slow circles on her cheekbones. "Tonight, we're done with that. Tonight, it's time for you to heal too."
"After all, I wasn't the only one who got severely injured that day. You too..."
She stared at him. The tears were still wet on her cheeks.
"Then how do I atone?" Her voice was raw. "If not with guilt, then with what?"
"Live. Be happy. Stop treating yourself like you deserve punishment."
"That's not enough."
"It's more than enough."
"No." Something shifted in her eyes — grief hardening into determination. "I need to DO something. Give something."
She pulled his hands away. Pinned them to the mattress on either side of his head.
The movement was fast. Decisive. Before he could react, she'd shifted her weight — straddling him fully, her thighs squeezing his hips, the heat of her pressing down against him.
Lin Feng accepted her anyway despite everything.
The relief was terrifying. It cracked something open that she didn't know how to close.
So she did what she always did when she felt too exposed.
She attacked.
"Weiwei—"
"You won't let me apologize. You won't let me carry my guilt. You won't even punish me."
She released his wrists and sat up straight, still pinning his hips beneath her. In the dim light, he could barely make out her face — her eyes catching what little glow came through the curtains.
Her fingers found the buttons of her pajama top.
First button. The fabric parted at her throat.
Second button. Her collarbone emerged, sharp and delicate.
Third button. The valley between her breasts began to show, pale skin catching what little light filtered through the curtains.
Fourth button. The shirt fell open to her stomach, held together only by the last button at her waist — and the shadows.
The darkness was kind. It hid the details, softened the edges, turned her body into suggestion rather than certainty. But the faint bluish glow filtering through the curtains painted her silhouette in soft light — and what he saw stole the air from his lungs.
The curve of her breasts in shadow. The rise and fall of her chest. The way her skin seemed to glow in the dim light.
A view at the very edge of perfection. A beauty that existed in a realm beyond the ordinary. There were only two such women in the entire world — and one of them was right here, baring herself to him, trembling and waiting.
So this is what Lin Weiwei looks like… Lin Feng's mouth went dry.
"Then take me instead."
Lin Weiwei's voice dropped. Raw. Desperate.
"My body is yours, Big Brother. Use me."
She took his hand — the one she'd pinned to the mattress — and guided it to her chest. His palm pressed against warm skin, and he felt her heartbeat — frantic, racing — beneath his fingers.
He felt her sharp intake of breath as his fingers pressed gently into that softness. Her back arched into his touch, pressing more of herself into his hand.
His body responded without permission. A tension coiling low in his stomach, a heat spreading through his limbs, his hips shifting beneath her.
She felt it. Her breath hitched, and she pressed down against him instinctively — a small movement, almost unconscious, but enough to make them both freeze.
"You want this." Lin Weiwei's voice was barely a whisper. "I can feel that you want this."
She was right.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then his hand shifted. Slowly, almost reluctantly, it slid up from the curve of her breast, across her collarbone, along the line of her throat, until his palm cupped her cheek.
Wet. Tears.
Even now. Even with her shirt open and his hand on her skin and her body pressed against his — she was crying.
"Not tonight."
She froze.
For a moment, she just stared at him. Her brain struggling to catch up with what her ears had just heard.
"...What?"
"Not tonight."
She looked down at herself — shirt open, breasts bare, his arousal obvious beneath her — then back up at his face. Her expression flickered through confusion, disbelief, and something that looked almost like offense.
"You're... you're saying no?" She shook her head slowly, like she was trying to clear it. "I'm half-naked on top of you. You want this — I can feel how much you want this. And you're telling me... no?"
Her eyes searched his face, desperate for an explanation.
"Why?" Her voice cracked. "I'm offering you everything."
"Because you're crying."
"I'm always crying." The words came out broken, shattered. "I've been crying for six years."
"That's why not tonight."
---------------------
"Lin Feng—"
"When was the last time you smiled, Weiwei?" His thumb brushed the tears from her cheek. "Really smiled?"
She didn't answer. Her shirt still hung open, the shadows playing across her exposed skin, but she made no move to cover herself.
If anything, she sat up straighter — defiant, challenging.
The movement did devastating things to her silhouette. Her bare shoulders pulled back. Her chin lifted. The faint blue glow from the window caught the curve of her breasts, the line of her collarbone, the elegant arch of her neck.
She looked like a goddess carved from moonlight — proud, untouchable, and utterly aware of the effect she was having.
Lin Weiwei was not retreating. If anything, she was escalating.
"You haven't smiled — really smiled — in six years. Maybe longer."
Lin Weiwei looked at Lin Feng as if he had just given her an order. Then her jaw tightened.
Slowly, her lips curved upward.
The transformation was instant. The smile that spread across her face was devastating — warm, radiant, the kind that could stop a room. Her eyes softened. Her cheeks lifted. Her whole face seemed to glow in the dim light.
She was throwing everything she had at him.
"Like this?" Her voice dropped to honey. "Is this what you wanted to see, Big Brother?"
He looked at her for a long moment.
"No." Lin Feng said. "That's not your smile, Weiwei."
"And I don't want to see the mask you show to everyone. I want to see the real one."
Her eyes widened. Then, the perfect smile crumbled.
What replaced it was something raw — hurt, exposed, caught. The goddess vanished. What remained was just a girl who'd been seen through for the first time in her life.
"So no. Not tonight. Not until you remember what it feels like to smile because you're actually happy."
"That's not fair." Her voice was smaller now.
"It's not supposed to be fair. It's supposed to be right."
She stared at him in the darkness, her shirt still open, her body still pressing down against his, his arousal still evident beneath her. Neither of them acknowledged it. The tension hung between them like a living thing.
"When you can look at me and smile — really smile — while you ask for it..." His hand slid from her cheek into her hair, cupping the back of her head. "Then we'll talk about what comes next."
A long pause.
The defiance slowly drained from her posture. Her shoulders softened. Her chin dipped.
---------------------
Lin Weiwei didn't move off him. She just sat there, straddling, processing. Her shirt still open, skin still exposed — she didn't bother to cover herself.
Then, quieter:
"Is it because of her?"
His body stilled.
"That stalker bitch who follows you everywhere. Xiao Yue."
She said the name like poison.
"I saw you today. At the restaurant. The hand-holding. The way you wiped sauce from her cheek. The hood drop."
Her fingers curled against his chest.
"She finally showed her face. To the whole campus. For you."
"She's not—"
"I've always known she was beautiful, Big Brother. I've always known she was my real competition." Her voice hardened. "But today she stopped hiding. Today she made her move."
"Weiwei—"
"And then you put your arm around her. In front of everyone. You claimed her. The two of you even went to some wooded area in campus and if I had not been looking, she would have taken you too."
"Weiwei—"
He had no defense. It was true.
"And don't think I've forgotten about your matchmaker either. That sneaky bitch."
The register dropped. Lower heat. A wound that was older, more familiar, settled into its groove. The three-timer count.
"How many is it now, Big Brother? Hmm? One stalker bitch and one matchmaker and a fiancée you forgot about for years?"
"Xiao—"
She kissed him before he could finish.
Hard. Aggressive. Silencing.
Her hands found his wrists and pinned them to the mattress on either side of his head.
When she pulled back: "Don't say her name."
"I mean Zhang—"
Another kiss. Harder. More punishing this time. Her teeth caught his bottom lip and bit down — not playfully, not gently, but hard enough to draw blood.
He hissed against her mouth.
The copper taste flooded his tongue, sharp and metallic. She didn't apologize. Didn't pull back. Instead, she licked the wound she'd made, her tongue tracing the split in his lip like she was claiming even that.
Like his blood belonged to her too.
"Every time you try to say it, I'll do that."
Her shirt had slipped further, the fabric pooling at her elbows.
"Say my name instead."
"...Weiwei."
She kissed him again. But this one was different.
Slower. Deeper. Her lips parting against his, her tongue tracing the seam of his mouth.
She released his wrists, and her fingers slid into his hair instead. The movement pressed her bare chest against his — skin to skin now, nothing between them, the warmth of her body bleeding into his.
When she finally pulled back, they were both breathing harder.
"Again."
"Weiwei."
Another kiss. Longer this time. She melted into him completely, her body flush against his, bare skin against bare skin. Her hips shifted against his, and a sound escaped her throat — soft, wanting.
His hands found her waist — bare skin under his palms, the curve of her hips, the heat of her pressing down.
"That's all I want to hear from your lips tonight."
---------------------
The kissing stopped but neither of them moved.
She was still straddling him, her pajama top hanging uselessly at her elbows. She made no move to pull it back up. Her lips were swollen and slightly parted, still wet from his mouth. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, bare skin flushed in the dim light.
They stayed like that for a long moment — tangled together, breathing hard, the heat between them slowly cooling into something else.
"Are you really not going to give in?"
"Not tonight."
"Are you also not going to push me off?"
His hands rested on her hips. His thumbs had started tracing absent circles on her skin without him deciding for them to.
"Also not tonight."
"So what? We just stay like this?"
"Until you fall asleep."
She considered this. Her fingers drummed once against his chest — calculating, weighing her options.
Then she pulled the top back onto her shoulders — but instead of buttoning it, her fingers found the last button at her waist and undid that too.
Now it hung completely open, draped over her shoulders like a robe, hiding nothing.
"Not buttoning it?"
"Why would I?" She said it like the question was absurd. "We're a couple now. I can undress around you if I want."
Her fingers found the waistband of her pajama pants. She hooked her thumbs under the elastic.
"In fact, I could take these off too. Sleep properly. Skin to skin."
"Weiwei."
"What?" She tilted her head. "You're my future husband. I'm allowed."
Her thumbs tugged the waistband down an inch. Then another.
"Weiwei, stop."
"Make me." A slow smile — dangerous, playful. "Or ask nicely."
"...Please."
"Please what?"
"Please stop."
"That's not good enough." Her thumbs tugged another inch. "Say it properly."
"And what would 'properly' sound like?"
Her smile turned wicked.
"Please, my little childbride-sister Weiwei."
"..."
"Say it, Big Brother. Or these come off."
He stared at her. She stared back, thumbs hooked in her waistband, daring him.
"...Please, my little childbride-sister Weiwei."
Her whole face lit up — victorious, delighted, almost giddy.
"See? That wasn't so hard."
She released the waistband with a snap and settled against him, the open shirt falling to either side.
"Fine. I'll keep them on." She shifted her hips once, deliberately. "But only because you asked so sweetly."
"Speaking of hard..."
"Don't."
"Your little childbride-sister can tell." Another shift. "She can feel exactly how much you liked saying that."
"Weiwei."
"And you still won't do anything about it." She sighed dramatically, but her eyes were gleaming. "It's so frustrating!"
Her hand flattened over his heart.
"This position is mine now."
"What?"
"When you sleep. This spot. Not hers. Not the matchmaker's. Not anyone else's."
She settled more firmly against him, her weight pinning him down.
"I'm marking my territory."
"Possessive."
"It's called being a girlfriend, Big Brother. This is what we do. Or..."
Her eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint beneath the playfulness.
"Are you planning to cheat on your childbride? Are you planning to keep those bitches too when I'm here!"
"I'm not planning to hurt you."
"That's not the same thing."
"No. It isn't."
She stared at him, searching his face for something. Whatever she found — or didn't find — made her jaw tighten.
"We're not done talking about this."
"I know."
---------------------
Within minutes, her breathing began to slow.
Her body grew heavy with sleep — still on top of him, still pinning him to the mattress. Bare skin against bare skin, her unbuttoned shirt draped loosely over her shoulders.
He couldn't move without waking her.
She planned this. Even in surrender, she found a way to win.
His hands rested on the bare skin of her back, beneath the open shirt.
Her face was pressed to his chest, directly over his heart.
"Big Brother?"
Her voice was drowsy. Half-asleep already.
"Mm?"
"Goodnight kiss."
"You already kissed me a lot earlier."
"That doesn't count." She lifted her head, eyes heavy-lidded but stubborn. "On the lips. Properly."
"Weiwei..."
"Couples kiss goodnight. On the lips." She pouted — sleepy, petulant. "You're my future husband. You have to."
"Do I have to?"
"Mm. It's the rule."
He looked at her for a long moment. Her hair was mussed. Her eyes were barely open. Her lips were still slightly swollen from earlier.
He cupped the back of her head and pulled her up gently.
The kiss was soft. Brief. Tender.
Nothing like the aggressive, punishing kisses from before. Just his lips on hers in the dark.
When he pulled back, her eyes were closed.
And she was smiling.
When he saw it, his eyes widened. It wasn't the perfect smile. No, far from it. It wasn't performative, or the mask she wore.
Just... happy.
Small. Genuine. Content.
The faint bluish glow caught the curve of her lips, the softness in her features, the peace that had settled over her face.
Lin Weiwei's smile. A smile only she could ever make.
There it is.
That's the smile I was waiting for.
Yet, she didn't notice.
If she had — if she'd realized she was giving him exactly what he'd asked for — she would have pounced. Would have pinned him down and demanded he make good on his promise before he could take it back.
But her eyes stayed closed, and she hummed with satisfaction, settling back against his chest without realizing what she'd done.
Crisis averted. For now.
"I love you."
"I know."
"One day you'll say it back."
"Maybe."
A pause. Then, muffled against his chest:
"If you ever say her name in your sleep, I'll smother you with a pillow."
"...I'll remember that."
Then, she was finally asleep within seconds.
---------------------
Lin Feng stared at the ceiling.
Her weight was warm on his chest. Her hair spilled across his skin. Her breath came slow and steady against his neck. The unbuttoned shirt did nothing — it draped uselessly over her shoulders while everything beneath it pressed flush against him.
And he was still hard.
This is torture.
His body screamed at him. Every instinct said take what she offered. She'd wanted it. She'd begged for it. She'd stripped herself bare and guided his hand.
But that wasn't what he wanted. Not really.
The lust was real. But lust wasn't what made his chest tighten when she cried. Lust wasn't what made him refuse the one thing any man in this body would have taken without thinking twice.
I want to love her.
Protect her.
Take care of her.
Not use her.
She'd offered herself out of guilt. Out of atonement. Out of the belief that her body could pay a debt that didn't exist.
If I'd taken her tonight, what would that make me?
Then a name surfaced unbidden, and his stomach turned.
Long Tian.
Long Tian, who collected women like trophies. Who used a system to manipulate their feelings. Who took what he wanted because the narrative said he deserved them.
I'm not him.
I will never be him.
When he finally had her — and he would — it would be because she wanted him. Not because she thought she owed him. Not because guilt had twisted her love into something desperate.
He would have her when she could smile and ask for it. Really smile.
And she actually did tonight. She just didn't notice.
He looked down at her sleeping face — fierce even in rest, possessive even unconscious.
This is just the first night.
The thought hit him like cold water.
She confessed to an impostor tonight.
She bared herself to an impostor. Kissed an impostor until her lips were swollen. Fell asleep on top of an impostor.
And she doesn't know.
The real Lin Feng was gone. Dead this morning in this very same bed, the moment the transmigrator opened his eyes. And the girl sleeping on his chest had given everything she had to a man wearing his face.
He didn't have an answer for that. Not tonight.
He looked past her sleeping face, toward the window and the darkness beyond.
Lin Weiwei — here, in his arms, her hand over his heart.
Xiao Yue — across the street, in the café she had built to watch over a boy who no longer existed. Five years of devotion aimed at a ghost.
And somewhere across the city, in a motel with damp sheets and thin walls, Zhang Tingting lay alone. Abandoned by the friend who had used her and the man who had used her and the fiction that had never been what she pretended it was.
The original had taken her body under a story he told himself. Called it practice. Called it matchmaking. Let her pretend she was someone else while he pretended she was someone else too.
I inherited that debt whether I chose it or not.
I will not continue what he started. And I will not abandon her either.
Three women. Three positions. Three distances.
Lin Feng closed his eyes.
I will protect all three.
No matter what it takes.
Outside, the bluish glow held steady on the ceiling. The climate system hummed. Somewhere high above the mansion, a zeppelin's running lights moved across the too-bright sky in slow silence.
Lin Feng lay beneath the weight of a girl who loved the wrong man, and he stayed awake for a very long time.
---------------------
[End of Chapter]