Under the Cheongsam Skirt - Chapter 29

Even though Xu Xing had tried to turn away at the last moment, thick, pearlescent streaks of c*m still splattered across Zhao Ciqin’s face—dotting her cheeks, clinging to her lashes, even catching in her hair. Some slid down slowly, leaving glistening trails in their wake.

She seemed dazed, still tilting her head back slightly, lips parted in surprise.

Xu Xing’s breathing was ragged, his half-hard cock already stirring again despite having just come. But he ignored it, pulling her up instead and carefully wiping the mess from her face with his fingers. His voice was low, rough with apology:
“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

Zhao Ciqin’s fingers curled around his arm. Her eyes were faintly red, and a stray drop still lingered at the corner of her lips, making her look thoroughly ruined.

“It’s so hot,” she mumbled, voice small. “You could’ve warned me.”

“I lost control. You didn’t have to—” Xu Xing cut himself off, then continued, his voice rougher than before, “You didn’t have to go this far for me.”

Zhao Ciqin blinked up at him. “Did you… not like it?”

Xu Xing nearly laughed.

He knew she meant the question sincerely—which only made it funnier. But he didn’t explain. Instead, he scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom, using a warm towel to clean her face thoroughly before they showered together.

Though it was just a shower, by the end, their sleepwear was utterly unsalvageable.

Zhao Ciqin leaned against Xu Xing’s chest, bare skin pressed to his. The lingering buzz of pleasure had left her awake, fingertips idly tracing his Adam’s apple.

The air still carried a faint, musky sweetness. Her touch drifted, then—on impulse—she leaned in and kissed his throat.

She thought he was asleep. A tiny, harmless indulgence.

But then strong arms hauled her on top of him, her soft curves flush against his chest.

Xu Xing’s eyes opened. The room was dark, his expression unreadable. “Not tired anymore?”

“…” Zhao Ciqin hesitated. “You’re… still hard.”

“Want me to do something about it?”

“No,” she refused instantly. “You… overdid it earlier. It’s swollen. We can’t.”

Xu Xing looked like he wanted to argue, but after a moment, he said nothing.

Silence settled between them.

Then—

“Xu Xing.” Zhao Ciqin’s voice was tentative, her breath soft. “If one day I become… really clingy, would you hate it?”

His fingers stroked the small of her back. “How clingy?”

“Like… wanting to be with you every second. Missing you the moment you’re gone. Making all my future plans around you. You might never have privacy again—because I’d want to own every part of you. I’d get jealous seeing you with other women. I’m petty like that.” She paused. “Would you mind?”

The corner of Xu Xing’s mouth lifted. “I’d beg for it.”

Relieved, Zhao Ciqin finally relaxed. She didn’t stir again, drifting off soon after.

Xu Xing, however, lay awake for a long time. Every nerve in his body hummed, his c*ck still aching. He turned onto his side, watching her sleep, gaze tracing her face over and over before he finally murmured:

“Silly girl.”

———

The next morning.

Pale light seeped through the gap in the curtains. The room was still mostly dark—it couldn’t be past 6:30—but the alley below was already alive with the chatter of early-rising women and the occasional wail of a child.

Xu Xing opened his eyes just as Zhao Ciqin slipped out of bed, her back to him as she dressed.

With each fastened button, her slender waist, the delicate wings of her shoulder blades, the curve of her hips—all were meticulously concealed beneath fabric. Her curls swayed slightly, revealing the shell of her ear, flawless in the dim light.

Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

Minutes later, footsteps returned. On impulse, Xu Xing closed his eyes.

A rustle of movement. The dip of the mattress. Then—soft lips brushed against his, feather-light and fleeting.

She pulled back before he could even react.

Xu Xing’s patience snapped. His hand shot up, fingers curling around the nape of her neck as his eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”

Caught.

Zhao Ciqin hovered above him, cheeks pink. “…Trying to sneak a kiss.”

“Did it work?”

“No,” she admitted, voice barely audible. “You caught me.”

Xu Xing’s breath hitched. “Then do it properly.”

“No. The moment’s gone.”

She tried to rise, but he pinned her wrists behind her back, her chin bumping against his as his mouth crashed into hers.

The kiss was deep, relentless. Their bodies pressed so close that even through fabric, heat sparked where skin met skin. Her heart raced wildly—so loud she was sure he could hear it.

Xu Xing, by contrast, seemed calm—except for the rigid tension in his frame and the hard length straining against her. His touch gentled, fingers stroking her back like he was soothing a skittish cat.

“This,” he murmured against her lips, voice thick with sleep, “is how you kiss someone. Understand?”

“…”

Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Need another lesson?”

“N-no! If we keep going—” Zhao Ciqin wriggled free, face burning, “—I’ll never leave this room!”

She bolted barefoot, not even smoothing the wrinkles from her clothes.

“Where are you going?” Xu Xing called after her.

“Check the nightstand!” Her voice floated back from the hallway.

Xu Xing sat up. On her side of the bed, a neatly folded note lay beside a fountain pen—clearly freshly written.

[My brother’s coming home today. I won’t be back for the next couple of days. Eat properly while I’m gone.]

She’d called this place home.

Xu Xing’s lashes lowered, but his lips curved.