Chapter Fifty-Four: A Stolen Kiss

The noise around was loud and chaotic, yet in Jiang Muwen's ears, it seemed to gradually fade away.

The boy before her stood with his gaze lowered, looking at her. In his clear eyes were six parts surprise, three parts confusion, and one part shyness.

It seemed this was the first time the two of them had been so close, and it was also the first time Wen Yichen felt his heart beating so violently.

"I..." Wen Yichen parted his lips slightly, as if he wanted to explain something to Jiang Muwen. But the words he had so carefully arranged dissolved into a mess at his throat, and before he could utter a single syllable, a faint blush had already crept over his face.

Jiang Muwen saw all of Wen Yichen’s reactions, every detail clear to her. At first, she was startled, but then a quiet delight began to bloom in her chest—could it be that he had some feelings for her too? Otherwise, why would he react like this?

"Wen Yichen..." Jiang Muwen stared at him in a daze.

It was only then, upon hearing his name, that Wen Yichen seemed to realize what he was doing. He coughed awkwardly and hastily withdrew his hand. "Someone just pushed me," he mumbled, stammering out an explanation as if afraid Jiang Muwen would misunderstand and think he had trapped her against the wall on purpose.

Watching him explain himself so seriously, Jiang Muwen found him endearingly foolish—so different from his usual cool and aloof self. She had never seen this side of him before.

"Wen Yichen, are you hot?" Jiang Muwen asked, eyeing the pale flush on his cheeks, testing him gently.

It was already nearly December—how could anyone be hot now?

Not wanting Jiang Muwen to notice anything amiss, Wen Yichen replied softly, "Mm,"—his face was hot, so that counted as being hot, didn't it?

By the time they returned to the apartment building, it was already past seven. Inside the elevator, Jiang Muwen spoke up again, carefully, "Wen Yichen, are we still having tutoring tonight?"

"Yes," Wen Yichen replied without the slightest hesitation.

Now, Wen Yichen fully understood his feelings for Jiang Muwen. It turned out, when with someone you liked, you didn’t want to miss a single second.

"Come find me at eight," Wen Yichen said, then added, "And last week’s content—we’ll make that up together too."

Jiang Muwen was caught off guard by his words—had something snapped in him? The boy who used to beg her not to ask him questions was now volunteering to make up last week’s missed lessons?

She looked up at him in disbelief, half tempted to ask if he’d left his brain behind on his desk after school, or if he’d suffered some kind of emotional blow—or maybe he’d been squeezed too hard in the exhibition hall just now. But as the words reached her lips, she swallowed them—a coward at heart, she dared not risk provoking Wen Yichen’s temper.

Wen Yichen glanced at her, as though he’d caught a flicker of emotion in her eyes. "What’s wrong? You don’t want to?"

"Of course I do!" Jiang Muwen replied instantly. How could he possibly know that she wished she could sit beside him every day, listening to him talk—whether the subject interested her or not, as long as it was his voice, she loved it. But such thoughts she would never let him know. The next second, she hurriedly added, "I love studying more than anything."

Her words startled Wen Yichen. "Jiang Muwen, did you get your brain squeezed out back in the exhibition hall?"

Their tutoring session stretched an extra hour. Night deepened, and the bedroom was hushed and still.

Jiang Muwen sat hunched over her desk, laboring through math problems. Wen Yichen sat beside her, cheek resting in one hand, idly twirling a pen in the other, watching her in boredom.

He didn’t even know why, but tonight, he simply wanted to watch Jiang Muwen work on math problems, as if he’d never watched her study before.

Though Jiang Muwen’s pen paused on the page for a long while, Wen Yichen didn’t utter a word of complaint.

Yet this uncharacteristic Wen Yichen made Jiang Muwen uneasy. In fact, it made her so unsettled she found herself unable to continue.

"Wen Yichen… can you not stare at me?" she asked timidly. "When you look at me, I can't keep writing…"

Only then did Wen Yichen snap out of his reverie, his ears burning red. He immediately averted his gaze. "Oh… go ahead and write. Call me when you’re done."

No one knew how much time passed before Jiang Muwen finally put down her pen, gazing at the problem before her with a long sigh—she couldn’t solve it.

"Wen Yichen…" Perhaps the silence had lasted too long, for Jiang Muwen spoke in a barely audible voice, "I can’t do this one—"

Silence fell again.

Moments later, steady breaths reached Jiang Muwen’s ears. Curious, she looked up and glanced at Wen Yichen.

He was sprawled across the desk, fast asleep.

The lamp cast a gentle light. In sleep, he looked so peaceful, his lashes lying obediently against his clean face, brushing a faint shadow there.

He seemed like a youth who had wandered out of a painting, tired enough to have fallen asleep right at the desk.

Jiang Muwen found herself unable to look away.

His face was gentle as jade; if she leaned closer, she could even see the fine white down on his cheeks.

In her chest, it felt as though a deer had wandered by, lowering its head to gently sip from a clear spring, sending ripples across her heart.

Reason and emotion wrestled within her—reason told her to wake Wen Yichen, while emotion urged her to steal a kiss.

She remembered being just as conflicted once before, and in the end, she hadn’t dared kiss him.

But this time, emotion triumphed over reason.

Jiang Muwen edged closer, holding her breath, afraid he would wake.

She drew nearer and nearer; he was like an alluring dessert, making her want to take a bite.

In the next moment, her lips pressed softly against his cheek.

The instant her lips touched him, Jiang Muwen felt her heart leap out of her chest—his skin was soft and warm.

He was the joy of her youth, and tonight, she finally managed to secretly kiss this boy she liked so much.

Her lips lingered for just a heartbeat before she pulled away, cautious.

Wen Yichen seemed to be sleeping deeply; after her stolen kiss, he did not open his eyes.

Blushing, she looked away, picked up her pen, and coughed softly, pretending to focus on her work.

She never noticed how, after that tiny cough, Wen Yichen's lips twitched ever so slightly, hinting at a smile.