Quick Travel to the Clouds

Chapter 565 The Little Demon 26

The warm yellow light from the kitchen fell on Chi Jingchen's profile, clearly reflecting the indescribable tenderness and undeniable tension.

He gazed at her still-blushing cheeks, his voice lowered, tinged with a hint of caution: "Yun Chu... let me stay with you until you wake up, okay?"

The light from the kitchen ceiling light cast a warm, serene angle on the entryway floor.

Yun Chu was struck by the stubbornness in his eyes and the childlike pleading. It was not just attachment, but a haven after the storm, a humble request condensed from a whole night of ecstasy and unease.

She slowly raised her hand, her fingertips lightly touching the slightly wrinkled fabric of his shirt that she had clenched, feeling the still strong beating of his heart beneath the fabric.

She didn't insist on leaving anymore, but simply nodded slightly and gave a barely audible "hmm".

The tension in Chi Jingchen's eyes suddenly eased, and the brilliance that shone through was far more dazzling than any spotlight on the stage.

"You go wash up first, I'll go back to my place to wash up," Yun Chu said softly.

Chi Jingchen tightened his arms slightly and said in a low voice, "You're not not coming over, are you?"

"will not."

"Then go ahead." Chi Jingchen reluctantly let go of Yun Chu and watched her return to her home across the street.

When Yun Chu pushed open Chi Jingchen's door, her hair still damp from her shower, water droplets clung to the ends of her hair.

The scent of minty shampoo mingled with the warmth of her skin, filling the entryway with a hazy fragrance. She walked barefoot on the floor, her arches taut like a cat tentatively venturing into its territory.

Chi Jingchen was leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking water, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with each swallow. Water droplets slid down his chin and disappeared into the loose collar of his loungewear.

The moment their eyes met, the glass was slammed down on the table, making a crisp clinking sound.

He rushed over, his breath still carrying the scent of shaving foam, and pinned her against the door, his thumb tracing the dampness that hadn't been wiped away from her collarbone.

“You still owe me one.” His voice was low and husky, his gaze fixed on her glistening lips. The hasty kiss in the entryway just now was like a red-hot coal, burning them both until their breaths trembled.

Yun Chu's eyelashes trembled slightly in his approaching shadow, but he held the back of her head and deepened the kiss.

Unlike his previous restraint, this time he held her lower lip in his mouth and rubbed it gently until her knuckles, which were gripping his clothes, turned white, and a kitten-like whimper escaped her throat.

Chi Jingchen pressed his palm against her lower back, pulling her into his arms. The sound of his heartbeat, transmitted through the thin fabric, was deafening.

Yun Chu opened her eyes during a breath and found him staring at her with a gaze that seemed to pierce through her—Chi Jingchen, who was usually reluctant to give the audience such a look, was now pouring all the starlight he had missed into his eyes.

The night was as thick as melted dark chocolate. When Chi Jingchen held Yun Chu in his arms, his arm muscles remained stiff with restraint.

The lingering scent of jasmine shampoo in her hair lingered around the pillow, gently brushing against his collarbone with each steady breath—more captivating than any encore on stage.

He counted the shadows cast by her eyelashes, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the folds at the waist of her pajamas.

The warmth in his arms was so perfect, as if it were meant to fit him perfectly into his chest.

Yun Chu snuggled closer to the heat source in her sleep, her knee accidentally brushing against his taut abdomen. Startled, he gasped, his Adam's apple bobbing as he buried his face in her loose hair.

The hum of the air conditioner gradually synchronized with her breathing.

Chi Jingchen stared at the moonlight leaking through the gap in the curtains, recalling the weight of the gold leaf falling on his shoulders during the curtain call. But now he felt that none of those glorious moments could compare to the slight undulation of her spine beneath his palm.

When Yun Chu unconsciously nuzzled his chin with the tip of her nose, he finally closed his eyes resignedly, and in the dull pain of the tug-of-war between reason and desire, he was dragged into a chaotic dream by exhaustion.

Before finally plunging into darkness, he tightened his arms around her and pressed her against his heart, as if guarding a fragile starlight.

As the morning light danced through the gauze curtains on Yun Chu's eyelids, the first thing she felt was the warm touch on her lips.

Chi Jingchen's kiss was as sticky and lingering as melting honey, carrying the languor of early morning and the desire that had been suppressed all night.

He ran his fingertips through her loose hair, murmuring between kisses, "Good morning, my starlight." His voice was still hoarse from not being fully awake.

Yun Chu blushed, and a soft "hmm" came from her mouth, like a breath.

Soon, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of caramelized bacon. As Yun Chu tiptoed to get a plate, Chi Jingchen wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as he watched her flip the sunny-side-up eggs in the pan.

As the egg sizzled in the butter, he suddenly took her earlobe into his mouth and gently bit it: "Better than a Michelin-starred chef." Yun Chu's hand trembled, almost crushing the egg yolk, and the tips of her ears turned so red they could bleed.

A sudden downpour struck in the afternoon, the rain curtain shutting out the world into a private realm.

Fine dust floated in the projector's beam of light. Chi Jingchen wrapped the two of them in a blanket, his fingers idly twirling the ends of Yun Chu's hair.

When the male and female leads were kissing in a rainy alley in the movie, he suddenly turned her face away and said, "Their kissing skills are terrible." He then demonstrated what a textbook-level deep kiss looks like, and she didn't even see the plot until the end credits rolled.

As dusk fell, Yun Chu noticed that Chi Jingchen had changed his phone's screen saver to a photo of her sleeping face—the morning light gilded the outline of her face, and he was kissing the newly changed screen saver, his eyes filled with a starry sky even more dazzling than the night before.

After two tender and lingering days that seemed to stretch out like honey, Chi Jingchen was finally urged on by a work call. He picked up his luggage, got into the familiar van, and headed to yet another closed-off film set.

The empty room suddenly fell silent, as if his cool aftershave scent and low laughter still lingered.

Yun Chu stood for a moment in the suddenly chilly air, her fingertips lightly brushing over the sticky note he had casually placed under his coffee cup before leaving, with a crooked smiley face drawn on it.

The hustle and bustle of the university campus enveloped her once again. In the second semester of her junior year, the coursework for her economics major was like a finely tuned gear, relentlessly running.

Yun Chu, carrying a thick textbook on "Advanced Macroeconomics" and densely packed courseware, moved between crowded classrooms and library study rooms filled with the aroma of ink and coffee.

The return to daily life carries a familiar rhythm, yet it is subtly different, imbued with a lingering sense of longing in my heart.

The professor's voice echoed in the lecture hall, while formulas and charts flowed on the projector.

Yun Chu would occasionally stare blankly at the swaying shadows of the trees outside the window, her thoughts drifting to the lights of a distant film set, imagining which costume Chi Jingchen was wearing at that moment.

Her phone lay dormant in her pocket, but during breaks between classes, she would unconsciously unlock the screen, tap on that familiar name, and see the selfie he had hastily sent that morning, dressed up in his costume for the drama—the background was a messy RV, his eyes held a hint of weariness from staying up all night, but upon seeing the camera, he gave her a familiar smile that made her heart race.

She tapped her finger and replied with an equally bright emoji.

Time slipped by quietly amidst the deduction of economic models, discussions of group projects, hunched over books in the library, and silent text message exchanges.

By the window of the study room, the afternoon sun grows hotter and longer each day, and the shady trees become increasingly lush and verdant. Outside the teaching building, figures in black academic gowns gradually appear, taking photos to commemorate the occasion. A faint sense of bittersweet farewell and anticipation for the future floats in the air.

All of this silently proclaims: Summer vacation is just around the corner.

The bell rang urgently and then subsided during the last exam week. When Yun Chu handed in her last exam paper, "International Finance," and walked out of the oppressive exam room, she was greeted by the scorching July sun, which poured down with the heat unique to midsummer, almost enough to burn the skin.

She stood under the tall pillars of the teaching building, raised her hand to block the glaring light, and took a deep breath of the free air, carrying the slightly intoxicating scent of grass and trees steaming in the sunlight.

summer vacation.

The word itself is like a ripe peach, exuding an enticing sweet fragrance and a languid atmosphere.

A long two-month vacation unfolded before her eyes. The campus quickly became empty and quiet, with the sound of cicadas becoming the main melody.

Yun Chu dragged her suitcase out of the dormitory building, the sunlight casting a long shadow. She looked up at the flawlessly blue sky, a smile playing on her lips. Her finger swiped across her phone screen, sending a message to the pinned name:

"Exams are over, summer vacation has officially started. Now, it's time to head over to you."