As the New Year’s bells rang out, messages of blessing poured in one after another, and both of their phones began ringing nonstop.

But none of it could be heard anymore.

Back when the first call came in and ruined things, Meng Yanxi had shown remarkable foresight by kicking his phone—and his pants—out together, along with Jin Zhao’s bag, slyly leaving behind only that half-used box inside.

But later, it all got used up.

Someone complained at first that it was small, uncomfortable, but later was comfortable enough that his mind blanked out again and again.

So maybe even if the phones had been in the bedroom, the two of them really wouldn’t have heard a thing.

The solid wooden door was heavy, blocking out all the sounds from the living room. They clung tightly to each other, trembling for a long time, wishing they could melt into one.

……

Jin Zhao slept extremely soundly.

In fact, by the time the first phone ringtone rang, it was already their second time.

The first ended rather hastily. It was obvious that Meng Yanxi, like her, was a novice, lacking experience, and he held her unwillingly, impatiently going for a second round.

The second time made her scalp go numb with pleasure.

She only remembered it lasting a very, very long. In between, he maneuvered her into all kinds of positions, but most of the time they were facing each other—he seemed especially fond of looking at her. She couldn’t count how many times she broke down; every single time, Meng Yanxi would cling to her and kiss her tenderly, yet he still refused to let her go. Later, he seemed to hear the distant New Year’s countdown, and finally, together with that counting voice, at the exact moment the New Year arrived, he held her tightly, together with her.

By the third time, she actually felt it was enough, but someone coaxed her, saying there was still one left, they’d already bought them anyway, so they might as well use it together—otherwise it would just take up space in the bag.

She was floating with happiness then, her mind blank, her whole self drifting, forgetting to retort that he’d complained it was small to begin with.

After that, she didn’t really remember much.

Too much pleasure overstimulated her into losing consciousness. She suspected she’d been made to pass out by him, yet she clearly remembered that in the end he carried her to wash up, then changed to another room.

Passing through the living room, his phone rang intermittently a few more times; along that short stretch, several messages came in.

She heard the ringtone and half-opened her eyes, not remembering what time it was then, but she could figure it out—two or three hours must have passed since midnight.

The big capitalist really was popular, people were still sending him blessings all night long.

Given the situation, it felt more like congratulations.

She thought hazily, then suddenly realized he was carrying her out. Thinking he still wanted more and was planning to change locations, she shrank back in fright, buried her face in his chest, and whispered, “Enough.”

He chuckled lowly, kissed her brow, and said, “What are you thinking? Just changing rooms to sleep.”

Her mind was slow then, and she didn’t think to ask why, but this man was truly bad—he answered before she even asked.

“The sheets are soaked through.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

Later, he seemed to have dried her hair as well. His hands weren’t very well-behaved while doing so, but she was far too tired and too lazy to care. Lying drowsily on his lap, half asleep, she turned over and her face accidentally brushed against something. He woke up immediately.

She felt very relieved.

She had bought the smallest pack.

And she decided that from now on, she would always buy the smallest one.

……

When she opened her eyes again, the man was already awake, leaning against the headboard and playing on his phone, one arm wrapped around her.

The blackout curtains were tightly drawn, and the room was so dark that it was impossible to tell day from night. The faint glow of the phone screen fell across his face, outlining his sharp, well-defined features—high brow bone, deep eyes.

She stared at him, dazed for two or three seconds. Very quickly, the memories of last night came flooding back like a tide.

Her first reaction was to close her eyes and pretend for a bit longer—no, to sleep a bit longer. But this man seemed to have eyes on his chin; he suddenly glanced over. “Awake?”

That voice—last night it had lingered by her ear, whispering all kinds of indecent words that had left her whole body flushed—appeared again, and Jin Zhao reflexively blushed.

Meng Yanxi didn’t know whether he noticed. He simply leaned down gently and kissed her brow.

He wasn’t wearing any clothes. As he came close, she sensed the aura of his body—the clean scent of cold mountain pines and mist, carrying the particular warmth of skin against skin. She liked it very much.

“I’ll have someone send some food up?” he asked.

Jin Zhao lowered her eyes, her gaze avoiding his bare chest, and answered softly, “Okay.”

He paused, then asked again, “Should I have them bring up a few bottles of water too?”

Although Jin Zhao, to some extent, was no longer as pure and ascetic as before, compared to this man she was still quite innocent. At first, she didn’t grasp his implication at all, even naively thinking how considerate he was—she really did feel very thirsty. Two seconds later, when she remembered why she felt so thirsty and why they had changed rooms in the middle of the night, her face flushed red all at once.

The bad guy let out a muffled laugh by her ear.

He was always like this—couldn’t stay serious for even a minute.

“Meng Yanxi, do you really never get jumped and beaten for acting like this?” she asked, staring at him with a numb expression.

Meng Yanxi slowly sat upright and said solemnly, “No. After all, I’m only like this with you.”

That’s obvious.

Jin Zhao had been a bit annoyed with him, but when she thought of how he’d looked at the start last night—pretending to be an experienced driver but actually green and reckless—and how unwilling he’d been after hastily finishing the first time, all middle-school-brained and indignant, she felt she could forgive him for another minute.

Meng Yanxi lowered his head and sent a message on his phone, asking someone to bring food up.

Jin Zhao really did feel hungry too.

She blinked and asked, “Has it gotten light out?”

Meng Yanxi raised an eyebrow at her without saying a word, casually tapped a switch on his phone, and the curtains slowly drew open.

The bedroom’s floor-to-ceiling windows faced the same direction as the living room, directly toward the lake. Lying in bed, one could see the distant lake and mountains—pleasing to the eye. But at this moment, the sky outside wasn’t very bright, dark and heavy, like the light around five or six in the morning.

“It’s not light yet,” she murmured. So she’d only slept for such a short while.

Meng Yanxi looked at her with amusement. “Five o’clock. Almost dark.”

Jin Zhao was shocked. She’d slept that long?

She couldn’t quite believe it. “What time? Five in the afternoon?”

Meng Yanxi simply handed her the phone.

The phone was set to a 24-hour clock, showing 16:59. It hadn’t reached five yet. Jin Zhao’s gaze lingered for just a moment, and she watched as 16:59 ticked over to 17:00.

So annoying—even time was precisely cooperating with his smugness.

At the same time, a message suddenly popped up on the screen.

Jin Zhao had no intention of invading his privacy, but the message appeared too quickly, and there were too few words—she ended up reading it without meaning to.

Zhuang Yu: 【I heard Xixi and her classmates came over last night. Would you like to go take a look?】

Meng Yanxi had muted his phone after bringing it in, afraid of disturbing her sleep, so he hadn’t seen the message. After showing her the time, he naturally turned off the screen and tossed the phone aside.

Jin Zhao reminded him with inexplicable guilt, “You have a message.”

“What message?” Meng Yanxi asked casually.

Jin Zhao hesitated between pretending she hadn’t seen it clearly and telling the truth.

Meng Yanxi had already seen it. He didn’t reply, only raised his brows and looked at Jin Zhao.

Jin Zhao silently tugged the blanket up a little.

Under the blanket, she wasn’t wearing anything.

Seeing a student at a time like this would be a bit awkward.

They thought of her as a teacher, while she’d spent the entire night reveling with her brother—every corner, every position, from last year into this year.

Meng Yanxi: “What Xixi? Don’t know her. We cut off our sibling relationship long ago.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

She really didn’t know how her boyfriend, usually so aloof, could suddenly turn so absurd from time to time.

Back then, when she confessed to him, too embarrassed to say it outright, she’d deliberately said that the school forbade teachers from dating college students, but asked whether it was possible to date a college student’s older brother. Meng Yanxi, perceptive as he was, immediately caught on and said that if the college student she meant was his sister, he could immediately sever ties with Meng Zhuxi.

But that had only been a tacit confession and acceptance between the two of them.

Jin Zhao absolutely did not dare become the calamity who drove a wedge between siblings. Laughing and crying at the same time, she explained, “That was just a joke, don’t take it seriously.”

“A joke? Don’t take it seriously?” Meng Yanxi enunciated each word.

Jin Zhao’s heart shrank at once. She hurriedly patched it up. “The confession part wasn’t a joke.”

Meng Yanxi still wore that hard-to-provoke expression. “Too late. I’m already hurt. What do you think we should do about this?”

Jin Zhao protested, “……Meng Yanxi, you’re faking an injury.”

Meng Yanxi had already tossed the phone aside and pressed over her.

At first, he cupped her face and kissed her lips, then moved from her lips to her chin, to her neck, her collarbone……

When his gaze swept over the marks on her chest, his eyes instantly darkened, and he bent down to kiss her again.

Meng Yanxi’s hair was stiff, poking against her skin, a little itchy.

Jin Zhao held his head and begged with a laugh, “We really can’t do it again.”

The man stopped and lifted his head from under the blanket.

“Does it still hurt?”

Perhaps because of the angle, whenever he looked up at her from below, those peach-blossom eyes that were usually a little cold would suddenly take on an indescribable clarity and intimacy. His lashes were so long—he looked like an overly clingy big dog.

Last night, the two of them had been a little indulgent. Waves of overwhelming pleasure had surged one after another, crazily numbing the discomfort. Fortunately, after sleeping an entire day, she felt much better.

But she couldn’t quite say it hurt, nor could she say it didn’t.

She cleverly found an excuse and said softly, “We already used them all up.”

Thanks to his insistence on using them all last night.

Unfortunately, she thanked him too early. A shameless bad guy caught her off guard: “It’s fine. I bought new ones—proper size. Bought a lot.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

She didn’t know what he was emphasizing.

She found it unbelievable. “When did you buy them?”

Meng Yanxi: “This morning, while you were sleeping.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

Alright. On the first day of the New Year, this man went out early in the morning—maybe the shop had just opened—and the very first thing he did was buy condoms, and he bought a lot.

She didn’t know why her sense of morality was so high; she actually felt embarrassed right along with him.

Jin Zhao blinked numbly. “Happy New Year.”

Meng Yanxi paused, then laughed under his breath. “Happy New Year, girlfriend.”

He just had a bad mouth—teasing her. He didn’t actually do anything.

When the food was delivered, he only held her affectionately. It was just that his mouth really was bad; he even told her, “I checked this morning. It’s a bit swollen. I already applied medicine for you.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

“Meng Yanxi, I really will put a sack over your head and beat you,” she threatened without much force.

Meng Yanxi held her and laughed softly. “No need for a sack. You can hit me, I won’t fight back.”

Jin Zhao looked silent, but in truth she had no counter.

Meng Yanxi’s mouth settled down for quite a while. He just held her quietly, as if making up for the post-incident tenderness he’d missed when she fell asleep immediately last night.

His gaze fell on the condom packaging box on the floor. He stared at it for a moment, the corner of his mouth curving soundlessly.

“When did you buy it?” he asked softly.

Jin Zhao froze for a few seconds before realizing what he meant.

But she really couldn’t say that it was that day after the lecture ended—when Meng Yanxi deliberately sabotaged her and said, in front of the principal and the leaders, that he wanted to spend New Year’s with her—and on the way back she’d gone out through the west gate, stopped by the pharmacy outside, and bought a box.

Because she was a little shy, and afraid of running into students, she hadn’t looked carefully—just grabbed a box of the regular size, with the smallest quantity.

She tucked herself into his arms and answered vaguely, “You said you’d come back to spend New Year’s.”

But perhaps Meng Yanxi’s question was too knowing. Even with how vague she was, he still hit the mark. “You bought it on the day of the lecture?”

Jin Zhao: “……”

Meng Yanxi kissed her hair and let out a low, meaningful hum of laughter. “Good thing I rushed back. Didn’t let it go to waste.”

Stop talking.

Meng Yanxi slowly took her hand and interlaced their fingers, asking softly, “You don’t feel like it was too fast?”

Jin Zhao didn’t say anything.

At the beginning, she really did feel it was fast. After all, they’d only made it official in mid-November; less than two months later, they were already intimate—especially with Meng Yanxi’s social status being so unequal to hers. She felt unsteady, lacking any real sense of security.

But that night, when she heard that girl mention his Banling Single-Parent Growth Fund, a sudden insight struck her, and she thought of his WeChat profile picture.

A landscape photo taken in the desert: one half was cracked, parched Gobi, earth-yellow gravel, not a blade of grass growing; the other half was a desert oasis, clear emerald water reflecting the sky, tender green grass thriving along the shore, brimming with life. In the corner was a single feather—pure white and light—carried by the wind, skimming from desolation into vitality.

She had originally thought it was just an ordinary landscape photograph with strong artistic tension, even a bit like him—sometimes goofy, sometimes a little affected. But that night, after hearing the girl’s speech, she opened it again and stared at that feather for a long, long time.

So it turned out that when she was seventeen, Meng Yanxi really had confessed to her.

And it had taken her nine years to understand.

Jin Zhao quietly wrapped her arms around his waist, nestling against his chest.

After a long while, she murmured softly, “It’s not fast. I forgot to count the nine years we lost.”