My Darling (我的曼达林)

Untitled Part 15

That had all been his fault.

He wanted her to go back to being what she used to be like.

To go back to being that girl who would dare climb a tree two storeys high and then shout at him in panic, "Jian Bianlin, Jian Bianlin, oh no, oh no, I'm done for. I just ripped my stockings. Can you buy help me buy a new pair? I'm scared my mom is going to beat me..."

What did he need to do?

His throat felt very tight, as if obstructed by those emotions that were continuously roiling upwards.

"It's really boring being an artiste, isn't it?" He restrained his breathing.

"Yeah, your work schedule is so packed." Her gaze flitted all about and landed outside the window on that ocean view that was not the least bit beautiful. Other than working, artistes could only stay in places where they would not be surrounded by curious onlookers—and, truth to tell, that really was boring.

He moved in closer to her. "I'm free tonight. I'll go out with you."

"You don't need to keep me company. It's not like this is my first time here..." Unlike his previous night's scent of toiling and exhaustion intermingled with perspiration, she now could very distinctly smell his clean, fresh scent.

Could he? Right here? His fingers were on her hand that was resting on the blanket, and as he slid them down, their fingers interlaced. He could feel that her fingers were a little wet. It was from touching the pool water earlier on.

He saw her throat move up and down once, ever so slightly.

He wanted to kiss her.

In this still room, the past relentlessly assaulted his mind like a crashing wave. To this very day, he could still remember every little detail of that scene on the ferry when they were teenagers. His heart that had palpitated in his chest, the lightheadedness that had come over him, and even the buzz in his eardrums when his lips touched hers—he had not forgotten any of these things. That day, she had been wearing yarn gloves, ones that she had bought last minute from a street vendor outside the bus stop, and touching them gave a similar sensation to touching a plush toy...

And also, when he kissed her, how the two older women beside them had tutted quietly, or when he let go of her, how she had been so upset even the bottoms of her eyes had grown red...

Even the smell on the ferry of kerosene intermixed with dust was very vivid.

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In the space between his fingers, Chu Jian's fingers curled in slightly.

This little action was infinitely magnified by the rational side of his mind and caused him to start abruptly back to his senses. His gaze cleared, and he noticed Chu Jian shrinking backwards as she nervously dug her fingers into the blanket beneath her.

He shifted his face away to the side. "I still have a shoot this afternoon. Go walk around nearby. Bring something to charge your battery. Don't let your mobile phone die."

Breathing softly, she made an almost imperceptible sound in response.

Jian Bianlin forced himself to leave, backing away, but his mind was a little unfocused, and he had forgotten that behind him was a heated pool. Just like that, one foot stepped into the water. Water splashed up—