Did My Ex-Wife Agree to Remarry Me Today? - Chapter 40

Chapter 40: Plans

“I mean taking off our clothes and doing this and that.” Chi Yun blurted this out with the intensity of someone who thought they might actually win the lottery. Regardless of whether the listener felt embarrassed, the speaker herself was thick-skinned enough to handle it.

As it turned out, the probability of winning the lottery is abysmally low. Chi Yun quickly saw an expression of annoyance on Li Zhou’s face: “Don’t even think about it.”

To avoid losing the benefits she could actually get, Chi Yun quickly corrected herself: “So anything else is fine except that?”

Li Zhou’s attitude softened slightly, returning to her usual indifferent demeanor: “Only things you’ve done before.”

Since she allowed it, it meant Li Zhou could accept it. If Chi Yun tried something new, Li Zhou might not be so receptive—like the suggestion she just made.

Choosing from things they had already done was easy, as there were only a handful of options. Chi Yun had the answer immediately: “I want to kiss you.”

She had wanted to kiss her all day.

When Li Zhou was wiping her face with the handkerchief this morning, she felt the urge. Later at the restaurant, walking up the slope under the beautiful sunset, Li Zhou’s silhouette was even more stunning, and the thought sprouted again. Even during dinner, when their eyes met unintentionally, there was a momentary longing. Chi Yun felt like she had spent the entire day consumed by these impure thoughts and the pain of them being out of reach.

Now, she had the chance to make it happen.

Li Zhou added a restriction: “Just a touch.”

Chi Yun replied with a very serious attitude: “Just a touch.”

She had kissed Li Zhou twice at her house. For a reference point, she wanted to aim for the style of the second kiss. Last time they also said “just a touch,” but the reason “shameless things” are called as such is that they always carry a bit of “extra cargo.” The person making the suggestion must be prepared to accept that “extra cargo” as well.

Li Zhou agreed.

Chi Yun buckled her loosened seatbelt and drove a short distance to the back gate of the neighborhood. It was secluded with few lights—no onlookers, no interruptions. They could kiss for as long as they wanted, to whatever degree they desired. Just thinking about it made Chi Yun’s heart race.

It was pitch black outside and inside the car. With a click, the seatbelt on the driver’s side was unbuckled. That crisp sound amplified the tension.

A shadowy figure leaned over, visible only in silhouette. Li Zhou reached out to turn on the dome light, but her hand was intercepted. The owner of that hand was bold; after pinning Li Zhou’s hand, she moved to unbuckle Li Zhou’s seatbelt.

In fact, when Li Zhou made the proposal, Chi Yun’s courage swelled. It swelled to the point where she felt that how they became entangled at this moment was entirely up to her.

“A-Li.” Chi Yun’s voice was husky with desire, and her breath was hot. She released Li Zhou’s wrist and moved her hand to the back of Li Zhou’s neck, applying slight pressure to tilt her closer. Her other hand gripped Li Zhou’s far shoulder, pulling her against herself.

Everything was being directed by Chi Yun, and Li Zhou did not refuse.

As the scorching breath drew near and softness was about to touch, Li Zhou suddenly remembered she hadn’t made her prior statement. She hadn’t gotten a guarantee from Chi Yun. This person could deny anything; what if she refused to let go after the kiss was over?

“Wait… mmm…”

Chi Yun didn’t give Li Zhou a chance to speak. She kissed her fervently, leaving no gaps, igniting the spark instantly. Chi Yun’s kiss was provocative, bringing a thick wave of heat. Before long, Li Zhou’s hands, which had been resting on her knees, rose to cup Chi Yun’s cheeks. As the kiss deepened, she moved them to hold Chi Yun’s shoulders, and finally, lost in the moment, she hooked them behind Chi Yun’s head.

Soft tongues tangled in a seamless, give-and-take rhythm. Li Zhou had no memory of how the other woman eventually scooped her up and settled her onto her lap.

When she opened her eyes, their foreheads were pressed together, both breathing heavily. A lingering trace of their intimacy remained at the corners of their mouths.

“You should feel my heartbeat,” Chi Yun said, her gaze piercing through the darkness during a break in her breathing. “It’s about to jump out.”

Li Zhou’s warm arms were wrapped around Chi Yun’s neck. The skin touching the pulse point could indeed feel a rapid, frantic thumping. But her own heart was beating just as fast. Without a baseline for comparison, she didn’t bother feeling it.

Li Zhou moved her hands away. Thinking she was about to get down, Chi Yun immediately spread her palms to support Li Zhou’s back.

“I’m not finished yet,” she said. Her heart was racing and her head felt light from the heat, forcing a temporary pause, but she intended to continue once she caught her breath.

“Kissing is one thing, but you have to go home later. No more stalling,” Li Zhou took the opportunity to say. Her voice was like a river in early spring, flowing gently and slowly, much softer than usual.

Chi Yun really wanted to stall. “How about we just sleep in the car tonight? You can go back tomorrow morning. No one comes to the back gate, and the car is big enough. It won’t be cramped if we lie down. Can’t you consider it?”

Li Zhou had things to do tonight—things she had to keep from Chi Yun—so she couldn’t linger. “Have you forgotten you’re still on the blacklist?”

“I’m not out yet?” Chi Yun’s eyes widened. “I thought I saw the light of day this morning.” After a busy day, she had almost forgotten about that.

“I’ll message you when I get home,” Li Zhou said softly. “I’ll take you off the list then.”

With that said, there was no room left for persistence. Chi Yun knew how to read the situation; she dropped the shameless act and started playing the “good girl.”

“Then after I go home obediently, can I call you?”

“Yes, but a bit later.” Li Zhou calculated. “When you get home, I’ll still be on the road.”

“Then I’ll wait for your message before I call.”

“Okay.”

A light flickered on in a nearby house near the back gate, bringing a faint glow into the car. Chi Yun’s supportive hands turned into a lingering embrace, overflowing with reluctance. She blinked, returning to her old tactic of acting pitiful. “Once you start filming the documentary, will you still have time to see my messages?”

“Not necessarily. Work at sea is busy; I might not check them promptly,” Li Zhou said.

Chi Yun let out a breath, full of restraint and longing. “Once I learn how to swim, I’m going to sea with you.”

“You’re going to learn to swim?” Li Zhou was astonished. A person who usually couldn’t even touch water actually wanted to learn to swim?

“I’ve made up my mind,” Chi Yun said. “When are you coming back next?”

“In one month.”

“That’s perfect.” Chi Yun’s competitive spirit was ignited. “When you come back next time, you can test my progress.”

“You’ll know how to swim in a month?” Li Zhou’s surprise hit her like wave after wave.

No, in a month she would have only just started. At most, she could put on a swimming ring and perform a “red feathers floating on green water” routine for Li Zhou.

“At that time, you can check my beginner level results—knowing how to wear a swimsuit.”

Indeed, the first step in learning to swim was getting all the gear; she planned to buy several sets. This was something unthinkable under normal circumstances. Li Zhou still wanted to confirm if she was joking: “You really want to learn to swim?”

Chi Yun’s gaze was firm: “Absolutely.”

Li Zhou followed up: “Why do you want to learn?” For Chi Yun, this was an unnecessary endeavor.

Chi Yun softened her voice: “I want to do the same things as you.”

“Do the same things as me?” Li Zhou murmured, falling into thought as she looked at the light dancing in Chi Yun’s eyes. She had never considered the possibility of Chi Yun evolving from picking up trash to going out to sea with her. For a Phoenix, a knee-deep river was like a Great Chasm, let alone the ocean. Could this person truly overcome her deep-seated inner fear? Or would it backfire?

An alarm interrupted Li Zhou’s thoughts. She checked the time on her communicator, gathered her focus, and said to Chi Yun, “I have to go. Get out of the car.”

Reluctantly, but unable to resist the threat of the blacklist, Chi Yun stepped out of the car obediently. Li Zhou drove away, and Chi Yun went home alone.

After leaving Huijing Mansion, Li Zhou didn’t go straight back to Wuzhou. Instead, she went to a Special Species Service Center located underground.

In this era, Dragons were numerous and not considered a special species. There were also nearly 20,000 Phoenixes—if you were lucky, you could encounter one just by going out—so they weren’t special either. Only she, a century-old pear tree spirit, was the only one of her kind, earning her that title.

This service center, extending ten floors below the city center, served Li Zhou alone. Since it was discovered that her serum could inhibit highly lethal infectious viruses, Li Zhou came regularly to donate a tube of blood for the scientists packed into those ten floors to study, and to get a full-body checkup. Her blood wasn’t donated for free; in return, the government had to provide her with certain privileges and financial support for environmental protection.

Li Zhou was going to sea tomorrow and might not have time, and she had been swamped for the past few days, so she had to make time tonight. She couldn’t tell Chi Yun about this because of a non-disclosure agreement with the government. It was also for her personal safety; everyone knows that rare things are precious, and unique things draw extra attention. If Li Zhou’s identity were exposed, she certainly wouldn’t be as free as she was now.

As for the current state of mutual benefit, Li Zhou was satisfied. She viewed the research rationally; if something went wrong with her body, she could get the most professional and rapid diagnosis and treatment here. That was a good thing for her.

Besides her physical health, the staff at the center were also concerned about Li Zhou’s emotional status. For these scientists, countless data points and models had confirmed that as a flexible species—a plant spirit—whether Li Zhou paired with a human, a Dragon, or a Phoenix, her offspring would be an emerging species capable of compensating for the congenital defects of known species.

The government didn’t conduct forced research; everything was based on voluntary participation. Therefore, Li Zhou’s child wouldn’t be born just for research. These scientists hoped for the birth of this child because they wanted to see the emergence of a new species and the continuation of Li Zhou’s excellent genetic traits.

However, Li Zhou herself had never shown any interest. She had always said she wouldn’t consider having a child until she had a stable and healthy relationship.

Every month, the staff spent a little time asking Li Zhou about her recent emotional state. Today was no different. A staff member held a paper document and asked Li Zhou several questions in order: “Have you found a partner you are interested in?”

Li Zhou’s answer was the same as before: “Yes.”

The staff member’s gaze jumped down a line: “Does she meet your requirements for a partner?”

Li Zhou’s answer changed. Previously, she would say “No.” Now, she said: “She is in the process of meeting them.”

The staff member beamed: “Then, do you have plans to conceive a child?”

“I didn’t before,” Li Zhou said. “Now, I do.”

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