Sweet Gardenia - Chapter 32.1

The ripening period of gardenia nectar typically spans from March to July.

The warm, sweet nectar lies hidden deep within the flower’s receptacle. Bees must diligently probe deep inside to capture the freshest and sweetest honey, storing it plumply in their honey sacs.

As arthropods, bees’ mouths are often the ideal tool for collecting nectar. In human terms, this is referred to as a chewing mouthpart, where the lower lip extends, forming a slender tube along with the mandibles and tongue. Inside this tube lies a long groove, greatly aiding in suction. By inserting the tube into the flower’s receptacle, they can gather pollen and suck nectar. Occasionally during this process, they can taste the fragrance, a uniquely mild sweetness characteristic of mature gardenias. The full, resilient blossoms yield an inexhaustible supply of honey, with a natural aroma that artificial brewing cannot match.

In the early morning, dew often covers the petals and leaves. A bee with a clear destination might pause briefly on a dewdrop before departing.

Or, even after collecting nectar, it might not leave at all.

As the saying goes, the culprit often returns repeatedly to the scene of the crime.

She never understood the reason before, but now she grasps a part of it.  Perhaps it’s the satisfaction of admiring one’s own creation, revisiting it again and again just to savor a little more fulfillment and pleasure.

Bees often linger on petals, maybe simply because they like it.

Gardenias that bloom at night emit a rich, sweet fragrance, an invasive scent that soon permeates the entire room. Lu Zhi lowered her gaze to the top of his head, like deep brown amber cast between two pieces of white jade. The scene was strikingly beautiful, yet too intense to look at a second time.

He had returned in a hurry, his watch still on his wrist, resting restrainedly against the edge of the bed. When his hand gripped the sheets, veins bulged with strength, a powerful hand, yet one that displayed remarkable dexterity when typing or performing other tasks.

But tonight, those hands remained firmly clasped to the bed’s edge, fingertips pressing pale and bloodless as they sank slightly into the mattress. She never denied that he possessed hands favored by the Creator, slender, distinct, and well-proportioned. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have let her gaze linger on them during the banquet.

She suddenly recalled how Aunt Chen had mentioned more than once that the master was picky about food. At the time, she didn’t believe it, asking, “But I’ve never seen him refuse any of the dishes we usually make.”

Aunt Chen would just smile and say, “That’s because we never make what he doesn’t eat.”

He really is quite picky…

With his hands supporting the backs of her knees, she leaned back, her head hanging limply without support, as if her body had malfunctioned from staying up too late. She felt lightheaded, almost faint, a taut string in her mind plucked again and again by his movements, sending tremors deep into her body, stirring endless ripples.

She felt somewhat dehydrated. Had she slept too long? Her throat was painfully dry, but her voice couldn’t escape her lips. Instead, it took a shortcut, emerging as faint nasal sounds. Hearing her own voice was utterly mortifying, and her already weak, sleep-drained body grew even more pliant. The law of conservation of energy seemed to manifest in that moment, the moisture she lacked pooled into his lips, creating a shimmering swamp.

When he tilted his head slightly, the cold metal frame of his glasses transmitted a sharp, precise, icy sensation, a stark contrast to the searing heat of his lips. She couldn’t help but tremble lightly and murmured, “Your glasses…”

“Hmm?” He lifted the back of her knee a little higher, seemingly smiling, the vibration of his voice traveling through her skin straight to her heart. “What about them?”

“Your glasses aren’t…”

Before she could finish, she froze, her thoughts scattering as her voice abruptly cut off. The tips of her toes tensed sharply.

Her ankle was held firmly in his grasp.

A long, blank moment passed.  The second hand on his watch completing a full sixty-second cycle around the dial. In that instant, all her strength seemed to drain away. Amid the unceasing, intimate sounds, he swallowed sharply.

Her ankle was still held, as if prolonging some lingering sensation within her. She melted completely, boneless as a fish washed ashore, stranded, left with only the instinct to breathe.

The light blurred into hazy halos, taking a while to refocus, yet everything still seemed to pulse everywhere.

The back of his fingers brushed gently against her cheek.

“What’s wrong?” He seemed to still be smiling. “Why didn’t you finish your sentence?”

…This man was utterly wicked.  How could he not know the reason?

Lu Zhi wanted to speak, but no words came out. She had been breathless for too long, her chest heaving intensely.

Soon, she was lifted and leaned against his shoulder as he sat on the edge of the bed. His €50 million Eurasian enamel watch was casually placed on the bedside table with a soft, distinct thud.

Tissues were within reach, but he made no move to take one.

Instead, he picked up her water glass from the nightstand and, without a second thought, finished the remaining half. As he swallowed, his Adam’s apple moved distinctly. The tremor in her pupils translated into a storm raging in her heart and mind. She had half-expected him to rinse his mouth, but he didn’t.

Lu Zhi’s gaze locked onto him, only to dart away the moment he turned to look at her. She busied herself with the uninteresting edge of the blanket, her legs still extended out of habit, one foot peeking from under the covers, its tip flushed and damp with a faint sheen of sweat.

Gradually, her strength began to return.

After moistening his lips, he asked, “Didn’t you have a cake?”

Thank goodness he could still speak. Lu Zhi suddenly realized she had almost missed the point.

“This,” she finally mustered the energy, throwing off the covers and reaching for the gift box beside her, “is lemon caramel, with a biscuit base underneath.”

As she moved, the blanket slipped, revealing the smooth expanse of her back and the delicate contours of her shoulder blades. He raised an eyebrow, his attention entirely diverted from the cake, and casually flicked the strap of her innerwear. With leisurely amusement, he asked, “Is this how the nightgown is supposed to be worn? Why are there two layers?”

The strap snapped back against her shoulder, producing a strange, whip-like sensation. Lu Zhi shifted uncomfortably, regaining a bit of clarity. “Did you want to see me without anything underneath?”

She added, “That would cost extra.”

“…”

With focused care, she carefully opened the box lid, building up the suspense to the maximum. “Take a look.  I made it myself.”

As the lid lifted, the surrounding decorative panels fell away, revealing a meticulously crafted miniature landscape cake covered in vegetation and flowing streams. Three-dimensional and exquisitely detailed, thawing crushed ice melted into a babbling brook within the lakes, a peerless work of art.

Even among professional pastry chefs, only a select few at the top of their craft could accomplish such a creation.

Fu Yanshang: “…”

Lu Zhi paused for a couple of seconds, then ventured cautiously, “Is it too obvious?”

“…………”

“I didn’t lie to you, really,” she pointed. “I made this caramel plaque myself.”

He raised an eyebrow noncommittally. “Tell me how you made it.”

“Well… I just pressed a mold into the sugar cookie, and that’s it.”

“…”

He picked up the sugar cookie. The slight bitterness from baking blended perfectly with the sweetness.  Perhaps because he’d had something extra earlier, even desserts he normally found hard to tolerate didn’t seem overly sweet now.

She inserted a candle to the side, lit it, and eagerly urged him: “Make a wish?”

He had never celebrated his birthday.

Not once, from the day he was born until now.

In the flickering candlelight, the dim silence was illuminated. He lowered his gaze, a faint stirring in his heart.

“I wish…”

Lu Zhi promptly stopped him: “Wait, if you say it out loud, it won’t come true!”

But she was a step too late.

Fu Yanshang: “Next time you wear this, don’t put anything on underneath.”

Lu Zhi: “…”

Lu Zhi: “…………”

For a moment, she didn’t know whether to think he was making a big deal out of nothing or the opposite. After choking for a while, she finally managed to say, “…You used such an important birthday wish on this?”

“Is this not important?”

He said, “Rather than placing my hopes on nonexistent gods or buddhas, it’s better for you to decide whether this wish of mine is worth fulfilling.”

He was a staunch atheist. What he wanted, he would secure and hold onto in his own way. Instead of relying on someone to hear his wishes, he preferred to be his own god and light.

He never needed anyone to give him anything… emotions, power, money, including but not limited to everything one needs to strive and survive in this world. But perhaps tonight was an exception. He also hoped she would lower her gaze and, with a bit of precious time, listen to those unfamiliar, surging desires of his desires only she could fulfill.

Lost in thought for just a moment, the soft sound of an unfastening clasp melted into the crackling flame. Her slender fingers undid it from the inside, and she slowly pulled out the light-colored undergarment from under her dress. The delicate embroidered patterns of her nightgown finally settled completely into their proper place. The semi-transparent lace, revised repeatedly, at last fulfilled its purpose of complementing the design, clinging to her porcelain skin and adorned with blushing patterns. The half-revealed soft snow and the faint, dusky plum blossoms falling upon it.

“Today, you’re… the birthday boy,” she said. “I can… reluctantly… indulge you a little.”

He watched without blinking.

One wave hadn’t settled before another rose. The sweat from earlier, not yet dried, still clung damply to her cheeks. A scene flashed before his eyes, her neck, taut with unbearable tension when viewed from below, her small chin forming an infinitely extending curve. She rarely frowned, making it hard to tell whether her favorite blush was only applied to her cheeks or if it also dusted the corners of her eyes and between her brows.

He reached out, his thumb brushing the nape of her neck. “I’ll go take a shower first.”