"What to do When the Pretty Woman I Kissed is My Best Friend's Professor" - Chapter 87

Why did she kiss her? In truth, Yan He didn’t know herself. As she saw Jiejie getting closer to her, a strange thought suddenly flashed in her mind—if she didn’t kiss her now, she would definitely regret it.

The air inside the car wasn’t circulating well. After Yan He’s kiss, which was a mere touch-and-go, she could even hear her own rapid breathing. She tried to steady her breathing, but forcibly calming herself only made her more flustered.

Shen Jinrong’s perfume wafted into her nostrils. Yan He’s mind went blank for a moment. She thought she needed some time to process the complicated information before her.

Just as Yan He was at a loss, Shen Jinrong’s eyes quietly watched her. In the dim lighting of the underground parking lot, her eyes seemed to borrow light from somewhere. Being so close, Yan He could even see herself reflected in her eyes.

Panicked, bewildered—yet firm.

Yan He was waiting for her to speak, and Shen Jinrong was also waiting for her to speak, but in the end, neither of them said anything. Shen Jinrong sat upright in the driver’s seat, clutching the tissue she had used earlier to wipe Yan He’s sweat.

After performing this action, she seemed to realize that her movement was too suggestive, so she pretended to be unconcerned and tossed the tissue into the garbage bag.

Yan He also blushed and fastened her seatbelt.

“Well… let’s go to the hotel,” Shen Jinrong cleared her throat, then suddenly felt that this statement was too ambiguous. She lightly coughed again in embarrassment, raising her right hand to shield her mouth.

Seeing her discomfort, Yan He actually smiled: “Okay.” She fastened her seatbelt: “Then let’s set off. Take the road up ahead.”

Shen Jinrong blinked, drove the car forward as per Yan He’s instructions.

They parked the car in the small parking lot in front of the hotel, which was actually a small courtyard that could only accommodate a few cars. They had booked a small-scale hotel.

Yan He went to the front desk to check in, while Shen Jinrong excused herself to stay in the car and pack her things, not getting out. The SUV had a high chassis. She sat in the car, quietly watching Yan He walk into the main entrance. Only after confirming that Yan He was standing at the front desk and not looking back did she let out a long breath and begin to adjust her clothing.

All along the way, Yan He hadn’t noticed that Shen Jinrong’s breathing had been rapid. Now, Shen Jinrong could finally open the car window and catch her breath properly. She always felt it would be strange if she breathed heavily in front of Yan He, as if she was losing the upper hand.

—The competitive Professor Shen didn’t want that.

Professor Shen didn’t want the young woman to have complete control. Besides—she wasn’t sure if the young woman would even know what to do!

Shen Jinrong gave a small “humph.” Just as she was about to get her jacket, she realized that Yan He had already placed it on the front passenger seat before leaving. She had been absorbed in her own world and hadn’t noticed.

The jacket was neatly folded by the young woman. Shen Jinrong wondered when exactly she had managed to fold the clothes without her noticing.

She opened the SUV’s trunk, retrieved her suitcase, locked the car, greeted the old man sitting in the garden, and walked in.

Yan He was just finishing the check-in procedures. Hearing Shen Jinrong enter, she turned to look, smiling: “Perfect timing, Jiejie. I need your passport.”

Shen Jinrong took her passport out of her bag and handed it to her. The clerk at the front desk completed the check-in, gave them the room key cards, and said that if the front desk was unattended when they checked out, they could drop the cards into the mailbox by the door.

Yan He turned her head and asked: “Is it the mailbox hanging next to the courtyard?”

The clerk smiled and confirmed it, helping them carry their luggage to the room door.

Yan He opened the room door. Again, there were two beds placed side-by-side. Shen Jinrong tossed her suitcase onto the floor and immediately lay down on one of the beds, sighing contentedly: “Finally, I can lie down.”

Yan He smiled, sat down next to her, and reached out to smooth down her messy hair: “You worked hard driving.”

Shen Jinrong felt she was out of sorts today. She wondered if it was because she had been driving for too long, making her reactions a little slow. She only realized some of Yan He’s boundary-crossing behaviors after Yan He had finished them.

No, you couldn’t really call them “boundary-crossing.”

There never seemed to be a boundary between them. Sometimes she would test the waters, sometimes Yan He would test the waters, but after nearly a year of entanglement, neither of them had taken the final step. Their “red thread” seemed to be positioned right here—no confession, no defined relationship, as if whoever spoke first would risk the chance of potential loss.

Shen Jinrong was a little awkward: “I’m okay.”

Yan He asked her: “Should we stay here for a little longer? To rest.”

Shen Jinrong flipped over and sat up: “Why rest for so long? I’m not old.”

She looked into Yan He’s eyes. The young woman laughed upon hearing her words, and the smile was heartfelt. Shen Jinrong became more exasperated: “Don’t laugh!”

But her tone was soft, not like a reprimand, but rather like a plea.

Shen Jinrong belatedly covered her lips, realizing she had spoken out of turn. In fact, it wasn’t just Yan He who cared about the age gap between them; Shen Jinrong did too, and as the elder, she naturally bore more responsibility.

She was eight years older than Yan He. Young people nowadays only considered the present, but she couldn’t help but think of the future. Perhaps her personality was too pessimistic; she always imagined that when she grew old, Yan He might not have changed much. Whenever she thought of this, a sense of loss quietly took root in her heart.

Shen Jinrong had never voiced her concerns. She thought that if she did, Yan He’s answer would likely be that she wouldn’t mind and would always love her. Shen Jinrong thought that when her mother married her father, the latter had also vowed to love her forever and make her happy, but what happened in the end? Vows were just vows, heard and quickly forgotten.

She wasn’t equating Yan He with her father; she certainly knew Yan He’s feelings for her, but she was still afraid. Perhaps it was a case of once bitten, twice shy; she was still timid.

Before Shen Jinrong’s thoughts drifted to more distant and darker places, Yan He gently hugged her.

Shen Jinrong couldn’t help but wonder, did this hug have some deeper meaning? People always liked to forcibly assign significance to heartfelt actions, but they overlooked the meaning of the action itself—which was simply the person’s intent.

Yan He didn’t know why Jiejie was suddenly downcast. Seeing Jiejie‘s eyes lowered, she realized Jiejie‘s mood was off. What could she do? She could only give Jiejie a hug.

“I’m here.”

Yan He’s voice sounded softly in her ear: “Jiejie.”

Shen Jinrong shivered, and only belatedly realized—Yan He had nipped her earlobe before speaking the words.

Intentional teasing.

Neither of them knew when this kiss started or who initiated it. When both of them finally came back to their senses, it was the moment Yan He accidentally bit Jiejie‘s tongue tip.

Shen Jinrong let out a pained “hiss.” The bite wasn’t light. Her eyes gradually welled up, and a glistening streak of moisture ran down the corner of her eye, slipping down to the tear mole, adding a beautiful wet sheen to the small mole.

Yan He looked down, gazing down at her. The corner of her eyes was still wet with the tears from just now, and her lips were wet with the moisture she had left behind. Her lips were a vibrant red, brighter and more natural than the faint lipstick color from earlier.

Shen Jinrong looked up at her slightly, her lips slightly parted, her eyes hazy.

“It tastes like chocolate,” Yan He kissed her lips again.

Yan He had only applied lip balm in the morning, which had long since faded. But she insisted on asking Shen Jinrong with a smile: “What do I taste like?”

The question was nonsensical yet subtly suggestive. Shen Jinrong’s throat rolled. Her gaze shifted downward, landing on Yan He’s delicate collarbone. Jiejie nipped her collarbone, gently chewing on that thin piece of skin, occasionally licking it, as if trying to leave her own mark.

What did Yan He… taste like?

Shen Jinrong thought she was a clean and innocent young woman, with a fresh sweetness to her, but what else?

Shen Jinrong always felt that Yan He’s scent was somewhat familiar. It wasn’t until she met Yan He’s smiling eyes, and saw her own reflection in the depths of those eyes, that Shen Jinrong suddenly realized—oh, it was the scent of her own perfume.

No wonder it felt familiar.

The realization was followed by a small sense of satisfaction. Yan He’s body was already imbued with her scent, and her collarbone also bore her mark. The act of declaring ownership was a little childish, but it filled Shen Jinrong’s heart with contentment.

She is mine.

My young woman.

Not anyone else’s.

“Jiejie.”

Yan He called her name.

Shen Jinrong murmured, “Mhm,” burying her head in Yan He’s neck, occasionally giving her collarbone a light bite, then soothing it with a lick.

“That tickles.”

Shen Jinrong thought: I want it to tickle. Tickling means it’s working.

“Mmm… that’s strange.” Yan He’s voice carried a hint of tremor and helplessness.

Shen Jinrong stopped her attack, looked up at her, and mumbled: “I only bit it a few times…”

Her eyes were bright, and she righteously asked the young woman: “I’m not allowed to bite?”

Yan He looked away, stuttering in reply: “Y-yes, you can.”

Shen Jinrong was satisfied. She patted her shoulder, signaling her to stand up. Yan He obediently stood up. Just as she was about to speak, she heard the church bells.

The church wasn’t far from them. The bell tolls were deep and long, traveling through the layers of buildings and finally reaching their ears. The bell rang many times. They only listened intently. No one spoke, and no one counted the chimes.

“I lived here for a period of time,” Yan He slowly began amid the bells: “The church bells would ring precisely at 8:04 PM every night. As long as you were in this city, no matter where you were, you could hear them.”

Shen Jinrong sat on the bed, staring straight at her: “And so?”

Yan He smiled, but her answer was illogical: “And so, Jiejie, sometimes I wonder when I can stand on my own two feet?”

What did the punctual bell tolls have to do with standing on her own two feet?

Shen Jinrong didn’t know. The second half of the sentence that Yan He didn’t voice was: “When can I also become your support?”