Forbidden Deep Affection (GL) - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The morning came, and the rain had stopped, though the ground was still wet.

Ming Shuang brushed her teeth while checking the weather forecast—rain for the next week.

“Up already?” Ye Ting Shuang appeared at the bathroom door, her gaze dropping to Ming Shuang’s foot. “Ankle okay?”

“Good as new.” Ming Shuang wiggled her ankle, shot her a glance, let out a huff, put away her toothbrush, and left the bathroom to her before heading downstairs.

After walking a bit, she suddenly stopped, stomping her foot in frustration. “Stupid feet, who told you to come buy breakfast?”

Whatever, she was here now, and she was hungry too, so might as well get breakfast.

The hotel had breakfast, but that annoying woman never liked it, always sending her out to buy something else.

Carrying two bags of steamed buns back, she found Ye Ting Shuang already washed up, lounging on the couch.

“No soy milk?” Ye Ting Shuang asked.

“Sold out.”

Ye Ting Shuang opened the snack bag, pulling out the last bottle of milk. “We’re out of milk.”

“You like that stuff?”

Ye Ting Shuang took a sip, nodded, and started eating the buns, then asked, “Anything fun to do around here?”

“It’s rainy these days. Not much going on.”

Ye Ting Shuang looked out the window, seeing light rain falling again. Not ideal for going out to find inspiration.

She’d finally caught a spark these past few days, but staying cooped up in the room wasn’t cutting it. She needed to get out, see new people, new things.

“Any indoor activities?”

“You want to go out?”

“Yeah, I’m not familiar with this place. Any recommendations?”

Ming Shuang said reluctantly, “Sorry, I’ve been here years and I’m kinda over it. It’s all the same, nothing fun, unless…”

Ye Ting Shuang: “Unless what?”

“Unless we go to another state?”

“Good idea.” Ye Ting Shuang opened a map, scanned it, and pointed to a spot. “Let’s go here.”

Ming Shuang leaned over, surprised. “No way, Vegas?”

“Yeah, I’ve never been.”

With her save-where-you-can-spend-where-you-want attitude, Ming Shuang doubted she’d gamble big. “You’re not just going to sightsee and check it off, right?”

“Can’t I?” Ye Ting Shuang raised a brow.

“…” Ming Shuang shrugged. “Fine, whatever you want. When we going?”

“We can leave today.”

“Then I’ll head—”

“You’re coming too.”

“Huh? Why? If you’re just sightseeing, you don’t need me, right?”

“I spent a month’s worth of money on you. You’re coming along, even if it’s just to carry my bags. Make yourself useful,” Ye Ting Shuang said.

Ming Shuang pouted but had nothing else going on, so a trip sounded fine.

“Give me your passport. I’ll book the tickets.”

Ye Ting Shuang stood, then slowly sat back down, calmly saying, “I’ll book them. Give me your passport.”

Ming Shuang looked at her suspiciously, catching on. “You don’t want me seeing your info?”

Ye Ting Shuang didn’t confirm or deny.

“Well, you’re not seeing mine either. No way I’m handing over my passport.” Ming Shuang crossed her arms, staring her down.

After a moment, Ye Ting Shuang said, “Then we’ll drive.”

“Guess that’s the plan.” Ming Shuang grabbed her phone to find a car rental, while Ye Ting Shuang packed. They split up to prepare.

It was a long drive—over ten hours—so they needed snacks for the road.

Ming Shuang picked her favorites and reached the checkout, where Ye Ting Shuang was waiting with just one item: a whole case of local fresh milk.

Ming Shuang: “…”

*

The car was quiet. Ming Shuang drove for over an hour, stopping at a light and glancing at Ye Ting Shuang, who was silently sipping milk.

“That stuff’s that good?”

Ye Ting Shuang nodded. “Want some?”

“Nope.” Ming Shuang turned back to the road, then said after a bit, “Pass me some water.”

Ye Ting Shuang rummaged through a bag at her feet, pulling out a box of milk. “No water, just this. Want it?”

“?”

Ming Shuang stared at Ye Ting Shuang. “You didn’t buy any water?”

“I thought you did.”

“I thought you did!”

They sighed in unison.

“Fine, I’ll make do.” Ming Shuang gave in.

Ye Ting Shuang popped a straw in and held it out. Ming Shuang, eyes on the road, took a sip. It didn’t quench her thirst, so she sucked harder. For some reason, the scene felt funny, and she grinned, milk spilling from the corners of her mouth.

“You’re spitting it out? Allergic throat?” Ye Ting Shuang asked.

“Pfft.”

The last bit of milk sprayed out. Ming Shuang said, “I’m drinking here, don’t make me laugh.”

“Who’s making you laugh? That easy to crack up?” Ye Ting Shuang grabbed a tissue, wiping the steering wheel, then the milk on Ming Shuang’s collar.

“Lift your chin.”

Ming Shuang tilted her head up. The tissue brushed her neck. She glanced over—Ye Ting Shuang was leaning in, lashes lowered, focused on cleaning up.

“Done.” Ye Ting Shuang tossed the tissue.

Ming Shuang kept driving.

“You can lower your chin now. Not tired holding it up?” Ye Ting Shuang asked.

“Cough.” Ming Shuang awkwardly dropped her chin, eyes forward. “What do you know? My killer jawline—it feels wrong if I don’t show it off daily.”

“Fair point.” Ye Ting Shuang propped her head on the window, staring at her profile. “Your jawline is killer.”

“…” Ming Shuang kept her eyes on the road. “You don’t have to stare for, like, ten minutes straight. Eyes not sore?”

“Focus on driving. Don’t worry about me.”

“…” Unbelievable, acting like a creep so shamelessly.

They pulled over, and Ming Shuang unbuckled her seatbelt. “Your turn to drive.”

“Not even two hours and you’re switching?”

“I’m sleepy.”

Ye Ting Shuang无奈ly swapped seats. Once back on the road, Ming Shuang showed no signs of sleepiness, mimicking Ye Ting Shuang’s pose—head propped, staring at her driving.

But her eyes nearly went dry, and Ye Ting Shuang didn’t react at all.

Ming Shuang leaned closer. “You didn’t notice my blazing hot stare?”

“I noticed.”

“Then why no reaction?”

“I reacted.”

Ming Shuang frowned. “Where’s the reaction?” Not even a glance.

“Inside. I already cussed you out in my head.”

“…”

Ming Shuang huffed, leaned back, looked out the window, and closed her eyes to sleep.

Ye Ting Shuang glanced at her pouty profile, her lips curving slightly.

Ming Shuang actually dozed off, woken by a few bumps.

She opened her eyes, squinting at the sunset.

They’d reached another state. Houses were sparse along the highway, with endless road ahead, flanked by dusty plains. The sunset draped the vast land like a veil.

Ming Shuang rolled down the window, wind rushing in, ruffling Ye Ting Shuang’s hair.

She turned on music—country rock filled the car. Ming Shuang swayed to the beat, singing along now and then, letting the wind mess up her hair.

They pulled over onto a clearing. Ye Ting Shuang got out to grab something from the trunk.

“What’re you doing?” Ming Shuang poked her head out, seeing her with a camera, snapping the sunset.

Ming Shuang opened the door, walked over, and checked the shots. “Damn, these are good.”

Ye Ting Shuang took a few more, then turned. “Can you dance?”

“What kind?”

“The kind you did at the party.”

“That’s just moving around.”

“Yeah, move.”

“…” Ming Shuang blinked. “Why?”

Ye Ting Shuang leaned into the car, cranking the music to max. “Not awkward now, right?”

Seeing the camera, Ming Shuang got the idea, grinned at the lens, and started dancing freely, spinning in the open space. Gradually, she forgot the camera. Unlike any place she’d danced before, the vast sky, the setting sun, and the pulsing music pulled her into a spontaneous solo.

When the sunset left a thin yellow line on the horizon, she stopped, quietly watching the last light fade.

Only a dim gray remained.

She turned to Ye Ting Shuang, smiling faintly. “I’ve never danced under a sunset.”

“I’ve never photographed a beauty under one.” Ye Ting Shuang shook the camera.

They shared a smile. Ming Shuang ran over, bending to check the camera. “How’d they turn out?”

“Get in first.”

Ming Shuang slid into the passenger seat, took the camera, and heard her warn, “Don’t delete any photos.”

“No way. If I look ugly, they’re gone,” Ming Shuang said boldly.

“Give it back.” Ye Ting Shuang held out a hand.

“Drive properly. Don’t mind me.” Ming Shuang threw her words back, feeling smug.

“…”

Humming, Ming Shuang flipped through the photos. About a dozen, nearly all keepers—mostly her silhouette against the light.

The composition of light and shadow was stunning, her hair practically glowing. Clear or blurry, each shot had its own vibe, her dancing figure like something from a movie.

The more she looked, the more she loved them. Two close-ups showed her hair and skirt tousled, her fair face smiling, eyes pure.

“You’re not a photographer, are you?” Ming Shuang lingered on each photo, thrilled.

“Nope.”

“Amateur and this good?”

“Aesthetics translate.”

“So what do you do?” Ming Shuang recalled their first hotel meeting, when Ye Ting Shuang sketched her roughly. “No way you’re… a painter?”

“Nope.”

Ming Shuang exhaled, relieved. With that skill, she’d be a struggling artist.

But maybe a carefree rich kid?

That made sense.

She finished the photos and scrolled to others—a bucket of daisies, vibrant in the morning light.

Says she doesn’t like them, but her actions say otherwise, sneaking all these daisy shots.

She kept scrolling and found a photo of herself, lounging on the balcony in the sun.

In the shot, she leaned back lazily, head tilted, hair half-falling, chin up, neck stretched, collarbone prominent, curves of her chest and waist defined, legs crossed naturally on the ground.

She racked her brain but didn’t recall posing so seductively. Her half-closed eyes suggested she was sleepy.

No wonder she didn’t notice this paparazzo.

Ming Shuang gave Ye Ting Shuang a knowing look. Caught you, huh?

She scrolled again, and a photo of her picking at her foot appeared.

?!!

“What’s this?!” Ming Shuang pointed at it, asking Ye Ting Shuang.

Ye Ting Shuang glanced. “Don’t recognize yourself?”

“Of course I do! I stepped on something and was checking my foot. This angle makes it look like I’m picking at it!”

“Sure, if you say so,” Ye Ting Shuang said flatly.

“I’m serious!” Ming Shuang deleted the photo instantly, then raised the camera, snapping a quick shot of her in revenge.

It was a bit blurry but somehow still looked good.

“Damn it.” Ming Shuang lowered the camera, crossed her arms, and closed her eyes to sleep.

Minutes later, she snapped her eyes open. “I wasn’t picking my foot.”

“Yeah, you say so—”

“I’m serious! That’s my only explanation.”

“Alright, fine.”

A minute later, Ming Shuang punched her arm. “I wasn’t picking my foot! Stop smirking!”

“Mm… pfft.”