Sweet as Honey and Sugar - Chapter 24:
The moon, nearing the fifteenth day of the lunar month, hung large and full a round,
porcelain-white disk gleaming in the empty sky. Its light poured over the land like water,
soft and endless. Yet drifting clouds sometimes gathered and crept closer,
swallowing the moon whole until the world sank into a quiet, brooding dark.
Inside the car, as outside, the shadows pressed in.
Only the dim light from the Yan Tower far away brushed faintly against the window,
too weak to matter. Within the darkness, only the faint outlines of the nearby world could be seen.
The moonlight, blurred and seductive, wrapped the air in a languid, lingering warmth.
The Range Rover’s cabin was spacious, but the two women squeezed together
on a single seat made it feel almost small their movements restrained, breath mingling.
Lin Nai knelt on either side of He Qingrou’s thighs, one hand resting at the curve of her neck.
Her lips brushed against the corner of He Qingrou’s mouth, a teasing touch,
before her tongue flicked out, tasting and coaxing, then moving inward
to claim the softness of her lips with a gentle bite.
They were close achingly close, close enough that even in the faint dark,
they could see one another’s faces clearly.
He Qingrou leaned back slightly, an instinctive attempt to retreat, but Lin Nai wouldn’t allow it.
One hand held her chin still, the other slipped to the back of her neck, fingers tracing over the
smooth skin in slow, repetitive motions. Lin Nai always did this when kissing
she loved the curve of Qingrou’s neck, from the nape to the throat,
her fingertips never quite satisfied.
The throat was a fragile place. A predator, when hunting, would sink its teeth there
one sharp motion, a fatal end. Yet in moments of passion, the throat became something else:
vulnerable, enticing, a place where touch declared both possession and desire.
Lin Nai began gently, her lips grazing the edge of He Qingrou’s mouth, breath meeting breath,
heat blooming between them. The warmth spread down the throat, into the bloodstream,
a wildfire that licked at dry kindling. He Qingrou resisted; Lin Nai waited, patient and persistent,
teasing at the gate of those soft lips until they finally parted
and then she entered, all hunger and conquest.
The kiss turned fierce, consuming. Lin Nai plundered, and He Qingrou could only yield,
tangled and breathless beneath her.
At last, Lin Nai released her.
He Qingrou drew in two shallow breaths. Her lipstick was smeared across her mouth, ruined.
She raised a hand to touch the corner of her lips, wincing. Her head tilted upward.
You really are like a dog, biting people…
Her tone meant to scold, but the words came soft, the faintest hint of a pout curling at the edges.
Lin Nai looked down, her gaze fixed on those lips red, glistening, delicious.
She had tasted them only moments ago, and the sweetness still lingered on her tongue.
Whatever He Qingrou was saying, Lin Nai only hummed in reply and bent down again,
drawn by the pull she couldn’t resist. This time, her kiss was gentle, cautious, like the slow tracing
of silk. When she was done, she pressed her lips to He Qingrou’s forehead,
right above the brow a brief, tender touch that left warmth behind.
For a moment, something softened between them.
He Qingrou’s lashes trembled. Her gaze dropped to Lin Nai’s collarbone before she murmured,
Enough….
Stop fooling around.
Let me go.
Lin Nai didn’t move. Her eyes half-lidded, her tone low and tight. I wasn’t fooling around.
The quiet weight of her voice made something flutter in He Qingrou’s chest.
She met Lin Nai’s gaze and what she saw there, tangled and dark and full, made her heart stutter.
Then move. You’re blocking me. I can’t breathe.
She reached out to push her, only meaning to make a little space, but Lin Nai shifted just so and
He Qingrou’s hand landed somewhere it shouldn’t have.
The soft, full warmth under her palm startled her so much she snatched her hand back instantly.
Lin Nai only smiled, her lips curving with quiet amusement, and leaned close to drop a kiss beside
He Qingrou’s ear right on the small beauty mark there. He Qingrou froze,
her fingers curling tight, eyes lowering.
Let’s go, she whispered. President Song’s waiting.
Eat first, Lin Nai said. Some of this food’s from him he wanted you to eat before you came.
He Qingrou blinked, surprised. Rumor had it that Song Tianzhong was cold and unfeeling,
why would he buy food for someone he’d never met?
Song bought this?
Partly, Lin Nai said. But most of it’s from me.
She climbed off, went to the back seat, and started unpacking the bags.
The car light flicked on. She set out boxes one by one on the seat, the armrest,
her lap so many that it suddenly looked like a feast.
I didn’t know what you liked, she said, so I bought a bit of everything. This one’s handmade
I queued a long time for it. Famous old brand.
He Qingrou couldn’t help a small laugh. There was no way she could finish all this.
Still, she picked up a small cake and took a bite soft, fragrant, melting on her tongue.
She rarely ate snacks; when hungry, she’d just cook instant noodles or grab a simple meal.
This was… nice. She ate another.
There’s more, Lin Nai said, opening two more boxes.
Try these.
He Qingrou tasted a little of each before pausing.
Did you eat yet?
I did. With Uncle Song.
She nodded, then said softly, Next time don’t buy so much.
Don’t waste your time standing in line.
Afraid of wasting my time? Lin Nai’s lips tilted.
Or… are you worried about me?
It was both and neither and He Qingrou knew it. But she dodged the trap neatly,
asking instead, What did President Song buy?
Lin Nai lifted her brows, reaching for two dark gold boxes wrapped with elegant care.
Inside were layers of paper, and finally two small spheres, perfectly sealed.
He Qingrou laughed softly. All that packaging for a single candy.
She unwrapped one, amused. It had to be expensive. Maybe Song Tianzhong wasn’t as rigid as
people said maybe he even had a playful side.
You want one? she asked.
Lin Nai nodded, watching her but not moving.
Take it yourself, He Qingrou said, passing the box over.
Lin Nai set it aside and said nothing. He Qingrou pretended not to notice,
unwrapping the candy and popping it into her mouth. Chocolate shell, crisp center,
a hidden sweetness that spread like a secret on her tongue.
Today, Zhang told me everything, Lin Nai said suddenly.
He Qingrou paused, uncertain which part she meant the Aneng Group or Yun Xining.
She’d made quite a scene today; Yun Xining had been livid, barely keeping her temper in check.
He Qingrou could already tell the woman wasn’t afraid of her, but she was wary of Lin Nai.
And someone as proud as Yun Xining to back down that said enough.
He Qingrou’s heart felt oddly tight.
It’s all settled, Lin Nai said. You don’t have to worry.
You handled the Aneng case well, she added. They tried to play dirty last time
didn’t expect to be outplayed instead. Just keep your guard up.
Once they start something, they’ll likely try again.
I know, said He Qingrou. Everything was arranged, staff rotated, precautions in place.
Tomorrow, I’ll be at the racetrack. The exhibition’s yours to manage.
Alright.
After the show, come find me at the entrance.
He Qingrou nodded. Her hair had fallen loose; Lin Nai reached out to smooth it.
He Qingrou flinched away instinctively, her hair brushing against Lin Nai’s palm, soft as water.
Without thinking, Lin Nai’s hand followed her fingers brushing He Qingrou’s cheek.
The skin was warm, smooth, impossibly soft. Her thumb lingered before she caught herself.
He Qingrou turned her face away. Lin Nai tilted her chin back gently.
Stop, He Qingrou murmured, lifting a hand to swat hers away,
but Lin Nai caught it easily and, in one swift movement, straddled her again,
their eyes level, breath mixing. She covered He Qingrou’s eyes with one hand,
letting the darkness fall.
He Qingrou blinked, her lashes brushing Lin Nai’s palm like tiny wings.
Lin Nai stared at her lips, lost for a heartbeat. She wanted to fill that small mouth with something
her name, her breath, her want. Her finger pressed lightly at the corner of He Qingrou’s mouth,
and she almost gave in to the urge before she stopped herself and kissed her instead,
deep and slow.
When they finally broke apart, both were silent. The air thickened.
He Qingrou spoke first. The racetrack you have something to do there?
Lin Nai nodded, twirling a strand of her hair absently. Not the official race.
Just a casual one between companies.
He Qingrou blinked. You race?
Mm. You coming?
She hesitated, then smiled. Sure. When?
Five-thirty. You might just make it after the exhibition.
Maybe, she said. I’ll try.
It was nearly eleven. She nudged Lin Nai’s arm. Let’s go. President Song’s waiting.
Not hungry?
I’m full. Now move.
Lin Nai’s eyes drifted to her lips. Your lipstick’s gone.
What? He Qingrou fumbled for her mirror, but Lin Nai caught her hand.
I’ll fix it.
I can do it She tried to pull away, but Lin Nai was quicker, holding her still.
Don’t move, or it’ll smudge worse.
Lin Nai uncapped the lipstick, leaned in, her eyes narrowing in focus.
From above, He Qingrou tilted her chin, lips slightly parted, a faint warmth in her breath.
Lin Nai’s fingers trembled. The sight brought back too many memories.
What are you spacing out for? He Qingrou murmured.
Nothing.
Lin Nai lowered her gaze, brushed a fingertip against the corner of her mouth,
then painted carefully, tracing the soft curve.
Open a little, she said. Her voice had deepened.
He Qingrou froze. Somehow, the words felt like more than what they meant.
Her cheeks flushed, but she obeyed. Lin Nai worked quickly, steady and precise,
finishing in seconds.
Done.
He Qingrou gave a small nod, trying to ignore the heat prickling at her skin.
She turned toward the dashboard, muttering, Stop staring…
Lin Nai didn’t. Not right away.
You got lipstick on your mouth too, He Qingrou said at last, shoving a tissue at her.
Wipe it off.
And drive already it’s late.
Finally, Lin Nai started the car. They drove past the tower, looping half a circle before
turning down a quieter road. Soon, the city lights shifted into an older glow
antique lanterns, wooden façades, the quiet grace of the old capital.
President Song’s place wasn’t far. It surprised He Qingrou, she’d imagined something more
remote. The courtyard homes here were beautifully restored, each with carved eaves and
stone gates. Compared to their small rented loft, this place was almost another world.
At the gate of a four-sided courtyard, several people were stepping out.
They greeted Lin Nai warmly, exchanged a few words. He Qingrou glanced inside.
Two employees from Hexin International sat at a stone table discussing something.
One of them noticed her and stood immediately.
Director Lin. Miss He.
He Qingrou nodded politely.
President Song’s waiting inside, he said. Just mentioned you, in fact.
Can I get you something to drink?
No need, said He Qingrou quickly. We won’t stay long.
He smiled. It’s no trouble. Come in, both of you.
They followed him through the courtyard until they reached the innermost room.
Song Tianzhong was there, sipping tea. He looked to be in his fifties,
dressed in indigo silk, his face kind and calm nothing like the stern figure the rumors painted.
When he saw them, he set his cup down.
Come, sit.
He Qingrou moved toward the opposite chair, but he gestured beside him instead.
Sit here.
She hesitated. Lin Nai gave a small nod, so she complied.
I was busy last time, he said, pouring her tea. Never got the chance to meet properly.
This trip to Nancheng seemed the right time. Forgive the suddenness,
Miss He.
Thank you, President Song. She accepted the cup politely, uncertain.
His tone was friendly too friendly for this to be about business.
No need for thanks. You have a way with words, Miss He. Much better than our Lin here
she barely says two sentences a day. She could learn from you.
He Qingrou looked at Lin Nai, suppressing a laugh. A mute? Lin Nai?
Hardly.
Sit down, he told Lin Nai. Don’t loom behind her like that.
Lin Nai obeyed, taking the seat across.
Try the tea, Miss He. See if it tastes authentic. I brought it from Beijing, but it’s grown in H City.
H City her hometown. Famous for tea, for generations. She took a small sip.
She didn’t know how to judge tea, really she just said, It tastes real.
Song Tianzhong laughed heartily. Relax, Miss He. We’re only talking.
She nodded, fingers tight around the cup.
I’ve heard only good things about you, he said. Gentle, steady.
Seeing you now, I understand why. Dongning chose well.
She smiled, embarrassed.
Song turned to Lin Nai and tapped the table lightly. The water’s cooled.
Go get a fresh pot.
He Qingrou blinked. He wanted to talk to her alone.