Chapter 27: Open Your Mouth and Catch Your Breath

Hum—

The words rippled through Song Xi’s senses like an electric current, leaving her skin tingling with a fine, sharp intensity.

The man’s features were refined and striking, positioned so close that she could feel his presence. His eyes were profound and pitch-black, locked onto her from mere centimeters away, drawing the answer from her, inch by inch.

Song Xi’s lashes fluttered slightly. She met those beautifully shaped lips and parted her own.

"Okay," she heard her own voice say.

The next second, her lips were sealed by his.

The air grew scorching, the temperature rising where their lips met. A rich, cedary scent emanated from him, enveloping her completely as he bridged the gap between them.

It was deep and lingering. This was only the second time, yet Song Xi felt his technique had progressed by leaps and bounds; he was composed, effortless, and far more skilled than before.

In the midst of it, the man suddenly pulled back, his nose brushing against her lips as he gave a husky, breathless reminder:

"Breathe. Take a breath."

Song Xi: "..."

She had been too nervous; she’d forgotten how to breathe.

Pulling her composure back together, she took a long, steadying breath before Jing Zhuo cradled her face again and kissed her once more.

"Open up."

He whispered the two words amidst a flurry of soft, insistent kisses, guiding her.

It was a French kiss—deep, inseparable, and intensely lingering.

When it finally ended, she felt as though her every breath, her clothes, her hair, and even her skin were imbued with his scent. It lingered, refusing to fade.

The phone finally went quiet, the ringing ceasing at last.

Song Xi’s face was flushed and burning. She sat up from the sofa, smoothed her clothes, and retrieved her phone.

"It’s time; I have to go to work."

Jing Zhuo’s gaze remained warm and gentle. He composed his breathing, reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and spoke in a soft, husky voice.

"I’ll drive you."

Song Xi wanted to decline; she wasn't in the habit of constantly inconveniencing others. But before she could speak, Jing Zhuo had already stood up, car keys in hand.

He wasn't working today, and he was clearly determined to nurture their relationship.

Realizing his intent, Song Xi stood up, packed her equipment, slung two camera lenses over her shoulder, and followed him downstairs to the car.

The shoot was at an indoor venue that required tickets.

Jing Zhuo parked the car in front of the shop and turned to her. "What time do you finish? I’ll come pick you up."

Song Xi blurted out, "No need to pick me up after work. I need to head to the He residence, and I’ll make my own way back from there."

She had been busy for an entire week and wanted to use this time after work to make the visit.

First, to check on the cats.

Second, to check on He Ning, who had suffered from mushroom poisoning.

Seeing Jing Zhuo’s expression darken, Song Xi quickly explained:

"It’s not that I want to go, it’s just that my best friend is so frail and helpless. She had food poisoning again last night, and she’s so pathetic—I have to go see her."

*His sister? Frail and helpless?*

Jing Zhuo gripped the steering wheel in silence for a long moment.

Zhang He Ning, who could do a hundred push-ups in one go and was as robust as an ox—she was frail?

Before Jing Zhuo could speak, Song Xi had already unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car. She slammed the door shut and waved at the window.

"Goodbye, Mr. Jing!"

Jing Zhuo brooded in silence for a few more seconds.

They had already kissed.

He had kissed her so deeply and intensely...

Yet she wouldn't even call him "husband."

Swallowing the sour, stifled feeling in his chest, Jing Zhuo turned to her and offered a gentle, harmless smile.

"Be careful at work. Don't overexert yourself."

"Mhm."

...

"It’s perfectly normal for your wife to prefer her best friend, isn't it?"

"Besides playing with men in bed and enjoying the kisses, women love their best friends more than anything else!"

In the private club, several men lounged on leather sofas, lazing around in a circle surrounding Jing Zhuo.

They offered their consolation, one after another.

"Don't be sad. You're a man; you have the innate advantage."

"If you can't win outside the bedroom, just work harder inside it."