A Song For A Summer’s Night - Chapter 108

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…

Song Zhen helped Lan Shufen step into her living room, as she slumped on the couch. He then went to the kitchen, getting her a glass of water, passing it to her.

Lan Shufen sat up, gulping down the drink. “Thanks. I really needed that,” she replied. Song Zhen went to get her another glass, but when he returned, he noticed that she had closed her eyes. He placed it on a table next to the couch on top of a coaster.

He glanced around the room, and it was incredibly organized and tidied. He swiped his finger under the table, and there was no dust.

He looked at the bookshelves; there were three large ones attached together, filled with books. He looked at the spines, picking out those that seemed interesting.

Lan Shufen stirred at some point, flipping over, groggily opening her eyes. Her mind cleared slightly from the rest and water. She noticed Song Zhen sitting on an armchair, reading under the faint lamplight. Her eyes widened, and she fell off the couch, whimpering slightly.

She then hastily stood up, collecting herself. She straightened her clothes as Song Zhen didn’t take his eyes off the book. She read the title of the book and immediately flushed. She stepped forward, taking it out of his hand.

“I was reading that!” he said.

“It’s an erotica,” she replied.

“I know,” he said, his mouth curving upwards.

Lan Shufen blushed.

He then pulled out other books from his side. “I also found some BL and—”

Lan Shufen covered his mouth, her cheeks tinting red. “Everything I read is for research,” she said. “And it’s not like I just read Erotica…” she tried to explain herself.

“I’m not judging you,” he mumbled on her hand. Lan Shufen pulled her hands away slowly, listening to him. “I just don’t remember reading any sex scenes in anything you’ve written.”

Lan Shufen gritted her teeth, hitting him on the shoulder playfully. “You’re annoying!” she said. She then glanced away before asking, “You’ve read my work?”

“Yes,” Song Zhen replied. “Luli would sometimes send me scripts before sending it to production, asking for my opinion.”

Lan Shufen glanced at him. His face held a playful grin, and she hated how beautiful he was.

“What do you think of them?” she asked him curiously.

“They’re good, but I feel like you’re holding back on something.”

“On what?” she questioned.

“On everything. I think you’re afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of exploring new things; of introducing stories that people don’t see often.”

Lan Shufen bit her lip. What she also hated—and admired—was how good Song Zhen was at reading people.

She slumped on the couch. “I guess you’re right,” she said helplessly.

“I would be interested in reading anything else you’ve written. Just let me know if you feel like sharing,” Song Zhen said, slipping a business card on the table.

Lan Shufen supposed that if he knew she was a girl, he would have directly typed his number on her phone.

He then stood up, lifting one of the books. “Can I borrow this?” he asked. His mouth curved again before adding, “For research, of course.”

Lan Shufen rolled her eyes. “Yes. Take it,” she said. He then left her apartment, and after looking at the other books, she realized that the one he borrowed was an erotica novel between a man and a woman. Lan Shufen’s flush deepened.

…

Song Meiling lifted herself from the couch after sobering up and cleaned up after everyone had left. She knew her parents would be returning home soon, so she hurriedly put away all the glasses and swept the floor. Zhang Enyu entered the room and wordlessly helped her pick up the food trays and throwing out any trash.

After they finished, the house was sparkling clean again, and she thanked Zhang Enyu.

He then went straight to his room, leaving Song Meiling alone. She sighed deeply, desperately needing something that wasn’t alcohol. She put a cigarette in her mouth, but she couldn’t find her lighter. She clicked her tongue before going up the stairs.

She knocked on Zhang Enyu’s door.

“Come in,” she heard him say.

Song Meiling walked in on him, smoking by an open window. He was half-dressed from the waist down, leaving his chest bare.

“Can I use your lighter?” she asked him.

He passed her his lighter, and Song Meiling stepped forward, grasping it. She then lit her cigarette, taking a deep drag before releasing smoke.

Zhang Enyu opened more windows, and the night chill came through. He sat at the edge of the bed, tapping the ashes on a tray on his nightstand. Song Meiling sat next to him, reaching over to tap the ashes away as well.

Silence welled between them before Song Meiling broke it. “I’m in your class again next term,” she said.

“Why?” he questioned, blowing smoke. “Am I that good of a teacher?”

Song Meiling grinned. “Mhm. I suppose,” she said.

Zhang Enyu narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Well, to be honest, it could also be that you’re one of the few teachers who don’t see me as an airhead,” she admitted.

Zhang Enyu didn’t say anything, but he listened carefully.

She curled up her legs on the bed, hugging it while holding the stick in between two fingers. “There’s a rumour going around that my parents paid the school to let me in, but no one cares how hard I work.”

Zhang Enyu creased his brows. “I was there when you studied, when you wrote the admissions essay and when you got your exam results like everyone else,” he said. “You didn’t cheat the system.”

Song Meiling shrugged. “No one cares; like you, the rest of them think I’m stupid for turning down an inheritance.”

Zhang Enyu shook his head. “You’re not stupid.”

Song Meiling looked at him and scoffed a laugh. “You’ve implied it so many times.”

“You’re right, but that’s because I was jealous and angry at the time,” he told her.

“Jealous?” she questioned.

“You had a free pass given to you that could have set the rest of your life,” he said to her. “But after watching you as my student, you would have hated spending your time doing something you aren’t passionate about.”

Song Meiling smiled, nodding. “Precisely,” she said. “I wanted to write my own destiny.”

Zhang Enyu grabbed her stick and his, burning them out on the ashtray. He then laid down over the covers, studying her.

Song Meiling didn’t feel like leaving, but she knew she shouldn’t stay.

“About the kiss…” she began to say, but then felt awkward for bringing it up. “Why did it seem like you needed alcohol to do it? Am I that repulsive?”

Zhang Enyu sat up, shaking his head. “I needed courage,” he replied.

“Courage?” she questioned.

“Yes, because it’s something I should have done sooner,” he said to her.

Song Meiling looked at him, and he looked at her.

She didn’t remember who initiated the kiss, and she didn’t care how her lips ended up on his, but he cupped her head gently, deepening it.

Song Meiling pushed him down, quickly unbuckling his pants. She slid onto him as he held her waist. And with most of their clothes still on, she rode him fiercely, holding onto the bedframe.

She could see his unguarded expression, feeling the fullness of him. He grunted as he sat up, moving his hips against her. She circled his shoulders, holding onto him as the climax shattered through them.

After they finished, she still held onto him, collecting her breaths.

“Was this a one-time thing?” he asked breathlessly.

“It doesn’t have to be,” she responded.

Zhang Enyu let out a breathy chuckle. “That’s good to know.”

Song Meiling detached herself from him, composing herself. She took one good look at Zhang Enyu before slipping out of the bedroom, heading toward hers while trying to calm her pounding chest.

She then heard someone arrive home.