During The Blizzard (Amidst A Snowstorm Of Love)

Canto 26: *Spoiler Title*

"Her breath hitched as their gazes locked, the space between them crackling with unspoken desire. His lips hovered a tantalizing whisper away, the promise of their touch sending shivers down her spine. It was a forbidden fruit, tempting and sweet, and she yearned to take a bite."

Translator: Wuxia Studio, Editor: Wuxia Studio

The chapter title can be found at the end of this chapter.

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Yin Guo put down her phone, put on a sports jacket, and walked to the door lightly, holding the brass-colored doorknob with her right hand and pressing down. As soon as there was a gap in the door, she suddenly felt someone push it open.

The room was a cavern of shadows, the only light spilling faintly from the hallway. A tall figure slipped through the door, leaving it ajar, as if afraid to truly shut out the world. "Your brother," His voice dropped to a hushed tone.

The distant shuffle of slippers grew closer, then receded, a faint echo in the stillness. "Who forgot to turn off the lights?" Meng Xiaotian grumbled, his voice thick with sleep as he drifted past the door.

Lin Yiyang closed the door softly behind him. Yin Guo remained in the darkness, the curtains drawn tight against the night. In the gloom, she seemed like a phantom, her presence a whisper against the silence. Perhaps it was just the shadows playing tricks, but their heartbeats seemed to echo in unison.

They waited, tense and silent, for Meng Xiaotian's return, their hushed conversation hanging heavy in the air. After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps returned, then faded once more.

Yin Guo let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "You haven't slept yet?" she asked softly

Lin Yiyang ran a hand through his hair, exhaustion etched on his face. "Just looking for a medicine," he mumbled.

"Are you sick? Are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just a scratch." He lifted his shirt, revealing a raw scrape on his side, the skin angry and red.

He gestured to the small, worn sofa by the window. "It is convenient? Can I sit for a moment?"

"Come in," she said, reaching for the light switch.

He gently stopped her hand, guiding it towards the bedside lamp instead. The room bathed in a soft glow, revealing the full extent of his weariness.

He perched on the edge of the sofa, his long legs sprawled awkwardly. It was meant for someone much smaller, and the sight brought a flicker of a smile to her lips, a rare light in the darkness.

Kneeling beside him, she examined the wound. It was long and superficial, a jagged line marring his skin. A frown creased her brow. "How did this happen?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked away, weaving a tale of a crowded train and a careless bump. The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

"You didn't notice it until now?" she asked, her eyes filled with worry.

He forced a smile. "It's nothing. It doesn't even hurt."

But his words rang hollow, even to his own ears. He'd already cleaned the wound, the sting a harsh reminder of his ordeal.